by Ulysses Troy
That was not necessary, however: The Baron’s steel, now wet by the rain, clashed with Retlaff’s, and the two men entered a brawl of strength. Edmond seemed to be losing the brawl, as Retlaff was much stronger than he looked. However, he tripped over a stone in his way fell to the ground. And in a glance, Retlaff was lying on the ground, his sword thrown far away. I can’t believe it.
For a moment, Conrad prayed to the Holy One that Edmond wouldn’t do something stupid, but God did not answer his call. The Baron bent over and took Retlaff’s sword from the dirty ground, and thew it over to the fearless bandit. “Fight with honor, bandit!” He said as if Retlaff had known honor at all.
The sword flew towards the bandit in the air, and Retlaff gave Edmond his ugliest smile as he caught it. A smile of surprise and joy. “Oh, I will.”
Without a moment’s hesitation, he made a move towards the Baron. Facing Retlaff’s deadliest attacks, Edmond tried to do his best, but he had no chance. The bandit welled him after a series of attacks. A painful cry was heard from behind the walls of Unac’h Dorn, and it belonged to Edmond de Gannát. Conrad tried to help him, but he stopped when he saw the Baron’s blood. No, it’s too late.
Suddenly, sounds of horse clops and neighing echoed in the ruined walls of Unac’h Dorn. From the gates, a man of the Brotherhood screamed in pain and another cried for his life. Then, a horn with a powerful tune from the higher walls sounded through the air. It was a warning to the Brotherhood. Someone was attacking Unac’h Dorn.
Retlaff abandoned the lying Baron and quickly moved towards the gates and saw that the guards he had stationed there were running for their lives towards the ancient inner center of the castle, trying to flee from the approaching enemy. After seeing it, Conrad knew they were right to flee. A half dozen armored knights on warhorses, accompanied by a dozen men-at-arms, were charging through the open gates of the ancient castle. They were carrying the LaPellás’ red rose on their blue shields, except for one who was leading them to the Brotherhood from the front. He had no shield at all as it was known The Black Knight would always only rely upon his sword for defense.
As the men from the gates were slain one by one by the swords of the attacking forces and crushed under their horses, the horn sounded again.
Retlaff raised his sword in the air and called to his men. “To the arms! Unleash their blood! Give them hell!” Even though some of them hesitated at first, most of his men started to run towards the attackers to give them a proper welcome, even though they were charging towards them on their horses. Retlaff grabbed one of the bandit’s arms.
“Go inside and warn the others!” The bandit nodded and started to run to the keep, but was killed with a lance thrown by a horseman that appeared from nowhere in a wink. Retlaff cursed him and quickly made a move towards the horseman. The horseman blocked Retlaff’s attacks with his shield and made his own, but none of them were able to cause damage to the Vampire as he blocked them with his sword, effortlessly. Then, he started to attack the horseman again, but this time with more focus and rage. The horseman was able to parry his attacks for a while, until Retlaff cut one of the horse’s legs with a quick series of strikes. The horse neighed in a great deal of pain and fell to the ground. The horseman, whose legs were broken under the horse’s body, cried until Retlaff finished him with his sword.
Unac’h Dorn was bleeding. The ragged courtyard of the ancient castle was now a bloodbath full of severed limbs belonging to the dead or crippled men. The chaos of screaming men and clashing swords was spread everywhere. Fight and death could be related to many things, but Conrad was sure glory was not one of them, even though tales said the opposite. A man of the Brotherhood ran towards the cages to release the hounds, but a man-at-arms crushed his head with a mace.
