thrusting. Again the bundle was thrust into the sword's path; it stuck, and while Gerrit struggled to pull it free, Nyle attempted to stab his opponent over that awkward shield. He thrust so hard that his sword went right through and nicked the body behind. The long-eared creature squalled with pain, dropped the bundle, and began to shout the same unintelligible phrase over and over while slashing so furiously with his sword that neither Nyle nor Gerrit could close on him.
That Sidhe had been infused with great power, which he was supposed to feed to the changeling just before he placed it in Elizabeth's bed. But the changeling was dead now, stabbed many times by steel swords. Doubtless he would be punished for that, but the pain of the scratches he had already received was so great that his master's punishment faded in comparison to his fear of being wounded by steel. He took the power he had been given and wrapped a spell of sleeping in it and cast it at the men who fought him.
Nyle hesitated and shook his head. His eyes closed; he fought them open, and they drifted closed again. He fought it because he saw Gerrit wavering on his feet. He tried to raise his sword, lest the person they were fighting take advantage of this overpowering lassitude and skewer them. Since he knew that in another moment he would not be able to use the sword, he gripped it near the hilt by the blade and threw it. He never knew whether or not he had hit his target, only that it squalled again, as the lassitude overcame him and he dropped to the floor.
FitzRoy had been unaware of the Sidhe who intended to take him from the back until he heard his men call a warning. He turned then, so he could watch better while still keeping most of his attention on the Sidhe he was fighting. It was not a good plan, and he would have been dead in a few minutes, except that the Sidhe had seen something that distracted him as much. Vidal Dhu was down on his knees and over him, with one hand extended, stood a figure that glowed and crackled with white lightning.
Hastily the Sidhe disengaged and leapt back, actually dropping his sword as he pulled his small bow out of the spell-protected sheath in which he carried it. From a pocket in the sheath, 画像共有 he pulled a shaft. He nocked the short arrow with an evilly gleaming head and drew the bow. FitzRoy saw that the elf-shot was aimed directly at Denoriel. He leapt forward, shouting, and slammed his sword across the Sidhe's arm. The bolt flew wide.
Pasgen heard FitzRoy's shout of warning and turned his head. His eyes went wide as he saw the bow swing in his direction. He flung himself sideways, screamed as Dunstan's steel sword nicked his forearm, but it was not the pain of the iron touching him that wrenched the cry from him. To his horror he realized that the elf-shot had passed between the two mortals attacking him and struck his right shoulder, and the pain that screamed through him was unbearable.
* * *
Rhoslyn heard Pasgen scream. She launched a terrific blow at Aleneil and then thrust her away with all the strength she had. Aleneil, unable to avoid the blow completely, was rocked off balance and staggered back, raising her arms to guard herself and launch a blow of her own, but Rhoslyn's attack had ended. She rushed to Pasgen and fell on her knees beside him.
FitzRoy's cry had another, more disastrous, effect. His voice drew Denoriel's attention. The bolt of white lightning, that Denoriel had been about to loose on Vidal hung suspended for just a breath, but in that breath Vidal had lunged to his feet and muttered a spell. Poison now glistened along the blade of his sword, and that blade was only a few fingers'-breadth from Denoriel's throat.
Because he was watching to be sure that the elf-shot had not hit his Denno, FitzRoy saw the new danger. Without a regret, the silvery gun rose. The iron bolt hit Vidal Dhu with such force that it flung him backward. He began to shriek, his voice warbling with agony, but his head struck the floor forcefully, mercifully stunning him into silence.
The strange Sidhe with the crossbow cried out and, unthinking in his fury, nocked another elf-shot, turning the bow on FitzRoy. FitzRoy flung back his head to clear the hair from his eyes. To the Sidhe's vision, the blue star suddenly visible on his forehead gleamed, almost pulsing with energy against the threat of elf-shot. Simultaneously, FitzRoy raised his gun. The Sidhe cried, "No!" and tried to fling away his bow, but the bowstring snapped forward, the nocked shaft flew the short distance between the Sidhe and FitzRoy and the bolt struck FitzRoy full in the chest.
