Stanislav answered by revealing the sword he had held behind his back. Beside him was a particularly well-dressed man, a knight by the look of him, holding a well-worn dagger.
"And who's this?" said Nikolai.
"I am Sir Raynald," the man replied, "in service to His Grace, the Duke of Erlingen."
"Move aside, Sir Knight. This need not concern you."
"Oh, but it does," Raynald replied. "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to proceed."
"So be it," said Nikolai, waving his hand to bring his men closer. "Kill them!"
A crossbow bolt sailed down the corridor, narrowly missing Stanislav. He countered by rushing forward, his sword striking out with precision, taking a man in the leg.
Sir Raynald, who had given his sword to his comrade, stomped forward, parrying a blow with a deft move, then stabbing forward with his dagger, sinking the blade into the stomach of his opponent.
Nikolai backed up, letting his men do the dirty work. He watched the swordplay for a while, but when two more of his men staggered back, he took up the cause, launching himself towards his nemesis.
Sir Raynald struck down a henchman, slicing across the man's forearm with a wicked stroke of his dagger. Another appeared before him, and he stabbed at his foe's face, causing his opponent to flinch. The knight followed up with his fists, disarming his opponent and grasping the wayward sword as the man fell back, flailing about. Now armed with a more formidable weapon, he struck out, stabbing and slicing with great skill.
More men piled in behind the first wave of attackers, and Sir Raynald pulled back, Stanislav at his side. The knight struggled to keep them at bay and then felt the back of his boot strike the stair behind him.
"Now!" he yelled, taking a step upward.
Stanislav performed the same manoeuvre even as his blade struck true, puncturing the arm of Nikolai.
A door opened, off to the side, revealing the startled countenance of a Holy Brother. He stepped into the corridor, watching the backs of Nikolai's men, then waved his hand. Athgar and Natalia exited the door, moving slowly, making their way to the stairs that led down to the main floor.
Federov was the one who noticed them, spotting them out of the corner of his eye. He wheeled around to face them, but the Holy Brother ran forward, tackling the henchman and driving him to the floor. Federov rolled to the side, desperate to get the man off him, but by the time he managed to push Brother Rickard out of his way, it was too late; the fugitives had fled.
He tried to yell out, but the clatter of steel, mixed with the shouts of the combatants, drowned out his words. Rising, Federov prepared to run after them, but the cursed brother clung to his feet, and he fell to the floor, sprawling once more.
* * *
Sir Raynald struck down another man, his chest heaving with the effort. Beside him, Stanislav parried Nikolai's blow, the two men coming face to face, a mere sword blade between them.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance," said Nikolai.
"You've tried that before," said Stanislav. Taking a step forward, he struck out with a series of wicked slashes. Nikolai backed up, overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the attack.
Stanislav was breathing heavily now as were they all. The wounded men cried out in agony, their lifeblood dripping from their veins. He took one more step, driving the tip of his sword deep into Nikolai's chest.
"That," he said, "is for Viktor!"
Nikolai staggered back, gasping for air. He looked down at his chest, noting the gaping wound, then fell to his knees amongst the wounded.
"It's too late," he said, a defiant tone to his voice. "I sent word to the family. They'll never stop looking for that child." His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell face-first onto the floor, forever silenced.
Sir Raynald stomped forward, but there was little fight left in their opponents. Those who remained on their feet turned and fled, leaving the knight with Stanislav and a handful of wounded men lying in agony.
The knight watched as they streamed down the stairs, too exhausted to follow. A muffled sound came from the wounded, and then Brother Rickard sat upright, his cassock covered in blood.
"Don't worry," the Mathewite said, "it's not mine."
Sir Raynald surveyed the carnage. "This is quite the effort they put into finding those two."
"Indeed," said Stanislav, "but it looks like we got the better of them."
"We did," the knight agreed, "but did you have to go and kill that fellow? I would have liked to have gotten some answers."
Stanislav frowned. "It couldn't be helped. He was trying to kill me."
"I take it you've met before?"
"Oh, yes. He used to work for me many years ago but then betrayed me and murdered one of my friends."
Sir Raynald looked down at the corpse. "Well, I think it's safe to say his murdering days are over."
"This fellow here looks like someone important," called out Brother Rickard.
The knight advanced, staring down at a man sprawled on the floor. There was very little blood, and yet he remained motionless. "What happened here?"
"I tripped him," explained the lay brother. "He was trying to follow Athgar and Natalia."
Sir Raynald knelt by the body. "And what makes you think he's important?"
"The cut of his clothes for one thing. He was also trying to yell orders, or so I thought. It was considerably noisy in here at the time."
"Is he still alive?"
Brother Rickard moved closer, looking for a pulse. "Yes, though he's taken a nasty bump to the head. He must have hit it on the floor when he fell."
Sir Raynald eyed the lay brother. "Are you sure you're not a Temple Knight?"
"Saints, no. Why would you even suggest such a thing?"
"You handled yourself quite nicely in the fight."
"I was merely doing Saint Mathew's work. Now, help with the wounded, will you? There's more work yet to be done."
