by G S Santos
"What the hell?" Klaus exclaimed. Adelphine looked outside. Tristan now looked at the woods in front of him, into the foliage and the trees. He was still, with his fingers on the hilt of the longsword, and the other soldiers in red cape ready to unsheathe.
"What's going on?" he said while Magzas woke up.
"It cannot be!" Klaus was as pale as paper.
"What is going on?" Adelphine pushed Magzas’ hair out to see. Tristan and the soldiers at his side raised their hands above his head. That was bad enough, but as she looked up the path, she saw a dozen arrows pointing at them from the foliage.
She swallowed. She felt her heartbeat quicken. "It cannot be! Cannot be!"
Klaus had his eyes glued to the glass, and Wilthers was shaking as if he had been put in the icy water. Outside, Tristan had his arms raised and his head down. Adelphine looked across the path and saw six archers pointing at them, their coats battered and their faces painted black and green like the forest.
"I knew that these useless soldiers were good for nothing!" Wilthers shouted. “I knew it, I knew it!"
"Shut up, Uncle!" Klaus said without looking away, terrified of the scene in front of them. "How would we know that they were going to ambush us!"
"The worst thing is that they are paid to take care of this carriage and watch them... With their heads down! They will deliver us! I knew it was stupid to come on this trip, it was suicide!"
"Do you think they're shot?" Adelphine muttered.
"I have no idea," Klaus said. "But... I think if they have the opportunity to take prisoners, they will. They have slaves to sell, work in the land and everything they want."
Adelphine took the hand of Magzas. Things could not end like this.
But that's how they were ending. Kaunas had been right. Adelphine clenched her fists and wished magic would consume those evil ones.
But it did not have a drop of magic in it.
"Magzas, can you do something?"
Magzas looked at her with melancholy eyes. "I cannot do anything from here."
"What do you mean?"
"I have to get out!"
"Get out?" Adelphine raised an eyebrow.
"Don't think of it!" said Klaus, as if he were being threatened with a weapon.
"You're right." Adelphine nodded.
Outside, one of the bandits, tall as a tower and with a brown mustache that reached to his jaw, approached Tristan, with a horned helmet on his head that was large and a spear in hand. Adelphine had seen it in a book before, it was one of the great warriors of southeast Navgarod. She thought that maybe the bandit had stolen it in a battle.
Tristan waited with his head down, his eyes cold as ice. The helmet bandit arrived and felt his belt, took a dagger tied to Tristan's belt, and examined it while other bandits approached and took the belongings of the other soldiers.
Suddenly, one of them had his face stuck to the window of the carriage, with a smile of three teeth and lust in his eyes. He looked at Adelphine and Magzas and laughed. Adelphine frowned and clenched her fists.
"Step back, you barbarian!" Adelphine shouted, but the barbarian laughed and said words that Adelphine did not understand.
The man opened the carriage door, and an icy breeze came in. He had a bow tied behind his back and held a rusty knife in his right hand. He aimed it against Magzas’ throat, while they, Wilthers, and Klaus were pressed against the opposite wall of the carriage, terrified.
The bandit snapped something in his rough tongue and waved the knife at her.
Magzas swallowed and stepped down with her hands up. Where was her magic? Why didn’t she do anything?
"Magzas!" Adelphine cried, and when she turned around, she made a gesture that she hoped would tell her everything she needed to know. But Adelphine did not understand it.
Suddenly, the bandit took Adelphine by the hair and forced her out. She screamed. She wanted to hit him with all her strength but the knife threatened to dig into her belly and bleed like her father after that cursed spear.
Chapter XII:
The Return
Kaunas sat at the table in front of two empty wine bottles and one half finished. Suddenly he heard the door open, and he could not help but sigh. He knew that Van Preussen was going to come in and he was going to take the bottle from him. He wished he could jump up and escape, but with one leg, it was impossible.
He heard the footsteps behind him, Van Preussen breathing behind him, and putting his hands on his shoulder.
