by Mark G Heath
“ Drop the sword and the witchery,” ordered a stern voice. She felt the tip of a sword press against the back of her neck. Sir Joshua, breathing heavily after his pursuit of Kathryn and Thaindire, pushed again with his sword.
“ Do it.”
Kathryn let the sword tumble from her grasp and tilted her hand so the vial slid from it and landed without incident with a dull thump in the snow below.
“ Good.”
Sir Joshua slammed a mailed fist into the back of her head and Kathryn blacked out before her limp body met the ground.
“ Novac, she is yours,” said Sir Joshua. He stepped over the fallen Kathryn and made his way along the bridge towards his battling brother. Novac pointed at two villagers and motioned for them to grab Kathryn. They did as they commanded, hauling up the unconscious woman and holding her between them as Novac picked up Lackland’s sword, the vial and Kathryn’s bag. He placed the blue vial back in the bag and looked inside. He saw the pouch with the red powder, which had waylaid Lackland. Besides it nestled a bottle with a dark purple liquid inside but he ignored this as his eyes fell upon two long bottles. He reached into the bag and grabbed one, lifting it out of the bag.
“ White blood,” he said quietly, his eyes widening in delight. He replaced the bottle in the bag, hoping that his discovery had not been seen by anyone else. Tucking the bag under his arm, he walked across to where Lackland still knelt gently moaning.
“ Can you see, Lackland?”
“ No, your eminence.”
“ Bring him with you, we are leaving for the church,” said Novac to Remgaal, who remained comforting the injured driver. She nodded and helped Lackland to his feet. Novac carefully edged along the bridge, Lyndsey and Lackland following, on the opposite side to where the combat continued.
Both men traded blows but neither would give any quarter. Sir Simon had nicked the top of Thaindire’s thigh, but the wound was only slight and had made no difference to the witch hunter’s onslaught. Despite his flight from the inn, he did not appear to suffer any fatigue. Thaindire slashed at Sir Simon, the knight parried the blow and rained one of his own at the witch hunter, who nimbly avoided the hack and retaliated. The blow got through Sir Simon’s defence but deflected off his pauldron on his shoulder, no doubt bruising the knight beneath. He buckled slightly under the blow and Thaindire attacked again. Sir Simon blocked the downward swipe of the sword and the two swords locked together. Each man pushed, seeking an advantage against the other, but it was Thaindire who succeeded, shoving Sir Simon backwards. He tottered away, his feet slipping on the snow-covered bridge and crashed to the ground. Novac dashed past him, Lyndsey ushering Lackland along as best she could. Thaindire closed on the supine Sir Simon.
“ Thaindire!”
The witch hunter turned as Sir Joshua joined the fray. He slashed at Thaindire, causing the witch hunter to parry frantically, once, twice and a third time, Sir Joshua assailed Thaindire in a frenzy. Sir Simon scuttled back to the far wall of the bridge, almost bumping into the departing Lyndsey and Lackland. He was breathing heavily and flipped open his visor to gain more air. He watched his brother hacking at Thaindire, issuing a defiant roar with each blow. The white blood retreated along the opposite wall of the bridge as Sir Simon scrambled to his feet, using the wall for leverage. He slammed his visor down and lurched forward to assist his brother.
The grey sky that hung over the village reverberated with the clash of metal as the battle continued. The line of villagers had edged forward but halted at the cusp of the bridge, none daring to interfere in the fight, without a specific injunction from their Overseers. They watched as Thaindire twirled, dodged and evaded, he being the more mobile of the three, as the armoured knights pressed their numerical advantage against him, working in concert, one slashing at him and the other seeking to drive a blow through the then exposed defence. Despite their expertise, Thaindire held his own against the knights, his superior sword man ship enabling him to repel the repeated attacks and probe the knights’ own defences with a series of thrusts and hacks. Thaindire landed a heavy blow across the right knee of Sir Joshua. His leg went from beneath him and he dropped onto his left knee. Thaindire kicked out and slammed his boot into Sir Joshua’s face, causing the knight to topple backwards. Thaindire tried to bring his sword down on the neck of the floored knight but Sir Simon drove an intercepting sword across and then with a mighty effort, pushed Thaindire’s sword aside. Sir Simon moved position, putting himself between Thaindire and his brother as the witch hunter attacked. He chopped, thrust and slashed as he sought to benefit from Sir Joshua’s absence as he rolled to one side. Sir Simon continued to protect his brother and then commenced a counter-attack.
