It seemed there was no contact at all, yet blood gushed from a rent that began above the Edur’s left collar bone and descended in a straight line down to his crotch.
The squat became a backward springing motion that landed Darist two paces back, his blade already hissing to fend off the other two warriors, both of whom leapt away in alarm.
The wounded Edur crumpled in a pool of his own blood, and as he fell Cutter saw that Grief had cut through the collar bone and every rib in the cage down the left side.
The warriors beyond the archway screamed battlecries and surged into the wind-whipped courtyard.
Their only chance of success lay in closing on Darist, inside the man’s reach, closing and fouling that whispering blade, and the Edur lacked nothing in courage.
Cutter saw another cut down, then a third took the pommel on the side of his helm, and the bronze collapsed inward far too deep-the warrior’s limbs flailed in strange jerking motions as he fell to the flagstones.
Both leading knives were in the Daru’s left hand, and his right reached to a throwing knife. He sent the weapon darting out with a back-handed throw, saw it sink to the hilt in an Edur’s eye socket-and knew the tip had snapped against the inside of the man’s skull at the back. He threw the second one and swore as a shield lifted to take it.
In the storm of spinning leaves Darist’s sword seemed to be everywhere at once, blocking attack after attack, then an Edur flung himself forward to grapple, and managed to wrap both arms around the Tiste Andu’s legs.
A scimitar lashed in. There was a spray of blood from Darist’s right shoulder. Grief’s pommel dented the helm of the grappling warrior, and the Edur sagged. Another swing chopped into the Tiste Andu’s hip, the blade bouncing back out from the bone. Darist staggered.
Cutter rushed forward as the remaining Edur closed. Through spinning, clattering leaves, into the calmed air at the centre. The Daru had already learned that direct, head-on confrontation was not an ideal tactic when fighting with knives. He chose an Edur whose attention was fixed solely on Darist and was therefore turned slightly away-the warrior caught sight of him peripherally, and was quick to react.
A back-handed slash of the scimitar, followed by the shield swinging round.
Cutter punched his left knife at the blade, to intercept a third of the way down from the tip. Simultaneously, he stop-hit the swing with his other knife, midway along the man’s forearm-the point of his weapon punching through leather and stabbing between the bones with both edges on. The hilt of his other weapon then contacted the scimitar-and knocked the weapon from a numbed hand.
The Edur’s grunt was loud, and he swore as, yanking on the knife, Cutter moved past him. The blade was reluctant to pull free and dragged the impaled arm after it. The warrior’s legs tangled and he fell to one knee.
Even as he lifted his shield, Cutter’s free knife darted in over it, spearing him through the throat.
The shield’s rim cracked hard against the Daru’s out-thrust wrist, nearly springing the knife loose, but he managed to retain his grip.
Another tug and the other knife tore free of the Edur’s forearm.
A shield struck him a body blow from his left, lifting Cutter upward, his moccasins leaving the flagstones. He twisted and slashed out at the attacker, and missed. The shield’s impact had turned his left side into a mass of thrumming pain. He hit the ground and folded into a roll.
Something thumped in pursuit, bounced once, then twice, and as the Daru regained his feet an Edur’s decapitated head cracked hard against his right shin.
The agony of this last blow-absurdly to his mind-overwhelmed all else thus far. He screamed a curse, hopped backward one-legged.
An Edur was rushing him.
A fouler word grated out from Cutter. He flung the knife from his left hand. Shield surged up to meet it, the warrior ducking from view.
Grimacing, Cutter lunged after the weapon-while the Edur remained blind-and stabbed overhand above the shield. The knife sank down behind the man’s left collarbone, sprouting a geyser of blood as he pulled it back out.
There were shouts now in the courtyard-and suddenly it seemed the fighting was everywhere, on all sides. Cutter reeled back a step to see that other Tiste Andu had arrived-and, in their midst, Apsalar.
Three Edur were on the ground in her wake, all writhing amidst blood and bile.
The rest, barring their kin who had fallen to Apsalar, Cutter and Darist, were retreating, back through the archway.
Apsalar and her Tiste Andu companions pursued only so far as the gate.
Slowly, the spinning wind dwindled, the leaf fragments drifting down like ash.