Kain had just drawn his sword when there was a crack, like a miniature lightning bolt had just struck. He didn’t have time to ponder what it was or where the sound had come from. At that moment the mercenaries appeared in force, coming in pairs from practically under the noses of Kain and his companions.
The first man Kain saw was to his right, a large man with a black mask over his face. The man raised a battle axe with two hands, and Kain thrust his sword at the man’s face without thinking. The tip of his blade cut into the attacker’s forehead. It was a superficial wound, but the force of it knocked the man back and off balance. With the heavy axe over his head, he was forced to drop his weapon and spin around to regain his balance. Kain had no time to admire his handiwork, for another man had sprung up to his left. The Prince scurried back, trying to distance himself from the attacker. He could hear the sounds of battle all around him. He knew the others were locked in combat and could not help him. The man coming at Kain now had a sword and was moving fast. The training Kain had done with Fairan all came back, as the man attacked first swinging at Kain’s thigh. The Prince parried with his own sword and then raised his hands, the blade of his sword angled down to block the man’s next strike, which came at his shoulder. Kain stepped in close to the man, who fumbled with his large sword. Kain drew the dagger Fairan had given him their first day together. He thrust it at his attacker’s stomach, but it penetrated only a little, stopped by the chainmail under the man’s shirt. Still, it was enough to cause the man to jump backward in pain, then swing his big sword awkwardly at Kain’s head. The Prince ducked, stepped forward, and slashed across the man’s stomach with his own sword. This time the chainmail gave way, effortlessly it seemed to Kain. The Sword of Onnasus cut into the man’s gut, spilling the long string of organs and causing him to fall face down into his own blood.
Again Kain had no time to think. The first attacker was busily wiping the blood out of his eyes, and Kain flung his dagger at the man. The weapon sunk into his shoulder, and the man dropped to his knees, howling in pain. Kain turned to find his companions. Devlyn was engaged fiercely with only one attacker; Fairan had dispatched one and was dueling with the other; Gorton was holding three at bay with his massive battle axe, but was unable to do more than defend. Kain shouted loudly as he rushed at the nearest of the three. The man heard Kain’s cry and turned to face him. Thinking fast, Kain pulled one of the metal, egg shaped Mogs from his pouch and tossed it into the air. Instinctively the man followed the egg’s flight, reaching his hand out to catch it. It was exactly what Kain had hoped for. He held his sword low in front of him and rammed the man with it, running the sword up to the hilt into the man’s stomach.
As he fell backward, the attacker looked at Kain. Kain used the man’s momentum to pull his blade free. He turned to Gorton, who was now backing the other two attackers down the hill. He blocked one man’s sword with the handle of his battle axe as if it were a staff, and simultaneously kicked his leg out at the other man. The big horseman’s foot landed solidly in the attacker’s stomach, and the man grunted, all breath expelled from his lungs. Then in one fluid motion he brought the head of his axe up and split the first attacker’s chin in two. He quickly dispatched the other attacker, and then all was quiet.
“Is everyone okay?” Kain asked.
They all nodded, breathing heavily. There was only one attacker left alive, the man with Kain’s dagger in his shoulder. Kain moved to the man, who had fallen onto his side, his face now a bloody mess, his teeth clenched in agony. He started to pull his dagger free when Fairan yelled out to him.
“Is he still alive?”
“Yes,” Kain said.
“Then leave the dagger,” Fairan instructed. “He could bleed to death before we get to question him.”
Tooles was waddling over, digging through his pouch of herbs as he came.
“Devlyn, start a fire,” Tooles ordered, his voice gravelly, “Gorton, heat some water in my pot.”
Fairan and Tooles arrived at the wounded man’s side at the same time. Tooles grasped the man’s arm and the wounded man’s eyes opened in shock. It was as if energy had shot into the man from Tooles’ touch. He was suddenly aware of more than the pain he felt.
“I will help you,” Tooles said, “I will help the pain, but you must answer our questions.”
“Who sent you?” Fairan snarled.
The man cursed at the General, who promptly reached out and wiggled the dagger’s handle. The man screamed so that Kain shuddered in horror.
“I’ll ask that again: who sent you?”
“Derrick of Westfold,” the man moaned. He was weeping now, his tears mingling with the blood on his face.
