Rogue Angel - The Spirit Banner Part 45

Pretending to be examining the various blades, she picked them up and put them down again, piling them up to one side. When the pile was large enough to hide what she intended to do, she reached into it while at the same time summoning her own blade from the otherwhere, hoping the tangled mess would hide the sudden appearance of her sword from their eyes.

When she turned to face the group, no one said anything about it.

She carried Joan's sword, her sword, with her into the center of the circle and waited while Holuin chose his own blade.

He selected a bejeweled weapon with a long narrow blade. It was slightly shorter than her own, but probably lighter, as well, which, when combined with his speed, eliminated any advantage she might have from her longer blade. It was a good choice and Annja's respect for his ability went up a notch.

Holuin took up position in one half of the circle and Annja did the same in the other. From where she stood she could see over Holuin's shoulder and noted the figure standing just inside the entrance of the ger, ger, watching them through the gossamer curtain. watching them through the gossamer curtain.

h.e.l.lo, Wolf.

On impulse, she raised her sword and saluted him.

She was just turning her attention back to her opponent when the horn sounded for a third time that afternoon, signaling the start of the fight.

Holuin didn't waste any time; the moment the horn sounded he moved in swiftly, perhaps hoping his larger size and years of experience would allow him to end things sooner rather than later.

Annja, however, wouldn't be so cooperative.

As he swung at her midsection, she dropped the point of her sword and met Holuin's blade with the edge of her own, channeling the energy of her attacker's strike away from her and toward the ground instead. She twisted and brought her own weapon up in a semicircular motion that sent it swinging back toward Holuin's neck, hoping for a lucky strike to end it all before it had barely begun.

But her opponent was too good to be taken out that quickly and he easily blocked her strike, in turn.

He went low suddenly, his blade flas.h.i.+ng out in a strike intended to cut her off at the knees, but Annja easily leaped over the blade, slas.h.i.+ng with a strike of her own even before her feet were back on the ground.

Houlin was forced to step back, out of the reach of her blade, in order to avoid it but came back at her quickly in a flurry of blows, trying to overwhelm her with his strength and brutality.

Annja, however, had been in more than her fair share of sword fights lately and she recognized what he was trying to do. She gave ground before him, letting him think he was driving her backward, and then, when he was committed to his next blow, she sidestepped suddenly, letting his momentum carry him past her. She struck out with her right foot in a near-perfectly executed side kick, catching him in the small of the back and sending him stumbling forward.

As she moved to take advantage of her opportunity, he turned his stumble into a shoulder roll, twisting around as he went so that he came back up on his feet to meet her attack without looking the worse for wear.

This was not going to be an easy fight, Annja thought.

The strikingly similar look he gave her let her know that he was thinking the very same thing.

So be it.

Back and forth they went, blow after blow, twisting and turning, moving about inside the confines of the circle, each one striving to gain the upper hand and deliver the winning blow.

Holuin drew first blood, catching Annja with the tip of his sword as she spun away from him and carving a thin line across her left hip.

The crowd around them cheered to see their champion wound his opponent.

It wasn't long before she returned the favor, however, catching him with a slas.h.i.+ng blow that cut through the meat of his shoulder, and they cheered just as loudly for her.

Apparently, all the spectators wanted was a good fight.

Houlin and she were well matched. Every time she thought she'd found a c.h.i.n.k in his armor, he managed to get away. Every time he thought he was about to deliver a killing strike, she was no longer where he expected her to be. It went around and around like that for some time.

Annja knew a longer conquest would favor her opponent. She could feel herself getting tired already, her muscles not responding as quickly to the commands her brain was giving them as they had at the start of the battle. Despite the difference in their ages, he fought and trained in this weather and alt.i.tude every single day, which gave him a distinct advantage. If it came down to a battle of sheer stamina, he would win. Annja had no doubt about that.

She, of course, had to do something to prevent that from happening.

Her life, and Davenport's, depended on it.

She began to favor her left side, keeping it back slightly and being just a hair slower when turning in that direction. She knew he would see: what she wanted him to see; a tired opponent with an injury she was trying to favor.

Most fighters would s.h.i.+eld that region, trying to protect it. The savvy fighter knew that was exactly the wrong strategy to use, however, as it telegraphed your problem to your opponent and left you vulnerable in other areas as you devoted all your energy to defending your injury.

Annja hoped Holuin's ego would get the better of him, that he would think of her as inexperienced and take the bait.

Thankfully, he did.

He came in with determination, trying to make her fall back on her injured limb, probably hoping she would stumble and drop to the ground if he pressured her hard enough.

Their blades flashed in the sun and rang against each other with every blow.

Annja's world narrowed down to just her and her opponent. No one else mattered.

She bided her time, waiting for just the right moment, all the while allowing Holuin to force her backward, letting him think she was growing even more tired and weak.

Then, when the moment was right, she stumbled, making it look as if her leg had just failed her.

As expected, Holuin came in with a horizontal strike designed to slice her throat wide open, or force her to put weight on her injured leg in the hope that she would fall over backward when it failed to support her.

Annja leaned back at the waist, letting Holuin's blade pa.s.s by her face before meeting it one-handed with her own, forcing it farther forward and down, preventing him from doing a quick reversal. At the same time she pushed off her "bad" leg, using it to propel her forward with much more force than Holuin expected.

She had a moment to catch the surprise on his face as he realized she'd suckered him and then her left elbow was coming around with all of her body weight behind it. She struck him in the head, felt the shock of the blow reverberate back up her arm, knew even before he began to stumble backward that it had been a good, clean strike.

But Annja wasn't done yet.

She kept moving, left foot planted hard against the dirt, using the momentum of her strike to whip her body around in a full circle that brought her right leg up and over in a vicious strike that connected with her opponent's exposed throat.

Holuin's sword went flying as he was flung to the ground by the force of the blow.

Annja was on him in a second, the point of her sword held against the tender flesh of his throat.

Point. Set. Match.

He looked up at her without fear.

"Go ahead," he said calmly, through his bruised and battered throat. "You have no choice. You must end it. The law of the Challenge will not let them release you while we both still live."

For just a moment, she was tempted. The anger and frustration she felt over all that had happened since she'd left the dig in Mexico needed an outlet and, just seconds before, this man had been doing his best to try and kill her. Now he lay beneath her blade, unarmed and helpless. It would be so easy, too; just a few extra ounces of pressure against the hilt and that would be that.

She raised her gaze and looked out over the crowd.

They were completely silent, watching her, waiting to see what she would do. Even Davenport was spellbound. It was as if the whole world was holding its breath, waiting, wondering, watching.