Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

resolutely ahead of him. Jordan looked at him speechlessly. In all his research on the High Warlock, he'd never found any mention of the Warlock having a son, let alone two as famous as the Hellstrom brothers. There was a scandal of some kind here, he could tell, but it was obvious from Gawaine's rigid face and stance that he wasn't prepared to discuss the matter any further.
    Pity. But if he was that sensitive about it, why say anything in the first place? Jordan sighed quietly to himself. That was all he needed, another damned mystery.
    What was the High Warlock really like? he'd asked Gawaine.
    He chased women and drank too much, said Gawaine, coldly.
    Jordan was still chewing on that when he noticed that the Court's mutter of voices had suddenly stopped again. He looked quickly round, and saw courtiers falling respectfully back as a black-cloaked figure made his way slowly across the Hall towards him. Jordan let his hand fall casually to his swordbelt, and then realised that the man's attention was directed towards Sir Gawaine rather than him. Heather gripped his arm tightly, her face flushed with excitement and anticipation.
    'That's Dark John Sutton,' she murmured breathily. 'Sword for hire. He works for Dominic, mostly. I've seen him in action a few times; he's very good with a sword. This should be fun.'
    Jordan checked again how far it was to the main doors. He'd heard of Dark John Sutton. Forty-seven kills to his credit, all of them with the sword. His past was pretty much a mystery, and it seemed he liked it that way. He had no politics, no scruples and no friends. He killed for money, and he was very expensive. And he'd never once failed to carry out his commission. Jordan glanced quickly at Gawaine.
    The knight had seen Sutton approaching, and was studying him coolly. Jordan looked back at Sutton.
    The man's gaze was still fixed on Gawaine, and he was smiling slightly. Jordan thought furiously. This was all his fault. He'd insulted Dominic, so Dominic had sent his pet assassin to take on Gawaine. The question was, how close a contest was it? Gawaine was one hell of a fighter, and his axe Have him an edge, but Sutton was a professional killer and maybe thirty years younger. But when all was said and done, Jordan knew he couldn't interfere. First, he doubted Gawaine would let him, and secondly, the code, the duello, was sacred in Redhart. If Gawaine backed down from a challenge, the Court would lose all respect for him. Jordan scowled fiercely. He couldn't just stand by and watch Gawaine get cut down. There had to be a way out of this. There had to be ...
    Dark John Sutton came to a halt a few yards short of Sir Gawaine. He was of average height and average build, and his clothes were quiet and nondescript. His face was surprisingly bland, with little trace of strength or character in it, but his eyes were dark and steady. The sword at his side hung in a battered leather scabbard that had seen a great deal of use down the years. He could have been just another man-at-arms or mercenary, but there was an air of cold confidence about him that was subtly unnerving.
    His movements were calm and controlled and very graceful. He nodded to Gawaine, ignoring Jordan and
    Heather.
    'So you're Gawaine. Old man with a magic axe and a noble reputation. I could insult you, call you names, but what's the point? We both know why I'm here. We don't need an excuse to fight; it was bound to happen sooner or later.'
    'It doesn't have to happen,' said Gawaine. 'You could turn and walk away.'
    'So could you.'
    'No. I don't do that.'
    'Neither do I,' said Sutton. He smiled suddenly. 'Besides, I've already taken half the money in advance.'
    'Don't do this,' said Gawaine. 'I don't want to have to kill you.'
    Sutton chuckled softly. 'Confident, old man. I like that.' He drew his sword. The brief rasp of steel on leather was very loud in the quiet. 'Let's make a start, shall we? It's bad manners to keep our audience waiting.'
    Gawaine drew his axe. 'Don't do this, John. You can still return the money.'
    Sutton shook his head sadly. 'Can this really be the great Gawaine Hellstrom? The hero of Tower Rouge? What's the matter, old man? Does your blood run a little more thin these days? Don't worry, I'll make it quick. And you needn't worry about that nice little wife of yours. I'll send her after you, as soon as I've got a free moment.'
    'You shouldn't have said that,' said Gawaine. 'Now you've made it personal.'
    Sutton grinned. 'It's