Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

softly.
    'I had to do it,' said Emma defiantly. 'Lewis knew so much already, and he had Ironheart and the Monk; you couldn't hope to win. I had to go with the winner. He promised me he'd protect you, Gawaine, if I agreed to keep him informed of your plans. I did it for you, Gawaine.'
    'Trusting little soul, isn't she?' said Lewis. 'Now then, Viktor; you let me have the crown and the seal, and I'll let you live.'
    'Do I look crazy?' said Jordan. 'You want it, you come and take it. Or aren't you as brave without your tame sorcerer to back you up? Where is the Monk, anyway? Run off and left you in the lurch, has he?'
    'He's around,' said Lewis. 'Keeping busy. I'm afraid you don't understand the realities of the situation, Viktor. Either you hand over the crown and the seal right now, or I'll have my people kill the Lady Emma. Slowly and painfully, right before your eyes. You see, I've been studying you, Viktor. You got soft in exile. Now do as you're told. Or else.'
    Jordan glanced quickly at Gawaine, but the knight was staring fixedly at Emma. Jordan scowled desperately, torn so many ways he didn't know what to do for the best. But of course there was only one thing he could honourably do. He pulled the heavy gold ring off his finger and hefted it sadly in his hand.
    'The royal seal,' he said quietly. 'It's all yours, Lewis.'
    He snapped back his hand and threw the ring with all his strength. It struck Lewis squarely in the left eye, and he lurched backwards, screaming. Cord and Taggert leapt forward almost as one and cut down the two guards holding the Lady Emma. And then Ironheart's steel fist lashed out with murderous speed, and crushed the back of Emma's skull. She fell limply to the ground and lay still. Taggert's balefire sword swept crackling through the air and sliced clean through Ironheart's gauntlet. The severed hand fell limply to the floor. No blood spurted from the armour-clad stump. Ironheart howled horribly, the sound echoing eerily in his featureless helm.
    Lewis threw himself at Jordan, and sparks flew as their swords clashed and danced apart. Their guards milled around them, more interested in killing their enemies and settling old scores than in protecting their leaders. Sir Gawaine knelt beside his dead wife and held her hand, oblivious to anything else. Cord swung his mace with awesome strength and speed, but it was all he could do to dent Ironheart's armour.
    The knight took even the most punishing blows with virtual indifference. But while Cord kept Ironheart busy, Taggert went to work on him with her balefire sword. The crackling white fire sliced into the dull steel, whittling away at Ironheart like a dull knife on a stubborn block of wood. Gaping rents appeared in the armour, but Ironheart took no hurt from them, and no blood ran. Taggert's hackles rose as she
    hacked away at the stubbornly advancing knight, and wondered crazily if he could die. But finally one last cut severed Ironheart's head from his body, and the suit of armour fell heavily to the floor, and never moved again.
    Lewis's guards lost their confidence as they saw their champion brought down, and when Cord and Taggert turned to join the fight against them, they dropped their weapons and surrendered. Only Lewis fought on, raining blows on the grimly defending Jordan. He continued to back away, and wished he had his flare pellets with him. Even a smoke pellet would have helped. Lewis was strong and fresh and very experienced with a sword. Jordan was none of those things. So far he was holding his own, bar a few minor scratches, but he was tiring quickly, and Lewis knew it. Jordan kept backing away, his mind working furiously. All he had to do was say the word, and Taggert or Cord or any of his guards would rescue him. But if he did that, they'd lose all respect for him. It's not enough for a future King to be brave and strong, he must be seen to be brave and strong. Unfortunately, right now Lewis was the stronger.
    Jordan suddenly remembered an earlier fight, when Gawaine took on Dark John Sutton. Dark John had all the advantages, but Gawaine beat him anyway. He was a duellist, Sire, and I'm a soldier. Jordan grinned as he remembered Gawaine's winning trick. He moved in closer, and spat right in Lewis's face.
    Lewis's blade faltered and he drew back instinctively, and Jordan ran him through. His sword punched out of Lewis's back, and the Prince was dead before he could draw in enough breath to scream. He fell to his knees,