Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

Crypt's doorway, and his guards formed a protective wall between him and the conspirators. . 'Kill them!' screamed Dominic shrilly. 'Kill them all!'
    The conspirators drew their weapons, and the guards started forward. Argent drew his sword and blocked the doorway. His face was utterly blank. Jordan moved to stand shoulder to shoulder with Sir Gawaine, who seemed to hesitate a moment before accepting his presence. Jordan looked at the advancing guards and knew his luck had just run out. He wasn't going to win, he wasn't going to be a Prince, and he wasn't even going to get his money. All he could do now was take as many guards with him as he could. He just hoped he'd stay dead. It was a pity he hadn't had a little more time. He was just beginning to get a feel for the part . . . And then the air echoed to a roaring challenge as Damon Cord burst through the door, throwing aside Argent, and plunging into the guards. His mace gleamed dully in the torchlight as it swept viciously through the air. A troop of guards followed him in, wearing the Regent's colours. And behind them came the Steward, her balefire sword crackling and spitting in her hand.
    'Lucky I set some of my people to watching you, Viktor,' she called cheerfully. 'Damn traitors are coming out of the woodwork these days.'
    Jordan grinned back at her, and then the two of them had to turn their attention to the matter at hand as Dominic's guards fought back. The two sides were evenly matched, and the fight raged back and forth across the great stone chamber. The clash of steel on steel and the stamp of boots on stone echoed dully back from the low ceiling, and the cold faces of King Malcolm's ancestors watched indifferently from their biers. Jordan and Sir Gawaine fought back to back, and dead and dying guards lay piled about their feet. Jordan swung his sword with cold desperation, and none of the guards was good enough to get close to him. At his back, Gawaine's glowing axe spattered blood and brains on floor and ceiling alike.
    Jordan snatched a brief glance at Dominic, and was relieved to see that he was leaning weakly against one wall, too shocked by his fresh burns to think about getting involved.
    Slow tides moved through the battle, carrying the combat-ants in sudden, unexpected directions.
    Roderik found himself in the Crypt doorway, face to face with Argent, and his sword faltered. Argent's blade flashed forward, and Roderik gasped as a thin red line of blood appeared on his cheek. If he hadn't flinched back, the point would have taken out his eye.
    Roderik's sword moved automatically through a defensive pattern, but he made no move to attack Argent. He wasn't sure he could. Whatever had happened to Argent, whatever he had said or done, Argent was still his life-long friend. He couldn't raise his sword against him. They'd been through too
    much together. It would have been like killing himself. But Argent pressed his attack more and more fiercely, and Roderik was hard pressed to keep him at arm's length. It slowly occurred to Roderik that he was getting tired, while Argent was as fresh and determined as when they'd started. Angry tears burned in Roderik's eyes as for the first time he began to press the attack. If he had to kill his friend, he swore to himself that come what may, he'd send Dominic down into the dark after him.
    Heather crouched down behind a stone bier, and tried to make herself as inconspicuous as possible. Just in case that didn't work, she kept a dagger concealed in her hand. The battle raged back and forth before her, and she couldn't tell who, if anyone, was winning. She could see Viktor right there in the thick of things, and her heart went out to him. She knew how weak he still was, despite his marvellous recovery, but he was swinging his sword with a verve that brought an appreciative smile to her lips. Viktor would defeat Dominic. It was inevitable. Dominic wasn't fit to be King. It was a pity Viktor had killed the actor, but it wasn't important. Jordan was just a jumped-up little nobody who wouldn't be missed. There was no reason why anyone else should ever have to know about his death.
    Damon Cord led the Regent's troops in a charge through
    Dominic's men, but he couldn't keep the impetus going long enough to reach the Prince himself. The fighting became slow and fragmentary, and the battle swiftly degenerated into a confused melee. Cord swung his mace in great vicious arcs, trying to clear some space around him, but the