by A. J. Smith
The clerics finished getting ready, making sure they were identifiable as men of the One God, and left the room.
Clement, Elyot and the watchmen followed them down the three flights of stairs to the tavern’s common room and the group exited into the now dark streets of Cozz. Randall tried to smile at the men in the rear, but sensed they were not happy at being dragged from a night of leisure. Clement was certainly a little drunk and only reluctantly accompanied the clerics, while shooting hard glances at the squire responsible for making him leave the warmth of the tavern.
‘Randall, come here, lad,’ ordered Torian from the front of the group.
The squire jogged past the watchmen and fell in next to the clerics as they walked quickly towards the market.
‘This will likely turn nasty. Brom is known to be a dangerous man and a Kirin assassin wouldn’t think twice about killing all of us, so don’t do anything stupid,’ Torian said plainly, causing Utha to chuckle to himself as they sped along the cobbled streets.
‘And what stupid things are you expecting me to do, master?’ asked Randall, with a little more cheek than he intended.
Torian raised his eyebrows at the comment, but let the tone slide. ‘Well, you carry a sword and you travel with true fighting men. Don’t, however, get the idea that you are one yourself.’ It was said sharply, but Randall knew it was meant as a kindness. If fighting began, the squire would just get in the way.
‘I’ll try to keep my stupidity in check, master,’ the squire replied as humbly as he could.
‘Keep that brain of yours active, though, boy,’ said Utha. ‘You’ve got more of a mind than these men.’ He gestured at the five grumbling watchmen. ‘And you’ll no doubt get a chance to prove it soon enough. Fights can be won with words as easily as with blades.’
The Black cleric was still a mystery to Randall. He sometimes appreciated Randall’s quick wit and sharp tongue, but at other times was highly irritated by them.
The group of men hurried round the outer edges of the market and quickly reached the street where Randall had sat less than twenty minutes ago. Torian signalled that they should stop and gestured to several nearby bound men to disperse. The bound men looked surprised at the sight of two armoured clerics and obeyed instantly, quickly melting away into the side streets.
‘Show me where you saw him, Randall,’ Torian said in a low whisper.
Randall took a step forward and pointed a little way along the street. ‘The fourth street light along, there’s a bramble bush behind it and I could see through to a yard opposite.’
Torian nodded and turned to Sergeant Clement. ‘Take your men round that way,’ he said, pointing along the edge of the market. ‘Come into the yard from the north. We’ll head down this street and approach from the south. Do not engage anyone, do you understand, sergeant?’
‘Of course, sir,’ Clement replied. ‘With me, lads.’
‘Clement,’ said Utha. ‘I know you’ve been at the ale, but just stand there blocking his escape and try to look mean.’
Clement looked embarrassed, but nodded as he and his men moved quickly towards the northern edge of the market.
Torian, Utha and Randall began moving slowly down the cobbled street and Randall felt the adrenalin rising in him. He paused briefly by the bramble bush and pointed across the grass towards the yard. Utha and Torian crouched and peered into the darkness. The blacksmith, Tobin, was still there, perched on the edge of his anvil, swigging from a bottle of wine, and Lord Bromvy was leaning against the upright support of the wooden lean-to.
‘Well, paint my cock green, the bastard is actually here,’ Utha said with obvious surprise. ‘Where’s the Kirin?’
‘Not seen,’ replied Torian. ‘No matter, let’s approach quietly and, Randall… keep your eyes peeled for the assassin.’
Randall simply nodded, not knowing how he would go about looking for the man called Rham Jas Rami.
Utha and Torian looked at each other and began slowly and quietly to move towards the yard. Randall listened. He couldn’t hear Clement and the watchmen either, and he began to think that Lord Bromvy might just surrender at the sight of eight armed men – though he hesitated to number himself as one of the eight.
He crouched down to stay hidden by the wall and followed closely behind the two clerics as they reached the bottom of the street and turned sharp right. The entrance to the blacksmith’s yard was lit by two wooden posts holding globed candles, and beyond was the glow of several forges still burning. Utha was in the lead and sneaked up to one of the posts, making sure to stay in the darkness as he poked his head round the corner to look into the yard.