He swung at Thaindire’s neck but found the action unproductive. He shifted his sword in his hands and hacked at Thaindire’s side, but again the witch hunter countered the blow. Sir Joshua got to his feet, his knee sore but not badly injured. Sir Simon punched Thaindire, catching him unawares, the fist striking the side of his head. Thaindire staggered enabling Sir Simon to swing a two-handed strike at the white blood. Thaindire hopped backwards, but it was not enough and the sword tip raked across his chest, splitting the tunic and drawing a bloodied wound. For the first time he grimaced. Emboldened, both the brother knights attacked, blow after blow seeking to dismember Thaindire. He parried and blocked, moving backwards towards the middle of the bridge. Sir Joshua lashed out and the witch hunter turned the deadly blade away as Sir Simon thrust. Thaindire evaded the oncoming blade and then slammed his sword into the side of Sir Simon. The blade found its way between two of the banded metal strips and cut into flesh, blood squirting from the injury. Sir Simon yelled and fell to the bridge. Sir Joshua hacked at Thaindire but missed as the white blood landed a heavy blow on Sir Simon’s back. The armour buckled yet held, the wind knocked from the knight. Slowly, he tried to crawl away from Thaindire, but his movement was laboured from fatigue and the two injuries he had just sustained.
Panting, Sir Joshua positioned himself before Thaindire, taking his turn to now shield his brother. His knee pained him and his breath came in heavy gulps, sweat trickling down his face despite the cold.
“ Give me Kathryn and I shall spare you,” said Thaindire, showing signs of breathlessness himself.
“ Never, we do not bargain with demons,” grunted Sir Joshua. He pushed his gauntleted hand across his short red hair, “ you must submit to our authority.”
“ I cannot do that,” answered Thaindire. He looked beyond Sir Joshua to the crowd of villagers at the edge of the bridge, trying to see Kathryn. He finally saw her, slumped, still unconscious held by two men. The crowd was parting as someone made their way through the assembly.
“ If you will not submit, you will die,” warned Sir Joshua. He glanced to his left and saw his brother propped up against the wall of the bridge, hand at his side from which his blood trickled through his armour, staining the snow beneath.
“ Finish him,” urged Sir Simon.
“ Die!” bellowed Sir Joshua and he attacked. His sword blows were of lesser strength now, as fatigue began to take a hold. Thaindire easily swatted the sword swings to one side as he waited for the opportunity to deliver a killing blow to his opponent. He jabbed and Sir Joshua was too slow to react, the sword banging against his breastplate but not penetrating it. Thaindire altered his approach and chopped, again he breached Sir Joshua’s defence and landed a blow against his left arm. The two men feinted and parried, but with each action, Sir Joshua grew more tired and this encouraged Thaindire. He landed another blow on Sir Joshua’s already injured knee and the knight yelled in pain and did his best to maintain his defence as Thaindire closed on him. The knight lurched to one side and Thaindire swung aiming for his mid-riff. His aim was off and he caught the side of the breastplate, but with enough force to cause Sir Joshua to stagger and bang into the wall of the bridge. Backed up against the wall, half-kneeling, Sir Joshua held up his sword, ready to deflect the next attack. Suddenly,
there was whistling sound and Thaindire gave a cry. A thin bladed dagger lodged in his left shoulder, the blue material of his garment staining white from the wound.
“ I don’t think so, white blood,” called a voice. Thaindire looked up as Captain Reznik came striding along the bridge towards him. Another dagger was raised in his left-hand, the nasty-looking sabre wielded in his right.
“ Reznik. The man who only turns up when the odds are in his favour,” mocked Thaindire.
“ Why not?” replied Reznik, unfazed by Thaindire's insult.
“ Sir Joshua, your brother is badly hurt, take him to the apothecary at once and gain Alyssia’s assistance for his wounds.”
