“I don’t seek trouble,” said Delsaryn, “just the orc and his companions.”
“Like I said,” the guard replied, “you’re coming with me. Put the weapons down.”
“Of course,” said Delsaryn as he set the bow and quiver carefully against the nearest wall. He had no intention of allowing himself to be imprisoned, but the human was too close to allow time to draw the bow. Better to free his shoulders for swordplay.
“The sword too,” commanded the guard.
“I think you should tell me what I want to know and let me go before you get hurt,” Delsaryn said.
“Ha! Well the hard way it is,” said the guard as he lunged.
Delsaryn side-stepped the clumsy thrust as he drew the ironwood sword from its sheath. The guard had put too much force into the attack and the elf stepped close, brushing past with a rasp as Asha leaf rubbed against iron chain. Delsaryn planted his left foot beside the human's left foot and struck the man’s back with the pommel of his sword. The man stumbled forward but managed to keep from falling. Delsaryn spun around on his feet while the human grunted and recovered his balance.
“Last mistake you ever make, elf,” the man growled.
Delsaryn held the sword before him, tip pointed downward, and quietly said, “Give me the information I require before blood is spilled.”
The guard attacked again, this time with a slash at Delsaryn’s side. The elf again stepped forward, deflecting the human’s blade and twisting the wooden sword to strike the man’s shoulder. The chain armor, intended to stop a sword or axe slash, did little to stop the piercing stab and Delsaryn felt the weapon slide through armor to the flesh underneath. It was a minor injury, but a rose of blood grew around the hole in the man’s tabard. The human continued his attack with a quick series of slashes and thrusts that proved the man did indeed have some skill. Delsaryn, however, was faster and more precise. The ironwood sword sang through the air as it parried and counterattacked in a fluid dance that Delsaryn controlled. The human was good but he still bled from two more wounds when a lapse in timing allowed the elf to knock aside the steel blade and slam the hilt of his sword into the man’s elbow. The joint dislocated with a crunch and the stag’s head sword fell from the now useless hand. With a shove, the human slammed into a wall and Delsaryn quickly scooped up the fallen sword.
“Now,” he said, aiming both blades at the guard’s chest. “Where is the orc?”
The guard glanced down the alley and said, “The cells are in the governor’s keep.”
Delsaryn followed the human’s gaze and saw the wall of a large palace beyond the end of the alley. When he looked back to the man, he was scrambling in the opposite direction.
“Guards! To me! We’re under attack!” he shouted. Delsaryn took a few steps in pursuit of the man until another guard appeared at the alley mouth, sword drawn.
“You two! Come quick!” yelled the injured guard.
Delsaryn decided it was time to be out of the alley. He sheathed the ironwood sword and gathered up his bow and quiver. Then, with Kovol’s blade in hand and pursued by a growing number of city guards, Delsaryn ran.
***
Master Ransel was good for his word, Daniel thought as be admired himself in a mirror the smith had provided. Even without decoration, the repaired steel had been polished to a mirror finish. As promised, it fit better than it ever had. The helm, however, was a work of art. Instead of a single pot of steel formed to fit the head, Ransel had combined several bands of metal. The bands fit together like the scales of a snake’s belly. Not only did they allow much more freedom of movement, but they allowed the visor to open much more that most closed-face helms. Two long jaw guards came to a point where the bottom of the visor rested when lowered. When open, the profile of the helm looked like like a dragon with mouth open, ready to spit fire. Ransel gave his assurances that the overlapping ends of the segments would provide better protection from any strike to the side of the head and showed where an extra layer of steel protected the top and back of the head. It was indeed a fine helm and Daniel was happy to hand over the guardian’s coin.
Nearly three entire days had passed. There had been some excitement the evening before, when someone’s horse had spooked itself and set part of the market ablaze. Daniel had glanced out and seen the smoke, but the fire had been quickly doused. Most of his time had been spent in idle chatter with ‘Dame’ Sarafina. The woman was comely enough, but held ideas no woman should entertain, the least of which was that any woman could call herself a knight. Worse, she was of common birth. If she had no interest in working some noble’s land, then she should have become a servant, wench or whore. To pretend knighthood was absurd, an insult really. Daniel thanked whatever gods might be paying attention that the woman was no longer necessary.
