*
Shar-hai turned from where he hovered over the fallen wolf, and looked
up.
His heart froze. For there above him, framed and distorted by the sun,
stood the apparition of all vengeance: the Angel of Death from his
dream. He stepped back and away, and for the space of three breaths,
had neither strength nor control of his limbs.
But Shar-hai had not lived so long against the apparent will of Nature
by being timid or a fool. He moved out from the path of the sun, and
saw not a fiery angel, but a man---young and fierce and desperate, but
still only a man---who bled the same blood, and could also be killed.
Kalus leapt down into the circle. The guard would have gone after him,
but they could not. The aged male and the one-eye stood before them,
threatening, with the others not far behind. They felt no love or
allegiance for any man, but this one protected their fallen leader. And
they knew not whether they did something brave or foolish, but only that
the moment was too much and they must do it.
Shar-hai began to circle, and to try to understand the strange weapon,
while Kalus felt his heart pounding and the sweat from his palms making
his grip clammy and the sword hard to hold. Finally the waiting and
fear became too much and he rushed at him, slicing the air with the
blade.
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