Anger, hot beyond belief, explods through Aaron’s veins and with a shout he swings the musket like a club, catching Beatrix on the side of the head.
‘How dare you!’
With a tug, Aaron pulls Beatrix’s sword from her hand, turning with a snarl to face Keiran.
Aaron brings his sword up sharply, Keiran parries, his arm shaking, weak. He fights with his left, though his right is stronger. His right has a whole blown through it.
Aaron leaps in with a flurry of blows and Keiran’s parrying them but he’s too slow and his arm hurts and it really hurts but he can’t stop and there’s Aaron laughing like a madman and putting more into it and Keiran can’t hold out much longer he’s going to die they’re all going to die and what about Beatrix but no time now and Aaron puts in an enormous blow-
-and Keiran’s falling,
-and he hits the ground,
-and he’s going to die,
-and there’s Aaron, ready,
-and his sword is above his head,
‘You’ve no idea how long I’ve waited for this,’ Aaron snarls, spit flying from his mouth, eyes wild with rage and excitement. ‘But now the wait is over. You will die today, outlaw!’
And down comes the sword.