She threw the dagger towards me. It spun over and over through the air, but I reached up with a cry of pain and caught it by the hilt.
There was something odd about that weapon. The moment I lifted my tail it told me that the blade was crafted from a silver alloy. My eyes told me something even more astounding.
The hilt was crafted in the shape of a skelt’s head, and its eyes were two rubies. It was the image of our unborn god, Talkus. As I watched, the ruby eyes shed tears of blood that dripped onto the mud close to my feet to mingle with my own. It was without doubt a blade of power. I could feel the magical force emanating from it.
Grimalkin smiled and backed her horse away from me. Filled with new hope and strength, I got to my feet. Eblis had been gazing warily at Grimalkin, but now, as she moved away, his attention came back to me – his target.
He charged straight towards me. I took a deep breath and stood my ground, bringing the whole of my concentration to bear upon the task at hand. As the tip of the lance came within range I stepped to one side to avoid being trampled by the stallion, lifted the blade and parried the tip of the spear.
To my astonishment, the blade did not break. It deflected the lance and scraped along its whole length, sending up a shower of sparks. When it reached the Shaiksa’s gauntlets and found his hands, he cried out in shock. He released the Kangadon, and it spun upwards out of his grasp, turning over and over in the air.
Then, in a moment of whalakai – the perception that comes to a haizda mage but rarely – I was aware of every nuance of the situation in a flash of insight.
I knew what I must do! I sliced sideways, my arm moving almost too fast to be seen, and struck the spinning lance with my blade.
The Kangadon split into two pieces.
Thus the Lance That Cannot Be Broken was no more.
But it was not for nothing that Eblis had survived and prevailed as an assassin for over two thousand years. The lance was destroyed and he was wounded, but he summoned his strength and attacked once more. This time he wielded two more long blades as he attempted to ride me down.
Once again I struck out with the skelt blade, and then spun away quickly to avoid being trampled. His horse galloped onwards, nostrils snorting steam into the chill air. But Eblis fell, hit the ground hard, and lay there without moving.
I approached and looked down at my enemy – but, to my own surprise, I did not deal the final blow. It was not a conscious decision. Something within me had chosen another way for this to end. I waited in silence, still gripping the blade. After many minutes Eblis rolled onto his stomach and struggled to his feet. His hands were empty of weapons. He had lost them in the fall. Nevertheless I waited patiently while he retrieved them from the mud, which had been churned up by the galloping hooves.
Then we began to fight at close quarters. We were evenly matched and the struggle continued for a long time. Soon the sun went down and the light began to fail. Now we were fighting in darkness and I used my shakamure magic to see my enemy. I also drew upon my other magical reserves to bolster my strength. No doubt Eblis employed his own magic, because his blades were guided with great accuracy, and for a while I was hard pressed just to parry them. We fought in silence – all that could be heard was grunts, the clash of blades and our boots churning the mud.
But slowly I began to gain the ascendancy, and at last I brought my enemy to his knees and lifted the dagger for the killing blow.
As I did so, I felt a hand staying my arm.
‘You have won, Slither, but now he is mine,’ whispered the voice of Grimalkin in my ear. ‘Return the blade to my hand.’
What could I do but acquiesce? After all, I had won a great victory and I owed the witch for that. Without her intervention I would have died in the mud. So I returned the blade to her and walked across to the place where Nessa lay.
I knelt down beside her. She was still breathing, just, but her life-signs were slowly fading. I had a little magic remaining to me, so I placed my hand on her forehead and let it seep into her body until she began to revive.
After a while I helped her up into a sitting position and she opened her eyes.
‘You were dying, little Nessa, but I have revived you with my strength. It is no more than what I owe you.’
Just as she had saved me when bitten by the snake, now I had repaid her. She stared at me for a while and seemed about to make some reply, but then I heard a sound from behind that made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck.
Shaiksa assassins do not scream. And yet Eblis, the bravest, strongest and most ruthless of them all, cried out. His screams went on for a very long time.
Nessa looked at me, her eyes widening at the sound. I found the sounds pleasing – but obviously she did not. The assassin was being killed slowly, and his dying thoughts were being sent out to the rest of his brotherhood. Even as he died, their knowledge was being advanced. But what were they learning?
In another moment of whalakai, I understood what was happening. They were not only learning – they were being taught. That lesson was being given by Grimalkin: just as she had carved the symbol of her scissors on trees to mark her territory and warn off her enemies, so, now, she was sending the whole Shaiksa Brotherhood a message.
She was telling them who she was; what she was capable of; teaching them all about pain and fear.
And then, in a loud voice, she called out her verbal message to the brotherhood: ‘Keep away from me,’ she warned, ‘or what I did to your brother, so I will do to you! Those who pursue me will die a death such as this! I am Grimalkin.’
So it was that the Lance That Cannot Be Broken was indeed broken, and He Who Cannot Be Defeated was slain and left this world after over two thousand years as an undefeated Shaiksa assassin.
And in that moment I knew that the witch assassin was the most deadly warrior I had ever encountered. So now a great challenge lay ahead. One day I must fight and defeat her. To accomplish that would be the summit of my endeavours as a haizda mage.
When later I examined the body of Eblis to see what had been done to him, I could see nothing that could have made him shriek so musically. It is true that she had carved the symbol of her scissors on his forehead, but there was nothing else. I had to admit that there were many things I could learn from the human witch.
NESSA WAS BRUISED and battered, but because of my help had survived her fall; her greatest hurt was still the loss of her sister, Susan.
Later, after the two girls had cried themselves to sleep, the witch and I talked by the campfire.