Vampire Outlaw (The Immortal Knight Chronicles Book 2)

by Dan Davis

  At the far end of the corridor, one of the men shouted back inside his door to the others inside that room.

  Swein pushed past me into the room after Eva. I stood in the doorway and peered inside as Eva helped Marian, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward the door. The room was dark and fetid and it reeked of piss.

  Marian cried out at Eva’s appearance. “What has happened to you? Dear God, Eva, what has happened?”

  Eva had fresh blood covering her from nose to neck and old, dried blood caking her from neck to knee.

  “I am unharmed. We must run, now,” Eva said and yanked her out.

  William’s men tumbled out into the far end of the hallway until there were seven men stalking toward us along the corridor.

  “Stay in there for just a moment longer, my lady,” I said to Marian and I checked my stolen blade. It appeared to be a good one. “Swein, Eva, stay with Marian. If I fall, kill as many as you can and run.”

  William’s men filled the far end of the corridor, coming on, two by two next to each other, in four rough rows. They had bunched up, one behind the other, far too close to each other. Bad for them, good for me.

  The first two men looked nervous, as well they might.

  I sprang forward, slashing at them, shouting. I drove them back toward their fellows. They waved their swords at me and they were fast compared to normal men but they were not practised swordsmen. I lunged low, slid sideways and thrust, gutting the one to the left, who fell to his knees, shrieking and trying to gather up his guts back into his body. I drove my blade into the man to the right. A killing blow for a mortal man, yet he shrugged it off and came back at me, almost taking me by surprise. I had to remember to put them down in a way they could not resist. So I slipped my blade across his throat, slicing his windpipe and neck veins.

  The five men still in the fight were brave. Fanatical, even. I was used to fighting in full armour, with a helm and a shield and my inexperience with fighting in no more than an undershirt began to show.

  One threw himself upon my blade, ran himself through on it and twisted himself to the side. It caught me by surprise and almost worked but I ripped the blade from him. Still, the man behind him cut me on the forearm, rather badly. I was lucky it was not on my hand or my fingers.

  The cut on my arm released even more of my anger. It was like when a bowman is at full draw, with the cord at his cheek, and then he pulls it back even further to beyond his ear.

  My sword flashed in the dim light, thrusting through the clothes of the men attacking me. I knew I was shouting as I killed the last few but I could not recall fighting the rest. I cut the last two down in short order, blood spurting from veins I had slashed through. Seven men lay dead or dying in the corridor, groaning, weeping. Blood soaked the floor and those that could move struggled to slurp it up.

  “Come, let us flee,” I shouted.

  “What about the other prisoners?” Swein said, coming out of Marian’s gaol, his eyes full of horror.

  “There is no time,” I said, trying to calm my rage. “William’s men will be gathering outside. William could free himself.”

  “I know some of these men,” Swein said, throwing over the beam to the nearest door to him and heaving the door open. “Outlaws like me, taken and locked up. Men who were taken when my father was killed.”

  Inside that room, it was dark. Two filthy men in rags shuffled out, blinking at the light.

  “Come out,” Swein shouted. “Hurry, you fools.”

  “Leave them,” I urged Swein. I could hear men moving in the courtyard.

  Marian strode up to me. “You must help them, Richard,” she said. “It is your duty.” She glared at me, hands on her hips. She was filthy. Her hair was matted. She stank like a pig.

  “God give me strength,” I said. “You sound like Emma.”

  “Well then,” Marian said. “You should most certainly do as I say.”

  Together, we got all the doors open. While the others helped the stinking blood slaves, prisoners and servants out of their prisons, I picked up one of the men I had slain and I drank from a wound in his wrist.

  The prisoners groaned in terror and disgust, edging away from me.

  “He is a friend,” Swein swore to them. “He is not one of them, he is freeing you.”

  I ignored them, caring nothing for what those foul peasants thought. I dropped the body into the pooling blood beneath and I looked out the door. Morning was growing brighter. The gate ahead, the gate into Sherwood and freedom, was barred.