Behind the ancient walls of Unac’h Dorn, death was walking on the castle courtyard with red steps. A death named Retlaff ‘The Vampire’. Conrad saw the bandit commander slay three men-at-arms and one armored knight on his own, in seconds. If there were more of him on the side of The Brotherhood, they might have had a chance against the attackers of LaPellás. But there was only one Retlaff, and it turned out to be that the bandit, the one Conrad had interrogated was telling the truth, as the men of The Brotherhood here were not different from any other bandits. Or maybe it was just that the rumors about the Brotherhood’s feared reputation was wrong? These bandits, none of them was close to their commander in finesse and ruthlessness. And when an ordinary group of bandits faced a professional unit of soldiers, they would be slain like animals in a slaughterhouse. This fight was no different. The Unac’h Dorn was the slaughterhouse, while the men of the Brotherhood were the cows, and the soldiers their butchers. Yes, Retlaff was fighting like there was no tomorrow, but as he was far superior to other bandits, his skill and murderous moves quickly got the attackers’ attention. Suddenly, a man in a dark steel plate armor appeared in front of the Retlaff. He was the man who had led the attackers to the gates, the one without the shield. The one who never had an equal in a real fight. The one who wore black and only black. He was armed with a bastard sword in his hands. Retlaff looked upon him and, after examining him a bit, screamed with fury.
“Your body, knight, I will personally feed it to my hounds after this fight ends. I will burn the bodies of your men and shit on their ashes. Your homes will burn, and your people will be slain. I swear, Knight, you will bleed!”
Retlaff’s red eyes were shining. Two red balls full of hatred and rage. But they had no impact on his opponent, not even a little as the knight raised his sword towards the vile and wicked man, challenging him to fight without any hesitation. He had seen every man Retlaff had effortlessly slain, but still, his heart did not feel a single trace of fear.
“Keep your words for the afterlife, bandit. You will need them with the Punisher rather than with me . . .”
And no single word was said, as it was now time for the swords to speak. Retlaff furiously rushed towards the Knight in black steel. He made a masterful attack, but the knight was quick, much quicker than Retlaff. After his strike got blocked by the knight, Retlaff unleashed his fury again and made another attempt to slay the Knight, but again, his attacks were perfectly blocked by the knight, one by one. Retlaff was enraged. He swung his sword to the Knight’s head with all his might, but the Knight was too good to lose. Two swords crossed in the air and made a powerful sound, spreading through the castle courtyard. They gave all of their strength to their arms to get the upper hand but the crossed swords remained in the same position until the knight removed one of his hands from his bastard sword in an instant and blew a strong punch with his armored fist to the bandit’s left cheek, stunning him. Retlaff lost ground. Because of the punch he just received, his cheek was now deformed; he was uglier now than he ever had been, with the vile color of red covering all of his face rather than only his eyes.
He bowed his head and spitted blood to the ground, then raised it again to look at the knight with his red eyes, now burning with even more hatred. “You, Knight, will die. Not five years later. Not somewhere else. Today. Here. Not by a fever, arrow, or pike. By a sword.”
The Knight again held the hilt of his sword with both hands. “Maybe.” He said. “But not by yours.”
This time, the Knight was the one who started the fight. Even though he was still trying to recover from the Knight’s punch and the Knight had struck him in a heartbeat, Retlaff was still skilled enough to block his attacks, at least the first ones. After a few seconds, the Knight found his weak spot and took a chance. Retlaff was able to block the attack again, but this time, the effort of blocking consumed all of his energy and made him fall to the hard ground, which was now covered in blood from his cheek. The Knight hesitated for a moment and looked at the bandit to see if he was likely to surrender, but not Retlaff. His kind would prefer to embrace death.
“You will bleed!” As he spoke, more blood poured out of Retlaff’s mouth. He swung his sword towards the knight while trying to
stand, but the Knight blocked his attack effortlessly and kicked him. The bandit rolled over to his back.
“It’s over, bandit.” He lowered his sword, stained by blood. “I have won.”
Retlaff laid on the ground in pain for seconds. After three unsuccessful attempts, he barely managed to stand, and gave his final response to the Knight. It was a familiar one. “You will bleed!”
Conrad did not know how with that much loss of blood, but Retlaff rushed to the Knight screaming in a disturbingly high-pitched voice. The Knight raised his sword with ease again and stuck it into the bandit’s body before he could make another attempt to kill him. Retlaff’s blood, as red as his eyes, covered all of his body as he fell to the ground, never to rise again. So steel was enough after all.