Ransel had a pair of apprentices bundle the armor together and secure it to the saddle of his horse. The saddle was also new, another gift of Dame Sarafina. The straps and bracing were perfect for delivering a lance charge. It was an unlikely event in the near future, but that would give Daniel time to assemble a new troop. The leather of the saddle had been dyed black and it matched the black coat of his horse perfectly. Daniel had to hold the horse’s reins tightly while the apprentices secured the bundle of armor behind the saddle. It would have been amusing to see one of them take a kick from the courser, but Ransel was a talented and useful man.
“You missed yesterday’s excitement, Sir Daniel,” said the master smith as his apprentices worked. “We thought we might see the entire marketplace on fire.”
“I had heard there was some commotion,” replied Daniel. There was little else to do for a time.
“The guards were able to douse the flames quickly, thank the gods,” said Ransel. “Thankfully they caught the men responsible, too.”
“I had heard it was a loose horse,” said Daniel.
“Oh, a horse was spooked,” said Ransel. “It was a thief who did the spooking. And a big orc brute, too.”
This caught Daniel’s attention. After all, there were only so many of the foul creatures in the world. He carefully kept his tone flat and impassive. “An orc? I didn’t know they were common here.”
“Oh, they aren’t,” replied Ransel. “So you can imagine the stir when the old thief and young man turned out to have an orc companion.”
“A young man?” asked Daniel. “Was he about twenty?”
“Yes, I’d say that,” Ransel said with a nod. “The guards marched him past here on the way to the governor’s keep. Him, the orc and an old man.”
The day was improving and the trail nearing its end. Daniel couldn’t suppress a smile.
“Looks like my boys are done, Sir Daniel,” Ransel said. “If you have any other need, please just ask.”
Daniel waved away the smith as he said, “No, Master Ransel, you have been of utmost assistance. I will speak well of your craftsmanship to any who inquire.”
The man may have offered thanks for the praise, but Daniel had already turned to leave and heard nothing. A boy the right age traveling with an orc was too much to be chance. It was time to say his sweet farewells to dear, generous, Sarafina and see about retrieving his enemy from the keep. No one else would take credit for the capture. Daniel was owed that and he would take the criminal directly to the emperor himself. He puffed out his chest and swaggered along the road, eagerly anticipating his departure from Blackwall.
Upon his arrival at the inn’s stable yard, he wasted no time finding a groom. “Here boy, have him ready to depart by the time I return. I won’t be long.”
Daniel strode into the inn with more vigor than he had felt in weeks. He had to admit that of late, his confidence had been shaken. How could a commoner have outsmarted and outrun a noble? It was unthinkable, but then, it hadn’t actually happened. Daniel had simply been ahead on the trail. He had somehow gotten ahead of the fugitives and they had now caught up. He hadn’t failed; if anything he’d been a little too successful.
; It took little time to see that Sarafina was not in the main room. Daniel had considered a public switching for impersonating a knight, but perhaps there was an even better opportunity. The innkeeper was too busy with the crowd of customers enjoying their mid-day meal. The babble of their chatter obliterated any specific sound. It was perfect. Daniel climbed the stairs and gathered his belongings from his room. He had worn the new hauberk to the armor fitting, so it was just clothes and his sword. The pack was simple in make, but would hang easily from the saddle. Once that was taken care of, he stepped across the hall to the door to Sarafina’s room and knocked.
“Who’s there?” she asked without opening the door.
“It’s Daniel,” he called back.
“I’m dressing,” she replied. “I’ll be out in a moment.
Perfect, Daniel thought, a wicked smile cutting across his face, as he said, “What was that?”
He backed a step away from the door and lifted a foot. He waited a moment, unable to hear movement over the noise from the public room below.
