Two Extracts from The Shintae - a Novel (3/3) by Brian R Hill

(1/3), (2/3), (3/3).

Biren became aware immediately that some freak acoustic of the valley had played a cruel trick upon him. The intended victims had not gone by but were directly below. Even as this registered, the strangers caught sight of their attackers. Retreating instantly to stand inside the entrance to the gap, the travellers waited with swords drawn and their backs to the far wall. The Cantaéns advanced over the snow towards them and, for several moments, they weighed each other up, the light of battle glinting in their eyes. On closer inspection, Biren realised only one of them was a Maraén the other, who appeared old and weary, was of a people unknown to him.

The Maraén would be the main danger and he hissed at his followers to concentrate their energies on him.

The hood of the younger one fell back and, as it did, long dark hair was released and, startled, Biren realised the Maraén was a young woman. Perhaps he would not kill her straightaway, he thought, but then she let forth with an ancient Maraén war cry and, in a blind fury, his followers fell upon her. The sound of steel upon steel echoed throughout the valley and Biren soon discerned he had underestimated the capabilities of the old one. Whilst he and two others had attacked the woman, the remaining pair had engaged the elder and already one was dead with the other hard pressed.

At that moment, the old one slipped, cracked his head against the rocky wall and fell to the ground, stunned. Now they were four against one, the Cantaéns redoubled their efforts. The defender fell back slightly to stand over the unconscious body of her companion, ready to defend him to the death. Swiftly her sword flashed, darting, slashing, slicing, and cutting until the entire enemy had been bloodied. No matter how hard they pushed, Biren disgustedly observed, not once had they been able pierce her guard, in fact she appeared to be enjoying herself.

He had a dozen cuts and scratches himself and although none were serious on their own, if he continued to receive them at this rate they would soon become so. Standing back for a moment, he observed the skirmish, noticing as he did the deadly enemy seemed to be tiring.

Lulled into a false sense of security by this apparent sign of weakness, one of the attackers stepped in to inflict a fatal blow, only to be cut down instantly by the slicing blade of a suddenly alert and energetic foe. Enraged, Biren decided to put an end this rapidly developing fiasco. Drawing away from the mêlée, as another of his men went down under the flashing blade, he took the bow from his back and plucked an arrow out of his quiver. With only one of his followers left, Biren took aim, waiting for a clear shot. Twice he almost let fly, but stopped himself as his view became obstructed.

Then came a momentary suspension of hostilities and he had a clear sight. Easing back the bowstring, he took a deep breath, slowly exhaled and then released the deadly missile.

At the very instant of release, a white-coated apparition manifested itself at his side in a cloud of powdery snow. He did not know who, what, or where it came from and was destined never to find out. The figure cannoned into him and his arrow was spent harmlessly in the air. Before he could recover, a blow from a sword sent him reeling unconscious to the ground. Copyright © Brian R Hill 2005

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