As Retlaff died, there was no more hope for the men of The Brotherhood, no reason to continue this fight, which already had been lost. Conrad saw the remaining bandits surrender one by one, throwing their swords, maces, and axes to the wet ground. The Black Knight with a group of men-at-arms approached the bandits, but their swords were still in their hands, as if they would use them soon again, very soon. Evrard will kill them, even though they have surrendered. These may be men of woods, thugs without respect for the law of men, yet they deserved to be treated with honor, just like all. But these were tiring times, and not every man thought like Conrad or valued honor.
Among the defeated bandits, a man begged with tears in his eyes for mercy as he saw what they were headed for. He was on his shoulders, while the rains of black clouds were washing his hair. “Please Ser, spare me for my crimes, I had to do it for my family! I have four children, Ser! My wife is sick and the last year’s harvest was not good, I had to find tourins for them! I had no other choice!”
But the Black Knight did not listen or hesitate as his bastard sword took the bandit’s head off his shoulders. While the bandit’s lifeless head fell to the wet ground, it colored Unac’h Dorn’s courtyard red one more time. As it was clear now that the Black Knight would not take prisoners, the other bandits screamed with fear, and some of them tried to reach the weapons they had just dropped, but the men of LaPellás slew them one by one before they could; none of them were able to defend themselves. The whole thing was ruthless and horrendous, but killing the newly recruited bandits upon their surrender wasn’t the worse part. Even after all bandits were dead, the slaughter in Unac’h Dorn continued. The men of LaPellás killed innocents too: the prisoners of The Brotherhood and the merchant group standing near the gate. This is disturbing. Conrad thought as anger towards the men of LaPellás grew inside him. He wanted to prevent this dishonorable slaughter, yet he knew even he could not make a difference.
But why would they want even prisoners dead? Conrad couldn’t think of a proper answer to that specific question. The only thing that came to his mind was that the men of LaPellás clearly did not want to leave any witnesses, and that was enough to show that they had to leave the castle at once, before being recognized by the Black Knight and the men he led, if they had not by now.
“Quick, we need to go!” Conrad pointed to the breach where he and the Baron had entered the castle. “There!” He hoped Merlon was still standing at the front with the horses; otherwise, it could be the last day of Conrad of Battum’s and his companion’s lives.
But instead of tailing his back, Gavise shouted to his friend. “Conrad, you need to see this!”
He quickly advanced to the location from where Gavise’s voice was coming. There, he saw Gavise, who was trying to raise the injured Baron from the ground. I forgot about his injury. Now, the situation was even worse, and their chance of escape even less. Apparently, Edmond could not go far with the current state of his leg. The wound looked deep enough to give him trouble walking, there was no way he could run from the men of LaPellás. Yet, he was Conrad of Battum, a man with a promise and cause, and he was not going to leave him here, at Unac’h Dorn, no matter what.
Conrad held on to the other arm of the Baron to help Gavise, and together they made him stand. They slowly started walking to the breach, but it was obvious they were about to be caught by LaPellás’ men at that speed. But they had no choice, as they couldn’t know what they would do to them, after all that had happened. Maybe it had been their intention all along, trapping them inside the castle and slaying them with the bandits as they must have been following their trail for hours to catch them here like that.
“Faster!” Conrad said, hearing the voices of approaching soldiers. Behind them, a man called to another. “I think there is something or someone there, near the breach!” Conrad looked around, to see if there was somewhere they could hide, but there wasn’t. We will die here. He thought as he reached for his scabbard. At least I will die holding a sword.
“Then look there, you dork!”
“Fine.” The man said. “Terren, come with me.” Conrad heard more sounds, sounds made by armored boots.
“Fuck this weather, my boots are soiled!” The last voice came from somewhere closer. It’s over.
Then, suddenly, hope came alive again. It showed its face as a bald and fat servant with a big nose. Even though Conrad could not believe his eyes, Merlon was standing near the breach in the walls, with the horses’ hilts in his hands. “Quick!” He shouted. “Or they will find us!”
Chapter Six
The Aftermath
“Will he live?” On the rack, Merlon asked the hag as fresh drops of sweat steadily welled on his forehead. “Answer me!”
“He did not lose his head, twit! Of course, he’ll live.” The hag responded with knitted brows. “And his leg . . .”