Sarafina called through the door, much closer this time, “I said I’ll-”
And Daniel cut off the rest of the reply by kicking the door in. The would-be knight was still rolling across the floor in her undergarments as Daniel rushed into the room, closing and barring the door behind him. He turned to face the woman as she tried to stand, still unsteady from shock, blood dripping down her face from her nose and a gash above her right eye. She had tightly bound her breasts in white cloth but wore nothing else above the waist. She had already donned the legging of her traveling leathers, but the knife Daniel carried would make quick work of cloth and leather alike.
Before she could recover, Daniel advanced as he said, “You are not a knight!”
He punctuated the statement with a fist to her stomach, adding every last inane word, every annoying opinion, everything wrong with the ‘dame’ to the punch, lifting her from her feet. She doubled over and Daniel halted her fall to the floor by seizing the black braid of her hair and pulling her to her feet. She slumped when he let go and tried to step back.
Daniel stepped forward. “You are a peasant!” he shouted as he landed a backhand across her face that spun her head and sent her reeling to the bed.
The woman feebly tried to push herself up off the bed. Daniel pressed a knee into her back as he once again grabbed her braid. Then he savagely yanked back her head, forcing her to arch backward so Daniel could look in her eyes. Blood streamed from her face and nose. As she gasped, he saw that she had bitten her tongue and her teeth were stained red.
“You are a woman and of only one use.” Daniel thrust her head forward to crack against the wall. Sarafina slumped down onto the bed, leaving a splatter of blood where her face had hit the wood. With one hand Daniel pinned her wrists over her head while he climbed astride her body. To his surprise, she didn’t struggle. Daniel paused to make sure she had not fainted. There would be no humiliation if she were unconscious. When he looked, he saw fierce clear eyes staring back. Her mouth was set in a white-lipped frown and her nostrils flared, though that might have been swelling from the injury that still bled. He smiled to see bruises already mottling her face.
As he reached for the knife at his belt, he leaned over her, and pressed his lips to her ear. “With so little struggle, one wonders if your virtue remains intact.”
He could feel the warmth of her breath and the brush of her lips on his ear when she replied, “It is.”
Then the side of his face touching hers exploding in searing pain as she bit into the ear. Daniel tried to rear back but the bitch refused to let go. He pulled his knife free and shifted to stab the woman. She suddenly bucked like a frightened horse and he rolled a few inches further than intended. This was all the opening the guardian needed to slam the reinforced knee of her leather leggings between Daniel’s legs. With an anguished grunt he rolled to the floor, barely noticing the piece of ear he left behind.
When sparring, knights typically wore stiff leather to protect vital areas. Even a blunted wooden sword could incapacitate if the vitals were struck. However, even the best such protection did little to blunt the shock of a particularly viscous hit and Daniel was used to sparring with a particularly vicious set of men. He quickly regained his feet, though his eyes still watered and blurred his vision. Sarafina scrambled to her feet in front of him, now holding his knife in her right hand. Her face was covered in blood from both the bitten ear as well as her own injuries. Blood dripped down her neck and shoulders, staining the cloth of her undergarments. She turned her face to the side just enough to spit out the chunk of flesh she’d bitten from Daniel’s ear and then wiped her mouth, only succeeding at smearing blood across her cheek.
“You bitch,” Daniel spat, as he retrieved his sword from where he’d dropped it on the way in the room. “You have no place pretending to be a knight.”
Sarafina held up the knife in a defensive stance and replied, “I was just thinking the same of you.”
Daniel growled and took a step forward and the woman retreated, backing into a side table and knocking over several tins of the sort women used to hold their makeup. She had to reach back with her empty left hand to avoid falling over.
“A true knight would not retreat before a foe,” Daniel said.
She smiled, red-stained teeth splitting the dark mess of her face. “A true soldier would not turn down an advantage in battle.”
Then she took her own step forward. Daniel aimed a feint at her head and the woman parried with the knife, as expected. The real blow was a thrust to the belly. It would be a slow, agonizing death that would give him plenty of time to consummate her humiliation. Sarafina whipped her left hand around and knocked the tip of Daniel’s sword downward with a wooden hair brush. The sword struck the wooden floor and the tip stuck fast. Daniel yanked but was unable to free the blade.
