Here Decado’s heart had sunk further. He heard Memnon talk of the murders of ‘my children’ and realized his mentor had not betrayed the Queen for him. He was merely a tool for Memnon’s revenge.
Then Skilgannon had come, and Decado’s emotional misery deepened. He heard himself say: ‘Oh, now my joy is complete. I get to kill the great hero.’
Regret washed over him like a dark river.
Jianna watched as the two swordsmen circled one another. Olek was holding his blades in the Naashanite manner, right hand sword trailing, left hand blade held across the chest. As Decado sought an opening Olek suddenly switched the blades, the left snapping down and out, the right moving to the defensive chest defence. It was a technique Malanek had taught centuries ago in his training school. The trailing blade was used for the riposte. Fully ambidextrous fighters like Olek could switch back and forth, keeping the opponent confused as to where the attack was to originate. Decado leapt in, the Sword of Blood lancing towards Olek’s chest. He parried it easily and swept out a riposte that Decado blocked with the Sword of Fire. The flickering blades then came together, the blows, lunges and blocks coming faster and faster. The song of the swords echoed in the chamber. Jianna was mesmerized by the speed and skill of the two men. She had seen Olek in action before, but never against a man with Decado’s speed and talent. They were moving now like dancers, as if every strike and counter-strike was elaborately and carefully choreographed. The glittering blades sometimes moved so fast that Jianna could not follow the action. It was only when fresh blood appeared on Decado’s upper arm that she even realized he had been cut. The frantic pace could not last, and the two swordsmen moved back, and began to circle again.
Now Jianna saw that Olek was also cut, at the base of the neck and across the chest, where his shirt had been sliced. The neck cut had missed his jugular by a hair’s breadth. Now Skilgannon moved from defence to attack, surging forward, both blades flashing. Decado blocked desperately and backed away.
His footwork was incredible, and not once did he lose his perfection of balance. Blocking an overhead cut, he tried a riposte, which Skilgannon blocked. As the two men came closer together Skilgannon suddenly head-butted Decado, sending him staggering back, blood spurting from a cut above his right eyebrow.
‘Not a move they taught us in training school,’ said Decado. ‘I must remember it.’
‘You won’t have to remember it long, boy,’ Skilgannon told him. Decado laughed.
‘Nice try, kinsman,’ he said, circling again, ‘but, as you know, anger is the second enemy in any duel.’
With lightning speed he launched a counter-attack. Now it was Skilgannon’s footwork that kept him alive, as he backed away, defending desperately. Decado’s sword lanced out, slicing through Skilgannon’s long coat. Jianna thought it was a death blow — and gasped as the Sword of Night swept up. Decado blocked it. Skilgannon hooked his foot around Decado’s and shoulder-charged him.
Decado fell, but rolled to his feet as Skilgannon moved in for the kill.
They circled again.
Just then the door behind Memnon crashed open, the top hinges parting, the frame splintering. A massive form, blocking the light from beyond the door, ducked its head and lurched into the chamber. It was grotesquely malformed, with three arms, one growing from its chest. The head was elongated, the mouth lipless and wide, showing two rows of sharp fangs. As it entered other beasts poured in behind it through the shattered doorway. Two huge hounds, larger than lions, surged at Memnon. The Shadowlord ran for the dais and leapt. Instinctively Jianna threw out her arm, grabbing his wrist and hauling him over the railing.
‘Thank you, Highness,’ he said — and rammed his dagger into her side. Jianna cried out and fell back.
As she did so a huge hound leapt onto the dais. Jianna saw its great jaws close on Memnon’s head, and heard the crunching of bone. Blood and brains sprayed from the beast’s maw. Ignoring Jianna, it lifted the dead Memnon in its mouth and strutted from the dais.
Jianna stared down at the dagger hilt jutting from her body. Judging by the angle of entry the blade was close to her heart. Her ribcage was burning, her head spinning. I ought to be dead, she thought. Then she looked at the beautiful crystal, slowly spinning within the swirling smoke. It is keeping me alive, she realized. Grabbing the dais rail she hauled herself to her feet. Decado and Skilgannon, no longer fighting each other, were battling against the beasts back to back. Decado’s tunic was blood-drenched, and she could see he was growing weaker. They could not survive for long.
Swinging back she looked again at the crystal. Skilgannon and the Legend Riders had risked all to destroy this marvel. She stared at it. Rainbow lights flickered around her. Pain lanced through her. She knew then that the power of the crystal was trying to heal her body, the flesh forming around the dagger blade in her chest. Gripping the hilt she prepared to pull it clear. Then she paused, and glanced back at Skilgannon. He was fighting desperately. Decado half fell. Skilgannon leapt in front of him, plunging his sword into the chest of a towering mutant.
While this crystal survived Jianna would always be the Eternal, and men like Skilgannon would fight and die to bring her down.
Gasping for breath, Jianna took up her sabre and hammered it against the glass cylinder protecting the crystal. The blade bounced clear. Twice more she struck it. To no effect.
Her strength failing, she turned towards Skilgannon.
‘Olek!’ she shouted. ‘I cannot destroy it! Throw me a sword!’
A three-armed creature lunged at Skilgannon. Ducking under a murderous punch, he drove the Sword of Day into the mutant’s heart. Even as the beast fell Skilgannon dragged the blade clear, spun away from another attack, then threw the Sword of Night towards Jianna. The razor sharp blade spun through the air. Jianna judged the flight — then her arm swept out, her fingers curling round the ivory hilt.
Darkness was closing in on her and she fought it back. The Sword of Night hammered against the glass. A small crack appeared in the cylinder. Then another. With the third stroke the cylinder disintegrated. Coloured smoke billowed from it, flowing out into the room. The floating crystal dropped to the base of the golden column with a dull thud. With the last of her strength Jianna raised the Sword of Night and hammered it down on the crystal. The massive gem shattered in a blinding blaze of multicoloured light.
As the shards of crystal exploded outwards all the lights in the shrine dimmed, and the floor ceased to hum and vibrate. All was silence. Around the room the beasts were standing very still. Then, one by one, they toppled to the floor. Some writhed for a while. Then there was no movement.
It grew darker. Soon the only light in the shrine came from moonlight shining through a high window.
Jianna dropped the Sword of Night and looked around for Skilgannon. He was kneeling beside the fallen Decado. Jianna staggered from the dais and made her way to the two men. Decado was conscious.
Moonlight glistened on the length of blood-smeared metal jutting from his belly. ‘There’s no pain,’ said Decado. ‘Which I must say is a novel experience for me. And I can’t feel my legs. I take it that is not a good sign?’
‘No,’ said Skilgannon. ‘Tell me why you didn’t kill me.’
‘You were too good, kinsman.’
‘I know how good I am,’ said Skilgannon. ‘But, as my old tutor once taught me, there is always someone better. You were that man. Three times you had me. Three times you withheld the death blow.
Why?’
Suddenly more figures entered the room. Skilgannon surged to his feet, his sword held high.
‘Whoa there, laddie,’ said Druss. Behind him came Alahir and several Legend Riders.