Page 55 of Forbidden

It was all the advantage Simon needed. He twisted aside with the speed of lightning, unlocking the swords and delivering a blow to Duncan’s body that knocked the breath from him. An instant later, Simon tripped Duncan and sent him to the cold ground.

Swiftly Simon knelt close to his fallen opponent. He bent over Duncan and spoke urgently, knowing it would be a very short time before the others came running to the stubble field to see how Duncan fared.

“Can you hear me?” Simon asked.

Duncan nodded, for he had no breath to speak.

“Is what the witch said true?” Simon demanded. “You have no memory of any time before you came here?”

Painfully, Duncan nodded.

Simon turned away, concealing his savage expression.

Pray God that Sven returns soon. I’ve found what we were seeking.

But he is still lost.

Cursed hell-witch. To steal a man’s mind.

And smile!

7

“AMANof your skill should not go unarmed,” Simon said. “Surely there is a weapon in all this armory that Sir Erik could spare?”

Duncan rubbed his midriff ruefully. It still ached from the blow Simon had given him yesterday.

“Right now I feel about as skilled as a green squire,” Duncan said.

Simon laughed.

After a moment, so did Duncan. He felt a kinship with the blond knight that was as unexpected as it was strong.

“I had the advantage in our battle,” Simon said. “I’ve spent a lifetime battling a man of your strength. You’ve had little practice against a man of my quickness. Except, perhaps, Sir Erik? There is a lean grace about the man that makes me wary.”

“I’ve never seen Erik fight. Or if I have, I don’t remember it,” Duncan added broodingly.

“If you haven’t seen him fight since you awakened in the Disputed Lands, you haven’t seen him fight at all,” Simon said beneath his breath.

“What was that?”

“Nothing of importance,” Simon said.

He looked around the armory, cataloging the weapons with reluctant admiration for Erik’s fore-sight. The young lord would be a formidable enemy, if it came to that.

And Simon suspected that it would.

The sound of people walking toward the armory drifted like smoke through the half-finished stone keep. First came a man’s deep voice, then a woman’s musical laughter. Erik and Amber.

Duncan turned toward the doorway with an eagerness that made Simon both furious and deadly cold.

Hell-witch.

Duncan comes to her lure like a starving hound to a meal of garbage.

“There you are,” Erik said to Simon. “Alfred said you were likely here, seeing to the repair of your arms.”

“Just appreciating the skill of your armorer,” Simon said, watching Amber run to Duncan. “Not since the Saracens have I seen such work.”