Without pausing for breath, he grabbed the weapon off the ground and scrambled to his feet. The wild man was already coming for him, but Guyon had a different target now.
He ran at the old woman, closing the distance in only a few long strides. Then he grabbed her by the front of her tunic and brought the point of the sword down on her throat.
Immediately, the sound of the wild man’s pursuit stopped behind him. He smiled and looked back to see the man frozen behind him. Then he turned his attention back to the hag. “Tell him to back down, or I will kill you right here.”
“Kill her now,” called Una. “She will find a way to destroy us later if she lives.”
It was a rather extreme request coming from Una, but Guyon forced himself to consider it. He was not above killing under the right circumstances. But he would always offer his enemy a second chance if he could. Even for spawn of the Otherworld, enemies of the Faerie Queen, it was the right thing to do. He looked deep into the gnarled old woman’s eyes. “Tell him.”
The woman’s eyes stared over his shoulder at the wild man. Though no words came from her mouth, he dropped his club and stood still.
“Tell him to sit over by that tree,” Guyon indicated the small tree with a motion of his head. The young man still lay there, but he was conscious, having watched the battle. As the wild man approached at the old woman’s request, the boy scrambled away. But the wild man did nothing to provoke him or anyone else. He simply sat with his back to the tree as though enjoying the shade.
With a head motion, Guyon indicated to the woman that they were to walk that way as well. Cautiously, without taking her piercing eyes off Guyon, she followed his lead until she sat next to the wild man she somehow controlled.
Una came rushing to his side, breathing heavily as though she had run a great distance. Odd since she had done nothing but stand there and watch.
“We need to tie them down,” he said. “I don’t suppose you have any rope. What I had was lost with the horse.”
“I don’t have anything,” she said.
“You can have my belt,” said a voice from the side. Guyon glanced away from the enemy pair just enough to see the squire rising to his elbows. His face was a bloody, battered mess, but at least he was moving. Reaching down, he slipped off his belt and handed it to Una, who was closest. It wasn’t much more than a piece of rope, but it might do to tie their hands.
“Una, watch them,” he handed his sword over the woman, took the belt, and began tying their hands behind the tree and to each other.
Una gripped the sword and swallowed, as though she was considering using it against them. “Ropes won’t hold them, you know,” she said. “They have magic. All Occasion needs to do is urge Furor on and…” she trailed off.
Guyon met her eyes with a raised eyebrow. “Occasion and Furor?” he asked. “I don’t recall hearing their names spoken aloud. I would have remembered such names as that.”
“I…” for once Una was at a loss for words. “I just know it, that’s all.”
So her magic was involved in all of this somehow. Well, it wasn’t the first time that she had mysteriously learned things about their quest, perhaps this time they could turn it to their advantage.
“You say these...people, they are from Annwyn?”
At the sound of the name, the old woman Occasion, hissed and spoke for the first time. “We deny that plaaace.”
Together both he and Una tensed and met the old hag’s eyes. “It will do you no good,” said Una. “I know that’s where you’re from.”
“We come from Aaannwyn, but we aaare not of it. We do not serve the Sins aaas the others do.”
Guyon crouched lower so as to be at eyesight with the woman. “What do you mean? Are you some kind of...deserter?”
Occasion hissed again. “We do not like that naaame. We have lived under their thumb for milleniaaa. We haaad no choice.”
While she spoke, the other one, Furor almost appeared to be asleep. His head was bowed and only his breathing indicated that he was still alive. Something about the old woman’s power was what fueled the wild man.
“Who is it you served?” Guyon probed further. “Do you know Acrasia?”
A third hiss escaped her lips. “We...do.”
Guyon leaned in, “tell us what you know and I might go easy on you.”
“You...would let us leave?”
“Careful Guyon,” said Una. “You can’t trust anyone from the Otherworld.”
He put out a hand to indicate he had heard but kept his gaze fixed on the strange hag. “Tell me,” he emphasized.
But suddenly her eyes widened and she pulled at her bonds. “No!” she cried, but it did not sound like she was responding to Guyon’s request. “Not...now!”
Furor’s eyes snapped open and his head whipped up. Before Guyon could react, the wild man had broken the bonds that held him and the hag, and he quickly stood up.
Guyon jumped backward and hastily retrieved his sword from Una, pointing it at the woman. “Restrain him or I will end you.”
“He comes,” she yelled. “He comes for us.”
“Who comes?” Guyon asked. “Tell us who and we will protect you from harm. But you must listen.”
The woman did not seem to hear. Ignoring Guyon’s raised sword, she rushed to the side, accompanied by the wild man, Furor.
He spun on the squire. “Do you know anything about this?”
The young man merely shook his head. “I just happened upon them and the woman said something about dinner. I think they were going to eat me.”
Fighting back disgust, he turned back to the pair as they scrambled away. But the two had stopped. In front of them stood a man he hadn’t seen before, a man with black, short cropped hair, and a face that almost seemed familiar but that he couldn’t place. Occasion and Furor stood frozen as they faced the man.
He turned to Una. “Have you seen that man before?”
