“Should we find ourselves in need of a hiding place, these spaces may suffice,” Erie whispered. “Obvious, but a wealth of concealment.”
Diz nodded.
“We move slowly and silently,” he continued. “If we need to kill, do so swiftly and quietly if possible. I must assume you know the blade since you wear one and Dech would not send you if he lacked confidence in your abilities.”
“I am quite proficient with bow and short sword.”
“Let us hope we will not need a display of your skills.” Jutting his chin at the intersection he said, “Let us proceed.”
. . .
“Wait here,” the guard said after leading Dech and Mayhaps into a furnished room off the main hall on the ground floor of the tower house. “Sir Jeffress will be here shortly.”
On his way out, the guard closed the door, the clunking of the wooden latch falling into place loud in the stone walls.
“Not keen on their decorum I must say,” The bard said as he fell into a padded chair and propped his feet on a small table. “Not even an offer of refreshment. I take it this Sinfor doesn’t entertain personages of my caliber often. I only say this in case someone is listening. Rather rude, I must say.” Uncasing his lute, he plucked a string. “There is always song.”
Mayhaps began and while playing a morose tune, Dech walked to the door and found the latch barred.
The bard shrugged and said, “Probably for our own good. We could get lost in the vastness of such a palace.”
Dech returned to the middle of the room and stood facing the door.
Several minutes later, the latch clapped followed by the door opening. A long-haired blond in fine dress and of Dech’s height walked in, a quartet of men with him, two of them in mail harness similar to the warder’s and wearing swords and shields as well. The other two men equipped no armor, but wore swords within scabbards belted at the waist. Combined, it was an unusual way to greet guests under the circumstances. Dech could see in Mayhaps’ eyes they agreed. We must be wary.
“I am Sir Jeffress Sinfor,” the tall blond said. “Contrition knights I am told?” He glared at Mayhaps who sat up at the entrance of the men, but did not stand.
“I am a member of the order,” Dech replied. “My companion is an errant troubadour bard accompanying me on a mission.”
Sinfor looked at Dech’s rank markings sullenly. “Of course. As you may have noticed, we have limited space here and a large contingent of those at-arms due to our proximity to Nevar. Finding adequate lodgings for a warder and companion is not feasible. In lieu of staying here, I will pay for your stay at an inn less than an hour’s ride east from here. A nice place I am told.”
Before Dech could respond, Mayhaps stood and said, “Passed it on the way here. Even drearier than this place. I’m sure we can make do sleeping in what passes for a great hall out there. Speaking solely for myself, of course. I am not pretentious.”
Sinfor glared at the bard before shifting his attention to Dech. “Surely you realize we are on the marches of Arataine and Nevar. This meager fortification holds an important position and is manned by men-at-arms including these four who are knights.”
Sinfor’s demeanor told Dech they were not welcome, but not for the stated reasons. Something else was behind it and he could guess what it was.
“There are not many warders in the ranks of the contrition order, just four as I recall,” Sinfor said. “Why would one be on a mission in this part of Arataine I wonder?”
“The order ranges across all of the realm and beyond. The mission is order business, king’s business, or both, neither of which you need to know,” Dech declared.
Sinfor suppressed a sneer. “Might I know your name, Warder?”
“I am Warder Dech.”
“Warder Dech. I thought as much. My liege lord Duke Philip has mentioned you on occasion. I understand he tried to have you killed some years ago.”
“He tried and failed.”
“Obviously. I find it most odd that the first warder to ever grace Ganesome would be you,” Sinfor said as his knights’ hands moved toward their sword hilts. “I think it highly doubtful lodging is the purpose of your visit.”
. . .
Chapter 23
Erie stopped at a door secured with more than a simple latch. Barred on the outside and locked as well, those were not the only things that made this particular door stand out among the others he and Diz had passed. A hinged panel in the upper part of the door was also a distinctive feature.
“If they are down here, this is the likeliest place,” Josip whispered.
Dissy nodded. “A holding cell perhaps?”
“Let us see.”
Erie stood and freed the small bolt holding the hinged panel closed. Swinging it slowly outward revealed three iron bars crossing the opening and shackled chains hanging from the overhead beams of an area lit by a single lantern. In the dim light at the far wall, the two teens they had seen at the front gates stood at a small bricked over window prying at the masonry.
Erie hissed at them to get their attention drawing startled looks from the two youths.
“We wasn’t trying to get out,” the boy said as the two slowly walked toward the door.
“Keep your voice down,” Erie said. “Why are you here?”
“We came here to work.”
“No, why are you locked in here?”
“We don’t know,” the girl replied.
“How’d you like to get out of here?”
“To work?” the boy asked.
Erie sighed in frustration. “Any place that locks you up is no place you want to work. Maybe you noticed the bloodstains on the floor, hanging chains, and the table with limb straps. I can only guess what delightful objects reside in the cabinets. Were I you, I’d consider finding another place to stay.”
“You’ll let us out?” the girl asked.
“Just as soon as I convince the lock to cooperate.”
“Not one of the lord’s men?”
Erie chuckled. “Not a bit. Name’s Josip, and my partner in liberation here is Dissy.”