The guardian kicked forward and struck the sword with her foot, snapping the blade. At the same time, she struck out with the brush. The edge of the wooden paddle crashed into the side of Daniel’s head and his vision exploded in bright colors and flickering shadows. Daniel didn’t see the next blow before the pommel of the knife struck the wrist of his sword arm, numbing the hand and sending the broken blade scattering across the floor.
Sarafina stepped close and said, “I was raised by monks. The other boys were,” another hard knee to the vitals and she stepped back, “not,” the hair brush smashed into his jaw, breaking a tooth, “all,” a pommel strike that broke his nose, “godly!” and a final double-fisted blow that stopped the colors and the sounds. Daniel didn’t feel anything when he hit the floor.
Sarafina stood gasping and panting over the fallen knight. Fallen in every sense, she thought. She threw down the knife with a clatter and retrieved the towel she had used after he bath. Gingerly she wiped her face. She saw she would owe the keeper for the stained towel. The guardian winced as she shrugged herself into the jacket of her leathers and moved to the door. Daniel’s breathing was a regular, if ragged, gurgling, likely hindered by the broken nose. He’d live, but the assault would cost him his freedom. Such a shame, she thought, slightly guilty over the lack of sincerity.
She unbarred the door and stumbled out into the hallway. None of her injuries seemed severe, but she ached and she was certain the pain would get worse once the rush of the fight wore off. Sarafina made her way down the stairs to the public room, preparing for the attention her altered appearance would likely cause. Good men were often quick to help an injured woman. When she reached the base of the stairs, however, no one moved. No one saw her. They crowded the windows and the door, drawn by some commotion in the streets.
“What’s happening?” she asked.
Without turning, the inn keeper said, “The guards are chasing someone through the square. He’s already knocked down three of them.”
As she approached the door several of the patrons recoiled. Sarafina would need a mirror soon, though she feared what she wou
ld find.
“By the gods!” gasped the inn keeper when he saw her. “What happened?”
“I’m fine,” she lied. “Let me through.”
She stepped out into the street and was nearly flattened by a sprinting elf. She briefly made eye contact with him before he was gone. She turned in time to avoid being run over by half a dozen city guards, one of whom suddenly sprouted an arrow in the shoulder that spun him around and caused him to tumble to the ground. Several others followed after, some injured, most winded by the pursuit.
“Guardsman, what is going on?” she demanded.
“The elf has started a riot ma’am,” he replied. “Did he hit you?”
“No,” she replied, “my attacker has been subdued.”
“I’ll be back to check on you when I can,” he said, and she believed he would. “I have to help catch him.”
The guardsman ran off to follow his compatriots. Sarafina realized that the usual tone of the marketplace babble was gone. There was still shouting, but it had an edge to it that could not be denied. A Guardian’s work was never done, she thought with a sigh as she returned to the inn.
“Did he say there were riots?” the inn keeper asked.
“Yes,” said Sarafina. “I’ll be back down in a moment. Once I’ve left, send someone to restrain the man in my room. Then bar the door until a guardsman comes. The rest of you, stay here unless you can reach your families quickly. It will be dangerous out there.”
She took the stairs two at a time and rushed for the broken doorway. As soon as she got inside, dread sank down on her shoulders. Daniel was gone. His bags and the blue and gold lion tabard that marked her a Guardian of the Empire were also missing. With a curse, she rushed to don her half plate battle armor. It would likely be a very busy day.
***
Taelyn’s eyes had grown accustom to the darkness of the cell. Now, the feeble light from the hall was enough to make out a few details of the room. It was larger than he thought dungeon cells were. The rectangular room was about twenty feet long and ten feet wide. The only door was at one end of the room, in one of the long sides of the rectangle. The walls, ceiling and floor were all of stone, except for a high arch that had been filled with brick after one of Amberlee’s escape attempts. There was nothing on the floor, no straw or even a dirty blanket to use as bedding. There were also no anchors where someone might be chained. Amberlee had apparently given the guards an extensive education in the many ways a talented thief could escape. The only furnishing in the cell was a bucket with the handle chained to the wall near the door. Amberlee said it was the privy. The guards no longer let her eat or drink unsupervised. The stones of the floor were at least clean, though the gaps between the stones were stained dark by old grime.
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