Kark came towards the prisoners with his sword drawn. Peter and Cerylia had watched the fracas at the doorway in considerable confusion but not a little hope. Whatever terrible things were happening out there it did seem as if the forces of Autumn were giving the Winter army a bloody nose. Perhaps they would be rescued after all? Now suddenly it all looked sickeningly desperate again.
"I've had enough of messing about with you two," Kark said. His face, never a pretty sight at the best of times, was a mass of angry red blotches from the sinukas stings which had not helped his temper either. "Little lambs who stray onto the moor can get themselves killed. You've poked your noses into something you shouldn’t have. Now you're going to die."
"Oh yeah? You're all talk. Come here and try it then, vomit brain."
Peter was amazed to find that the words came from his own mouth. He threw off the blanket as both prisoners got to their feet and prepared for a last ditch defence. Unfortunately they'd been unable to break their chains, although they had managed to damage them badly. Wilkinson was a little blunted by the effort but it had been to no avail.
Kark's eyes widened when he saw the sword though.
"Oooo… So you've found some teeth after all then little lamb. I'm so scared. Still, at least there will be a little entertainment in finishing you off."
Peter grasped his sword hilt gratefully in both hands and swung it in a slow arc in front of him, advancing cautiously away from the Temple walls. He had absolutely no experience with a sword but he certainly felt a whole lot better with Wilkinson was between himself and Kark. He remembered something he'd once read about the best way to defend yourself unarmed against an opponent with a knife. According to the book, you were supposed to clasp your hands together in front of your chest so that they formed a sort of living club. In this position your arms were providing some protection for your vital organs, acting as a shield as well as a weapon. Then you simply had to beat or kick the blade from out of your assailant's hand. Even in theory, this had all seemed a bit optimistic to Peter. Nevertheless, perhaps it could form the basis for a strategy which might work much better with a sword. He hadn’t got any better ideas. Keep it simple, he told himself. Since you haven't had any training, don’t try anything fancy. He was smart enough to realise that this wasn't a fencing match. Better not to overreach himself with the weapon in one hand and expose himself to a counter attack. Better to keep it simple, keep both hands on the blade and keep it in front of him at all times.
He considered his situation and a little comedy dialogue born of hysteria ran through his mind. It which went something like this:-
So what exactly is your problem?
I'm facing a psychopathic sword wielding murderer inside a frozen temple with no help in sight and I don’t know how to wield my own sword properly. In any case the sword has been blunted on a metal chain and it's named after a safety razor that never did any damage that couldn’t be cured with cotton wool and a plaster.
Yes, but apart from that?
Apart from that, I'm chained to the wall by a metal collar which restricts my freedom of movement and I've got to try and protect an unarmed woman (with one boot) who is chained to the same wall. This nutter wants to kill her as well.
Yes, but apart from that?
Apart from that, my left leg still isn’t working properly where the ice warrior attacked it yesterday. I'm cold, I'm hungry and I'm tired.
Yes, but apart from that?
Apart from that, there's an army of ice warriors led by Colonel Frost outside the door and several other unsavoury characters backing him up and none of them friends of mine.
Yes, but apart from that?
Apart from that, the Proton King is on his way. Even Colonel Frost seems to be in awe of him and that's saying something. He's not going to be too happy to see me here and knowing the way things work round here, I'll probably find he can kill me as easily as looking at me.
Yes, but apart from that?
Nothing. That's it.
Oh, well that's alright then. If that's all you've got to worry about I don't know what the all the fuss is about. You'd better get on with it hadn't you.
Kark was closing in. He feinted and struck. Peter dodged a little too slowly but escaped only winded. The chain pulled him up short and he started to back to the wall. He had a dreadful feeling that Kark was toying with him.
Why did Kark seem so familiar? He was back to that puzzle again and yet this did not seem like the time to worry about a stupid puzzle like that.
Kark snaked in again and nicked him on the leg. Peter stumbled and Cerylia let out a low sob. He stood up again and concentrated on keeping the sword pointing at his enemies' heart.
Peter swayed on the edge of blanking out. He was going to die.
Kark smiled and at that precise moment something snapped inside Peter - something which had been blocked before but now matched the circumstances exactly. The smile had done it. Suddenly Peter was deadly calm. He was no longer tired and fearful. He truly was fed up of being pushed around and tired of being afraid. He'd been sucked into an adventure that wasn't of his own making and he was being bullied by a thug who had less moral integrity than a flu epidemic. And suddenly he felt free - set free by a kind of anger coupled with a new knowledge.
He knew the smile and all at once he knew exactly how he was going to destroy Kark!
"Come on vomit brain," he taunted. "I'm getting bored. I haven't got all day to hang around here playing silly games with you. I've got places to go and people to see and all of them much more interesting than you. Are you going to try and kill me or not?"
Kark frowned. He moved like a lazy viper.
I only need one chance, Peter told himself. One chance that's all.
Kark struck but Peter struck first. He dropped to his knees letting his legs collapse and swung the sword in a low arc as if it were a hook shot in some hideously lethal game of cricket. In fact he had Wilkinson positioned completely incorrectly and he only connected with the flat of the blade. It would have been a good cricket stroke but it was a terrible piece of sword play. Luckily the very unorthodox nature of the ploy caught Kark by surprise. He hopped backwards and Cerylia suddenly stuck her leg out to trip him. As he fell, Peter swung again and this time three feet of good Sheffield steel struck home and bit hard into the outside of his enemy's thigh. Blood began to flow and Kark stumbled back out of range, furious at the clumsy nature of the trick that had caught him out.
I've got him, Peter thought. Now if only Cerylia had been telling him the literal truth…
"You don’t like that do you, vomit brain? What's the matter, can't you handle a real fight? You're out of practice, aren’t you Kark? Or should I say Kitzuma? That's your real name, isn’t it? You're true name, I mean."
Kark turned white and began to tremble.
Peter had remembered it all correctly. Of course he (as Peter Kirkland) had never met Kark before but the reason he seemed so familiar was because he was an important part of Eryndra's memories, the very same memories that he had reviewed when he'd used the Recorder Token. He'd looked a little different then because he was younger but he was still the same man. More importantly, Peter knew how Eryndra kept control of such a dangerous individual. It was because she had found his true name and used it to blackmail him into loyalty. The sordid details of the piece of cunning political manipulation by which Eryndra had secured the services of this psychopathic devil escaped him now. It didn’t matter. He remembered the meeting where she'd threatened him with the name. And he remembered the name. Kitzuma.
What was it that Cerylia had said to him so recently? She'd explained why true names were dangerous in the Autumn Country. The spirits could use them. And the spirits were very active now.
When the name and the blood are cursed together within sight of one another they can act. You wouldn't want to witness that.
Peter was sure that he didn't want to witness it but he didn’t want to die either and now he had a way out. It was kill or be killed and in a straight fight he knew he'd be killed. But he'd made Kark bleed and he knew his true name! This wasn't going to be a straight fight, then. It was time for Kark to meet his fate. Peter raised his sword and began a string of inventive curses calling on the local powers to do their worst. The name of Kitzuma was prominent in the curse and outside the Temple the spirits of Halloween were listening…
