Knight's Struggle

by P. J. Cherubino

  That’s when Astrid realized the man was insane. The crazy seemed to radiate off him like heat waves. Behind her, on the walls, she could hear her people assembling with their ranged weapons. They had enough sense to wait for her order before doing anything.

  The new First Lieutenant picked himself off the slushy ground and did his best to salvage what little dignity he had left.

  “So, you are the one,” Lungu said, taking long, powerful strides towards Astrid. She did not reply. “Such a shame,” Lungu continued. “You killed my best Mover. I might have offered you her place, had you proved to be reasonable woman.”

  “You don’t have enough men to take this place,” Astrid said. “You should turn around and go, before more lives are lost.”

  “Lives lost…” Lungu replied with a chuckle. “What are the lives of my people if not to lose? You are an arrogant, ignorant woman.”

  “You have it all wrong, Lungu,” Astrid said. “You’re telling me what you should be seeing in the mirror. These are good people, and you waste them. You don’t respect those who show you loyalty.” She paused for a moment, then the words came from her mouth on their own. “The Well instructs us: Always honor and serve those who serve under you.”

  “The Well!” Lungu said, after stumbling back with laughter. “Is that what you call your magic?”

  “That is the source of the magic I serve,” Astrid said. “It is not mine.”

  “It’s a fool’s magic,” Lungu said, voice dipping into a growl. “I am a Mover! I bend the world with my mind! Mine is the way of strength.”

  “Mine is the way of justice,” Astrid said. “So, I tell you again: leave this place.”

  She bluffed. Her best hope was to fight him off and hope that Vinnie would stay cool enough to keep their forces inside the keep where they could fend off an army twice the size of the one on the road now.

  Lungu’s black eyes widened and, true to his words, he bent the world to his will. Astrid felt it coming before the motion itself. The air around her was filled with the smell of electricity. She jumped high as the force of the touchless strike passed beneath her feet, visible only by what looked like a heat mirage. Something behind her exploded. She dared not glance back to find out what it was.

  She landed in a crouch, then jumped to the right as another blast of energy hurtled past. She responded to the thrusts of his arms as she’d learned that the Movers needed a physical gesture to make their strikes. It was as if they pushed on some invisible weapon between themselves and their targets.

  But Astrid had a problem. She couldn’t get close enough to him to hit him with the rope weapon. How much could he keep that up? Let’s find out, Astrid answered herself.

  She slipped the rope off her shoulder and whirled it over her head. The ploy worked. Lungu paused his attacks to laugh at her.

  “What do you hope to accomplish with that toy against me?” Lungu asked.

  Astrid made a show of charging at him. The exaggerated lunge drew another strike, which she dodged handily. She didn’t want to make it look too easy, so the next lunge, she let part of the physical energy glance off her left shoulder.

  That was a mistake that sent her whirling on her heel. Her left arm went numb. It felt as if she’d blocked a swipe from a bear’s paw.

  But, an instant later, her fortune turned. Lungu closed the gap between them and brought out his sword.

  Astrid brought the rope in close and whipped out the other dart. She swung both lines before her in a tight X pattern. She saw the look of surprise on his face as her fighting style suddenly changed.

  She knocked back a powerful side strike of the sword that would have torn the arm off a normal man. Lungu kept coming. The silksteel line produced sparks from Lungu’s sword as it clashed. She was teaching the man what she was capable of, but she didn’t want him to learn too quickly. She wanted him to commit everything he had. Her only hope was to keep him sloppy.

  Astrid surprised him with a front kick to the chest when he tried to stab her in the neck. She brought her elbow across the line and struck out, sending the dart towards his forehead. She almost got him, but Lungu was too fast.

  An overhand follow-up with the opposite dart was also a failure. It was a costly one, too. She had let go of too much slack on the line. The metal sphere hit the icy ground. Once a dart stopped moving, it took precious, fractional seconds to get it moving again. She didn’t have that much time.

