Where was Scar?
Moving forward more cautiously he approached the boulders. A figure stepped into sight, green cloak fluttering in the breeze, a bent bow in his hands. Waylander threw himself to the right as the arrow leapt from the string, slicing past his face. He struck the ground on his shoulder, the impact making his hand contract, loosing the bolts on the crossbow, which hammered into the soft earth of the slope. Rolling to his feet he drew his sabre.
The man in the green cloak hurled aside his bow, drawing his own blade. ‘This is how it should be, sword to sword,’ he said, smiling.
Waylander pulled free the thongs that held his cloak in place, allowing it to drop to the earth. ‘You would be Morak,’ he said softly.
‘How gratifying to be recognised,’ answered the swordsman, angling himself towards the waiting Waylander. ‘I understand you are not at your best with a sabre, therefore I will give you a short lesson before killing you.’
Waylander leapt to the attack. Morak blocked and countered. The ringing of steel on steel echoed on the mountainside, the two sabres shining in the sunlight. Morak, in perfect balance fended off every attack, his blade licking out to open a shallow cut on Waylander’s cheek. Waylander swayed back and sent a vicious slashing blow towards Morak’s belly. The green-clad swordsman neatly sidestepped.
‘I’d say you were better than average,’ he told Waylander. ‘Your balance is good, but you are a little stiff in the lower back. It affects the lunge.’
Waylander’s hand snapped forward, a black-bladed throwing knife flashing towards Morak’s throat. The assassin’s sabre swept up, deflecting the knife which clattered against one of the boulders. ‘Very good,’ said Morak. ‘But you are dealing with a master now, Waylander.’
‘Where is my dog?’
‘Your dog? How touching! You stand at the point of death and you are concerned for a flea-bitten hound? I killed it, of course.’
Waylander said nothing. Backing away to more level ground he watched the swordsman follow. Morak was smiling now, but the smile did not reach the gleaming green eyes. ‘I shall kill you with a remarkable lack of speed,’ he said. ‘A few cuts here and there. As the blood runs so your strength will fail. Do you think you will beg me for life?’
‘I would doubt it,’ said Waylander.
‘All men beg, you know. Even the strongest. It depends only upon where the knife enters.’ Morak leapt. Waylander’s sabre parried the thrust, the blades clashing again and again. A second small cut appeared on Waylander’s forearm. Morak laughed. ‘There is no panic in you – not yet. I like that. What happened to that daughter of yours? By Heavens I’ll yet enjoy her. Long legs, firm flesh. I’ll make her squeal. Then I’ll open her up from neck to belly!’
Waylander edged back and said nothing.
‘Good! Good! I can’t make you angry. That’s rare! I shall enjoy finding your breaking point, Waylander. Will it come when I cut off your fingers? Or will it be when your manhood is sizzling on a fire?’
He lunged again, the blade slicing the leather of Waylander’s tunic shirt just above the left hip. Waylander hurled himself forward, hammering his shoulder into the assassin’s face. Morak fell awkwardly, but rolled to his feet before Waylander could bring his sword to bear. The blades clashed again. Waylander aimed a thrust at Morak’s head, but the swordsman swayed aside, blocking the lunge and sending a riposte that flashed past Waylander’s neck. Waylander backed away towards the boulders. Morak attacked, forcing his opponent further down the trail. Both men were sweating freely, despite the cold.
‘You are game,’ said Morak. ‘I did not expect you to prove this resilient.’
Waylander lunged. Morak parried, then attacked in a bewildering series of thrusts and cuts that Waylander fought desperately to counter. Twice Morak’s sabre pierced the upper chest of Waylander’s tunic, the blade being turned aside by the chain-mail shoulder-guard. But the older man was tiring now, and Morak knew it. He stepped back. ‘Would you like a little time to get your breath?’ he asked, with a mocking grin.
‘How did you find me?’ said Waylander, grateful for the respite.