Chapter 9
Some fighter's instinct warned Sara that her opponent was attacking again. She brought the Witchblade up in a parry and felt it grate against metal. Pezzini was glad of the internal warning, but wondered why the Blade had not supplied a defense. Did the light blind it as well?
A frisson of fear passed through Sara. For all her complaints about the supernatural interference the Witchblade provided, she had begun to rely on it. Well, she had gotten out of bad spots before without it, and she would do so again. Pez strained her ears for the sound of her enemy, knowing that sight was useless. It was all she could think to do. The next time Danny wanted to practice blind fighting, Sara was going to join him instead of teasing him from the sidelines. Assuming there was a next time.
Jamin frowned as she blocked him. How had she known? Perhaps it was simply fortune. He shifted slightly, changing his angle, and lunged for her breast. Whatever had helped her before almost failed her. She lunged aside at the last moment, but it wasn't enough. Jamin could feel the sunsword slice through armor and grate over a rib.
To Sara it felt like she had been slammed with a burning timber. She tried to roll with the strike. The pain was incredible. She couldn't even cry out, the blow stole her breath. She doubled over reflexively, but that pulled on the burn. She straightened almost as fast as she'd curled, and this time she had air enough to swear with, "Shiiiitttt."
The woman was practically kneeling at his feet, lost in the pain of her wound. Jamin breathed a prayer of praise to his gods. Victory was almost at hand. He lifted his sword for the killing blow.
"Aat tem varem kerenava caretu-drâjô kemcit paiti cathrushanãm hathra taoxma upa-bara pasvãmca staoranãmca mashyânãmca sûnãmca vayãmca âthrãmca suxrãm saociñtãm, âat tem varem kerenava caretu-drâjô kemcit paiti cathrushanãm narãm aiwi-xshôithne caretu-drâjô kemcit paiti cathrushanãm gavãm gâvayanem!" A voice called from the shadows.
Jamin froze, his eyes wide with horror as the celestial flame retreated as if it had never been. He turned to the tall man emerging from the darkness. The male striding toward him with a vengeful face could have been one of his own people, but his accent denoted one who had learned the language, not grown up speaking it. He shifted his dimmed blade toward this new threat.
Ian was grateful that Sara did not speak ancient Persian. She might run him through herself for what he had just said, but claiming her as his wife, his pregnant wife, changed the rules of the game completely. His opponent could not call upon the supernatural powers of the sunsword now, for he was ritually unclean for causing harm to a woman with child. He must serve out his punishment and be cleansed before he would be fit to ask for divine assistance again.
It didn't matter that she was 'evil' by their doctrine; even a dog was accorded such deference. Oddly enough, the same punishment applied for either offense, be it woman or bitch. Nor did it matter that Sara was not 'in the family way', as belief was all. Since his enemy could not know either way, and it was such an unexpected protest, he had reacted with guilt. Now Ian had to make sure he didn't have time to question his word. He moved the last few steps that would commit him to combat.
Sara clutched her ribs and watched in confusion. Her eyesight had yet to return to normal, spots kept dancing across her vision. All she could tell was a big dark blur was fighting the big white blur. Had Danny somehow blundered into this? But the voice had not been Danny's, and she would have bet the language they were speaking didn't sound like any flavor of Asian she had ever heard.
Jamin felt a sinking sensation in his breast. This man was not armed with anything more supernatural than superior Japanese steel, but his speed and skill might yet land a killing blow. If he fell, what would happen to the sunsword? It would fall into profane hands. That he could not allow. He might be struck down for his impertinence, but he had to try, "Athrô ahurahe mazdå puthrahe tava âtarsh puthra ahurahe mazdå xshnaothra ýasnâica vahmâica xshnaothrâica frasastayaêca."
Nottingham heard his opponent call upon the god of fire for cleansing, and knew he could not afford to continue his current course. Ian had wanted to question this man, he knew things that Irons did not, or at least would not tell him. He was also a holy warrior, crusading in accord with his gods. It was hard for Nottingham to strike him down in such a callous manner, but he had no choice.
Ian touched his sword to his forehead in salute and moved with the unnatural speed that was part of his legacy, honed by a lifetime of training. It was doubtful the Persian understood what had happened. Flame had barely begun to flicker across the blade when Ian stepped into and through his defense.
Jamin felt the kiss of cold steel against his throat, then the warmth of his life pouring out, and then a burning light flowed across his eyes. The gates of heaven opened for him, and he left his earthly concerns behind in a wash of flame, assured that the blessed weapon had been protected from the hands of the Fiend and his servants.
To Sara the black blur suddenly appeared on the other side of the white blob, which burst into flame. She turned away from the painful resurgence of light. Just when her eyesight was beginning to return too, damn it. Well, either she looked away quickly enough, or the Witchblade was able to heal her now that the other was not blocking her power, because the building she was now facing began to come into focus.
