Shadow War Read Online Free PDF Page B

the
strength of severance’s pull; he always had. He knew what he would
become if he ever gave way completely to it.
    Besides, merely
killing the Madrun was not what the prince had requested.
    With a wrench,
Caelan brought himself away from the edge of danger. Severance must
always remain his tool, never become his master. He needed only to block the
pain of his wound, nothing more.
    Meanwhile, in
those few split seconds when the world had paused for Caelan, the Madrun
continued to circle him, eyeing him steadily. Now, as Caelan met his gaze, the
Madrun lifted his sword and licked Caelan’s blood off the edge of the blade.
Then he laughed.
    Caelan rushed him
in a swift attack that caught the man unawares. Grunting in surprise, the
Madrun stumbled back, defending himself strongly but clumsily. He learned fast.
Caelan found the same trick did not work twice with this man, who was a better
swordsman than he appeared.
    Back and forth
they parried, their blades ringing out in a steady crisscross of deadly force.
Up and down pumped their arms, fast and furious, attack and counterattack,
until suddenly in one shining moment Caelan felt himself riding a surge of
sheer, unbridled joy.
    He laughed aloud,
and the Madrun was caught by surprise a second time. The Madrun stumbled, made
a mistake, and barely evaded Caelan’s lunge. Scrambling back, the Madrun found
himself pressed hard by Caelan, who gave him no quarter. Caelan pushed him
across the arena nearly to the wall.
    The crowd roared
approval.
    Caelan’s sword was
slipping in his hand despite his stranglehold on the hilt, and he didn’t know
if he was streaming sweat or blood. He knew only that he had this man where he
wanted him. The wall loomed just steps away from the Madrun’s back. And when
the Madrun bumped into it, Caelan would finish him.
    But suddenly the
Madrun dropped his arm, exposing himself to Caelan’s blade. A split second
before Caelan could lop the head from his shoulders, the Madrun dove to the
ground and rolled toward Caelan’s feet.
    Caelan leaped over
him and sensed more than saw the Madrun’s blade coming at his vulnerable lower
body. Twisting desperately in midair, Caelan brought his sword around and
deflected the blade just in time to save himself from losing a leg.
    That was all he
could do, however. Caelan fell and rolled blindly, unsure where the Madrun was.
He scrambled to his feet at once, but the Madrun was already tackling him, and
brought him down with an impact that jolted half the breath from Caelan’s
lungs. Caelan kicked and squirmed, but he found himself pinned by the man’s
weight with the Madrun’s forearm pressed down across his throat. The Madrun
lifted his sword to plunge it into Caelan’s side.
    However, the
swords were too long to fight with at such close quarters. Caelan got one hand
free and jabbed his fingers into the Madrun’s eyes.
    Howling with pain,
the Madrun shifted but didn’t let go. Caelan chopped him in the throat. The
Madrun made a strangling, gasping noise and went slack enough for Caelan to
push free. Kicking hard against the man’s side, Caelan scrambled away,
recovered his sword, and swung it around.
    Just before the
blade connected, however, the Madrun flung a handful of sand at Caelan’s face.
Caelan had been caught once long ago by that ancient trick, but never again.
    He ducked, closing
his eyes, even as he finished his sword swing.
    A choked cry of
pain coupled with the jolting bite of steel into meat told him he had hit his
mark.
    Blinking, Caelan
saw he had sliced into the man’s hip, but the Madrun half hobbled, half crawled
away from him and recovered his sword.
    Good spectacle
demanded that Caelan let the man regain his feet. Good sense told him to finish
the Madrun quickly while he had the chance.
    Caelan wavered for
an instant. Tirhin wanted more than a quick victory; he wanted the crowd in his
hand. Even now, half the crowd was shouting for Caelan to finish the kill but
the rest were