by R J Hanson
The three assassins abandoned their crossbows and drew broadswords from their belts. Although the room had been built to accommodate Roland’s height, it was still too tight a space to wield a Shrou-Hayn. Roland snatched his two hand axes, one of fine steel and the other of mercshyeld, from his weapons belt hung nearby and jumped over the bed to stand between Claire and the assailants.
“Claire, get out!” Roland yelled.
“I can’t…” She began to reply but she was cut short by Roland’s bark.
“I said flee!”
Claire spoke quickly, ‘sectlartha,’ and she vanished from the room instantly.
The three assassins spread out and the large man, no doubt a Great Man, stepped in front of them.
“Your head is worth four Rorkor now,” the large man said. “And my master wishes you dead.”
“Those are four coins you will not live to see,” Roland replied evenly as he started forward. “If your master has a grievance, let the coward present it himself.”
The Great Man came in flanked by two of the other assassins. The third assassin held back for some reason. Roland should have known why, but he had his hands full with his current situation.
“Now demon,” the Great Man shouted. “Kill the Teplis Guradas.”
A fallen champion, that had been invisible up until now, appeared on the large man’s shoulder and flew toward Roland. It was small but lightning quick. Roland jerked himself to the side and heard a battle begin in midair that he could not see. Two creatures, moving so fast his eye couldn’t catch them, whirled around each other in a clawing and biting rage.
“Your guardian is with you no longer, boy,” the large man said. He was almost Roland’s height, at least one hundred stones heavier, and clad in black plate armor. He wore no helmet and Roland marked his face well. He had long, crow-black, hair that made his pale skin stand out in the dark. His light gray eyes were ringed with lines that told of an almost constant sneer. “I am Lord Kyhn. You will die at my hand.”
Kyhn swung a strong cut toward Roland’s left shoulder. Roland brought both axes up to catch the blade but was barely able to keep it from digging into his unarmored flesh. The blade was withdrawn as quickly as it was swung and Kyhn made a thrust. Roland, forced completely on the defensive, barely managed to parry the attack. One of the assailants flanking him thrust his blade in and Roland caught it with his other axe. The other assassin thrust low to Roland’s left and the tip of his blade dug deeply into Roland’s thigh.
The door leading to the other of the two rooms was pulled open and Eldryn started through the door wearing his breastplate and carrying his shrou-sheld. He got two paces into the room when the third man stepped from the wall directly behind him. The third assailant brought his broadsword up and his surprise was complete when Tindrakin’s blade stabbed into his right kidney and continued into his lung. Eldryn engaged the second man wielding a broadsword.
Lord Kyhn and the first assassin kept Roland on the defensive. Roland struggled to parry their attacks and had no time to make an attack of his own. Both of these men were skilled. What scared Roland was the fact that he felt Kyhn was holding back.
Eldryn parried the assassin’s first thrust and made a cut of his own. His foe danced to the side and brought his blade over to slice toward Eldryn’s exposed head. Eldryn jerked himself back and the blade cut past his head with only inches to spare.
Tindrakin made his way around Eldryn and Kyhn to challenge Roland’s second foe. He made a thrust at the assassin, however, his opponent somehow knew the attack was coming. He turned and parried the thrust. His blade pushed Tindrakin’s far to the side and then slid back toward Tin’s unarmored stomach. Tin attempted a quick-step back, however, he was not as quick as Roland and Eldryn. The tip of the assassin’s sword cut through his skin and glanced off of one of his ribs, breaking it. Tin staggered back as blood began to wet his nightshirt.
The two champions spun about one another in the air in a blinding speed. The Teplis Guradas was not meant for direct one on one combat. The imp Kyhn had brought with him tore at the protective champion’s flesh with darkly enchanted claws and ravenous teeth. The Teplis Guradas fell to the floor, seemingly mortally wounded by the poison in the imp’s claws. It had time to whisper one last prayer to the Father of Time. That prayer was answered when a bolt of blinding energy sheered through the heavy log roof and struck the attacking imp immediately dead. Both champions lay on the floor, one scorching its unholy symbols on the wooden planks.