“Remember, I will ease the pain if you answer our questions,” Tooles said again. “What are Derrick’s plans?”
“I don’t know,” he said weakly. “I don’t!” he shouted as Fairan reached for the dagger again. “All I know is he said to hold you as long as possible then kill you.”
“Kill who?” asked Tooles.
“General Fairan, and the men with him.”
“And you don’t know Derrick’s plans?” Fairan asked.
“No.”
“When did he hire you?” Tooles asked.
“A month ago. He sent us to Royal City and told us to wait for him there.”
“Why did you attack us today?” asked Fairan.
“We sent a messenger back the same day we found you. Told the Duke where we were, and what you were doing. We got a message from him today saying to attack, another force was on its way.”
“So there are more coming,” Fairan said. “We are not out of this fight yet.”
“The water is ready,” Gorton yelled.
“Bring me a cup of it,” Tooles told him.
Gorton brought the cup and looked down at the man. “Has he said anything useful?”
“There are more coming,” Fairan said.
“Great, I’ll prepare the horses,” said Gorton. He grabbed Kain’s arm and motioned for the Prince to follow him. They walked away from the others.
“I appreciate your help back there,” Gorton said. “You are natural born fighter. I would never believe you had lived in a monastery all your life.”
“Thanks, that’s the best compliment I’ve ever had,” said Kain, and they both laughed.
“What is so funny?” Devlyn asked as he approached them.
“Gorton’s flattery,” Kain replied. “By the way, I owe you my life. That was some arrow shot.”
Devlyn only smiled, and Gorton put them both to work, telling Devlyn that more men were coming.
When Tooles had dressed their attacker’s wound as best he could, despite Fairan’s protests, they gathered the rest of their things and headed down into the valley. Devlyn told them he knew a good place where they might hide for the night and avoid the party that would be coming to face them. They turned off the path on the other side of the valley, crossed the stream, and traveled for a short distance to a thick grove of trees.
“I’ve used the wood here many times for arrows,” Devlyn said. “There is a clearing in the center, big enough for all of us and our horses, too.”
It was dark by the time they were settled, the horses tended and two men watching for intruders. Kain stood first watch, sitting in the crook of a tree which afforded him a good view of the surrounding country. He ate some bread and cheese and drank another of Tooles’ medicinal draughts to keep his muscles from getting too sore and stiff.
At sometime in the night, just when fatigue was getting the best of him, Devlyn scaled the tree and relieved him. Fairan was waiting up to speak to him.
“I am sorry you are having to stand watch, my Prince,” said the General.
“It is no problem, really,” said Kain.
“I wanted to tell you how excellent you did today. I checked before we left, and the men you killed all had on chainmail under their shirts.”
“I know, I stabbed one with my dagger, and it ba
rely fazed him.”
“If you knew they wore chainmail, why did you strike both of the men you killed in the stomach?”
“I was doing like you taught me.”
“But how did you cut through the chainmail?”
“With my sword,” Kain said, a little frustrated with the conversation. “It wasn’t difficult.”
“Elkain, my Prince,” Fairan said, obviously trying to keep his voice down and his own irritation out of it. “You can’t just slice though metal, that is why we wear this armor.”
“I’m not sure what you’re getting at. I did exactly what you taught me to do with that first guy. I stepped into his body, drew my dagger and stabbed him, but the blade wouldn’t penetrate. The point must have stuck him though, he jumped backwards and swung at my head, so I ducked and slashed, just the way you taught me.”
“And your sword cut through the chainmail?” Fairan asked incredulously.
“Sure,” Kain answered. “I hardly even noticed it.”
Fairan’s eyes grew round. He turned away from Kain, muttering to himself, then he laughed. A loud belly laugh that seemed overly loud in the quiet of the night.
“Keep it down,” growled Gorton.
“Let me see that sword,” Fairan whispered.
Kain drew the Sword of Onnasus. He handed it to Fairan, who ran his hand along the blade, careful not to touch the edge and cut himself.
“There’s not a nick on it,” Fairan said. “Did you say you were fighting with one of the attackers?”
“Yes, the one I was just telling you about.”
“And your swords clashed?”
“Yes.”
