The dark hooded bandit tried his sword on Phoenix, swinging horizontally to cleave at the neck. Phoenix, quick as he was, raised his sword up and blocked the attack in time. The ring of clanging metal could have been heard a league away I'm sure. Phoenix swung his attackers arm outwards with a push of his sword and drove his shield into the side of his head, knocking him to the ground.
Logan had swirled around as he hooves came to the ground and he quickly stood behind Phoenix. Phoenix hushed into his ear and slapped him on the rump to send him galloping to the gates. Logan paused shortly before leaping over the two burning figures in the opening who were rolling in the dirt to douse the flames. Phoenix watched him gallop out to find a place to wait until his master rejoined him, ever so confident that his master would.
Phoenix turned to the wall, spotting every bandit who had assembled on top slowly climbing down ladders or jumping off of the edges of the rampart and coming towards him. Edvar and the door keep, singed hair atop their heads and faces, finished dousing themselves and stood facing him.
Edvar grimaced.
Phoenix said, “I had decided not to kill you but if it is still a fight that you want!...” His mind quickened; He'd fought men before but never a gang. But if he was to get Rithevan out...
“Kill him!” Was Edvar's war cry.
To beat this he'd have to kill or wound with every strike he'd make. The word “Never miss.” planted itself with such resonance in his mind as it sat to be the foundation for the rest of his body in this fight: arms, legs, hip, hands and head, the word moved to the throat as he swallowed hard on the lump and then raised his sword on the end of an arm that felt like stone.
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