“I be Irma,” the girl replied.
“John,” the boy said.
“Well, since we’re all friends now, let us see about this lock.” Erie knelt and drew his gear before going to work. Suddenly, the loud bang of a door being slammed open followed by heavy footfalls sounded down the stone passage.
Erie cursed and stood. “We’ll be back,” he said hurriedly as he closed the observation panel. Pointing down the passage he said, “Go,” to an already moving Dissy.
Rounding the next corner, they stopped out of sight and listened.
The clunk of an opening latch at the end of the passage came soon and the door was shoved forcefully open, slamming into the stone wall behind it.
“Where are we taking them?” A man asked. “And why?”
“You ask too many questions,” another, deeper voice replied.
“That’s not an answer.”
“I don’t know why. Prob’ly ‘cause of the two that rode in a bit ago. Something’s got Sinfor bothered. We take his entertainments to the barn and keep’em there ‘til told otherwise. He wants’em kept in prime shape, so no damaging’em. He wants to do it, get it?”
A quick peek around the corner by Erie revealed the two men stopping at the door with the hinged panel.
He drew a pair of dirks and looked at Dissy. “When I drop the closest one, you bring the other down with an arrow. Can you manage that?”
Reaching for her slung bow was answer enough and the thief scuttled silently in a crouch toward the two guards. By the time Dissy was drawing an arrow to her breast, Erie rose behind the nearest man as he watched his companion fiddle with keys to unlock the door.
Two blades flashed and Erie and his target went to the floor. The guard with the keys managed a startled look before an arrow bore through his throat. Staggering a few steps until he struck the wall behind him, only wheezing grunts came
from his mouth before he too fell to the floor, the ring of keys still in his hand.
Dissy closed and found Erie drawing the arrow through the cloth of the man’s shirt before he passed it to her clean. “I knew Dech wouldn’t stick me with a dud. A fine shot. You as skilled with the blade?”
“I wouldn’t wish to live one the difference.”
Erie smiled as he wiped his blades clean. “Let us exit by the way we entered. Take the youths to the place of observation we used earlier. We can use the gate this time.”
Grabbing the key ring, Erie looked at the three that dangled from it and then studied the lock. Nodding, he selected one and unlocked the device before lifting the bar free, setting it aside prior to opening the door.
The two youths stood just a few paces inside.
“What’s happening?” John asked.
“We’re vacating the area,” Erie replied. “I said we’d be back.”
The pair took a few steps and stopped when they saw the bodies in the passage, giving Erie and Diz wary looks.
“You must have heard them,” Dissy said. “They were talking about you when they said ‘entertainments’.”
Erie nodded. “Unless you were hired to sing or dance, you must realize what they meant.”
The boy grimaced in acknowledgement. “Where are you taking us?”
“For now, clear of here. Out a side gate and into the trees. Once this all—”
“What is taking so long?” said an irritated voice from the direction of their intended route. “Someone left the outer door unlocked again. If I find out who it was….”
A man rounded the corner and came to a quick stop. His eyes grew wide at the sight of four people and two bodies in the passageway. He disappeared more rapidly than he appeared, fleeing down the path from which he’d just covered. “Alarm, Alarm!” the man called.
“Change of plan,” Erie said. “Let us try a different route and see what lies upstairs.”
. . .
A cry of alarm sounded from outside the room. “Infiltrators in the undercroft!”
The four knights behind Sinfor each placed a hand on their swords and looked to their lord.
Sinfor gave a hard look at Dech. “A ruse? I thought you were above such chicanery. Kill him!” he said as he backed away.
The two armored knights strode forward as they drew steel from scabbards while Dech simply clenched a fist and stepped into the nearest man’s attack. Mayhaps was not caught off guard either, sweeping the small table from the floor and whirling gracefully as the fight commenced, treasured lute in one hand, table in the other.
Dech’s target went down from a straight right to the face, his eyes blank and flattened nose bleeding as he fell into unconsciousness while Mayhaps’ strike staggered the other knight with a blow to the back in spite of the man’s armor and the padding beneath it.
One of the unarmored men closed with the bard while Dech drew his sword and fended off a blow from the other unarmored knight by using the shield on his back, the sword raking across the mail on his arm as it passed. Turning toward the man, the warder blocked a backhanded cut by reaching across his body to grasp the man’s sword arm with his left while delivering a backhand slash of his own. Catching the man at the neck, Dech’s opponent staggered and fell expelling air from a severed esophagus and spraying blood via opened vessels.
Sweeping his shield from his back, Dech turned to face the remaining threats and saw the bard still lived, though how long that might remain was in question.
Fending off weak thrusts as he backed away, Mayhaps felt sure the swordsman was more interested in herding him into a corner than killing him, causing wonder at what they had in store for him if that were the case.
Recovering quickly from the blow the bard had delivered, the remaining armored knight swung a horizontal cutting attack at the warder. Blocking it with his shield, Dech thrust a stab over his opponent’s shield forcing the man to back away.
By now, Sinfor had equipped the unconscious knight’s shield and sword and closed on Dech while the man pursuing Mayhaps turned and closed as well, content to leave the bard and his precious lute to cower in the corner. Dech edged backwards and sized up his opponents.