Roland worked desperately with both axes trying every trick he could think of to get beyond Kyhn’s blade. Lord Kyhn parried and thrust with ease and confidence. Kyhn stepped forward and made a strong overhead cut for Roland’s head. Roland brought both axes up to parry, and the force of the attack still drove him back. Kyhn let go the shrou-sheld with his right hand and punched out to strike Roland in the chest with his gauntleted fist. The blow, which landed just above Roland’s heart, was hard enough to disrupt the beats. Roland felt the weight of unconsciousness touch his mind. He fought hard against it, stepping back and shaking his head. He realized he had never fought a man with Lord Kyhn’s strength.
Eldryn was a skilled swordsman and had become more so in the last years of his travels. He now faced a man that was going to put his knowledge of swordplay to the test. The assassin continued to work in close to Eldryn so that he could not bring the weight of the shrou-sheld against him. Eldryn beat back the assassin’s blade so that he could have the time to take a step back and gain some distance between himself and his foe. It was a fundamental move, and that was his mistake. As Eldryn’s blade double struck the assassin’s, the assassin read the knight’s next move.
Tindrakin felt his blood draining out of his side as he put every new move Eldryn and Roland had taught him into use. The assassin’s blade bit into his shoulder and then his thigh, striking at him like a viper.
The fog growing in Roland’s head cleared in time for him to see Kyhn’s shrou-sheld piercing through the air aimed at his chest. Roland brought his axes up in a cross parry, and dropped to one knee in the same movement. The blade of the shrou-sheld slid just over Roland’s head. Lord Kyhn kicked out at the knight before him. His boot struck Roland’s knee and twisted it violently to the side. Roland was forced aside and then dropped to the floor.
Eldryn began his quick-step back. The assassin slipped his foot between Eldryn’s legs and planted it behind his right heel. Eldryn’s foot was caught in the midst of his maneuver and he lost his balance. He tumbled over backward with his foe moving in, sword at the ready.
Tindrakin felt his strength draining from the wounds he had suffered. As blood seeped out of his body, so did his vigor. His opponent’s blade bit into him again and again. He drove Tindrakin backward and out the door leading to the yard. Tindrakin stumbled over the threshold and sprawled into the night. The assassin stood over him, his edge dipping for Tindrakin’s throat.
Roland rolled to his back and struggled to parry Kyhn’s thrusts. The shrou-sheld defeated Roland’s defenses and the tip of the heavy blade stabbed into Roland’s side, sliding between his ribs. Roland forced one of his axes up to catch the crosspiece of Kyhn’s blade. His aim was true and, as mercshyeld sparked against mercshyeld, his strength kept the blade from being shoved deeper into his torso, and perhaps into his lung.
Eldryn had the chance to kick out at the assassin’s knee, however, the Cavalier’s Code, his Code, prevented such attacks. Eldryn had not come this far to abandon the Code now. He scooted backward along the floor continuing to parry. The assassin’s blade thrust, and then thrust again. Eldryn brought his blade down low and, as his assailant thrust for his chest, Eldryn brought his shrou-sheld upward with all of his strength. The shrou-sheld slapped the broadsword high and wide of its target. Eldryn jerked the weapon back into line and thrust out. The tip of Eldryn’s blade stabbed into the assassin one inch below the assassin’s breastplate and deep into his stomach. Blood gouted from the wound as the as
sassin staggered back. Eldryn quickly got to his feet.
The assassin that stood over Tindrakin’s body lowered the edge of his blade to Tin’s throat. ‘Dactlartha’ ripped through the air with magical weight and speed. A bolt of dark, frosty fire struck the assassin’s face, freezing one eye open, and melting the other eye and his nose. The not quite dead assailant began to scream and charged out into the night in a nameless new pain.
“You still have much to learn about dueling, boy,” Lord Kyhn said. “I think when I’m finished with your lessons, perhaps I’ll teach that pretty magic-wielding girl a few things about respecting her elders. Dactlenese tolerates too much from her.”
