“Oh, I believe you,” he said, walking up to face Hadrian. “At least the part about stealing a sword from the citadel. That is what you’re referring to, isn’t it? So, someone actually got into Avempartha and took the real sword? Clever, particularly when I know that only someone with elvish blood can enter that tower. You don’t look very elf-like to me, Hadrian. And I know the Pickerings’ heritage quite well. I also know Magnus here couldn’t get in. That leaves only your partner in crime, Royce Melborn. He’s rather small, isn’t he? Slender, agile? Those qualities would certainly serve him well as a thief. He can see easily in the dark, hear better than any human, has uncanny balance, and is so light on his feet that he can move in almost total silence. Yes, it would be most unfair to all the other poor thieves out there using their normal, human abilities.”
Guy looked around carefully. “Where is your partner?” he asked, but Hadrian remained silent. “That’s one of the biggest problems we have; some of these crossbred elves can pass for human. They can be so hard to spot sometimes. They don’t have the pointed ears, or the squinty eyes, because they take after their human parent, but the elven parent is always there. That’s what makes them so dangerous. They look normal, but deep down they are inhumanly evil. You probably don’t even see it. Do you? You are like those fools that try and tame a bear cub or a wolf, thinking that they will come to love you. You probably think that you can banish the wild beast that lurks inside. You can’t, you know. The monster is always there, just looking for the chance to leap out at you.”
The sentinel glanced at the anvil. “And I suppose one of you was planning on using the sword to kill the beast and claim the crown of emperor?”
“Actually, no,” Hadrian replied. “Getting the women and running real fast was more the plan.”
“And you expect me to believe that? Hadrian Blackwater, the consummate warrior who handles a blade like a Teshlor Knight of the Old Empire. You really expect me to believe that you’re just passing through this remote village? That you just happen to be in possession of the only weapon that can kill the Gilarabrywn at the precise moment in time when the emperor will be chosen by the one who does so? No, of course not, you are just using what is arguably the most powerful sword in the world to make a trade with an insanely dangerous, but now talking, monster, for a peasant girl and the Princess of Melengar, whom you barely know.”
“Well—when you put it that way, it does sound bad, but it’s the truth.”
“The church will be returning to continue the trials here,” Luis Guy told them. “Until then, it is my job to make certain no one who is, shall we say, unworthy of the crown kills the Gilarabrywn. That most certainly includes a thieving elf-lover and his band of cutthroats.” Guy walked over to Theron. “So I’ll have that blade you’re holding.”
“Over my dead body,” Theron growled.
“As you wish.” Guy drew his sword and all seven seret dismounted and drew their blades as well.
“Now,” Guy told Theron, “give me the blade or both of you will die.”
“Don’t you mean all four?” a voice behind Hadrian said, and he looked over to see Mauvin and Fanen coming up the slope, spreading out, each with his sword drawn. Mauvin held two, one of which he tossed to Theron, who caught it clumsily.
“Make that five,” Magnus said, holding two of his larger hammers in his hands. The dwarf looked over at Hadrian and swallowed hard. “He’s planning on killing me anyway, so why not?”
“There are still eight of us,” Guy pointed out. “Not exactly an even fight.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Mauvin said. “Sadly, there’s no one else here we can ask to join your side.”
Guy looked at Mauvin, then Hadrian, for a long moment as the men glared across the ash at each other. Then he nodded and lowered his blade. “Well, I can see I’ll have to report your misconduct to the archbishop.”
“Go ahead,” Hadrian said. “His body is buried with the rest of them just down the hillside.”
Guy gave him a cold look, then turned to walk away, but as he did, Hadrian noticed his shoulder dip unnaturally to his right and his foot pivot, toe out, as he stepped. It was a motion Hadrian had taught Theron to watch for, the announcement of an attack.
“Theron!” he shouted, but it was unnecessary. The farmer had already moved and raised his sword even before Guy spun. The sentinel thrust for his heart. Theron was there a second faster and knocked the blade away. Then, out of reflex, the farmer shifted his weight forward, took a step, and performed the combination move Hadrian had drilled into him: parry, pivot, and riposte. He thrust forward, extending, going for reach. The sentinel staggered. He twisted and narrowly avoided being run through the chest, taking the sword thrust in his shoulder. Guy cried out in agony.
Theron stood shocked at his own success.
“Pull it out!” Hadrian and Mauvin both yelled at him.
Theron withdrew the blade and Guy staggered back, gripping his bleeding shoulder.
“Kill them!” the sentinel shouted through clenched teeth.
The Seret Knights charged.