Blackest Knights

by Phipps, C. T.

  Not long after that, he had run into Corvey and Jastayn, and the woman had soon cottoned on to the way the wind was blowing. His problem was Corvey. There was something wrong with the man, and quite frankly he had had enough. Tonight, after they had eaten, he was going to have to kill him.

  Mel and Bea lay amongst the bush and watched as the group as they went about their business, “I count six of them.” Bea whispered.

  “Aye, I think you’re right. Five men and a woman,” Mel said.

  “I bet that’s a bundle of laughs for her.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She probably becomes the ‘possession’ of whoever is the strongest,” Bea said.

  “You have got to be kidding me!”

  “Not at all. I’ve heard of this a few times before. She might even be someone they kidnapped, but fell in love with the dashing, handsome leader.”

  “I must confess that I haven’t seen anyone that matches that description.”

  “Perhaps they just haven’t shown themselves yet. I think we have to assume that there may be as many as nine or ten of them.”

  “Well, that’s just great. Have you got a plan for taking them all down?”

  “I was hoping you might. You’re the battle mage.”

  “I can put a barrier on that lower entrance. At least that will divide their forces. We’ll have to wait and see what the sleeping arrangements are.”

  The pair returned to watching the group of bandits.

  Corvey pushed the strips of dried meat into his backpack and followed it with a flask of water.

  Over in the corner of the bastle the two brothers, Adie and Edie, gently snored. Across from them, Stick made a moaning sound, causing Corvey to jump.

  Calm down, calm down. Stick’s just dreaming.

  Trelve was on guard somewhere, but Corvey was hoping to avoid him when he made his dash for freedom. On the upper level of the bastle, all was quiet after what had sounded to Corvey like a long session. If he was lucky, Greyman and Jastayn would both be fast asleep.

  Picking up his backpack and bow, he started towards the entrance of the bastle.

  Bea raised herself on to her elbows, “I think it’s time, don’t you?”

  Melress took a quick look around then started to get up, “Let me get a little closer and then I can cast the barrier over the entrance.”

  The leaves of the bush parted to let the half-elf out. He had thought about sealing Bea back in the bush, but he knew that he would never hear the end of it.

  Greyman looked over at Jastayn and sighed. The woman’s lifeless eyes seemed to accuse him even in death. The bruises around her neck glowed in the flickering firelight and Greyman could have sworn that he heard a voice whisper in his ear…Look what you’ve done.

  Oh well. I’ve killed one of them, might as well kill the other.

  He tugged his boots on and reached out to grab his axe. Tonight was going to be a night of blood, he could feel it.

  Corvey fell forward and had to drop his pack as he put his hands out to stop his face kissing the paving stones. As the bag bounced along the ground, the flap came open, and the contents began to spill out.

  Looking back towards the entrance he saw that his foot was stuck in some kind of barrier.

  “What the…?”

  He grabbed his leg and tried to pull it out, but it wouldn’t budge. Starting to panic, he pulled harder and harder on the leg to no avail.

  Only one thing for it.

  Taking out his knife, he started to cut away the boot laces. As the last bit of the lace dropped to the ground, a voice came from behind him.

  “Going somewhere?”

  Greyman looked down at the clutter on the ground and the open backpack. Corvey hadn’t seen or heard him approach because he was too busy messing with his boot.

  Moving to stand over the man, he hefted his axe, “Going somewhere?”

  He smiled as Corvey began to tug his foot out of his boot, “Thought you could run out on us, you fucking rat! Well, I’ve killed your woman, and now it’s your turn.”

  Corvey began to bring his knife around, and Greyman laughed, “You think you can fight me with that little shiv?”

  Greyman lifted the axe above his head, ready to bring it down on Corvey’s head. Corvey ignored the axe and instead thrust the blade into Grayman’s boot and down into his foot.

  Bea had moved forward to stand slightly behind Melress. The young battle mage was concentrating on the magical barrier that he had placed over the lower entrance.