. . .
Dissy drew her short sword from the scabbard on her back and led the way with the two youths trailing behind her. Erie watched the rear, armed with his dirks and following closely.
Taking the reverse course of the two dead men in the undercroft led them further into the tower house and they soon came to a stairwell leading up. A peek through a barely open door at the top showed the exit led into a pantry. At the opposite end of the room was a doorway that opened to the main hall. Dissy moved slowly, hearing sounds, shuffling and pounding noises, but nothing she could identify. Nearing the door, it became clear the sounds were muffled blows and footfalls.
“That must be Dech,” Erie hissed. “Be easier to get out of here if we can join him.”
“Follow me,” Diz said as she passed through the doorway.
Turning left, she saw a closed door behind which the fight must be taking place. From the other side of the main hall two men burst through another doorway and stopped short when they saw a glaring woman with sword in hand.
“Stay here,” Erie said as he passed the teens to take a place on Dissy’s right. “I’ll take the man on my side.”
Dissy moved directly at her opponent while Josip circled right. The men carried swords, but no shields and their armor was simply quilted gambesons with leather patches at the shoulders and elbows.
Erie kicked a chair across the floor into his foe’s path, slowing the man as he evaded it. Reversing the blade in his right hand to grasp it by the blade, Erie hurled it and charged. Knowing a thrown blade stood little chance of felling an opponent, he shifted his other dirk to his right hand as the man grunted in pain and sought to pull free the blade lodged in his arm. The distraction worked perfectly and the last thing the man saw was Erie leaping at him and thrusting a blade matching the one that wounded him.
Dissy heard a grunt and the sound of flesh hitting the floor to her right, but she had no time to spare a look as she ducked under a sweeping cut from her foe. Tumbling left, the opposite way of the strike, she landed on her knees and slashed the man’s legs. A strangled cry of pain came from the man who managed a pair of awkward steps back before falling to the floor. As the man’s head bounced off the wood surface, he raised his blade to fend off a follow-up attack, but slowed by his wounds and less skilled than his raven-haired opponent he soon saw it was in vain.
Erie pulled his thrown dirk free and turned to face Dissy. He smiled when he saw her mirroring his action as she wiped her blade clean on the dead man’s gambeson. Hearing the clatter of a sword, he jutted his chin at the nearby door and said, “Dech may need us.”
. . .
The three men closed on Dech, wisely keeping maneuver space between each other. His assessment of the trio was that Sir Jeffress was the most experienced and most skilled, though the men at Sinfor’s flanks were no amateurs. Three foemen was a difficult task to consider especially if they were knights, but he knew the odds were about to improve.
Behind the knight to Dech’s left was Mayhaps, table set aside and drawing a stout narrow blade from his lute. Gently setting the instrument on a cushioned chair, he closed with the knife held high.
Dech lunged in false attack toward the armored knight to his right, halting all three attackers. Moving quietly, Mayhaps proved bard or no, he was not without martial skills. A smooth and precise thrust of the blade drove the sharp point through the knight’s neck just below the base of the skull. With barely a sound until the clatter of his sword striking the floor called attention to it, Sinfor and the armored underling had no idea their numbers had just be cut by a third.
Both men saw their comrade slump to the floor and the bard backing away with a gory blade in hand. Unsettled, but not deterred, the two once again moved on Dech, their concentration now s
plit with Mayhaps now in play.
The space between Sinfor and his partner grew as the armored knight circled around Dech. Knowing their intention, Dech timed their approach before acting. Facing more towards Sinfor, he allowed the other knight to reach his right-rear quarter and once there, he launched an attack. Sinfor thrust low in response, his shield held close in a solid defensive stance. The strike was a strong one, but Dech shunted it aside with his shield while he delivered a hard front kick to Sinfor’s shield, forcing him to backpedal to stay on his feet.
Knowing the other knight must be closing, Dech spun to his left and moved into the attack.
Intending to deliver a chopping blow from behind, the knight realized he was suddenly in a poor position and slid to a stop while bringing his sword down to counter the warder.
Dech moved to the knight’s left knowing the momentum from the man’s aborted attack made it difficult for him to turn. Releasing the strap in his left hand and letting the shield hang free from his forearm, Dech grasped his opponent’s shield and pulled him in the direction his body was already going. Raising his sword above both shields, Dech struck at the knight’s face with the pommel and landed a blow near the man’s left eye as the knight tried to avoid the attack. Releasing the knight’s shield, the warder turned to face Sinfor as the man fell to the floor in a heap.
The door burst open and Dissy stepped inside with Erie on her heels. Finding himself outnumbered, Sinfor backed away as Dech closed.
“It seems the scale has tilted in your favor,” Sinfor said. Dech heard no fear in his voice.
Looking over the four who confronted him, Sinfor’s eyes settled on Dech. “That does not mean there is nothing on my side of the scale though. Kill me and you lose something of value.”
“I thought I told you to stay put,” Erie said with irritation as the two youths stopped in the doorway.
“There’s people coming,” Irma said.
Dissy swept them into the room while Erie swung the door closed.
The Warder Page 33