Some fighter's instinct warned Sara that her opponent was attacking again. She brought the Witchblade up in a parry and felt it grate against metal. Pezzini was glad of the internal warning, but wondered why the Blade had not supplied a defense. Did the light blind it as well?
A frisson of fear passed through Sara. For all her complaints about the supernatural interference the Witchblade provided, she had begun to rely on it. Well, she had gotten out of bad spots before without it, and she would do so again. Pez strained her ears for the sound of her enemy, knowing that sight was useless. It was all she could think to do. The next time Danny wanted to practice blind fighting, Sara was going to join him instead of teasing him from the sidelines. Assuming there was a next time.
Jamin frowned as she blocked him. How had she known? Perhaps it was simply fortune. He shifted slightly, changing his angle, and lunged for her breast. Whatever had helped her before almost failed her. She lunged aside at the last moment, but it wasn't enough. Jamin could feel the sunsword slice through armor and grate over a rib.
To Sara it felt like she had been slammed with a burning timber. She tried to roll with the strike. The pain was incredible. She couldn't even cry out, the blow stole her breath. She doubled over reflexively, but that pulled on the burn. She straightened almost as fast as she'd curled, and this time she had air enough to swear with, "Shiiiitttt."
The woman was practically kneeling at his feet, lost in the pain of her wound. Jamin breathed a prayer of praise to his gods. Victory was almost at hand. He lifted his sword for the killing blow.
"Aat tem varem kerenava caretu-drâjô kemcit paiti cathrushanãm hathra taoxma upa-bara pasvãmca staoranãmca mashyânãmca sûnãmca vayãmca âthrãmca suxrãm saociñtãm, âat tem varem kerenava caretu-drâjô kemcit paiti cathrushanãm narãm aiwi-xshôithne caretu-drâjô kemcit paiti cathrushanãm gavãm gâvayanem!" A voice called from the shadows.
Jamin froze, his eyes wide with horror as the celestial flame retreated as if it had never been. He turned to the tall man emerging from the darkness. The male striding toward him with a vengeful face could have been one of his own people, but his accent denoted one who had learned the language, not grown up speaking it. He shifted his dimmed blade toward this new threat.
Ian was grateful that Sara did not speak ancient Persian. She might run him through herself for what he had just said, but claiming her as his wife, his pregnant wife, changed the rules of the game completely. His opponent could not call upon the supernatural powers of the sunsword now, for he was ritually unclean for causing harm to a woman with child. He must serve out his punishment and be cleansed before he would be fit to ask for divine assistance again.
It didn't matter that she was 'evil' by their doctrine; even a dog was accorded such deference. Oddly enough, the same punishment applied for either offense, be it woman or bitch. Nor did it matter that Sara was not 'in the family way', as belief was all. Since his enemy could not know either way, and it was such an unexpected protest, he had reacted with guilt. Now Ian had to make sure he didn't have time to question his word. He moved the last few steps that would commit him to combat.
Sara clutched her ribs and watched in confusion. Her eyesight had yet to return to normal, spots kept dancing across her vision. All she could tell was a big dark blur was fighting the big white blur. Had Danny somehow blundered into this? But the voice had not been Danny's, and she would have bet the language they were speaking didn't sound like any flavor of Asian she had ever heard.
Jamin felt a sinking sensation in his breast. This man was not armed with anything more supernatural than superior Japanese steel, but his speed and skill might yet land a killing blow. If he fell, what would happen to the sunsword? It would fall into profane hands. That he could not allow. He might be struck down for his impertinence, but he had to try, "Athrô ahurahe mazdå puthrahe tava âtarsh puthra ahurahe mazdå xshnaothra ýasnâica vahmâica xshnaothrâica frasastayaêca."
Nottingham heard his opponent call upon the god of fire for cleansing, and knew he could not afford to continue his current course. Ian had wanted to question this man, he knew things that Irons did not, or at least would not tell him. He was also a holy warrior, crusading in accord with his gods. It was hard for Nottingham to strike him down in such a callous manner, but he had no choice.
Ian touched his sword to his forehead in salute and moved with the unnatural speed that was part of his legacy, honed by a lifetime of training. It was doubtful the Persian understood what had happened. Flame had barely begun to flicker across the blade when Ian stepped into and through his defense.
Jamin felt the kiss of cold steel against his throat, then the warmth of his life pouring out, and then a burning light flowed across his eyes. The gates of heaven opened for him, and he left his earthly concerns behind in a wash of flame, assured that the blessed weapon had been protected from the hands of the Fiend and his servants.
To Sara the black blur suddenly appeared on the other side of the white blob, which burst into flame. She turned away from the painful resurgence of light. Just when her eyesight was beginning to return too, damn it. Well, either she looked away quickly enough, or the Witchblade was able to heal her now that the other was not blocking her power, because the building she was now facing began to come into focus.