"What did I tell you about drinking yourself to death?"
Kaunas shook his head and leaned forward to grab the bottle, but Van Preussen was faster and snatched it away.
"No more wine," the old man said, turning his back and walking toward the cellar.
"Sir Van Preussen!" Kaunas hit the table with his hand. "Please!" Kaunas begged. That was the only thing he loved. The only thing that mitigated his pain, both that of his body and that of the soul. "Leave me alone! What harm do I do if I drink wine? Not even my sister did this to me! Not even she!"
Van Preussen poured what was left of the wine on the floor. Then he squatted beside the cellar, pulled a lock from his pocket, and locked it.
"You will not enter here anymore," he said. "There will be no more wine in this house. If something is done with wine, it will be business. Nothing else."
"Why are you doing this to me? What harm do I do?"
"You do it to yourself! I'm here to get you out of the hole, not to see how you sink deeper and deeper."
"What does it matter what I do with my life?" roared Kaunas as he stood up, dizzy, and with one hand on the table to keep his balance.
Van Preussen turned the corner and picked up a long object wrapped in leather. He carried it to the table and dropped it on it as if it were the most important thing in the world.
"What is that?" Kaunas said.
Van Preussen untied the strap that kept it closed and unfolded the leather. It was a shiny, bronze leg, with a leather extension with brass joints on the ankle and on four small metal fingers.
"Try it, it's made to your measurements."
Kaunas looked into his eyes as if he did not know what was happening.
"Come on!" insisted Van Preussen. "Do not stand there."
"Well," said Kaunas, and sat down at the table, holding the leg in his hand, heavy and cold, bringing it close to his severed leg and buckling it.
"Stand up," ordered Van Preussen.
Kaunas reached for the edge of the chair.
"Without the cane!" Van Preussen shouted as if he were trying to wake a dead man.
"I cannot."
"Do it! Nobody asked you if you can or cannot!"
Kaunas thought that all this was in vain. He put one leg out of the bed, the other, stretched the ligament, moaned in pain and... He was standing. He extended the other foot and took a step.
"Not bad!" said Kaunas with a smile on his face.
He walked some more and turned around, but on stepping, he slid with the metal into the wooden floor, lost his balance, and fell backward with a grunt.
"Damn!" he shouted as he rubbed his head and tried to ignore the pain.
"Let's see." Van Preussen helped him to his feet, and Kaunas sat up with one hand on the floor. He sighed as if he had just finished a difficult job.
"I'm going to have to practice."
"It was two months... I thought I was never going to walk."
"You only needed the expert. You had to trust, son." Van Preussen gave him a fatherly look and rested his hand on her shoulder. Kaunas even wanted to hug him, but it was giving him too much credit.
"And now?" he said.
"Good thing you asked." Van Preussen ran his hand over Kaunas's shoulder.
"Now you'll have to pay me back, boy."
Kaunas swallowed.
"Come with me." Van Preussen led him out of the castle. As soon as he put a foot on the outside, the cold breeze enveloped Kaunas, the sun caressed him from above. It felt stran
ge, but he needed it. He walked beside him until he crossed the gate, now open all day so that Van Preussen could come and go whenever he wanted.
The field stretched out in front of him, with yellow grass growing on what was burned earlier.
"It's a good time to plant winter wheat."
Kaunas looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "And who will do it?
"Laborers." Van Preussen smiled.
"Workers? Again? But how will we pay them!"
"You will pay."
"What?" Kaunas asked.
"I will bring them, do not worry, but with time, you will pay them."
"Wait, wait. It's a lot, Mr. Van Preussen. A lot of responsibility, I cannot take care of all that."
"And what do you want to do, spend the rest of your life drinking on the streets? Maybe you should drag yourself to the city, there maybe someone will take pity on you, and you will not die alone in this castle-shaped sty."
Kaunas raised his hands in front of him. "Who do you think you are to say…?"
"Boy. What did you plan to do for the rest of your life?
