Broken Crossroads (Knights of the Shadows Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

turned that blow. His earlier feeling of vulnerability came back with a vengeance.
    Although his lunge took his foes by surprise, one of them managed a thrust at his exposed right side. Conn wrenched his point free of the struggling guardsman and swept it down in a parry as he twisted away from his enemy's blade. He leapt back into his former defensive position.
    Conn panted with exertion. Sweat ran down his forehead, stinging his eyes. His shoulder burned with pain and bled freely every time he moved his left arm. Three of his foes were down, but another entered from the stairs to join the remaining warriors.
    Now, a pair of them stood out of his reach, held their shields before them and slashed and thrust with the tips of their blades, using their reach to advantage. Another lunge would be suicide. Whichever man he attacked, the other would get him.
    He cursed again. The bastards were learning. As each man fell, the next changed tactics. Sooner or later, he would die unless Trilisean got that damn door open. Even then, how was he supposed to retreat through? The four men facing him would chase him and cut him down before he could cross the distance. Even a fighting retreat would allow two or three to face him in the wider area in front of the door.
    He kept his guard tight, deflecting the probing points of his enemies. He had to make a counter, though. No defense is perfect, and the enemy must fear to press or they'd get him. He studied the two enemies facing him. A thought dawned.
    As they jabbed at him, Conn slapped aside the blade of the man to his left with his shield, and stabbed into the attack of the man on the right — not at the body but at the approaching wrist. His sword point slid into the man's forearm and ripped its way towards the elbow, grating on bone. The man dropped his blade as its point scraped across the guard of Conn's sword. He stumbled back, cursing. His companion hacked at the mercenary's leg, but Conn retreated a step. The single guard paused before following a skilled swordsman into close quarters.
    Conn grinned through a mask of perspiration. Four down. It was a long time since he'd fought so well, since he'd seen such worried expressions on the faces of an enemy. That was the highest tribute a warrior could receive. He expected to be cut down any second, but now he was fighting in a state of near perfection, sensing attacks and deflecting them before he consciously saw them.
    “I'm in.” He heard from behind him. “Get ready.”
    Suddenly, the hall was lit by a bright flash behind him. His foes were dazzled.
     
    * * *
     
    She looked Conn straight in the eye. “So, do you say? Ready to be rich? Just a slight chance at a horrible death.”
    “Won’t be the first time I risked a horrible death. But it will be my first shot at being rich.” He shrugged. “I think I can give it a try. Partner.”
     
    * * *
     
    “Now! Move!”
    He paused to crack the nearest guard on the head with his sword. The man dropped. The helm probably saved his life, Conn reflected, but he wouldn't follow for a while and his body would be an obstacle for his near blinded friends. He turned and sprang through the door.
    The instant he was through, Trilisean slammed the door and slid the bolt home. Conn leaned on the wall, his chest heaving.
    “How much of that blood is yours?” she asked, her expression serious.
    “Just a scratch on the shoulder,” he panted. “I’m fine.”
    She tore the gash in his shirt open wider and placed a padded cloth on the wound. It stung.
    “It's treated with a powder,” she explained. “It will fight any fever in the wound and help the blood clot. Another useful item from my friend the apothecary. Press on it for a moment.”
    “My thanks,” he gasped. “And the flash of light? From the same friend?”
    “Yes, but that's an easy one.”
    Conn set down his sword and held the dressing. She tore a strip from the ruined left sleeve of his tunic and bound the cloth in