  William’s men stood upon the wall and before the closed gate. The wide, clear path between the gate and my doorway was clear of men but I could hear them rustling in the bushes and trees to either side.

  “It will be an ambush,” I said to Eva at my shoulder. “I shall fight my way through, draw them out. You and Swein follow, kill any who oppose us.” I glanced at Eva. “You should drink some more blood. You will need the strength.”

  “No,” Marian said, hearing me. “No, God. You mean they made you into one of them?”

  Eva just shook her head without looking at either of us. “I am strong enough,” she said. “And full.”

  “Suit yourself,” I said. “Be sure to move quickly and leave these dying weaklings behind. Some will get away, probably, if we leave the gate open behind us. We cannot carry them.”

  “Wait,” Swein said. “You could draw the Green Men away from the gate. Give the prisoners a chance.”

  “No,” I said. “I am not doing that. I want to live. Look at these men and women here, look at them. You freed them but without horses, they will all be recaptured within a day.”

  “There are horses,” Marian said. “We saw the stable. It is behind this hall, there is a score of horses, perhaps more.”

  “Set a fire,” Swein said. “In the storehouse to the left of this hall. Burn it down. That will give them something to do.”

  “You and your foolish stratagems,” I said to Swein, shaking my head and glanced at Marian for good measure. “I go for the gate, you follow as soon as it is open. Get to the horses and ride as hard as you can. No north, then west. We will raise more forces, come back in a week or two and destroy this place.”

  Without waiting, I charged out into the courtyard.

  There were men there. Men in green, perhaps a score. Some were armoured in mail shirts or coifs. Many had open-faced helmets. All were armed.

  I felt naked without my armour. Without a helm. Without even a gambeson. It was terrifying.

  All I could do was put my chin to my chest, hunch my shoulders and run through them. Without the armour to weigh me down, I did, at least, move with a speed that astonished even myself. The men in green leapt aside from me, shouting warnings at each other.

  Men upon the wall by the gateway shot their bows at me from less than twenty yards but I ran so fast they had little hope of hitting me. An arrow bounced from the pathway into my legs, missing me but almost tripping me. I took the wooden steps up to the wall in two strides, leaping up with my sword up and cutting down the three bowmen at the top.

  The men who had scattered at my charge now moved back to the courtyard, shouting at me and each other, gathering their courage. I leapt down from the wall, put a shoulder to the timber and heaved up the great beam out of the cleats across the double door gate. My back itched, so sure was I that I would catch an arrow, a bolt or a spear while my back was turned. I gave half of the gate a mighty heave and it swung open.

  I span about in time to parry a wild blow and split fellow’s skull down to the nose. His friend went down with the very top of his skull sliced off by a half-pulled backhand blow.

  I wished that I could retain such strength as that at all times. No wonder William and his men had built a blood farm. It was intoxicating stuff. A small part of me dreamed of a time when I could drink blood every day, for the rest of eternity and fight back whole armies with my bare hands.

  But more men were coming. I edged away from the gate, m
y back to the timber wall. They moved to follow me but more stayed back amongst the vines in full leaf. I had to get them away from the gate so Swein and Eva had a chance. “You cowards,” I shouted. “Kill me. Capture me. The Green Knight will be ever grateful to you.”

  That brought a few toward me. A horse whinnied from behind the hall, beyond the big timber storehouse.

  “I am going to slaughter your horses,” I said.

  A few more came for me.

  “I have William’s treasure,” I cried. “I am making off with his riches.”

  Many more moved to cut me off so I ran along the path away from the gate further into the compound, I ran beside the wall, past the storehouse toward the stables.

  Two men twisted out from behind the wall of the storehouse. I put them down, injured but it took a few moments and the men chasing me were almost upon me.

  I checked my run, span and swung my sword in a wide arc, screaming like a madman. The three closest to me jumped back, scattering from me.