"I…"
"Tell me! Your father is dead. Did you want him to live forever? Did you think he was always going to be there, giving you everything you wanted? Fulfilling all the whims of his son?"
"It's not about that..."
"Kaunas of Varunas! You should be ashamed of those words. In my time, they would have forced you to march with humiliating words painted on your face. Or, that could have gotten you lynched."
"And what do you want me to do?"
"Take responsibility!"
Kaunas sighed. He still felt the smell of alcohol.
"Let's see." Van Preussen walked to where his gray horse waited under the shadow of the entrance.
"These legs now belong to me," Van Preussen said as he pulled out something that was tied to the saddle of his horse. "This has been pending since you were a child."
Suddenly, a piece of wood hit his head, and he put his hand up. He turned his head. At his side, in the grass, lay a wooden sword.
"No." Kaunas shook his head. "Sir Van Preussen, do not make me do this."
In an instant, Van Preussen was two feet away from him, wielding another fake sword.
"On guard," said the old man, whipping Kaunas in the ribs.
"Auch!" Kaunas groaned and fell on his buttocks.
"Let's go, boy. Take that sword, and get up!"
"All right," he said reluctantly, gripped the wood, leaned on it, and got up with a groan.
He moved slowly. He put one foot in front of the other and attacked. He received a feint from Van Preussen and another blow to the neck. Kaunas raised his sword again and was struck in the ribs, neck, and arm.
"And you're terrible!" shouted Van Preussen.
Kaunas sighed and dropped the sword. "I am!" he said, ready to turn his back.
But Van Preussen grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him toward him. "Look at me well." Van Preussen fixed that single eye on Kaunas. Kaunas swallowed. "This is your future. Learn. How old are you?"
"Twenty-five," Kaunas said, feeling his leg starting to shake.
"You see? You're still young."
But Kaunas felt that his whole life had been wasted.
"I know what you think," said Van Preussen. "And hear me well. You could even start your life as an old man, but you can still start young, and you can be happy with the progress you’ll make. But you must take it seriously. This is your life, and it’s ending one second at the time. Nothing else matters."
"But it's my fault," said Kaunas. "It's been so long since I should have trained myself, that I should have prepared myself. It's too late."
"It's never too late until you're dead!" Van Preussen screamed, and Kaunas felt his soul wishing to escape and faint. He nodded, his eyes wide.
Van Preussen turned around. "I'll give you a couple more days to recover. But now I need you to start looking over your land." He stared at the field and gave him two more pats on the back that almost knocked him over once more. "It's time you wake up, boy. You are the man of this castle."
Kaunas tried to assimilate it, but his mind was filled with feelings of inadequacy. What could he do? What could he achieve, if he had no talent? He was never a good swordsman. Yes, his father used to say he was smart, but he hadn’t showed it in years.
"Do you know anyone else who can help you?" asked Van Preussen. "What about that servant you told me about? What was his name? Gil?"
"Ah, Wil. No, he was just my sister's little friend."
"You mean the fiancée?"
"Something like that."
"A servant?"
"He's not a servant, he's a city boy. He has a tavern or something."
"Ah, he has a job. And what talents does he have?"
"I do not know if he’s good for anything. Well, he sure can pick a lock."
Van Preussen raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean pick a lock?"
"Nothing. It’s a trendy expression."
Van Preussen sighed. "Well, tell him to come."
"For what? And how do I tell him? Do you want me to go to the city?"
"I thought he was your friend."
"He is not my friend. Besides, I don’t know what he’s up to. He hasn’t come back since that day."
Chapter XIII:
First Blood
Adelphine fell to the ground on her hands and clenched her teeth as she supported the pull of hair, which finally came loose. She stood up slowly, head down, while Wilthers and Klaus came down from the carriage with hands up, Wilthers trembling and his face bathed in fear.
A pity. He had said many hurtful things, but he was a poor old man and he did not deserve such treatment, much less to end up sold in slavery or executed for not being able to help in manual tasks.