Lord Kyhn drew his shrou-sheld back and prepared another swift thrust. Roland tried to rise but found his twisted knee would not serve him. He sat with his axes at the ready. A blast of white and blue magical energy shot through the air. The magical bolt broke against Kyhn’s back like the ocean’s tide upon the rocks. The force spun Kyhn about but the heat of the magical attack seemed to have no effect.
Eldryn charged toward Kyhn but found Kyhn regained his footing quickly. Eldryn thrust the tip of his blade in. Lord Kyhn stepped in and swung his sword from left to right catching Eldryn’s thrust and locking blades high in the air between them. As Kyhn moved, he drew a dagger from his waist with his left hand. Kyhn drove the dagger deep into Eldryn’s hip, just below the edge of his armor. Kyhn twisted the dagger blade and Eldryn staggered back, grimacing in pain. Lord Kyhn paced toward the wounded Eldryn with a murderous look on his face.
“Your armor handles magical heat well,” Roland said as he scooted himself toward his equipment lying next to his bed. “Let’s see how it handles the cold.”
Roland withdrew the frost dagger he had taken from Yorketh’s corpse and threw it with viscous precision. The dagger sunk into the back of Kyhn’s knee and buried itself to the hilt. Kyhn cried out in pain as the dagger tip emerged from the top of his knee next to the knee cap and frost spread all around the joint.
Eldryn, thinking Lord Kyhn incapacitated, moved in with confidence. He positioned his blade high for a thrust at the tall man’s neck. Kyhn, one leg of no use to him, still managed a wicked thrust aimed at Eldryn’s unprotected left thigh. The tip of the shrou-sheld bit deeply into Eldryn’s leg, dropping him. Kyhn turned. Another bolt of magical energy screamed through the doorway, however, Kyhn was quick enough to dodge the attack.
“I’m done with you, boy,” Lord Kyhn said to the still crippled Roland. “I will kill you now.”
Both heard the charge of a single horse approaching the house.
“Don’t let the thought of help brighten your spirits, boy,” Lord Kyhn said. “There are none of these lands that could face me and live.”
The horse stopped near the doorway and both heard a man dismount.
“None of this land, perhaps,” came from a voice in the doorway. It was a voice familiar to both Roland and Kyhn.
“I, however, am not of this land,” Lord Velryk said as he stepped into the room with twin hand axes drawn.
Kyhn looked on Velryk in disbelief.
“My master will be interested to know that you are here,” Lord Kyhn said, regaining some of his composure. “I must go, for now.”
Lord Velryk charged across the room, closing with Lord Kyhn. Kyhn reached to a crystal that hung around his neck on a black leather strap. He took the crystal in his gauntleted fist and crushed it. A magical dust burst from the air around him and Kyhn vanished. Velryk attempted a swing into the dust but his blade found no flesh.
“Father?” Roland asked. Roland was stunned. He had never seen the equal of the magnificent armor and weapons his father now possessed. Even in this dim light Roland could easily make out the white steel alloy armor with a ruby set in the center of the breast plate. Across his father’s back was strapped a mercshyeld shrou-sheld that bore the mark of Bolvii and the seal of Lethanor, and in his hands he held a matching pair of red leiness bladed hand axes.
“It is me, son,” Lord Velryk replied as he pulled his cloak quickly over the armor and weapons that he wore. “It seems you have made some powerful enemies.”
“It would seem so,” Roland said. “I might have been able to take him, but they caught me in my nightshirt. Otherwise things would have gone differently.”
“That was Kyhn,” Velryk said. “He is a dangerous man, almost as dangerous as his master, Engiyadu. Kyhn was competent when I faced him in combat decades ago. I would imagine he is even tougher now. You did very well to stand against him as long as you did, and you are foolish to think otherwise.”
Clairenese ran into the room and over to Roland’s side. Eldryn pulled himself up from the floor and made his way over to sit on the bed.
“Claire,” Roland said. “See to Tin first. I’m hurt but I’ll be alright.”
Clairenese went just outside the doorway to where Tindrakin had fallen. With Velryk’s help, they carried him into the room and laid him on the bed next to Eldryn. Roland had managed to pull himself up onto the bed as well. Velryk took a folded sheet from underneath the bed and began tearing it into bandages. He bandaged Tindrakin, and then Eldryn while Claire attempted to treat Roland’s wounds.