  I turned and ran to the stable. It was huge, built to house a lord’s hunting parties. Stone at the foundation and lower wall with a long timber roof, open on the sides. It was packed with horses. The grooms were already running away when I shouted at them to move, to get away or die. I ran into the central isle. It was dark inside. The horses and ponies were scared, shying away and tossing their heads. I kicked open as many stalls as I could as I moved down the stable building. My pursuers shouted at each other to surround the building and as I opened the stalls, the men gathered at either end of the long structure. When I had ran in, I had conceived that the horses might bolt, throwing Eden’s men into more disorder, perhaps making a herd of panicking horses that we could flee amongst. But of course, the horses were afraid to leave their pens.

  Instead of fighting my way through the men cautiously edging into each end of the stable, I pushed past a big stallion, going for the open side of the stable. It had the short back and powerful rump of a charger and I was tempted to leap upon its back, or push it into the aisle and slice its rump into bolting through the men. Instead, I shoved the fine beast aside and clambered out over the outside wall of the pen.

  On the other side, I took a breath while the men came to cut me off again. I hoped I had already caused enough disruption for Swein and Eva to fight their way through to the open gate. I prayed that Jocelyn and Anselm were ready with mounts and that the archers could cover our escape just as they had done in the raids on Dover.

  I charged the men closest to me. These fellows were well rested and prepared for me. But I was becoming tired and I was slashed in the arm and a blade slashed a glancing blow along my skull over my ear. I killed or put down four men and ran along the path back toward the gate. William’s men were following but avoiding contact, fearing me now, perhaps, more than the Lord of Eden’s ire.

  I rounded the storehouse, into the courtyard by the gate, and ran into a cacophony of shouting and the clash of weapons.

  The prisoners, William’s blood slaves were streaming from the hall. The ones who could move faster than a walking pace were already out of the gate. Others were supporting each other, limping, wincing at the light of the dawn and from the effort of walking.

  Eva stood by the open gate, laying about her with her sword at a group of green-clad soldiers by the stairs. She was magnificent. Always, she had been fast and skilful but now she was strong and relentless and even faster than before. Three dead men were at her feet and three more circled, probing her defences.

  Swein, however, was wheeling backwards from two men parrying and ducking, his sword bent. He was bleeding, moving slowly, breathing heavily. For all his gifts, he was no swordsman and was fighting William’s monsters. It was a wonder he yet lived.

  Just by the doorway to the hall, Marian helped an old man and a couple of broken fellows out into the air, concern for them all over her face, though she herself was filthy and struggling. I cursed her stupidity. I cursed her compassion that was going to get her killed, after all that we had done.

  More of William’s men came from deeper within Eden, from the far side of the courtyard and from around the sides of the hall, to shove the blood slaves back toward their gaol. One of William’s brutes punched two prisoners to the ground and go after more. Another cracked a stick into the side of a young woman’s head and pulled her to the ground by the hair. He was set upon by the woman’s friends who he threw down as if they were children.

  The men pursuing me gathered by the storehouse at my back, arguing with each other about how best to attack me.

  I decided to save Swein first, then Eva and then Marian.

  “Sir Richard!” Little John strode around the far corner of the hall, crashing through the vines and fruit trees.

  The man had somehow found mail and helm to fit his giant frame and his monstrous head and he had a sword drawn. Though the mail was tight across his belly and it was split on the inside of his arms and tied together, and it was short at the wrist. The helm was an old fashioned one with an open face and a nose piece but he wore a mail coif underneath to protect his head and neck.

  Little John was a huge man, filled with rage and the strength of William’s gift but he was not a knight. He was a bailiff, used to breaking the heads of commoners. I was tired but I thought I could take him.

  With him were three men dressed in mail that fit them perfectly and all three held shields painted with the same red and white stripes. Those men were trained fighters, presumably come over from some lord or mercenary company and though they looked like children beside Little John, they were just as dangerous as he.

  John pointed his sword at my face as he strode toward me.

