Ardan hunched the shield to his left side and crouched, staring.
“Good boy!” said Naoise. “Now, Buinne—Pull!”
They heaved the great door wide and Ardan went through it like an arrow.
“Sling, children,” said Naoise. “Keep me informed, Ainnle. I must stick behind the door.”
“He is at them, and well in.... Ah!” said Ainnle, and he slung shrewdly. “He has forgotten to thrust and is cutting. My thanks, Iollann, for that bolt. His shield work is excellent, brother, but he will cut. There is his limit, if he knows it. He is fighting back, and now he is thrusting where he should use the sweeping blade for a retreat! That ramsman, Iollann! This one for me, and you, sister, for the crouching man. I shall shout now.”
“Ardan!” he roared.
The boy dropped his combat as a dog drops a toad. In three seconds he was through the doorway, and in four the door had slammed.
Naoise towered long and lean over his young brother.
“Good lad!” he said. “Well done, Ardan!”