“We will need a priest from town,” Clairenese said. “I can get there faster than anyone else and I will not accept anything but their complete cooperation. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Roland noted the look in Claire’s eyes and wondered at all the ways that could go horribly wrong. For he believed any priest found refusing, or perhaps even slow to respond, might suffer unspeakable pains before his unpleasant death.
“Claire, seek out Prince Ralston first,” Roland said. “Let him know what has happened here and that Lord Kyhn was in the region. Ask him to send a man with you to collect the priest so you don’t have to attempt the ride back here alone.”
“Yes, dear,” Claire said with a briefly sly look. She was no fool and could read Roland’s mind easy enough. Clairenese kissed Roland’s forehead and then spoke into the air. ‘Sectlartha,’ and she was gone.
“Father, there is another of our group,” Roland said. “He was on watch outside. Will you look for him?”
Velryk stepped from the room without a word and moved out into the night.
“Where did that armor come from?” Eldryn asked Roland. “I’ve never seen it before.”
“Neither have I,” Roland said. “That crest. The red raven with a ruby eye and white rose. Is that what I think it is?”
“Of course, I’ve only seen drawings of it,” Eldryn said, holding bandages fast to his wounds. “But it could be nothing else. You think he’ll ever tell us the whole story?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Several minutes later Velryk returned carrying Kodii over his shoulder. Roland and Eldryn both noted Velryk was no longer adorned with the fine armor and axes. He now wore only his gambeson and the long sword.
“Not dead,” Velryk said. “Just unconscious and was tied up.”
Velryk laid Kodii on the floor in the kitchen of the small dwelling and returned to Roland’s room.
“That is quite a woman you have there,” Velryk said.
“How did you find us, father?”
“I made it to town a few hours ago,” Velryk answered. “A crier there told me of your home site so I started this way. I was riding in the dark when Clairenese appeared out of nowhere. She briefly explained and showed me the trail to here.”
“It is very good to see you, sir,” Eldryn said out of breath and trying to ignore the pain. “How is my mother.”
“She is well. She only worries for her son. You have both grown considerably since I last saw you. Not so much in width or breadth, but rather in reason. I understand it was the hourglass that put age on your faces?”
“Yes sir,” both men answered in unison.
“That was also foolish,” Velryk said. “Where is it now?”
“We gave it to a friend to secure,” Roland
said.
“You have no idea what you surrendered,” Velryk said sharply. “I assume since you did not answer my question that means you don’t know where it is?”
“Yes, sir,” Roland said.
“It should be put away and protected,” Velryk said. “Its powers are immense. You trust this friend? Trust him with your life and the lives of your family?”
“I do,” Roland said.
“I suppose that will have to do, for now.”
Tindrakin’s breathing had become regular and he slept. Roland’s knee was still badly twisted however, Claire had stopped the bleeding of his other wounds. Eldryn’s wounds had been bandaged and he began to look over the bodies of the two assassins still in the room. Velryk left the house briefly and returned with the corpse of the third assassin.
Eldryn looked the bodies over carefully and discovered the familiar tattoo on each of them. The Black Fly. Their fine steel broadswords, daggers, armor, and well-crafted crossbows were collected and stored in a corner of the room. Roland accepted one of the daggers, a black one, to replace the frost blade that was still in Kyhn’s knee when he vanished. Velryk carried the bodies outside to a place off the trail in the front yard. He returned to the room a short time later to find Roland sitting up in the bed.
“You knew Engiyadu, father?” Roland asked.
“Yes. He was the master of fencing in our academy and taught the ways of the sword there,” Velryk said as he looked into the night and back over a hundred years. “I remember how mad he used to make Jonas. Engiyadu was a master of the blade then, when he was still a man. Now he is a dangerous creature, slave to his evil heart. How do you know that name?”
Roland had not thought his inquiry through. Now he would have to explain how he knew Engiyadu. The fish hook is best removed quickly, he thought.