  “Leave the blood slaves,” John shouted. “They will not get far. Kill that one there and the rest will fall.”

  He smashed his way through the prisoners, knocking down and stomping on a man and woman who had been too slow to move aside. Others scattered from him, falling down from fear and in their haste to get away from him.

  There was no time to fight him. I could not kill every man in Eden. Even if I fought John and his men, it would leave at least a score for me to kill or drive off, perhaps twice that many.

  The altar table would not hold William for long and his men could have already freed him even if he was unable to break through alone. I glanced at the hall doorway, by Marian, and imagined William suddenly appearing there.

  I considered fleeing into the storehouse and setting a fire as some sort of distraction, as Swein had suggested. I wondered if I could flee through the gate and draw Little John away from the prisoners out to where the archers could take them. Backing away from John’s approach, I searched for stratagems, for some clever trick of the kind that Swein liked.

  But Swein fell. A cut sliced him upon the arm and then another and he cried out and fell, fighting as he went down.

  The red rage came upon me and I decided to just kill them all.

  John’s soldiers spread out as they approached. The men who had pursued me from the stable spread out behind me, near the storehouse.

  The prisoners fled as best they could. I willed them to run while I fought.

  I chose the soldier on the farthest right and, feinting left, I charged him. Like a good knight, he braced behind his shield so I crashed into it with my shoulder. It hurt, badly but I knocked him down and while he was flailing, I trod on his sword hand and stabbed the point of my blade into his armoured neck. It may not have split the rings of mail there but I leaned on the pommel as I drove it down, crushing his windpipe.

  Little John charged me like a bull and I had to leap over the fallen man and dance away like a coward, lest I be felled myself. A thicket of berry bushes blocked my way behind me but I leapt through a raspberry bush, hacking and tearing through the tangle. I found two of William’s men on the far side, shocked by my sudden appearance. I cut almost all the way through the neck of the first man and the second I speared through the lower back as he turned to flee, all
the while I kept moving.

  Two of John’s soldiers hacked their way toward me through the bushes but the idiots got themselves and their shields caught on the tangled branches. The nearest man looked down at himself to see where he was snarled up. I hacked my sword down on the crown of his helm as if I was splitting logs. The metal on metal sound clanged and he went down as if he was a candle that had been snuffed out. But my sword broke, right at the cross guard. I stared at the handle like an idiot though I had known for a long time that using my full strength in a fight was often a bad idea.

  The other man-at-arms dragged himself through the bushes and aimed a clumsy strike at my head. I raised my hand to block it. Only at the last moment did I realise that my sword was nothing more than a handle. I ducked and the blade cut no more than the air an inch above my head.

  Little John, unseen beyond the dense thicket, roared at his men to kill me and to feast upon my corpse

  I dropped my ruined weapon, grabbed the man-at-arm’s sword arm and snatched his sword from his mailed hand. The man thumped me with his shield but it was no more than irritation and, with my bare left hand, I guided the point of my blade into the eye slit of his helm and shoved it in. He screamed and jerked back, at the very least blind on one side and hopefully dying.

  More men were crowding into the overgrown thicket of mulberry and gooseberry. I hacked my way free, coming out beside the storehouse.

  One of William’s men turned to shout that he had found me and I cut his head from his body while he was still shouting. It was one of those rare times where the body of the beheaded man does not yet know it is dead and the man, without a head, stood upright, hands out to balance itself. The body took a full step forward even while its head rolled away from it. I am sure it fell soon after but I did not see how many steps it too. For I turned to defend myself from the great beast that charged me.

  Little John, his face contorted in rage, swung his sword overarm at the top of my head.

  I was tired. No mortal man, no matter how much he trains, can keep up intense combat without periods of rest. And even I was breathing heavily, sucking down air like a drowning man. I had cuts all over my body, some of them bad and one on the side of my skull that I was sure would be ugly. My blood leaked out all over. I was desperately thirsty, for water and blood.