Page 152 of Laird of Steel
If someone was going to get injured, it would be in the final free-for-all.
At Rivenloch, melees were usually conducted with blunted weapons, and even children could take part. He’d participated in his first melee when he was eight years of age. Only once had anyone been seriously hurt, and that was several years ago when Dougal had shown up with a sharpened blade, bent on revenge. Thankfully, there had been no lasting damage. Unless you counted being married to Feiyan.
Gellir feared this melee, however, might leave more than one widow.
Even worse, the king wished to take part.
Gellir prayed the combatants, especially those from foreign lands, understood Malcolm was to be protected at all costs.
After a brief break for ale and lamb coffyns, everyone assembled on the field. Gellir positioned himself beside Malcolm. After all, who could better protect the king than the tournament champion?
Most of the Rivenloch warriors followed his lead, gathering around the king. And though he would prefer she were completely off the field, Merraid stood with them, squeezing in beside Feiyan.
King Malcolm cried out, “Let the melee begin!”
A frenzy followed. Swords and targes clashed. Helms collided. Gauntlets scraped across breastplates. Gellir was shoved back and forth as the grunting and growling mob surged first one way and then the other.
All the while, he kept an eye on the king. He let Malcolm experience a harmless blow here and there. But he kept the worst of the attacks away from him.
The German knight was particularly aggressive. And one of the Moors had bloodlust in his eyes. So Gellir battled them back, hoping they would tire of targeting Malcolm.
His attention, however, was scattered. He couldn’t help but worry about Merraid. She was a fine warrior. But she’d never been in a melee. Accustomed to space in which to swing her blade and leap out of range, she was no doubt struggling in the close-packed crowd.
Even now, he saw her elbowing warriors back as she tried to break free of them.
Was she in trouble?
He batted away the Moor’s sword and glanced back at her.
She was beside Malcolm. And the German knight was closing in on the king.
Gellir shoved the Moor back and shouldered his way through the combatants toward the German.
He’d just caught Malcolm’s eye when he lifted his gaze and suddenly glimpsed danger.
The flash of a steel blade.
Coming down over Merraid’s head.
All at once, time seemed to stretch out.
He wasn’t going to make it in time.
He was unable to move.
Unable to break free.
His heart sank like a stone through honey.
A gasp rasped slowly across his throat.
“Nay!” he cried, his voice strangely hollow.
Gellir had to block that sword.
He had to stop Merraid’s attacker.
Even if he had to kill him.