  Seeing a blade rise in preparation to strike the person on the ground, she decided she had to help. That person was probably a prisoner that the brigand had decided to kill for pleasure. Stooping down, she picked up a rock and threw it towards the bandit.

  As the rock left her hand, she suddenly felt a sharp pain in her chest. Looking down she was shocked to see the crossbow bolt sticking out of her leather armor.

  As if from far away, she heard Melress shout her name and then her legs buckled from beneath her. She fell to the ground.

  Corvey was as surprised as Greyman when a rock flew out of the darkness and hit the latter in the side of the head. Whilst the rock hadn’t hit hard enough to knock Greyman out, it had put him off with the downswing of his axe.

  The axe bit into the side of Corvey, but most of the blade hit the ground. Greyman’s hand shot up to his cheek and blood began to flow through his fingers.

  Corvey tried to thrust his dagger into Greyman’s foot again, but with a roar, the other man dropped the axe and began punching Corvey in the head.

  “You…little…bastard!” Greyman snarled between gritted teeth as he punched and punched at Corvey. On the fourth punch, Corvey let go of the knife, and he slumped over unconscious.

  Melress rushed to Bea’s side and put a hand to her cheek. It was cold, so cold, “Don’t you dare be dead, don’t you dare!”

  He put her head on her bosom, hoping to feel the rise and fall of her chest, “Oh no…no…no!”

  Her father was going to kill him. It’s not like anyone would stop him either, he was a king after all!

  Merless’ hand touched the shaft of the bolt that was sticking out of Bea’s chest. He couldn’t leave it in her, and so Melress began to channel his magic. To anybody watching it was as if he was just sitting there with a fingertip on the end of the bolt, but Melress was using his magic to slowly rotate the bolt so that the tip would cause the least amount of damage on the way out.

  Merless was so preoccupied with drawing out the bolt that he didn’t notice the two men approach. One of the men was carrying an axe and had a bad limp. It was the Greyman. The other man had his cowl over his head, and in his hands, there was a loaded crossbow. The bolt was pointing straight at Melress.

  High above the canopy of trees, a raven glided on the air currents. The raven’s head moved from side to side as it tried to pierce the canopy of pine trees.

  Where were those two? Caw thought. It was a thinking animal and often attracted to the violence of men.

  “Oh dear! Have we killed your little friend?” Greyman sneered at the figure kneeling before him.

  Melress gave a little start, “You! You did this!”

  “No. You did it, coming in here and poking your nose where it wasn’t wanted. Now be a good man and let me get a clear swing at your neck,” Greyman said.

  As Greyman began to lift his axe, Melress looked at the man holding the crossbow. The man’s eyes widened as the bow began to turn towards Greyman. Sweat started to run down his face as he struggled to stop his hand from moving. It was black magic he was using, punishable by death, but he didn’t care at this point. Bea was lying on the ground, dying because of these fools.

  Greyman’s axe reached its zenith and was about to begin its swing back down when the bolt punched through the back of his skull and took off half of his face.

  The crossbow man then reloaded the crossbow and with tears streaming down his face fired it into his mouth. />
  Caw felt Melress using his magic even though he was still high above the trees. With a loud caw, he descended as quickly as he could. That’s not right. That’s not right at all.

  Melress went back to removing the bolt from Bea’s chest. As far as he was concerned he had done nothing wrong. They had come to kill the bandits, what did it matter how they died. He had made it quick.

  A flap of wings made him look up as Caw landed on a nearby branch, “You might not want to do that.”

  “Why not? She’s dead anyway,” Melress muttered.

  “Are you sure?” Caw said.

  “I couldn’t see any breathing,” Melress said.

  “No offence, but you’re wearing a helmet, and she’s wearing leather armor. That’s not exactly conducive to finding signs of life.”

  “So, what do I do?” Melress asked.

  Caw cocked his head as if thinking, “Before I became your familiar I used to be the priest of ravens.”