  The sword came down at her head, and she brought up her right arm to block it. The blade glanced off the sacred steel plate on her forearm, casting off sparks. She lashed out without aim with the line in her left hand. The sword came around again. She ducked, then his foot came up and caught her in the chin.

  Without the power of the Well, that kick would have snapped her neck. She ended up on her back. She couldn’t move. Lungu stood over her pressing her down into the icy ground with his physical magic.

  As he held her there, he looked up to the people on the wall who aimed crossbows and arrows at him. “I will make you this one offer,” Lungu shouted. “Be grateful for my mercy. If you fire a shot, I will rip this whore in two, then I will break down that door with my magic and slaughter every man, woman, child, animal, and insect who remains behind those walls.”

  “You drive a shitty bargain,” Astrid wheezed as the physical magic tried to crush her chest.

  Lungu continued, “I am taking your so-called leader back to my Fortress to face justice. You may stay in my keep. But when I return, you will open those doors for me and submit once again. All you have to do is wait for me. Think about your disobedience and what it has brought this—” he looked down at Astrid who struggled for breath “—beast of the field who calls herself a woman.”

  “Do as he says!” Astrid managed to shout. She knew Lungu had the power to break down those doors. His magic was far stronger than she realized. As she lay under his power, she understood this too late. “When I’m done with him, I will be back!” she shouted.

  Lungu laughed—a sickening sound that gurgled from his pale, cracked lips. “Like any fighting animal, she has an unreasonable confidence. I give you this chance to teach you, like children, to learn from your mistakes,” Lungu shouted. He turned his face to Astrid and sneered. “Tell them to comply. I know you want them to live.” He released some pressure.

  “I say again,” Astrid shouted, “do as he says! Save yourselves. Vinnie! You know what you need to do!”

  “Enough,” Lungu growled. “I will let you up. If you resist at all, I will slaughter everyone you care about. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Can’t get any clearer than that,” Astrid said, managing a twisted smile.

  Lungu released his magical hold. “Bind her hands and feet with the strongest rope,” Lungu shouted, pointing at his First Lieutenant.

  They moved in and trussed her as she released the magical energy that she just couldn’t maintain anymore. Four men carried her to Lungu’s wagon and threw her in like a sow on the way to slaughter.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  On the Wall of Keep 52

  “You heard her,” Vinnie said, eyes downcast. “We are to hold.”

  Tarkon stood beside him on the wall with his brown eyes darting back and forth as he tried to contain his rage.

  “He’s right,” Moxy said. She’d just scaled the wall seconds ago to stand by Tarkon. They could both see he struggled to contain himself. “As much as I hate to say it, we have to let her go for now.”

  “If we go after them now,” Tarkon said, voice trembling, “with everything we have, we can take them. I know we can.”

  Vinnie took a deep breath and met Tarkon’s eyes with his own. The sadness there helped Tarkon deflate, though it was far from a good thing. “You know we can’t,” Vinnie said. “That would leave the keep vulnerable. We need to hold it. That’s the only chance Astrid has.”

  “He might kill her,” Tarkon said.

  “Don’t be ruled by fear,” Moxy said, pl
acing her pale, slender, deadly hand on his hard, calloused one.

  Tarkon’s eyes flashed blind anger for a second, then he relaxed. “But I am. For the first time since I was a child. I fear for things. I don’t want to see harm come to my friends. I can’t…”

  Vinnie rounded on him and placed his big, meaty hand on Tarkon’s shoulder. “I’m scared for her, too,” Vinnie said. “Fear is new to you again. I understand that. But we have time. He wants to make a show of killing her, so he’ll keep her for a while.”

  “You have an odd way of trying to comfort someone,” Tarkon said, managing a weak chuckle.

  “Think about it,” Moxy said. “He’ll lock her up. He’ll wait. He’ll want to demonstrate he’s in control.”

  “Again,” Tarkon said, face hardening. “Not putting me at ease…”

  “Gormer and Pleth are heading to the Fortress Wards now,” Vinnie said. “We already have a way to get an escape plan together.”

