Arfa stood, and there was nothing louder than her heart.
The Bronze Knight drew his sword, and walked forward.
She raised her blade to meet his swing. It was sliced apart, Uther’s sword decapitated. He swung again, she threw the hilt at him and he stumbled, giving her time to retreat.
Guinever said: don’t fight with a sword. But all she had was a sword, and now that lay in two pieces.
He swung again. She retreated again. He swung, she retreated. Again, and again.
Until her feet touched the bottomless Dozmary Pool.
The Knight smiled. “Nowhere left to run.”