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She then heard a thud behind her and spun on the slick mud of the bank, the tords still in her hands-

– to see a badly torn body, afro slowly fro like a shadow toup at Kettle, the rasp of words-

‘Child, we need your help’

She looked back over her shoulder – the surface of the pool was growing cal wrong-’

‘Not as wrong as you think ThisI cannot hold hi, and he does not deserve to die’

She crawled closer ‘What can I do?’

‘The blood within you, child A drop or two, no more than that The blood, child, that has returned you to life Please…’

‘You are a ghost Why would you have me do this for him – and not for you?’

The wraith’s red eyes thinned as it studied her ‘Do not tempt me’

Kettle looked down at the swords in her hands Then she set one down and brought the freed hand to the gleae of the one she still held Slid her pale, then lifted her hand to study the result A long line of blood, a deep, perfect cut ‘Oh, it’s sharp’

‘Here, push him onto his back Lay your wounded palm on his chest’

Kettle moved forward

A blow had broken his left ared around and between the bellowing Seregahl sent white flashes through his brain Half blinded, he wielded his battered, blunted sword on instinct alone,blow after blow – he needed a moment free, a few heartbeats in which to recover, to clamp down on the pain-

But he’d run out of that ti as if glass-edged into his left hip The leg on that side gave out beneath the biting wound He looked up through sweat-stinging eyes, and saw the one-eyed Seregahl towering directly over him, teeth bared in triuod in the head Against its left teht over to bounce frogered A second i fro into splinters The god bent forward-

– as a knee drove up into its crotch – and forear again, this tirin, Iron Bars saw froone now