Una shook her head.
“I am Atin,” said the man, as he stared down the two in front of him. “I’ve been sent to find you.”
“No…” said the woman. “We will not go back.”
“Who are you?” Guyon called out. This man, or whoever sent him, had to be what was setting the hag on edge.
“He’s dangerous,” said Una, peering intently at the newcomer. “And there’s something…”
“The man I serve will be pleased to find you here. He is already on his way.”
Guyon walked closer, for it was as if the man had taken no notice of him or Una. “Excuse me. Might I have a word.”
He kept his sword gripped tightly in one hand, but it always paid to be polite when first meeting someone before making assumptions. He had forgotten that when he had first met George and Una. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
Finally, the man Atin glanced in his direction. “It is unfortunate that you are here as well, but now that you are, he will want words with you too.”
“Alright,” said Guyon. “And just who is this man?”
Atin smiled. “He is a knight so powerful he has never been defeated in his true form. He is the sworn protector of the great Duessa. He is lawless. He is Pyrochles.”
Then with a speed that Guyon could not fathom, the man let fly something out of his hand, many somethings. Instinctively Guyon raised his shield and whatever it was bounced off.
But Una, Furor, and Occasion were not so lucky. Horrified, Guyon watched as all three of them fell to the ground, the feathered tip of a dart stuck in their necks.
“Una!” he cried and bent next to her, pulling up his shield as Atin aimed another attack at him. She was still breathing, but if there was any help to be had from her magic, it was lost now, not unless she could somehow heal herself while still unconscious. And both Occasion and Furor lay on the ground, motionless. He was alone.
15
He rounded on Atin, who had more darts in one hand.
“Burnt, I do burn…” growled the man with
a sneer.
Suddenly something shimmered in his appearance, and he appeared as someone else, a gray-haired man with yellow eyes. He’d seen those eyes before.
“You...you’re Archimago. Una spoke of you.”
“And we’re both lucky that I got to her first. She could have wrecked this whole place had she remained conscious.”
“You did not wound me,” said Guyon, setting his feet for a charge. “That will be your last mistake.”
“Oh, but you are too late. Pyrochles is here.”
Pyrochles, the man Una had mentioned. The man who had run off during his fight with Kay, right after he saw Una.
Atin, or Archimago as had been revealed, took several steps backward. He splayed his arms to the side, and smiled.
At that moment, the sound of a horse came clattering over the hill, with heavy footfalls. What crested the rise was not something Guyon had ever before imagined. The horse was blood red, and the hooves smoked with each step. The man on top was something out of a nightmare. This was not the Pyrochles he remembered. This was a being of myth, a being of Hades.
A being of the Otherworld.
His armor was black, and it jutted out at odd and exaggerated angles. His helmet obscured his face entirely, and also bore large points on either side that seemed too large to be wieldy, yet somehow did not knock the man over.
If this was Pyrochles, then he looked far different than what Guyon remembered or Una had described. Perhaps that had been a man trying to lay low, to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to himself. This, on the other hand, was the full image of a knight of the Otherworld, a formidable servant of Duessa.
The knight looked down at Furor and Occasion who still lay unconscious on the ground, and at Una who lay closer to Guyon. “Good work, Archimago,” he said, and his voice rang as though projected out of his helmet by some sorcery. “Yet you somehow managed to leave the weakest of the lot.”
Guyon did not let the insult touch him. He adjusted his fingers around his sword and took a deep breath. A battle was coming, and he had a feeling this would not be like the time he’d fought Pyrochles in Medina’s court. That had been a man in disguise, hiding his true potential. And now he was back to finish the job properly.
Guyon centered himself with his breathing, feeling his feet planted firmly on the ground, and the weight of his own body. He was part of the Earth, and its servant. He was an emissary of the Faerie Queen. Wind whipped at his clothing, cooling the sweat on his brow. He was one with nature, and one with his weapon. “If I’m weak,” he said, raising his sword and shield to defensive positions. “Then you should have no problem eliminating me.”
He could not see the expression behind that terrifying helmet, but he almost got the impression that the man was amused. He leaned forward in his saddle. “Sir Guyon, this will not be like our last meeting.” There was an air of condescension in his voice.
“Then what have you to lose?”
The black knight drew his sword and it rang as it slowly emerged from its scabbard. Like the man’s armor, the sword was black and yet gleamed with some ethereal light. Red, like the color of his horse.
“You will not interfere with the affairs of the Sins ever again,” he said, and spurring his horse, he charged at Guyon.
Guyon moved quickly to one side, directing the enemy knight away from Una’s unconscious form. Something told him she could have made short work of Pyrochles and Archimago both. Hadn’t she said she had taken them by surprise once before? At that time, Pyrochles had tried to rape her. Which meant it was up to Guyon to keep that from happening this time. He would not fail.
The horse barreled forward, directly at Guyon, and Pyrochles prepared his sword to swing down and lob off his head. Only when he got there, Guyon’s head had moved.
