The elven lord fell back, shocked. He felt along his side with fear on his face, at the same time Hadrian looked at his weapon—neither found blood. They looked bewildered for a moment; then Irawondona shook it off and regained his stance. He no longer made an effort at exhibitionism.
They circled each other, more hesitant than before, each feinting and falling back, reaching, searching for a weakness in the other. Irawondona charged again; once more the blades clamored, ringing with a sound horrible to hear. One blow after another the metal collided edge to edge, razors striking razors. Just listening to the noise made Arista weak.
Once more Hadrian fell and again Irawondona stabbed, this time faster, forcing Hadrian to log roll away. Irawondona chased but was not fast enough and Hadrian was able to get back on his feet and caught the elf in mid-stride. The elf lord was too late to pull back and Hadrian’s short blade sliced down the back of Irawondona’s exposed calf.
“Ha-ha!” Hadrian laughed. “Not fast enough! Now you’re—”
No blood.
Once more the two looked at the clean blade and the unscarred flesh and slowly Irawondona began to smile.
“Oh dear Maribor!” Arista cried. “Not again, oh please god, not again.”
“What is it?” Mauvin asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Hadrian can’t harm him. I don’t understand. Did we make a mistake when naming him as champion?”
The elf lord, grinning with confidence, attacked again, this time more openly. Hadrian dodged and counterattacked and his strike found Irawondona’s neck. The long blade came slicing across from under the exposed throat from the bottom up. Irawondona’s head jerked up, but once more, the blade did not bite.
The elf lord laughed. “I am a god,” he said, and began to strike out at Hadrian without fear.
“No!” Arista screamed. She looked to the others desperately, tears filling her eyes. “Oh god, Royce, do something. Save him! Please, you have to save him!”
Royce looked at Hadrian as he retreated under the constant bombardment from Irawondona. The elven lord was not letting him rest. It was all Hadrian could do to dodge or glance aside the blows. It would not be long now.
He pulled Alverstone from its sheath. He had never found anything that the blade could not cut. Hadrian had even used it to blind the Gilarabrywn and that was supposed to be impervious to all weapons except the one bearing its name.
In the ring, Irawondona struck wildly from high over his head. Hadrian lifted his pole to block and the long blade struck it. The crack was tremendous as the pole broke in two. The blade struck Hadrian in the chest. The armor prevented the blade from penetrating, but Royce heard something snap and Hadrian cried out. Still, he managed to trip Irawondona to the ground. Hadrian was breathing hard, his face clenched in pain. He spat blood and staggered. “I’m sorry, Arista—I’m so sorry.”
“Say goodbye to your champion, Gaunt,” Mawyndul? declared. “I will be king now, as it was meant to be.”
Royce sprinted for the old elf.
Mawyndul? looked amused for a moment, then shocked. His guard stepped out but at the last minute Royce sidestepped and dove for Mawyndul?. He drove the dagger at the old man’s chest. The chair toppled, with both of them falling over and sprawling across the snow.
They got to their feet simultaneously.
Mawyndul? remained unharmed.
“The blessing of Ferrol is upon me, fool! You can’t harm me—but no such protection defends you!”
With a wave of his hand, a column of flame formed around Royce. Fire coursed up his body and engulfed him.
“Royce!” Arista shouted. She raised her hands to counter the spell, but before she could, the thief stepped out of the flames.
Everyone stopped.
Even Irawondona paused.
When the flames abated and died away, Royce remained unharmed.
“That can’t be,” Mawyndul? said.
Then the old elf’s eyes widened. “Irawondona!” he shouted. “Forget that one! Kill this one. Kill Royce Melborn!”
The elf lord looked puzzled, glancing back at Hadrian, who had collapsed to his knees and was struggling to breathe, his arm and legs drenched in blood.
“Gaunt isn’t the heir; Hadrian is worthless,” Mawyndul? shouted. “It’s this one. Royce Melborn is the Heir of Novron. Kill him. Kill him now!”
Royce looked as stunned as anyone.
Irawondona left Hadrian and walked toward Royce and Mawyndul?.
“Myron! Mauvin!” Arista shouted. “Water—bandages—now!”
She entered the ring and threw her arms around Hadrian, lying him down. “Royce?” Hadrian asked. “Royce is the heir?”
“Yes!” Arista told him as she poured water over his wounds and began binding them tightly with linen. “Why didn’t I see it? Arcadius didn’t just happen to bring you two together. Somehow he knew. He was reuniting the heir and the guardian. Esrahaddon must have known too. Gaunt was just a diversion. When he begged me to help find the heir, he never said Degan Gaunt, he just said the heir! He’s why we were able to reach the horn. Esrahaddon knew that only the true heir could get past the Gilarabrywn. All this time the heir and the guardian were together.”