"Help them?" said Sir Raynald. "Definitely not. They attacked us for Saint's sake!"
"We must be charitable to the defeated," insisted Brother Rickard.
"If you say so."
They began moving the bodies, separating the wounded from the dead. The commotion had been loud, but no one from downstairs had dared to intervene during the fight. Now, with the noise abated, a few patrons took tentative steps up the stairs to see what had transpired.
"Send someone to the duke," Sir Raynald called down. "Tell him one of his knights was attacked."
His task complete, he took a seat on the top stair, blocking anyone else from getting into the hallway.
"What will you do now?" asked Stanislav.
"Do?" said Sir Raynald. "What can I do? The enemy is dead or fled."
"Yes, but there is a connection with the Church. Shouldn't you look into it?"
"There is little I can do, and besides, the army will soon be marching. My place is by the duke's side."
"You must tell him what has transpired."
"To what end? Do you really think His Grace will take such accusations seriously? He can't just storm up to the father general and accuse the master of his order of being a… I don't even know what he would be."
"A spy?" offered Stanislav.
"Call it what you like, but if his control over his knights is as strong as I suspect, it will make little difference. What it all comes down to is that the Church must look after its own. It's not for outsiders to interfere. Athgar and Natalia are safe for now, and that's all we can hope for."
"What of you, Brother Rickard?" asked the mage hunter. "What are your thoughts on the matter?"
"The reports are troubling, to say the least," responded the lay brother, "but what choice do we have? There is no real evidence of this conspiracy. Only the word of two people who we are unable to call as witnesses. It ultimately comes down to mere accusations, for we have no proof."
"There must be something we can do?" insisted Stanislav.
Brother Rickard opened his mou
th to speak but fell silent, considering his words.
Sir Raynald, however, had other ideas. "Well I, for one, will keep vigilant lest these fellows strike once more. Never again will I trust a Temple Knight."
"I might remind you," said Brother Rickard, "it is only one order who is involved here. I can't believe the Brothers of Saint Mathew would condone such actions nor the Sisters of Saint Agnes if it came right down to it."
Sir Raynald sighed. "You are correct, of course. But we must take solace that we have defeated the plans of whoever is behind all of this."
"I very much doubt that," said Stanislav. "This whole affair with Natalia and Athgar was a sideshow."
"What makes you say that?" asked Brother Rickard.
"Think about it. It would have taken years for Talivardas to reach the level of a Temple Knight Master. He would have started long before Natalia graduated from the Volstrum, possibly even before she was inducted."
"Then what is their ultimate plan?" asked Sir Raynald.
"I have no idea," replied Stanislav, "but one thing's for sure, I can't go back to Karslev. Nikolai would have seen to that."
"What will you do?" asked Brother Rickard.
"I don't know yet," the mage hunter replied. "I may stick around Ebenstadt awhile. See what comes up."
"You could always work for the duke," suggested Sir Raynald. "The pay's good, and he could use a man like you."
"Like me? A mage hunter? Don't be ridiculous."
"I saw you fight," said the knight. "You know how to handle a sword."
The old man shrugged it off. "No, my fighting days are over. I'd much prefer to spend my time in leisure. Perhaps I'll slow down a little and learn to appreciate life."
"With no coins?" said Sir Raynald.
"Don't trouble yourself on my account," said Stanislav. "I have plenty of friends around the Continent who owe me a favour or two."
"And until you locate them?"
Stanislav knelt by a body, rooting through its pockets. He smiled, holding up a small collection of coins. "I'll make do."
Escape
Autumn 1104 SR
* * *
Athgar sat, taking the weight off his leg. They were finally free of Ebenstadt, its grey walls now out of sight, but the spectre of pursuit loomed heavily on both their minds.
"You can't go on using your bow as a cane," said Natalia. "We need to get you a proper crutch."
Athgar looked around. "What would that entail?"
"Have you never used a crutch before?"
"No, can't say that I have. Do you know how to make one?"
"Of course. Helping the wounded was part of my training."
"What do we need?" he asked.
"A branch or stick of suitable size."
Athgar hefted his axe. "You pick out a branch, and I'll cut it down."
She smiled. "It's good you don't use a sword, it wouldn't be half as handy. You wait here, and I'll have a quick look around. I'll come find you once I've got what we need."
He watched her wander around, the sun glinting off her black hair. The day was hot, surprising considering the time of year, and he wondered how many more days like this they would have before winter raised its icy head.
It didn't take long for Natalia to find what she wanted: a Y- shaped branch that had long since fallen to the ground.
"This ought to do," she said, "though, of course, you'll need to adjust its height."
"Bring it closer, and let me take a look."
She dragged it towards him, then halted, a pained look coming to her face.
He stood up in alarm, instantly regretting his decision as his leg faltered. "Are you all right?"
She held up her hand, taking a deep breath before continuing. "Only a twinge," she replied. "This baby of ours is determined to make its presence known. Is that a Therengian trait?"
"I have no idea. The truth is, I never paid much attention to such things back in Athelwald, but Skora would know. She's delivered lots of babies in her time."