“ We can take him,” insisted Sir Joshua.
“ No, I can deal with this one, you must take care of your brother.”
Sir Joshua nodded and staggered across the bridge to where his brother lay slumped by the other wall, conscious but significantly wounded. Thaindire switched his gaze between the two knights and Reznik who seemed content to stand before him, the dagger raised, ready to be released.
Sir Joshua hauled his brother up and took his weight, leading him away from the centre of the bridge, down the gentle slope of the bridge towards the waiting villagers and the apothecary. Steam rose from their sweating bodies as they haltingly exited the fray. A couple of villagers broke ranks to assist the knights and Sir Joshua, himself fatigued and injured, gladly let them help, following behind as they made for the nearby apothecary.
“ Well, this is an unexpected pleasure,” remarked Reznik, twirling his sabre.
“ Isn’t it just?”
“ I have you to myself, no Kathryn here, you belong to me now witch hunter.”
“ I belong to Kathryn.”
“ Yes, her enchantments are powerful, I will concede that, especially when they affect the heart, but it is surprising how pain can usurp that desire.”
“ It will be you that suffers pain Reznik when I dispatch your head from your shoulders.”
“ I admire your courage witch hunter. I tried to utilise your obvious skills for the good of this village, but, devotee of your Order, you just would not submit. So, instead of fighting alongside me, I shall have to slay you. Though of course, all that white blood will not be spilt in vain, oh no, it will serve me most excellently.”
“ I see your vanity continues to cloud your judgement.”
Reznik snorted.
“ Have the knights gone?” he asked.
Thaindire glanced beyond the captain. He could not see the knights who must have reached the apothecary and were obscured by the crowd of villagers who continued to watch.
“ Yes.”
“ Good. Time to tip the odds in my favour I think,” grinned Reznik. Either side of the mercenary two imps coalesced, their uniformed, leathery forms solidifying besides their master. The four creatures stood snarling, yellow eyes flashing with malevolence at Thaindire.
“ Only four Reznik? My, we have become bold.”
“ Oh there are the others, if I need them, but I wanted to make this last a little longer and have you beg for me to spare your life.”
“ I will not bow before you.”
“ We shall see.”
Reznik sheathed the dagger and swiping the air before him, the razor sharp sabre slashing left and right, he advanced on Thaindire, the imps following suit.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Cyon Lancaster opened the door to his chamber and admitted Beatrice Mallory. She stepped inside as he closed the door on the cold landing and watched as she set down the tray laden with breakfast.
“ Honestly, Master Lancaster, you are so untidy,” she commented as she looked around the room. She began picking up his discarded clothes and hanging them properly in his wardrobe.
“ You spend so much money on these clothes and then just thrown them around as if they were rags.”
“ I can always buy more.”
“ Save your coin and spend it on me instead,” she smiled as she hung a particularly gaudy robe up and smoothed it down. She stooped and collected a hat, which she placed on top of the wardrobe, standing on her tiptoes to reach. Lancaster remained stood, leaning against the door, watching her with amusement as she bustled about the room, collecting his attire, placing his boots in a row and tutting at the condition of one pair. She righted the books he had besides the bed and then began to turn the bed down.
“ Don’t bother with that, at least not now,” said Lancaster.
“ Why not?”
“ I will probably go back to bed after breakfast, it is too cold to do anything else.”
“ Well, I like the room to look presentable before I serve you, you breakfast.”
“ If you insist. You will only have to make it again anyway.”
“ I don’t mind.”
Lancaster watched as she plumped the numerous pillows and re-arranged the blankets, smoothing them until the bed was made, the russet top blanket as smooth as her complexion.
“ There, all tidy. That’s much better.”
“ Thank you,” remarked Lancaster. He still had not moved as Beatrice returned to the laden tray. She busied herself placing bread, meat and fruit on a platter for him, taking her time to arrange it in the most attractive fashion. He stood admiring the roundness of her backside as she poured some wine for him. She could feel the eyes of Lancaster on her as she tipped the wine into the flagon.
“ It’s lovely and warm in here,” she remarked.
“ Yes it is, it allows me to wear as little as possible.”
