Master of Iron (Bladesmith #2)(45)

I want to say something dangerous. If you want me, come and get me. But the words will only taunt the soldiers forward, and I want them to stay far away from me.

“He will not sweep across Ghadra unchallenged,” I say.

The guard laughs. “Who’s going to stop him? You?”

If need be. That would be the intimidating thing to say. But I have no intention of doing any such thing. I just want to reunite with my sister and move north. Away from Ghadra and all the trouble it’s caused me.

“Turn around and don’t stop walking,” I say.

“If we return empty-handed, the king will have our heads.”

“If you step forward, I will have them. I suggest you make a run for it.” I try to look imposing. I stand up to my full height, flex my arms while they grip the sword hilt. The weapon doesn’t feel natural in my hands at all. I’ve never had to wield a sword before.

Please don’t make me kill you, I want to beg. I’ve had enough of killing.

The soldiers advance, fanning out around me.

“Has Ravis not told you what I can do? Do you not know what abilities this sword possesses?” I ask.

They don’t falter, but my hands shake along the sword. I only have three of the guards in my line of sight. The other two must be behind me.

And then the sword moves to the left, dragging my hands after it. I spin on my toes in that direction, bring the sword up just in time to stop the pommel that was flying toward my head.

But the only way to stop it was to slice at the arms of the man holding it.

He shrieks, dropping his weapon and backing away.

I relax a little, reminding myself that they’ve no wish to kill me. Ravis wants me back unharmed, likely so he can kill me himself. These soldiers are going to try to disarm me, knock me out, bind me, take me away.

And then Kellyn might bleed out on the rocks alone.

I can’t let that happen.

The longsword nudges me back around in time to see a sword point coming for me. I dodge, jumping to the side, but the movement is so awkward.

The sword is heavy and just so long. It’s nothing at all like holding a hammer, and I ache for my beloved weapons once more.

I kick out at the man in front of me. Bring Lady Killer around to block the strike from the female guard. When our weapons connect, the force of it almost sends the sword flying out of my hands. I tighten my grip, and the woman makes some sort of flicking motion, shuffling the weapon away while she moves in for the kill.

If she were intent on my death, I’d be dead. Instead, the blade rests an inch from my nose.

“Surrender,” she says.

I jump backward, throw my weight behind my next swing, feeling like a failure.

This sword is magicked, and I still might lose this fight.

It can yank me about all it likes, but I lack the instincts to protect myself. I wonder if I could magic a self-fighting sword in the future? Clearly I have need of one.

Lady Killer jerks upward, and I thrust my arms up with the motion, catching the bastard sword. A hidden knife sails toward me, but the sword doesn’t move. It keeps the more dangerous hit away from my face. I need to stop being on the defensive. I have a longsword. They have bastard swords. Mine is the longer reach.

The knife makes contact with my arm, drawing blood before trying to go to my neck. Trying to force another surrender from me.

But they won’t kill you, I remind myself.

I leap back once again, swinging the sword around and around my head. Four opponents, all of them in front of me. I can do this.

I slash and lunge, but the trained guards deflect my blows. Two weapons sail at my head at the same time, and Lady Killer drags my body down. From below, I stab one of them through their boot. The second jumps into the air to avoid my strike.

Two down.

Three left.

While on the ground, I grab a fistful of dirt and rise, throwing it into the eyes of the female guard. Her eyes slam closed, trying to free the grit from them, and I slice her across the ribs in the midst of the distraction.

Two more.

Blood drips down my elbow. Sweat stings the wound as I exert myself. Though it might be a result of my nerves than any actual physicality on my part yet.

The sword lunges toward the ground, and I follow after it. The man I stabbed in the boot made a grab for me, and Lady Killer goes through the flat of his hand, sticking him to the earth.

Oh, gross.

The air is full of shrieks. Blood runs down Lady Killer as I pull her free and size up the remaining two guards.

There’s no going back from this. I need to finish it.

I bring the longsword down, and when it catches on the nearest soldier’s sword, I release my left hand from the hilt and send a closed fist toward his head.

They’re not expecting me to fight with any skill. I’m catching them by surprise. That, my magical weapon, and the fact that they’re trying not to hurt me are the only reasons I’m able to do anything well.

When he takes a step back from the blow, I slash down, and the weapon wedges into his side. He screams, but not as loud as when I pull the sword back out.

The man whose arms I cut comes up behind me, having dropped his weapon and thinking to grab me. I deal with him easily, slicing across his gut.

One left. The one in charge.

I face him, raise my sword in preparation.

And then a figure appears behind him. I hear a crunch, and then the soldier falls to the ground, revealing Kellyn behind him, rock in hand.