"I wish she was here now," said Natalia.
"I never thought I'd say it," said Athgar, "but right now, I'd love to have a horse."
"You? The confirmed walker? I thought you hated the things."
"Hate's a strong word, but anything would be better than walking right now. And let's face it, you're not in much better shape yourself." He limped over to where she crouched, examining the branch.
Natalia sat, pointing at the base of the Y. "Chop off the bottom, right about here. The top you should trim so it fits under your armpit. It'll be awkward to use but much better than your bow."
Trimming it to size was easy enough, but the crook of the crutch took much more work. Luckily, Athgar had his knife with him. Years of crafting bows had given him an excellent feel for wood, and after a few adjustments, he had a finished product. Setting it under his arm, he took a few tentative steps.
"Not too bad," he said. "It lends a lot more support than I would have thought."
"Ready to resume our trek?" she asked.
"As ready as I'll ever be."
* * *
They started moving eastward, making good time over the relatively flat terrain. By late afternoon the sun had disappeared behind dark clouds, a sure sign that a storm was brewing.
Natalia cursed. "Just our luck, we'll be caught in a downpour. How can the weather change so quickly?"
"It's the mountains, they mess about with the weather. We need to seek shelter."
"There's a cluster of trees up ahead. Will that do?"
"It'll have to," said Athgar. "Come on, let's hurry before the rain closes in."
They reached the boughs just as it started spitting.
"Look for a fallen branch," suggested Athgar, "about twice my height in length."
"Here's one," she called out.
He moved closer, examining her find. "Good. Now we need to prop it against the trunk of a tree. While I do that, you find as many branches as you can, then we'll lean them up against the side like ribs."
Athgar dragged the fallen branch to a likely target, then set about raising its end, placing it against a large maple. By this time, Natalia was ready with the first group of sticks, piling them at the base and returning to the forest floor to look for more.
Larger drops of rain began to fall, but the overhead branches gave them some cover. Occasionally the water would make its way through, much to Athgar's annoyance. With the ribs finally in place, they began gathering vegetation; a collection of pine boughs, ferns, and moss. To this, they added fallen leaves, the better to insulate against the cold of the coming storm.
Their small cover complete, they crawled inside, pulling a spare branch behind to cover the opening. Athgar conjured a small flame to light the interior, careful to avoid letting the fire touch anything combustible.
"This is quite cozy," said Natalia.
"It'll do for now, though I wouldn't expect it to last forever."
"One night is all we need, then we must be on our way."
"You think the army has marched?"
"No," she said. "We still have a day or two by my reckoning. Remember, the father general called for the army to march in two days, and that was only yesterday."
"So they'll march tomorrow?"
"Maybe even the day after if this storm is bad enough. A large storm can play havoc with the route of march, turning it into a quagmire if it's wet enough."
Athgar smiled. "So the rain could actually be an ally?"
"I suppose that's true. I hadn't thought of it that way."
"Hopefully Kargen was successful in uniting the tribes. I'd hate to think about fighting off the Church without the Orcs."
"You should be more worried about the Therengians," said Natalia. "King Eadred tried to kill us. He won't be happy to see our return."
"One more thing we have to worry about," said Athgar. "I swear the list grows longer every day. Is there no end to it?"
"We shall get through this together, m
y love. You will see."
"And what do we do in the meantime while we wait for the storm to pass?"
"Sleep," said Natalia. "Now, come over here and keep the cold from me."
"Shall I use my spell of warmth?"
She grinned. "I can think of a more old-fashioned method that would be just as effective."
* * *
Long into the night, the storm raged. Athgar and Natalia remained in their shelter, listening to the peal of thunder as it echoed off the distant mountains.
Sometime in the early hours of the morning, their shelter began to leak. They countered this by using Athgar's tunic to act as a makeshift cover while they huddled together in the cold air of the night.
By sunrise, the storm had finally abated. Athgar pushed the branches from the opening and crawled out, the damp leaves of the forest floor sticking to him. Gathering some firewood, he then used his magic to call forth fire, too tired to attempt it the traditional way.
Natalia crawled out, looking exhausted. She tossed him the soaked tunic, which he arranged near the fire, the better to dry it out.
"Hungry?" he asked.
"Starving, but what have we to eat?"
"There's all sorts of things in these parts. It shouldn't be too difficult to find something."
"But you can't hunt, you're injured."
"There's more to surviving in the woods than hunting," said Athgar.
"Like what?"
"Plants. Take that bush over there, it's edible."
She looked in the direction indicated, surprise on her face as she stared at the small yellow petals. "So we just eat the flowers?"
"Gods, no, but the roots are quite tasty."
She wandered over, looking down on the small, leafy plant. "Do I dig down?"
"No, just grab the branches and pull. It should come up fairly easily."
Natalia grasped the stem of the plant, pulling with all her might. The plant gave way easily, sending dirt flying everywhere as she fell backwards. Spitting out some dirt, she looked down at the exposed roots in her hands. Attached were small white bulbs that somehow seemed familiar.
Inferno Page 25