He ducked down, flattening himself to the ground just as the horse passed. There were only a few strategies to take when fighting a man on horseback. First, one simply avoided the rider’s weapons at all costs, as it was almost impossible to defend against such attacks. The second…
The horse buckled shortly after passing Guyon. A great red gash had appeared in its hind legs, where Guyon had swiped at it while it passed by.
Rising to his feet with a smile, Guyon raised his sword and shield once again. The face of the Faerie Queen on his shield shined bright in the midday sun. She was with him today.
But something flared in the horse’s eyes, and it managed to keep its balance. Pyrochles turned it around and it faced Guyon down once more. Well, perhaps this would take a little more effort. What he needed now was a spear, but unfortunately there weren’t many handy.
He backed up closer to the tree. The horse’s range would be limited there. But even as he started to move, Pyrochles spurred the horse forward. It came at him with incredible speed, though not as fast or as true as the first time. It was limping on its back leg. So these demon horses were not immortal after all. It was still, at its core, just a horse.
When Pyrochles was almost on top of him, Guyon dodged out of the way and circled partially around the tree so the horse could not charge at full speed. Guyon raised his shield to take the incoming blow from Pyrochles.
The force of the blow nearly knocked him backward, and immediately a slight tingling surfaced on the hand that held his shield. Pyrochles was incredibly strong, stronger than he had been at the fort. He would have to be careful.
But Guyon did not waste time. With the horse in close proximity, he thrust his sword forward, directly into the beast’s left shoulder.
It screamed, a terrifying sound coming from a demon horse such as this, and it rose up on its hind legs, temporarily distracting Pyrochles as he tried to keep from falling.
Seeing his opportunity, Guyon quickly dropped his shield and gripped his sword with both hands. Then as the horse came back down, he swung it upward with all the force he could muster.
The blade sliced through flesh and bone, cutting directly through the horse’s head and out the other side.
Immediately, the beast’s body grew limp, and it fell on its side away from Guyon, taking Pyrochles with it.
Guyon took a deep breath, feeling a soft sheen of sweat cool in the lazy breeze. He picked up his shield again and watched as Pyrochles picked himself up, slowly, and turned to regard Guyon.
He half expected Pyrochles to protest, to insult him, to scream at him for having taken the life of his horse. But the man did nothing of the sort. He merely stepped over the corpse of his horse, and raised his weapon to strike.
Guyon ducked as the blade cut through the space where he’d been. The sword sliced right through the small tree Guyon had been standing beside, and he had to back away even further as branches came raining down between them.
But Pyrochles continued to say nothing. He merely stepped around the ruins of the tree with deadly silence.
Perhaps this man was more in control of his emotions than Guyon was used to seeing in his opponents. He displayed no anger, none that fully distracted his behavior, nothing that would give Guyon an advantage.
But at least they were on equal footing now. And Guyon was quick, thanks to all that time spent traveling and training in his armor. He could deal with this man.
Pyrochles came at him again, his sword swinging in great swaths that Guyon had no choice but to dodge by taking several steps back.
He tried redirecting one of the blows with his own sword, but that effort nearly got him killed. His opponent’s strength was incredible, clearly not from this world. The blow forced his sword to the side, and he barely managed to lurch backward in time before Pyrochles brought his weapon back up to strike.
He would not win against Pyrochles in this form, not by going up against him directly. He had to be more strategic, wear the man out until he found the perfect moment to strike.
At a sound like a small fly buzzing flew through the air, Guyon instinctively ducked behind his shield once again. He had forgotten Archimago.
The other man
stood several paces away, watching the battle but holding several darts between his fingers. He still smiled, making it clear who he thought would be the victor. Guyon maneuvered so that Pyrochles was between him and the magician. He would need to keep some distance between them if he wanted any hope of defeating Pyrochles. He could not divide his attention between two different enemies. Not when he was fighting alone.
Pyrochles swung at him again, and Guyon wove away from the blows, using his sword only once to batter one swing in a slightly different direction. Since he wasn’t taking the brunt of the man’s force, the action went more or less how he intended. Pyrochles’s sword sank into the ground and stuck there for half a heartbeat.
It was just the opportunity Guyon needed. Bringing his sword around, he slashed upward at the man’s face. His blow hit Pyrochles’s helmet squarely, and demon knight staggered backwards. But he remained dazed only for a moment. When he looked back at Guyon, his helmet was unaffected. Not dented anywhere.
Guyon swallowed. Defeating this man would be harder than he thought.
Pyrochles’s next swipe nearly caught him as he hesitated. Guyon was only able to dodge by throwing himself to the ground where he was vulnerable. Pyrochles stabbed downward and Guyon rolled out of the way. He rolled as fast as he could until he was able to get his feet back under him.
But Pyrochles was already on top of him, his sword swinging down for a massive, two-handed blow. Guyon raised his shield to stop it, his only remaining defense.
The shield shattered into pieces as Pyrochles’s attack sent waves of pain through Guyon’s arm. But he did not have time to do anything about it, for Pyrochles was already raising his weapon high for another attack.
When that blow hit the ground, Guyon was not there. He had risen and side-stepped at just the right moment, leaving his shield behind. It was useless to him now.
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