“Oh, no!” Merlon cried with pain and grief opening both his arms and bending his knees. “Now the Baron has lost his leg! Her ladyship will take my head for that! Why Holy One! Why!”
“His leg is fine too, fool!” The hag roared at the wretched man with her rusty aged voice. “To his luck and yours, the sword did not cut any vital parts.”
“I am actually impressed,” Conrad said. He was standing next to them, resting his back against the wooden wall of the shack. “You know too much about healing, even for a hag.” Since the peasantry did not have physicians in their villages as towns, castles, and cities did, Hags were the ones to heal the sick there for most time.
The hag looked at Conrad with her light blue eyes. “This village saw wars, boy, while you were suckling your mother’s nipples. And after a battle, the maimed need someone to treat them.”
Before Conrad could answer, Merlon shouted with happiness. “So, the Baron is fine! Oh, It’s a miracle! The Holy One has finally answered my calls!” Now, that’s a happy man. Conrad thought while Merlon reached for his famous bag of coins. At first, he opened it to grab some tourins, but then he thought even that wouldn’t be enough to pay for the good that the hag had done. So, he threw the whole bag to her. “Take this, you sacred woman! You deserve that, all of that!”
She caught the bag with a quick move of the hand that nobody would expect of someone her age, and then threw it right back at Merlon’s bald head. As the heavy bag crashed on the servant’s head, it made a satisfying sound. “I don’t want your filthy coin.” The hag said with a determined voice. “I did what I had to.”
“Really?” Merlon said while rubbing his bald head, surprised.
“Yes,” the Hag explained. “I did not treat him for coins. I did treat him because it was needed. And you, fat man.” She pointed at Merlon with her fingers, slightly shaking. “Don’t ever dare to offer something like this to me again!”
‘With pleasure.” Merlon said putting the bag back where it belonged.
“How much time does he need to get well?” Conrad asked the Hag. At least to be able to walk again.
“Days at best. It can take a week, too.” The Hag mopped. “He is asleep now, and only the Holy One knows when he will be awake again. This is what he needs, resting and sleeping.”
“But his Baronship is waited at Plains, to participate in the c
ontest!” Merlon said.
“Contest? He can’t walk a mile with this leg!”
Merlon paused for a moment and thought a bit. “On second thought, maybe it is a better outcome after all! Now, he does not have to face the Black Knight!” Maybe it really is, for the good of Edmond.
“I thought you despised the nobility,” Conrad turned to the Hag. “What persuaded you so quickly to help one of them?”
The hag looked into Conrad’s eyes. “I despise them still, yet I don’t see what I despise lying on that bed, I see a young boy losing blood. We folk know the meaning of honor and dignity, stranger.”
“So, you won’t inform the Brotherhood about this matter?” About us.
“No.” The hag said. “You took shelter in our village and asked for our bread. Don’t expect any harm from us.”
“But what about the other villagers?” Merlon asked. “Some of them may snitch on us to the Brotherhood, too.”
“They are not dishonorable people.” The Hag said. “In Hoél, we value the ancient customs. Customs older than any of us, customs that have been divined by the Holy One himself.” She looked into Merlon’s eyes. Two light blue balls of ice. “We won’t break them, fat man, as you would.” Then, she looked at the door of the room where Edmond was sleeping. “I need to check him again. Wait here.” She entered the room, only to return after a minute.
“Your noble friend has awoken; you may talk with him.” She said to Conrad and Merlon with her rusty voice.
“I will.” Merlon rushed forward towards the door and entered the room.
“Wait here, I will bring some herbs.” The hag said to Conrad as soon as Merlon closed the door to the Baron’s room, and then she left the shack. A minute after she was gone, Conrad heard Merlon’s voice from the room inside.
“But my Baron!” A few seconds passed, more voices of a dispute rose, then Merlon came out of the room. “You fucker!” He closed the door angrily and shouted after taking enough steps to be sure his lord could not hear him. “You goddamned bloody fucker! This boy does not have such a thing as a brain! The Holy One did not grant him such a thing at all! His whole head is empty! I tell you; it is fucking empty!”