  “Really? The priest of ravens…that’s a thing?”

  “Hey! It was a very important post I’ll have you know.” The raven tried his best to sound offended.

  “So, how does that help?”

  “I can heal Beatrice, but I will need your help as I haven’t got hands.”

  Melress let out a sigh of relief, “Of course. What do you need me to do?”

  “Keep taking the bolt out slowly.”

  “But you told me not to!”

  “Slowly. Once it is near to coming out, you need to get ready to place the palm of your hand nearby. At the last moment place your hand over the wound as the bolt comes out.”

  “Then what?”

  “Think healing thoughts.”

  “You have got to be kidding.”

  “No. You send the thoughts, and I’ll send the prayers. Works every time.”

  Melress looked incredulous, “Right!”

  “Look, just do it!” Caw said.

  Melress turned his attention back to Bea. Even with his helmet on he thought she looked dead. Kneeling next to the wounded woman, he began the slow process of removing the bolt. As soon as he could see the head of the bolt coming out of Bea’s leather armor, he moved his other hand closer to the wound.

  Then with one last thought, the bolt was out, and blood was beginning to fountain out. Melress quickly covered the wound with the flat of his hand and began to send healing thoughts into the wound.

  Caw moved slightly along the branch of the tree so that he could get a better view of what was happening.

  At first, Melress didn’t see any difference, “Have you started with the prayers yet, Caw?”

  If he had been watching the young half-elf would have seen the raven shake his head slightly, “Yes!”

  Then Melress saw it. The wounds were beginning to close, the pale skin began to turn pink and healthy, “It’s working! Caw, you’re doing it!”

  Bea gave a little groan.

  Caw hopped along the branch again, “Melress, you have to promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this.”

  “Why?”

  “Promise me!” Caw knew that if Melress promised then he would keep his word.

  “Fine, I promise.”

  The raven’s head nodded. Thank the gods that the boy thinks it was me that brought her back and not him. The question was, how could the boy heal people in the first place?

  If the boy hadn’t used the same kind of magic to control the bandit with the crossbow Caw would have never found them.

  Melress gave a little start when Bea groaned. Must have been about to drop off.

  Cradling her head, he pushed his knees together to rest her head on them.

  Bea groaned again and opened one eye, “Uung…what hit me?”

  Melress looked down and smiled at her, “A cr…a rock.”

  “A rock!?”

  “Yes. There was a guard that we hadn’t seen, and he must have thrown it. He nodded to the two bodies lying nearby.”

  Bea slowly sat up and inspected the two corpses, “Why did he hit me with a rock when he’s got a crossbow?”

  “No bolts.”

  “Mel, you’re a terrible liar. He had no bolts to shoot me, but he managed to shoot his friends face off and then kill himself.”

  “Probably on blackroot.”

  “All right, let’s leave it there for now. There are still some more of them alive.”

  Melress helped Bea to stand up and then the pair of them drew their swords and advanced towards the bastle entrance.

  Stick had been tossing and turning in his sleep, remembering when his road to banditry had begun. It was the same most nights, his knife in the girl’s heart, her eyes bulging. Then he was running from the barn, and as he ran out the open entrance, something hit him. It wasn’t until he had stopped running that he saw the cut from a blade, but even now he couldn’t tell you who had hit him.

  He woke from his thrashing with a start.

  What was that?

  He listened intently, trying to filter out the deep breathing of the two sleeping brothers. He was just about to try and get back to sleep when he heard the unmistakable sound of a crossbow being released. Only one of them had a crossbow, and that was Trelve.

  Were they under attack?

  Quietly he crept over to one of the two brothers and put his hand over their mouth. He didn’t know which one it was, and he didn’t care to know. He started to shake the man.

  Adie startled awake, and Stick put a finger to his lips. The other man nodded and so Stick took his hand away, “Wake your brother, I think we have unwelcome company.”

  Once again, the man nodded his ascent and turned towards his still sleeping brother. Stick headed back towards his own part of the bastle to retrieve his sword.