  Tarkon finally smiled. “I get it,” he replied. “Who’d have thought I’d feel better knowing Gormer and Pleth were working for us? Let’s get to work on that, then.”

  “Hold! Stay there!” a guard down the wall bellowed. “Crossbows ready!” she commanded.

  Vinnie turned and ran down the narrow walkway. Down below, a single man stood with his hands raised. An empty scabbard hung at his side. It was the former First Charge of Raluca.

  “I don’t come to fight,” the man said.

  “You were released,” Vinnie shouted down. “Why are you still here?”

  “It’s true,” the first charge said. “I was let go. So were my other brothers and sisters in arms.”

  “Get to the point!” Tarkon shouted down. Vinnie held up his hand to silence him.

  “Very well,” the man replied. “Let me in. I am unarmed. Give me the chance to speak with you. I have an offer.”

  Tarkon went for his pistol, but Moxy stayed his hand. If the man below noticed, he didn’t seem to care. He stood still as a statue waiting for a reply.

  Vinnie shouted back down. “Stay there—I’m coming down. He walked down to the Dreg in charge of the wall guard. She stood with her crossbow aimed at the man’s heart. “If he makes a move, or you see any other of Raluca’s people, make sure they die.”

  “That, I can do,” the woman said.

  “On my order, of course,” Vinnie added with raised eyebrows.

  “Yes,” the guard said, snapping out of her hatred to defer to Vinnie’s authority.

  “Good, then,” Vinnie said. He hurried down the spiral staircase with Tarkon behind him.

  Moxy had already scrambled down the wall using her claws to grip nooks and crannies in the rough stone. She jumped down the last ten feet and crouched like a cat.

  “You two stay here,” Vinnie ordered as another guard cracked open the gate. “Be ready to command our force here if things go bad.” When they gave him concerned looks, he added, “Not that I expect that… but be ready for the worst.”

  “And expect the best,” Tarkon said.

  “Now, you’re getting it,” Vinnie said, breaking into his warmest smile. Tarkon’s face relaxed for the first time since the fight. It still looked like it pained him to smile, but he was doing it more often.

  Vinnie strode up to the gates and tried to slip past the opening, but his gut would not allow that. He cleared his throat meaningfully, and the doors parted farther.

  He walked right up to Raluca’s former First Charge and stood inches from him, hands to hips. “I’m here,” Vinnie said. “Let’s hear what you have to say.”

  The man didn’t flinch. “I served Raluca’s estate since I was a child. My father served her father.”

  “I don’t have all day,” Vinnie said, flicking his eyes to the side of the road, looking for movement.

  “We serve with honor,” the First Charge said, lifting his chin and squaring his shoulders. “You and I don’t agree on politics, but we do agree on honor.”

  “You call exploiting villages ‘politics,’?” Vinnie asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yes. Everything but service to my leader is politics,” the man said firmly.

  Vinnie understood in a flash. “Now you have no leader.”

  “She was killed in an honorable fight. She fought to free us from her mistakes. Now, our Protector acts without honor. He has insulted the blood contract of my leader. He did not honor her dying arrangements.”

  A range of responses ran through Vinnie’s mind. He might have pointed out that Raluca was after power and that was obvious to anyone with a brain. He might have pointed out the folly of blindly following someone based on tradition without looking critically at what, exactly, a leader represents.

  Instead, he went with the most accessible truth. It was something that let him find a scrap of understanding, and possibly, compassion. “So, you want to reclaim your honor.”

  The man nodded his head. “And I am not alone in that desire.”

  “You have my respect,” Vinnie replied earnestly. “You’ve earned it with courage and honesty. We may have some difference in how we view honor, but the distance between us is not so great. What do you propose?”

  “I and a dozen of my compatriots seek to serve Astrid,” the man said.

  That took Vinnie completely by surprise. He hid it well. “Very well,” Vinnie said immediately to cover his shock. “You will camp here. I will judge you and the rest by how well you follow orders. You have much to prove.”

  The First Charge bowed deeply with his fist over his heart. He rose and said, “We will prove it to you with our lives.”