‘He’s right where we left him,’ Utha whispered to Torian.
The Purple cleric glanced towards the yard and asked, ‘Should we give Clement time to get into position?’
Utha smiled. Before the Purple cleric could object, Utha had turned, striding into the yard with no further attempt to stay quiet. Torian shook his head, but quickly stood and followed his brother cleric.
Randall was a little way behind and tried to keep his eyes on the surrounding buildings, watching for signs of the Kirin assassin. The yard was comprised of several wooden lean-tos, each containing anvils, stored weaponry and blacksmithing equipment. All but one of the buildings was deserted and Randall could see no other people in the yard. The lean-tos had flat roofs and he identified a number of places where a longbow could be used to devastating effect.
‘Bromvy of Canarn,’ bellowed Torian as he strode forward.
Brom and the blacksmith both jumped at the sight of the clerics, but the young lord quickly regained his composure and stepped out from the smithy into the yard.
The blacksmith hurried away, saying, ‘Sorry, Brom, I don’t need this kind of trouble.’
His path was suddenly blocked by Clement, Elyot and the three other watchmen of Tiris who had quietly positioned themselves to cut off any escape. The blacksmith swore to himself and turned to look imploringly both at Brom and at the clerics.
‘The blacksmith can leave,’ said Torian quietly.
Clement stepped aside and motioned for the man to depart. He spared an apologetic glance back at Brom, but darted quickly out of the yard and Randall saw relief on his face.
Utha and Torian walked to the middle of the yard and Bromvy strolled slowly to meet them. He was tall and carried himself with the practised step of a skilled swordsman. His black curly hair was unkempt and a little wild, but his beard was trimmed close and gave him a fierce look in the glow of the street lights. The sword at his side was clearly the weapon of a noble and he casually rested his right hand on the hilt as he stopped a few feet in front of Torian.
‘Where’s your friend, Black Guard?’ asked Utha with scorn.
‘I have many friends, cleric, you’ll have to narrow down the question,’ Brom replied defiantly. He showed no fear of the Black cleric, though Randall thought that he had disliked being called a Black Guard.
Torian had not drawn his sword and was calm as he motioned around the yard, pointing out the watchmen and indicating that Brom was trapped.
‘You can’t escape, my lord, surrender your blade and you will not be harmed,’ he said slowly and deliberately, emphasizing each word.
Brom glanced at the watchmen behind him and took note of the weapons on display. He wasn’t concerned by the mace carried by Clement or by Elyot’s twin short swords. However, he frowned at the three loaded crossbows.
He turned back to face the clerics, assessing his options. Randall was glad that the Black Guard had not noticed him – or, if he had, he clearly didn’t see him as a threat.
To the young squire, the odds appeared overwhelming – a single man facing a group of well-trained watchmen and two dangerous clerics. Randall had seen Torian fight Sir Leon and he knew how formidable he was with his longsword in hand. Utha, too, was clearly not a man to be trifled with, and Brom had taken note of the Black cleric’s axe, which, though not in hand, could be dr
awn swiftly with a shrug of the shoulders.
‘I have no desire to fight two clerics, but I can’t let you take me,’ the Black Guard said regretfully. ‘The knights of the Red destroyed my homeland and I cannot abandon my father and my people to dishonour and imprisonment.’
The clerics looked at each other and Randall thought Brom could not know about Duke Hector’s execution. Torian shook his head to silence Utha and took a step forward to stand close to the Black Guard.
‘Your father, Duke Hector of Canarn, has been executed for treason,’ he said formally.
The young lord didn’t react straightaway, but simply looked at the ground and took a deep breath. Randall thought he saw a tear appear in his eye, but no other sign of emotion could be seen. When the Black Guard raised his head, he had a thin smile on his lips and a hard look in his eyes.
‘And there’s no way I can persuade you to forget that you found me?’ he asked, with obvious gallows humour, eliciting a low snort of amusement from Utha.
‘Not a chance, my lord,’ replied Torian. ‘However, we have no intention of harming you unless you resist capture.’
Brom nodded and again scanned the yard. Randall followed his eyes and thought he saw a shape moving across one of the rooftops, though it may have been a trick of the light, for he could hear no accompanying sound.
