Onghwe’s head snapped to the side, and he stumbled. Zug stepped back, giving himself some measure, and flicked his naginata blade up in a vicious swing. Onghwe tried to parry it but only managed to deflect the naginata enough that it glanced off the upper portion of his left arm. Zug felt the blade bite into flesh, and when the Khan reeled away, he saw blood soaking the sleeve of his robe.
“Your dogs smell blood,” he snarled, and he heard Kim make a howling noise, as if he were summoning a pack of wild hounds.
The cry was picked up by other voices, and all three men paused.
At the back of the tent, the Rose Knight was no longer alone. He had been joined by the other knight-the one who had helped with the cages-and a familiar giant of a man, who kept up his howl longer than the others. Braced in his hands was a long club, topped with a heavy ball of rough stone.
Madhukar grinned as his howl trailed off. “Save a little bit for me,” he said, hefting his club.
Kim’s shout was the only thing that saved Zug from the Khan’s sudden attack. Snarling, Onghwe rallied, lunging forward with the guan do. Zug flinched, and the blade sliced across the front of his right shoulder.
An inch higher and the blade would have cut his throat.
The Khan tried to seize the advantage, but Kim was suddenly there, at Zug’s side, aiming a high thrust at the Khan’s face. Onghwe retreated, smashing the Flower Knight’s spear aside, and Zug saw an opening.
He brought the naginata around low, and flicked it up, beneath the Khan’s guard. The blade passed between the Khan’s legs, and he rotated his wrists and pulled up as the Khan danced back, fleeing from his weapon. He felt the blade tug as it sliced through cloth and flesh.
Kim pressed forward, his spear point darting high and low at the Khan. Onghwe parried Kim’s attacks easier, but his stance was unsteady. A heavy sheen of sweat covered his face.
He knew he had been cut.
Zug prowled to the left, staying just out of measure but close enough that he could spring forward should an opportunity present itself. Kim continued his flurry of attacks, forcing the Khan to defend himself. Forcing him to keep moving, to keep putting weight on his injured leg.
The inside of the Khan’s leg was covered with blood, and he was leaving a bloody trail behind him as he staggered across the rugs.
Onghwe smashed Kim’s spear aside with a heavy swing of his guan do, and, with a heavy snarl twisting his features, he lunged at the Flower Knight, thrusting his pole arm straight at Kim’s face. The guan do didn’t have a pointed end, and the only way the strike could hurt Kim was if the Flower Knight dodged to the side but didn’t block or retreat, allowing the Khan to slash sideways. Kim twitched his head to the side as he leaned forward, and the guan do passed within a hair’s breadth of his head. He wrapped his left arm around the haft of the Khan’s pole-arm and trapped the weapon against his shoulder.
It was a dangerous move, as the blade of the guan do was poised right behind his head. The Khan would only have to rotate the blade in order to get the edge against Kim’s skull.
But he never got the chance.
As soon as Kim trapped the Khan’s weapon, Zug leaped forward, bringing the naginata around in a powerful swing. The blade sheared through the Khan’s right arm and continued into his chest, where it stopped against his ribs. With a sharp tug, Zug pulled it free, and the Khan gasped, blood spattering from his mouth. Zug whirled the naginata around his head and with a reverse stroke, separated Onghwe’s head from his body.
“It is done,” Zug said quietly.
The Khan’s body lay twitching on the rug-covered floor of his pavilion. His head had rolled a few paces away, and it stared at the rug, its mouth hanging open.
Kim hefted the Khan’s guan do, comparing it to the guard’s spear he had been using. It had been a long time since he had used one of these Chinese pole-arms. It was a slashing and cutting weapon, not at all like the spear.
It felt good in his hand.
“I don’t suppose they are going to let us walk out of here,” he said.
Zug offered him a tiny smile, the first sign of humor that Kim had seen from him in a long time. “No,” Zug said, “They are going to be somewhat angry with us.”
“Should we meet them outside?” Kim asked. “Would you rather die under an open sky?”
“I would,” Zug agreed. He bowed, sweeping a hand toward the entrance of the pavilion. “After you, my friend.”
“It has been an honor to fight beside you, Zugaikotsu No Yama.”
For a moment, Zug seemed to be on the verge of saying something else and then he swallowed the words. “The honor has been mine, Kim Alcheon,” he said.
Kim kept the spear, figuring he could throw it at the first Mongol who came at them. Weapons in both hands, he walked unhurriedly toward the pavilion’s entrance where Madhukar and the pair of Rose Knights were waiting for them.
“I missed the fun,” Madhukar sighed.
“Oh, the fun is not over yet,” Kim laughed, slapping the taller man lightly on the arm. “Come, let us go tell the Mongols what has befallen their Khan. I’m sure that will provide more opportunities for your club.”
He was going to die a free man; they all were. It was a fitting end.
Kim shoved aside the heavy flaps of the tent and stepped outside, surveying the field outside the Khan’s pavilion. The air was filled with smoke, and the stench of blood and death greeted him immediately. There was less activity than he had expected, but there were still enough Mongols surrounding the tent to present rather insurmountable odds.
“Ho, warriors of the Mongol Empire,” he called out, making sure he got all of their attention. “Here I am.”
“Here we are.” Zug emerged from the pavilion to stand next to him. The others stood beside them. Zug held up the Khan’s severed head. “And here’s your Khan.” He dropped it on the ground and kicked it toward the mob of Mongols. “His dogs got the better of him.”
An angry surge raced through the Mongols and spears, swords, and clubs were all brought to bear on the pair. Kim didn’t even bother to count the number of deadly weapons pointed in their direction. He looked and laughed. Not at the Mongol’s reaction to Zug’s contemptuous gesture, but at what he saw rapidly approaching the rear of the Mongol mob.
The knights of the West.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
The day was nearly over before Ocyrhoe found them.
Ferenc and Father Rodrigo had stopped on the side of the road, apparently for a meal. Father Rodrigo’s satchel was lying flat open, the cup-unusually brilliant in the late afternoon sun-sitting in the center as if it had just been unveiled. Father Rodrigo himself towered over Ferenc, speaking loudly and rapidly in Magyar. Ferenc’s body language was that of a person either in shock or grieving, seemingly paralyzed by Father Rodrigo’s fervor.
Ocyrhoe dismounted from the horse she had been given by the Emperor-whose stables were not as bereft of suitable mounts as he had intimated. Ferenc spotted her first. He made no move to rise and greet her, but only struggled to offer her a weak smile.