Ellik never questioned his good fortune. He staggered forward, and the sword from my own home darted toward my chest.
“My lord! FitzChivalry!” And with that shout, I found myself looking up at Perseverance. He’d ridden in and somehow snatched Verity’s sword from the snowbank where it had stood. He clutched it as if it were a poker; I saw that he’d never held a weapon before. “Get back!” I shouted because Ellik was turning and lifting his sword to meet the boy’s charge. Verity’s sword was too heavy for the stable boy. It wasn’t skill. The weight carried the blade down and the horse’s charge provided momentum. He more speared than stabbed Ellik. The would-be duke dropped his blade and clutched at the one going into his chest. Perseverance screamed and I saw fury and horror in his face. He came off the horse, clinging to the sword, falling with the weapon onto the collapsing Ellik.
The carris seed was failing me. My heart was leaping like a hooked fish in my chest. I gasped for air as I fought my way free of snow. I could hear men shouting but could barely make sense of what was happening. I knew only one solution. I dropped my knife and groped at my waist for the pouch there. A twist of paper, a tiny cone of seeds left in the bottom. I tipped some into my mouth and ground them between my teeth. I shuddered and thought I would vomit. The world went white and spun. It was all noise and cold and then everything was suddenly bright and light and clear.
I reached for Perseverance, seizing him by the collar and hauling him off the dying Ellik and back to his feet. I stooped, groped in the snow for my knife, and sheathed it. I turned, trying to take in what was happening. I saw Lant swing his fancy sword and take off a Chalcedean’s arm, sword and all. More shocking was that Riddle was on the ground. The Chalcedean had dragged him off his horse and tried to seize his mount. Lant had saved him.
I stooped and pulled Verity’s sword out of Ellik’s chest. The man made a sound. He wasn’t quite dead. Another thrust finished him. Perseverance was staring at me. His mouth was hanging open, his chest heaving, and I feared he would cry. “Pick up that sword!” I bellowed at him. “To me! To me, lad!” For a wonder, he obeyed. He picked up the wall-sword and stepped away from Ellik’s body. “Follow me,” I commanded him, and he came behind me as I moved toward Riddle and Lant. They had dispatched the Chalcedean who had tried for Lant’s horse. Per whistled and his mount came to him. Priss followed, nostrils and eyes wide. “Secure those horses,” I ordered him. To Lant I said, “Help him. I don’t want any of those bastards riding off on fresh mounts.”
I heard wild shouting and turned to see my Rousters sweeping in behind the Ringhill Guard. Two lengths behind them came Foxglove and the rest of my guard.
“Capture! Don’t kill!” I shouted with all my strength. But one of the Chalcedeans had already gone down, caught between two of the Ringhill soldiers and slashed from both sides. Before I could draw breath to shout again, I saw two more fall. The final man got a horse loose and nearly managed to get onto the panicky animal. As I started toward the melee, he fell and was trampled.