Brom turned back to Torian. ‘What’s your name, cleric?’
‘I am Brother Torian of Arnon, cleric of the quest and nobleman of the One God,’ he answered with pride.
‘Well, Brother Torian, I’m sorry you have to die,’ he said quietly, just as Randall saw a definite shape emerge on top of a wooden building opposite.
‘Master…’ he called out just as the sound of a bow string being released and the whistle of an arrow reached everyone’s ears.
Torian had heard Randall’s warning, but turned too late as the arrow hit him in the throat. Brom didn’t turn away or look surprised as the Purple cleric gasped for breath and with wide, staring eyes slowly fell to the dusty ground.
‘No…’ Randall cried out.
Utha and the watchmen turned involuntarily, stunned for a second by what had happened.
Brom had clearly known Rham Jas was there as he reacted quickly, levelling an elbow at Utha’s face, smashing his nose, and sending the Black cleric staggering to his knees.
Two of the crossbowmen fired wildly at the rooftop but both bolts hit the wood and Randall saw a dark shape roll backwards into the shadows. The third crossbowmen fired at Brom but missed, as he darted to the side and dived over the anvil, doing a forward roll under the blacksmith’s lean-to.
Utha grabbed his broken nose and tried to focus through the blood. The Black cleric looked at the body of Brother Torian staring blankly from the ground and roared as he unsheathed his battleaxe.
Turning to the crossbowmen, he barked, ‘Kill that fucking Kirin.’
The three watchmen quickly reloaded their weapons and advanced in a line towards the opposite building. The assassin, Rham Jas, had disappeared and the men appeared nervous, each with an eye on the body of the Purple cleric lying spreadeagled on the floor.
Clement and Elyot, weapons at the ready, advanced on Brom, who had stood up inside the lean-to and swiftly drawn his ornate longsword. Clement swung his heavy mace in a wide overhead arc directed at the young lord’s head, but for all his strength the blow was poorly timed and gave Brom the opportunity to parry and drop his shoulder into the watchman’s chest, shoving him backwards into a wooden supporting beam. Elyot quickly attacked the Black Guard, using his youth and speed momentarily to drive him back.
Randall held his breath and looked on terrified as Elyot realized he was outmatched by the young lord of Canarn. The two short swords he carried allowed him to keep Brom from making a riposte, until a swift kick to the groin winded the watchman and a powerful downward swing of the longsword severed Elyot’s right arm just below the elbow. The young watchman cried out in pain and fell against the wall, thrashing around as blood sprayed from the stump of his arm.
The crossbowmen turned to see what had happened, and a second longbow arrow appeared from nowhere and pierced the stomach of the man called Robin, who shouted out before dropping his crossbow and doubling over on to the floor.
Randall didn’t see where the second shot had come from, but it was at ground level, indicating that the Kirin had quickly changed position. The two remaining crossbowmen fired into the darkness between two wooden buildings and Randall thought he heard a grunt of pain.
Torian, Elyot and Robin had been killed or incapacitated in a matter of moments. Randall felt panic rising within him. He drew the sword of Great Claw almost as a reflex, but made no attempt to attack either Brom or the unseen Kirin assassin. He looked at the body of his master and then at Utha, as the Black cleric pulled himself upright and shook his head.
Clement had again engaged Brom and the older watchman was roaring with anger as he delivered a frenetic series of blows at the young lord. Brom parried a few of them, but he was fast enough to avoid all of them and let the heavy mace strike wood instead of flesh. Each strike took considerable effort and Clement was tiring quickly.
The watchman glanced over Brom’s shoulder and saw that Utha was approaching the fight on unsteady feet. Brom, too, realized this, and with a quick look to assess the remaining men arrayed against him, he attacked Clement furiously. The young lord was a fearsome swordsman and Randall could barely see all of the lightning-fast blows that rained down on Clement. The old watchman held his mace above his head in a desperate attempt to stay alive until Utha arrived, but Brom was now trying to kill and a pivot of his shoulder allowed his sword to slip under Clement’s mace and dig deeply into his side. The watchman’s chain mail made a grating sound as the longsword tore into it, and Randall saw blood appear at the corners of Clement’s mouth and the life quickly drain from his eyes.
