Conquer the Night Read Online Free Page B

throat, but again he deflected the blow, seizing the man by the back of the cloak, throwing him forward with impetus to allow himself time to draw his sword once again.
    He tried to make out the fellow’s face, but beneath the hood the man wore a faceplate with a helm of mail.
    â€œSurrender yourself!” Arryn commanded, lifting his blade.
    The cloaked figure turned.
    And from beneath the encompassing garment, he drew his own sword. This defender was well armed, and had no intention of surrendering.
    Fine , Arryn thought. To the death let it be .
    He advanced, ready for the battle, fury and fire filling his veins once again. He dared not think often of what had happened, horrible things beyond the subjugation of a country, a people. Crimes of man against man, crimes he could not believe that God could sit in heaven and allow.
    Crimes that haunted him, day and night, that filled his dreams with the screams of the dying …
    Alesandra!
    Nay, he would win here. His enemy would surrender, or perish.
    With vicious, furious movements, he strode forward, his sword battering every thrust and swing of his opponent’s weapon.
    But the fellow was brave. He flew atop a pew, fought from the rim of the altar itself. All the while, the Lady Kyra babbled and blubbered, crying out strange warnings, gasps, screams of panic.
    He ignored her.
    This was a fight he could fight.
    His enemy leapt from the altar to a pew, swinging his sword deftly. Arryn ducked the blow with a split second to spare, as the fellow was giving rise to leap around again with a solid, bone-shattering swing of his sword; once again, Arryn spun to give his weapon impetus.
    A smaller man, lean, trim, agile.
    But this was a fighter.
    Still, strength would win out in the end, Arryn had determined. Strength, and his will to see everything that was Kinsey Darrow’s destroyed.
    Step after step, Arryn battered his enemy with a rain of blows that sent the fellow falling backward again, again—step by step his enemy parried his blows. But he knew his own strength and his fury. His opponent was skilled, but he knew that he was beating the power from the fellow’s arms with every blow. Eventually, as he moved without faltering, he had his enemy against the wall.
    His enemy’s sword fell to his side.
    â€œSo you do surrender!” Arryn whispered huskily, advancing.
    The fellow swiftly lifted his blade, nearly slicing Arryn’s chin. Arryn ducked backward in the nick of time.
    Surrender, no …
    The fellow sped past him, tearing toward the entry.
    Toward escape.
    â€œNay, my good fellow, nay, I think not!” Arryn cried, and leaping forward, he caught hold of the cloak, giving such a tug upon it that the fellow, a light man, was spun furiously in a circle. As he turned, Arryn stepped forward, tripping him so that the man’s spin finished in a heavy sprawl upon the cold stone floor of the chapel. Oddly enough, they were directly beneath a beautifully carved statue of the Virgin Mary.
    â€œNow do you surrender?”
    The cloaked figure shook its head.
    The fellow had protected his face and head, but wore no body armor. Arryn raised his sword in a certain threat, lightly placing the tip just above his opponent’s heart.
    â€œNow, my good fellow, speak quickly, for though you’ve been an able combatant, my patience is at a low ebb. Dark deeds have brought me here, and vengeance will be found with the blood of some poor beings!”
    â€œBastard Scotsman, do it!” the fellow said in a hiss.
    Startled, Arryn moved his weapon. “Ah … a sword through the heart would be preferable to a hangman’s noose? Or disembowelment. Castration … a few of the tortures Darrow so enjoys inflicting upon his captured enemies.”
    â€œDo it!”
    â€œNo!”
    The shriek came from Lady Kyra. Arryn kept his sword against the man’s chest as he turned with surprise toward Darrow’s lady.
    His broad