Knight of Shadows

«Figured that,» he said. «What about the rest?»

«I get the impression it's 'Let's wait and see what happens.»

«Guessed that much, too. Give me a good report, even if they don't ask, okay? By the way, I don't suppose your presence here is technically official?»

«Personal,» I said, «from a diplomatic standpoint.»

The lady up front rose to her feet. Luke sighed.

«Wish I could find my way back to Alice's restaurant. Maybe the Hatter would see something we're missing,» he said. Then: «Hey! Where'd he come from? Looks just like you but-»

He was staring past me, and I could already feel the disturbance. I didn't even bother to summon the Logrus, though, because I felt ready for anything.

I turned, smiling.

«Are you ready to die, brother?» Jurt asked. He had either managed to regrow his eye or was wearing an artificial one, and he now had sufficient hair that I could no longer tell about the ear. His little finger was partly regrown also.

«No, but I'm ready to kill,» I said. «I'm glad you happened by.»

He bowed, mockingly There was a faint glow about him. I could feel the power that flowed through and amund his person.

«Have you been back to the Keep for your final treatment?» I inquired.

«I don't believe that will be necessary,» he said. «I am more than adequate for any task I've set myself, now I've control of these forces.»

«This is Jurt?» Luke asked.

«Yes,» I replied. «This is Jurt.»

Jurt cast a quick glance Luke's way. I could feel him focusing on the blade.

«Is that a power object you bear?» he inquired. «Let me see it!»

He extended his hand, and the weapon jerked within Luke's grip but did not come loose.

«No, thanks,» Luke said, and Jurt vanished. A moment later he appeared behind Luke, and his arm went around Luke's neck in a choke. Luke gripped it with one hand, bowed, and turned and threw him over his shoulder.

Jurt landed on his back before him, and Luke made no move to follow up on his action.

«Draw that blade,» Jurt said, «and let me see it.» Then he shook himself like a dog and rose to his feet. «Well?» he said.

«I see no need for a weapon in dealing with the likes of you,» Luke told him.

Jurt raised both hands above his head and formed them into fists. They met, remained in contact for a moment. Then he drew them apart, his right hand somehow drawing a long blade out of his left.

«You ought to take that show on the road,» Luke said, «now:»

«Draw it!» Jurt said.

«I don't like the idea of fighting in a church,» Luke told him. «You want to step outside?»

«Very funny,» Jurt replied. «I know you've got an army out there. No thanks. I'll even take a certain pleasure in bloodying a Unicorn shrine.»

«You ought to talk to Dalt,» Luke said. «He gets his kicks in weird ways, too. Can I get you a horse - or a chicken? Maybe some white mice and aluminum foil?»

Jurt lunged. Luke stepped backward and drew his father's blade. It hissed and crackled and smoked as he parried lightly and drove it forward. There was a sudden fear on Jurt's face as he threw himself backward, batting at it, stumbling. As he fell, Luke kicked him in the stomach and Jurt's blade went flying.

«That's Werewindle!» Jurt gasped. «How did you come by the sword of Brand?»

«Brand was my father,» Luke said.

A momentary look of respect passed over Jurt's face.

«I didn't know…» he muttered, and then he vanished.

I waited. I extended magical feelers all over the place. But there was just Luke, myself and the lady, who had halted some distance from us, watching, as if afraid to come any nearer on her way out.

Then Luke collapsed. Jurt was standing behind him, having just stuck him on the back of the neck with his elbow. He reached then for Luke's wrist, as if to seize it and wrench the blade from his hand.

«It must be mine!» he said as I reached through the ring and struck him with a bolt of pure energy which I thought would rupture most of his organs and leave him a bleeding mass of jelly. Only for an instant had I considered using anything less than lethal force. I could see that sooner or later one of us was going to kill the other, and I'd decided to get it over with before he got lucky.

But he was already lucky. His bath in the Fount must have toughened him even more than I'd thought. He spun around three times, as if he'd been clipped by a truck, and was slammed up against the wall. He sagged. He slipped to the floor. Blood came out of his mouth. He looked as if he were about to pass out. Then his eyes focused and his hands extended.