Medieval 02 - Forbidden

challenge, Erik, son of Robert,” Dominic said. “Do you wish to give quarter?”
    “Nay.”
    “So be it. No quarter given. No quarter received.”
    Dominic stepped back with a swiftness that made the black folds of his mantle swirl.
    “Let it begin!” cried the Glendruid Wolf.
    Erik leaped forward with a quickness that drew a gasp from the people in the hall. His sword swung in an arc so swift it was scarcely visible.
    Duncan barely brought up his shield in time. Metal crashed on metal with a force that echoed through the hall.
    A weaker man would have been flattened by the sudden attack. As it was, the force of the blow sent Duncan reeling. He went to one knee before he caught himself.
    Erik’s sword whistled and descended with hellish speed. It was clear he meant to end the battle with the next blow.
    Again Duncan raised the shield without an instant to spare. But this time he was braced for the blow. Even as he absorbed it, his other arm moved in a powerful sweeping motion.
    The hammer began to sing.
    The eerie steel moan quivered in the hall, makingthe hairs rise on Amber’s neck. Though her eyes were closed, the hammer’s death song told her Duncan had survived the first, incredibly quick moments of Erik’s attack.
    Amber’s eyes remained closed when metal sounded on metal once more. Just as she hadn’t wanted to see Erik’s attack, the inhuman swiftness that killed with the speed of a peregrine, she didn’t want to see Duncan now, the hammer circling with vicious speed, driven by the unusual power of his arm.
    Amber wouldn’t need to see either man’s death in order to know he had died.
    The hammer’s song ended with a crash of steel on steel that drew cries and groans from the people in the hall. So great was the impact of the blow that it dented Erik’s shield and knocked him off his feet. He rolled aside and leaped up with a quickness that drew a surprised oath from Simon.
    The hammer descended again. Erik spun with the shield, giving way even as the blow struck, taking the force from it. As he spun, he slashed with the sword.
    Duncan jerked his shield into place, but not quite as quickly as before. It was as though his arm had been deadened by the punishment it had already received.
    Erik grinned like hell unleashed. The sword whistled and slashed blow after blow onto Duncan’s shield, driving him backward toward a wall. Once within reach of the wall, Duncan’s weapon would be as harmless as a handful of stones. There would be no room to swing the hammer if his back was to a wall.
    Another sword slash sent Duncan to his knees. The hammer faltered in its song. Erik surged forward, sending the sword in a vicious arc meant to cleave Duncan in two.
    Abruptly, the hammer whipped with renewedforce—and it came from the opposite direction, less than a handspan off the floor.
    Chain wrapped around steel chausses. Duncan yanked, jerking Erik’s feet from beneath him. He hit the floor with a force so great his helm flew off and his breath was knocked from him.
    With a hoarse cry, Duncan pulled his battle dagger and knelt astride Erik before he could recover. Unable to breathe, much less to fight, Erik looked into the eyes of the dark warrior who would soon kill him.
    A mailed fist raised, a dagger gleamed, and steel flashed downward while a woman’s scream wrenched the silence.
    At the last instant, Duncan turned the blade aside.
    The dagger struck the wooden floor with such power that the blade slammed all the way through the heavy plank and broke from the haft.
    “I can’t kill one who looks at me with Amber’s eyes!” Duncan raged. “I give him to you, Dominic. Do to him what you will!”
    With that, Duncan stood and threw the dagger’s heavy haft across the hall. It smashed into a far wall with enough strength to chip stone. A vicious snap of Duncan’s wrist called the chain back from Erik’s ankles, freeing him.
    Amber started toward both men, only to be restrained by Cassandra’s hand.
    “It isn’t done yet,” Cassandra said tautly. “Now we will see if Dominic le Sabre is truly fit to wear the Glendruid Wolf on his mantle.”
    The harp Ariane held sounded an odd chord as her fingers abruptly relaxed. It was the only outward sign that she had been in the least moved by what she had seen.
    Dominic drew his sword and slid the tip between the chain-mail hood and Erik’s chin.
    For a long time the two men measured each other.
    “I would prefer an alliance to a funeral,”