The knife streaks toward my father, the chain curving slightly as if Kalith can control its trajectory by will alone.
Father’s turning and his legs are bending. I know he’ll try to leap clear, but the weapon is moving too fast.
I react on pure instinct.
My arm muscles are already firing. I release my arrow, not at the flying blade, but at the uppermost chain link to which it’s attached.
Clang!
The sound of the arrow hitting the loop creates an eerie echo like a plucked note. The arrow’s metal tip catches the chain, wrenches the knife off course, and yanks Kalith’s right arm away from his body.
With athud, the arrow hits the tree behind him, right beside one of the far Blacksmiths, who takes a quick step back. The arrow takes the chain with it, pinning the chain and blade to the tree’s trunk with a force that makes the arrow’s wooden shafttwang.
I was sure the accuracy of my shot and the tightness of Kalith’s grip would have wrenched the chain right out of his hand, possibly even hurt his shoulder, but neither of those things have happened.
For the briefest moment, I replay the widening of his eyes when my arrow hit the chain, the tensing of his right bicep, andthen the sudden extension of the chain as if were made of liquid, not metal, giving it the length and slack needed so its sharp arc didn’t pull his arm too far backward.
Damn.
Not only is it clear he can transform the shape of his metal at will, but the metal itself seems able to act like a fluid substance, practically flowing like water.
Worse, he has four more bands on his left arm and I don’t doubt he can use each of them with the same deadly efficiency as he used the first one.
All of this passes through my mind within a split second as I nock another arrow to my bow, aiming it at the exposed side of Kalith’s neck and letting it loose.
My father has dropped into a crouch and his arrow flies at Kalith’s extended right arm, heading for his underarm where a savage cut can cause enough blood loss to lead to death.
Kalith lets go of the chain, ducking and darting at whirlwind speed.
Both arrows sail harmlessly through the air.
I don’t have time to watch them land, aware only of the dull thuds that tell me they hit nothing more than the snowy ground.
I’m nocking a third arrow to my bow while, at the edge of my vision, my father drops his bow and arrow and reaches for his hunting knives.
Then Kalith rages toward me.
Another copper band is suddenly missing from his forearm. There’s a glint of metal in his right hand that tells me he’s holding it already.
His snarl is a whoosh of sound. “You think you can test me, Boy?”
A copper sword forms within his grip, the blade and its ornate hilt catching the light in blinding flashes as he crosses the five paces between us at an unbelievable speed.
The sword cuts through the air as he spins it so that it rests down by his side, its tip pointed forward, both of his hands on the hilt.
He reaches me faster than I can take a breath, slashing the sword forward and, because I’m still in a crouched position, aiming it straight for my neck.
With all my strength, I throw myself backward, calling on every muscle in my legs to give me enough speed to evade the killing blow.
At the same time, I pull the arrow back, hoping to shoot him at close range, where he’ll have reduced time to respond.
I’ve moved just in time that the tip of the sword only grazes my shoulder, but its swinging arc slices across my coat and takes the blade right through my bow and arrow before I can fire.
Wooden shards explode around me, pieces of my bow and the splintered arrow flying up across my face and body. One of them nicks my left cheek. Another barely misses my right eye. My thick coat protects my chest, although several splinters end up embedded in it.
Splinters fly toward Kalith too.
But with both hands around the hilt of the sword and with its arc heading to his left, his arms are already in an upraised position to protect his face.