  Bea and Melress entered the bastle just as Stick was about to exit. Edie was just waking up as Adie shook him awake.

  Stick swung his sword at the closer of the two strangers, somehow managing to dislodge their helmet. Bea’s hair spilled out over her face, and because of the blow to her helmet was too stunned to wave her hair away.

  Luckily for Bea, Stick, just stood there as if he was in a trance, “Diara…”, he whispered, “Is it really you? I never meant it…”

  The pause gave Bea time to regain her senses, and with the man mumbling about ‘Diara’ she thrust her sword into his heart. He fell to his knees with blood dribbling from his mouth and then toppled over on to his side.

  Meanwhile, Melress sent a bolt of energy towards Adie which hit him in the face before exploding. Shards of skull and gobbets of brain smacked into the wall behind where Adie’s body still stood. Then blood fountained up from the ragged stump of neck before the body toppled over to hit the ground with a squelch.

  The man who had just woken began to backpedal into the corner of the bastle, “Please don’t kill me…please!”

  Bea and Melress moved towards the bandit, and as they did so Bea said, “Do you promise to be a good boy from now on?”

  Melress frowned, “You have got to be kidding me.”

  The man nodded enthusiastically, “Yes, yes, I promise. No more banditry for me.”

  “You’re right there,” Bea said as she thrust forward with her sword. A sigh escaped from the man as he died on her blade. Turning to Melress, she said, “Come on. Let’s go home. We have much to tell my father.”

  Corvey considered himself lucky as he sat against the door to the upper level of the bastle. Outside he could hear ripping and tearing of meat as the pack of wolves ate their fill of the corpses that had been left strewn about the bastle.

  He had awoken from unconscious an hour before the wolves had arrived. Their howls had proceeded them, and perhaps it had been the howls that had awoken him. Some sort of primitive alarm.

  He had staggered up the steps and retrieved Jastayn’s body, which he had unceremoniously dumped off the top of the steps. Then he had ripped Greyman’s bedroll up to bandage the cut in his side. Now all he had to do is wait until morni
ng, grab anything of value, and then get the fuck out of Hamerband.

  The Structural Engineer

  By Ulff Lehmann

  I am no judge. Judges are Lliania’s priests, gifted by Lady Justice to discern truth and determine guilt. Judges do not catch lawbreakers; they sit in their courts and mete out justice. Where a judge is like a dressing applied to a cut, I am the surgeon.

  Who am I?

  The name’s Thyrn. Yes, I’m an elf, and yes, we still live in Kalduuhn, albeit away from the humans. Most have an inkling we’re still around, but human memory fades all too quickly.

  What my job is? Let me tell you…

  It always begins with a rumor, a whisper passing from one mouth to a nearby ear and from there to the mouth and ear of another person.

  I never put much stock in open accusations, often the accuser merely wants to usurp the position of the accused. Sadly, finding the truth of any such rumor is difficult. It’s like tracking one specific animal in a stampede. The longer a rumor persists, the more distorted the morsel of truth becomes.

  I had been hunting a particularly elusive boar. The cunning beast had torn up a caravan and rampaged through a farmstead near Bruidh M’dhain, and the foresters couldn’t handle him. At first, it seemed like just another hurting animal, but the longer I followed the animal, the more convinced I became that something else was driving the beast.

  I was right, but that confirmation almost cost me my life. How the boar had gained his power mattered little, but by some peculiar accident, it had learned magecraft. Ferocity paired with animal instinct turned a minor threat into something I was ill-equipped to handle. So, I reached out to the Mages of Kalduuhn.

  Yes, like elves, magic still exists.

  I chose the one tavern in Bruidh M’dhain as a meeting place, and that’s where I heard the rumor being exchanged by two merchants. Would they have spoken this loudly had they known I was there? I don’t know. We don’t announce ourselves to people, and unless you know what to look out for anyone wearing a hood indoors is merely a person with a hood.