Beside her, Tristan dismounted slowly. For a moment, his blue eyes locked on hers...
And he winked at her.
Tristan was now standing, while two big-nosed bandits untied the big sword from his back.
Suddenly, Tristan's hand clenched into a fist, which descended like a hammer on the neck of one of them. The bandit collapsed flat on the floor.
The other looked at him as if he did not believe what was happening, but before Tristan reached for him with his hands, the arrows were already pointed at Tristan like a cornered animal.
"Be careful, Tristan!" Adelphine cried out as her heart seemed to jump out in fear.
Arrows shot up, and Adelphine closed her eyes, but she did not hear Tristan moan, but a curse in the bandits' tongue. When she opened them, she saw Tristan holding a bandit from the neck. The man grimaced in pain as his feet flailed through the air, as five arrows pierced through his back.
Another arrow threatened Tristan, but his human shield caught it in his neck with a scream of agony. Then, Tristan threw the body over a pair of archers who stumbled back, looked at each other, and drew their battle axes.
"Come at me!" Tristan took the big sword from the ground and unsheathed it.
Meanwhile, the varganians recovered their rectangular shields and formed around the carriage. The bandits attacked with their fierce axes, but the varganians held them back and wounded their arms, like a whip. Soon, the varganians had mounted again.
The bandit in the horned helmet pulled a horn out of his bag and blew with all his might.
Adelphine grabbed Magzas' hand and stepped back, trying to stay behind the Navgarodian soldiers.
Tristan waved his sword with both hands, while three bandits ambushed him with axes and large swords. One of them attacked from above with his axe, but Tristan dodged with a move and counterattacked with a horizontal cut. The bandit blocked with his shield, and the impact made him take a step back.
Another bandit attacked him with a short sword and Tristan dodged like a cat, then kicked him in the head and threw him to the ground. Two more soldiers jumped from the foliage, one with a short sword and a round shield, the other with a club. Tristan blocked his attac
ks, but one injured his thigh with a diagonal cut, releasing the sword with blood splashing around him. The bandit turned around and hit him with a blow on the shoulder. Tristan fell to the ground.
"Tristan!" Adelphine cried.
"Stay away!" Tristan shouted, standing up and on guard, blood flowing down from his temple.
Adelphine, however, grabbed a rock and lifted it high.
"Leave him alone!" she cried.
Suddenly, she felt a sweaty hand cover her mouth and the stone fell with a loud noise. She shook with all her strength, but her captor pushed her back and pushed a sharp dagger against her neck. He smelled like sweat of several days, and Adelphine held her breath to avoid nausea. She tried to head butt him, but missed. She stepped back with the knife in her neck and swallowed.
"Tristan!" she shouted.
Tristan turned to see her. "Adelphine!" he said, looked into her eyes, and brandished his sword against the bandits, but now five enemies surrounded him and attacked him in unison.
The man made her walk behind the carriage and spoke in his strange language. She took a step back, trying not to make him angry and end her life there.
Suddenly, Pavel, on his brown horse, charged with his silver spear forward, and lashed out at Adelphine's captor, who dodged and moved back, dragging Adelphine with him.
The bandit looked at Pavel and spoke in his strange tongue, holding the knife and threatening.
While Pavel watched, another soldier charged at him with a spear and wounded him in the side. Pavel shouted and attacked, that was the last glimpse she got of him. Adelphine felt she was stumbling as the bandit forced her through the undergrowth and the darker foliage. Soon the murmur of the battle on the road became faint, like a ghostly memory, and only the wind could be heard rocking the dry trees and the current of a stream somewhere nearby.
Suddenly, she saw Magzas, deep in the forest, hidden behind the trees and branches, crouched like an animal.
"Magzas... Magzas... Help me!"
Magzas stood up and took a step between the leaves until she came out into the light. His face was solemn and almost agonizing.
"Help me, Magzas!"