There was no force behind the bolt, it did not penetrate even past FitzRoy's clothing, but elf-shot
That Sidhe had been infused with great power, which he was supposed to feed to the changeling just before he placed it in Elizabeth's bed. But the changeling was dead now, stabbed many times by steel swords. Doubtless he would be punished for that, but the pain of the scratches he had already received was so great that his master's punishment faded in comparison to his fear of being wounded by steel. He took the power he had been given and wrapped a spell of sleeping in it and cast it at the men who fought him.
Nyle hesitated and shook his head. His eyes closed; he fought them open, and they drifted closed again. He fought it because he saw Gerrit wavering on his feet. He tried to raise his sword, lest the person they were fighting take advantage of this overpowering lassitude and skewer them. Since he knew that in another moment he would not be able to use the sword, he gripped it near the hilt by the blade and threw it. He never knew whether or not he had hit his target, only that it squalled again, as the lassitude overcame him and he dropped to the floor.
FitzRoy had been unaware of the Sidhe who intended to take him from the back until he heard his men call a warning. He turned then, so he could watch better while still keeping most of his attention on the Sidhe he was fighting. It was not a good plan, and he would have been dead in a few minutes, except that the Sidhe had seen something that distracted him as much. Vidal Dhu was down on his knees and over him, with one hand extended, stood a figure that glowed and crackled with white lightning.
Hastily the Sidhe disengaged and leapt back, actually dropping his sword as he pulled his small bow out of the spell-protected sheath in which he carried it. From a pocket in the sheath, 画像共有 he pulled a shaft. He nocked the short arrow with an evilly gleaming head and drew the bow. FitzRoy saw that the elf-shot was aimed directly at Denoriel. He leapt forward, shouting, and slammed his sword across the Sidhe's arm. The bolt flew wide.
Pasgen heard FitzRoy's shout of warning and turned his head. His eyes went wide as he saw the bow swing in his direction. He flung himself sideways, screamed as Dunstan's steel sword nicked his forearm, but it was not the pain of the iron touching him that wrenched the cry from him. To his horror he realized that the elf-shot had passed between the two mortals attacking him and struck his right shoulder, and the pain that screamed through him was unbearable.
* * *
Rhoslyn heard Pasgen scream. She launched a terrific blow at Aleneil and then thrust her away with all the strength she had. Aleneil, unable to avoid the blow completely, was rocked off balance and staggered back, raising her arms to guard herself and launch a blow of her own, but Rhoslyn's attack had ended. She rushed to Pasgen and fell on her knees beside him.
FitzRoy's cry had another, more disastrous, effect. His voice drew Denoriel's attention. The bolt of white lightning, that Denoriel had been about to loose on Vidal hung suspended for just a breath, but in that breath Vidal had lunged to his feet and muttered a spell. Poison now glistened along the blade of his sword, and that blade was only a few fingers'-breadth from Denoriel's throat.
Because he was watching to be sure that the elf-shot had not hit his Denno, FitzRoy saw the new danger. Without a regret, the silvery gun rose. The iron bolt hit Vidal Dhu with such force that it flung him backward. He began to shriek, his voice warbling with agony, but his head struck the floor forcefully, mercifully stunning him into silence.
The strange Sidhe with the crossbow cried out and, unthinking in his fury, nocked another elf-shot, turning the bow on FitzRoy. FitzRoy flung back his head to clear the hair from his eyes. To the Sidhe's vision, the blue star suddenly visible on his forehead gleamed, almost pulsing with energy against the threat of elf-shot. Simultaneously, FitzRoy raised his gun. The Sidhe cried, "No!" and tried to fling away his bow, but the bowstring snapped forward, the nocked shaft flew the short distance between the Sidhe and FitzRoy and the bolt struck FitzRoy full in the chest.
There was no force behind the bolt, it did not penetrate even past FitzRoy's clothing, but elf-shot