‘Black Guard,’ roared Utha, ‘time to die.’
He hefted his axe and shoved the metal anvil out of the way. Stepping past the now unconscious form of Elyot, he stood in a guarded pose. The two remaining watchmen had entered the gap between buildings and Randall had lost sight of them as they looked for the Kirin. A few sharp sounds of steel on steel indicated that they’d found him.
All the squire could do was to stand there, sword in hand, and watch. He knew he couldn’t help in any useful way and, with his eyes still fixed on Brother Torian’s body, he doubted his legs had the strength to move.
The squire managed to force his head to turn and focus on Utha. The bodies of Clement and Elyot were sprawled across the smithy and Randall couldn’t believe how much blood there was. It was proving an obstacle to Brom as he stood awaiting the Black cleric.
Utha was a spectacle of rage as he swung his axe with skill and growled at the Black Guard. ‘Torian was my friend and your father was a son of a whore.’
Brom looked angry, but controlled, as Utha reached him and their weapons clashed. The battleaxe swung high and Brom buckled under the strength of Utha’s attack, his longsword barely keeping the blow from landing. Randall looked on as they fought furiously. Brom was the faster, but Utha by far the stronger, though both men were skilled.
The duel continued with each man holding his ground, as Utha carried on roaring challenges and Brom did his best to stay on the move and avoid the vicious battleaxe.
Across the yard, Randall saw a man emerge tentatively from the gap between buildings. He was a Kirin and held a blood-covered katana loosely in his hand. Randall could see a crossbow bolt protruding from his side and he looked to be in great pain.
Without thinking, Randall stepped into the middle of the yard and brandished his longsword, trying to summon up his courage and to keep Rham Jas from attacking Utha. No one else was alive and he felt that he had no choice but to join the fight. The Kirin was wounded and the squire thought he might be able at least to delay him until Utha had dealt with Brom.
The Kirin was swarthy-skinned with t
hin, black hair falling loosely to his shoulders. He was sweating and wincing with pain as he walked. Randall turned his back on Brom and Utha and, in spite of the sound of shouting and steel, tried to clear his mind and focus on defeating the Kirin. He could see the bodies of two watchmen lying in the darkness between buildings, testament to the speed with which the assassin had killed them.
Rham Jas moved towards the young squire and shot him a confused look before directing his eyes to the frenzied duel between Brom and Utha. Randall looked at him wide-eyed and forced himself to take a step towards the Kirin, holding his longsword at the ready.
‘Randall… step back, boy,’ shouted Utha, as a grunt of pain from Brom indicated that the Black cleric was gaining the upper hand.
‘You should listen to him, lad,’ said the Kirin. ‘I won’t kill a boy whose hand shakes holding a longsword.’
Randall glanced down at his hand and saw that it did indeed shake violently, making his grip on the sword tentative at best. Glancing behind him, he saw Utha had backed Brom into a corner and the Black Guard was trying to defend himself from repeated axe blows. The lord wore only light leather armour, insufficient to withstand a single blow from Utha’s battleaxe. As Randall stepped aside and let the sword of Great Claw fall from his hand, Utha began a combination of overhead blows that made Brom shrink as he raised his sword in both hands to block the strikes.
Rham Jas ran past Randall, wincing with pain and grabbing the protruding crossbow bolt as he did so. Before he reached the lean-to, Utha delivered a feint with his axe and rammed the hilt up into Brom’s chin, causing teeth to fly from his mouth, and a follow-up kick to his chest sent the Black Guard to the ground as Rham Jas advanced. Brom was unconscious and Utha turned, his face still a mask of rage.
‘You killed my friend,’ he said to Rham Jas through gritted teeth.
‘I’m sure he’d done something to deserve it,’ the Kirin replied with a maddening grin. ‘Putting on that purple tabard… it was only a matter of time till someone put him down.’
Randall looked again at his master’s body and felt shame at not being able to fight the Kirin. He still shook as he watched Utha and Rham Jas circle each other. The katana held by the Kirin was a vicious-looking weapon with a long handle and a narrow curved blade. His movements were graceful as he stepped one foot over the other and his eyes were fixed on the Black cleric before him.