Beatrice smiled and turned to look over her shoulder at the semi-naked Lancaster. She set down the jug amidst the burgeoning tray of food and strolled over to him.
“ So I see,” she grinned as she pressed a hand against his chest. Her other hand slid downwards until she paused and then gripped him through his trousers. Lancaster let out a sigh of pleasure as she bit her bottom lip.
“ Does that feel good Master Lancaster?” she asked, looking up at him as he leant his head back in delight.
“ Oh yes.”
Her other hand lowered and she began to undo the draw string on his trousers as Lancaster placed a hand on the back of her neck, his fingers stroking her milk-white skin. His trousers undone, Beatrice plunged a hand inside and took hold of Lancaster. He gave a slightly startled cry at her sudden movement, which gave way to a low murmur of pleasure. He moved his mouth to hers and began to kiss her as she eased his trousers down. They continued to embrace as he manoeuvred her backwards towards the bed.
“ What are you doing?” giggled Beatrice.
“ Giving you what you want. Again. I am generous like that.”
“ Aren’t you just.”
Beatrice bumped into the front of the bed and Lancaster reached to her shoulders and pushed the shawl off them, revealing her dress beneath. He began to unbutton it, from the neck, his hands moving steadily as he slid each button through the buttonhole, continuing to kiss her. All the while Beatrice continued to use her hands on Lancaster, causing him to give the occasional tremble. He lifted one leg and shook the trouser leg off it, before hopping onto the other leg and stepping free from his clothing. The chamber’s fire burned, maintaining the warmth of the room which now increased with the desire of merchant and maid. Lancaster moved his mouth to Beatrice’s neck, enjoying the gentle scent she wore, his mouth nibbling at her neck, causing her to shiver with anticipation. He raised one hand, the dress now unbuttoned to her navel and pushed it off her slender shoulder. He pulled it down her arm and she obliged, moving it so that the dress slipped off. Her hand returned to its duties and Lancaster freed her other arm from the dress so that it now hung down from her middle, her small breasts exposed before him. Roughly he grabbed at one, causing her to gasp and began to knead it.
“ What do you want?” she murmured into his ear as he continued to nuzzle her neck.
“ Oh I think you know very well,” replied Lancaster as he placed his ringed fingers on he
r shoulders and pushed her downwards. A moment later, Lancaster tilted his head back and uttered a curse of delight. He closed his eyes savouring the sensation when he heard shouting from beyond his window. Beatrice also heard as she halted her attentions to Lancaster.
“ What was that?” she asked.
“Don’t stop.”
“ Wait a moment.”
“ Oh,” groaned Lancaster in disappointment.
Beatrice stood up and scooping her dress up to cover her naked front, went to the window. She peered out and then waved for Lancaster to join here. Lancaster rolled his eyes.
“ What is it? Has Ben dropped a barrel on his foot again?”
“ No, come and see.”
Lancaster joined her at the window and looked down into the inn’s yard. He heard another shout but saw nothing.
“ Come on, there’s nobody there.”
“ I just saw Miss Kathryn and Master Thaindire run across the yard, towards the path going westwards. They seemed in something of a hurry.”
“ So?”
Sir Joshua then moved into view. He strode across the yard and had his sword drawn. He shouted Thaindire’s name and followed the footprints that the twosome had left.
“ Something of consequence is happening,” said Lancaster.
“ It certainly looks that way, I wonder what is going on?”
“ Here, help me dress.”
Beatrice replaced her arms in her dress and swiftly buttoned it as Lancaster climbed into his trousers. He reached into the wardrobe for a thick shirt as he pointed to a pair of boots for Beatrice to pick up. He sat on the bed and stuck out a foot for her to place a boot on as he slid the shirt on and tightened the string at the front. Beatrice placed the second boot on as he took a belt that had two sheaths attached to it from a hook on the wardrobe door. The sheaths bore daggers with expensively fashioned hilts. Beatrice pulled a heavy-looking fur from the wardrobe and helped Lancaster into it as he buckled the belt about his waist. He grabbed his hat from atop the wardrobe and opened the door. Beatrice plucked up her shawl, gathering it about her shoulders and followed after him. He emerged on the landing and looked across at Kathryn’s door.