  “I’m not eager to throw away more lives,” Vinnie said. “If it can be helped.” It was the First Charge’s turn to register surprise. “Do you have wounded?”

  “Yes,” the man replied.

  “How are they?” Vinnie asked.

  “We lost our medic, but our people are strong and resourceful.”

  “I’ll send help,” Vinnie said. “And a few guards, of course. Your people are to hand over their weapons until such time as I say you may have them back.”

  The First Charge agreed readily. Vinnie continued. “When my people show up, they will count the swords on the ground. If the sword count doesn’t match the headcount, that’s the end. Understood?”

  “My people will be unarmed,” the Charge replied.

  “Make ready,” Vinnie said, as he turned on his heel. Now, all he had to do was sell his agreement to Tarkon, Moxy, and the people that the First Charge was trying to kill not more than a day ago.

  On the Road to Lungu Fortress

  “Make way, peasants!” a loud, shrill voice called.

  Gormer turned in his seat on the wagon just after he pulled it to the side of the road. The sound of more than a few galloping horses made him pull over quick. He knew the sound of an angry asshole when he heard it. He’d been driving the ale wagon for the man who owned it.

  The man, a father of five, had frostbite on his hands. He didn’t have the right kind of gloves. They’d caught it before it got too bad. He’d just lose about an inch of skin from his index finger. It would hurt like hell, but he’d keep the finger if he managed to stay away from infection.

  “Move aside for your Protector!” the same voice shouted, closer.

  Gormer gave a sneaky look at the First Lieutenant galloping by. Judging the state of his armor, he had fallen from his horse. That almost made Gormer snicker. He didn’t, because the announcement that the Protector was coming through made his blood run colder than the air.

  “What the fuck is he doing here?” Pleth asked beneath the scarf that wrapped around his head, leaving only his wide eyes visible.

  “We’re not too far from Keep 52,” Gormer said by way of response.

  Pleth didn’t have a reply, save the breath that produced more steam as he breathed fast with panic.

  “Say they’ll never take you alive,” Gormer said.

  “What—” Pleth stammered, eyes wide. “As
shole,” he grumbled, after he caught on to yet another hangman’s joke. Gormer couldn’t tell if he was smiling.

  Probably not, Gormer thought. He breathed a sigh of relief when the Protector’s wagon trundled past. A troop of about fifty soldiers marched behind looking miserable. Gormer wondered if and how they would all manage to keep all of their toes and fingers at the end of this march.

  “Did you read him?” Pleth asked.

  “Nope,” Gormer replied, pulling his furs tighter around his hunched shoulders.

  “Why not?” Pleth hissed.

  “Too risky,” Gormer said. “Word says he has broad powers.”

  “You could have read him a little bit,” Pleth replied.

  “Sure,” Gormer said, “and we might end up a little bit dead.”

  Someone was waving to them on the driver’s seat of a cart three places ahead.

  “Who the hell are they waving at?” Gormer asked.

  “Us,” Pleth replied.

  “You better go see what they want,” Gormer said.

  “Why me?” Pleth asked.

  “I'm driving,” Gormer replied.

  “I can drive,” Pleth said, pushing Gormer off the seat. The grumpy, failed mystic climbed down from the moving wagon and nearly landed on his ass on the slippery road.

  “Well,” Gormer said, as he began trotting up the slow-moving train of refugees, “at least all the traffic made the road more passable.”

  They were lucky. Raluca’s forces, then, Lungu’s troops, then the goons from Keep 17, all did their part to more-or-less stomp the snow away. But in places, it was all thick ice. Gormer made it to the wagon of the man flagging them down. He jumped up on the running board.

  “What do you want?” Gormer asked, annoyed.

  “I heard some of the soldiers talking,” the man said. “Protector Lungu has that bitch in his wagon tied up and ready for hanging!”

  Gormer froze inside to rival the lack of heat in the air. Luckily, the man continued without noticing Gormer’s reaction. He was obviously a loyalist, but why was he telling Gormer?