“I have heard of this kind of sword making, but none in Belanda have ever accomplished it.”
“What are you talking about?” Kain asked.
“It is just that your sword is made differently than most.”
“Well, the High Prefect said that Saint Onnasus brought it to Belanda with him. I guess it was made wherever he came from.”
“It doesn’t matter. I am just glad you have it.”
“Me, too,” said Kain.
“We should get some rest now. When we are established in Royal City, I would like to look at it more closely.”
“Sure,” Kain said.
Then they both lay down. The grass in the clearing was scarce, but the soil was soft. Kain fell asleep quickly, and, before he even knew he was asleep, it was morning. Devlyn shook him awake; he would only believe he had been asleep because the sun was shining down on them. He didn’t feel refreshed, but he got up and stretched.
“We’ll eat on the way,” Gorton said in a hushed voice. “Mount up.”
They munched noiselessly on dry bread for breakfast. Following Devlyn’s direction, they started out for Royal City cross country.
It was difficult journeying this way, they stopped at every rise, searching the landscape for spies or a fighting force from Westfold, but by noon they had seen nothing out of the ordinary. They stopped to eat and rest their horses, Gorton checking their mount’s hooves to be sure they had no signs of injury. Lunch was more bread; it was getting so stale that it was stiff and crumbling in their mouths, their cheese had a sharp taste. There was no more bacon, no more dried meat. They drank water that was lukewarm, and longed for a chance to rest more. They were close to Royal City, by Devlyn’s estimate, perhaps as close as an hour on horseback.
They set off after lunch, and their stealth was rewarded; they spotted a roving band of men shortly after they resumed their journey. They hid themselves and waited for the men to pass by; after an hour of waiting, they agreed it should be safe to come out. They traveled on for another quarter of an hour, Kain anticipating the sight of Royal City over every hill, when they heard the sound of a horn behind them. The group turned their horses and saw a single rider, blowing a hunting horn.
“He’s signaling the others,” Fairan cried. “We’ve no need to sneak any further. Yah!” he cried, whipping his horse into a full gallop.
The group charged ahead, with Devlyn once more taking the lead. They heard their pursuers forming up behind them. It was a tense moment for Kain, wondering if they could outrun the attackers, when suddenly he felt as if a bull had just charged into his shoulder. The pain dazed him, and he was thrown forward by the force of a crossbow bolt, although he did not realize that was what had hit him. His chainmail kept the bolt from penetrating too far into his flesh, but in his stupor he fell from his horse.
His companions charged on, only Tooles realized he had fallen. The old man’s raspy voice was barely heard over the pounding of the horses. The attackers left Kain behind, only one man stopping to be sure that the Prince was dead.
“Elkain!” cried Tooles. “The Prince has fallen.”
Fairan finally heard the councilor.
“Halt!” he bellowed. The others reined their horses around and drew their weapons. There were at least twelve riders storming at them. “Scatter!” commanded the general. “Get back to the Prince!”
Tooles turned his horse and rode on in the direction they had been headed, the others fanned out, circling back toward where Kain had fallen. Devlyn was the fastest, he rode quickly to a knoll where he could see their enemies. Two riders followed him. When he reached the summit he leapt off his horse and drew his bow. He aimed carefully, then launched an arrow at his closest pursuer’s horse, this time his arrow sank deeply into the horse’s chest. The horse collapsed, falling end over end, the rider was caught under his mount and crushed. The other attacker’s horse was tripped by his companion’s, and the rider thrown into the air. Devlyn turned his attention and his arrows on the other attackers.
Gorton circled wide and then turned his horse to attack the three men chasing him. He had his shorter axe in one hand and a small round shield in the other. He guided his horse straight at the men, who raised their swords, two choosing to pass on the shield side. The first attacker swung his sword, but Gorton easily deflected it with his shield and almost simultaneously hacked into the rider on his right with his axe. The weapon was pulled out of his grasp, knocking the horseman off balance for a moment. It was at that instant that the third rider slashed at Gorton, who tried to block the blow, but the sword bounced off the shield and cut across the big warrior’s shoulder. The sword tip ripped through the exposed muscle, and Gorton roared in pain. Instinct took over as he righted his position upon the horse and, turning his mount back around, he pulled out his long battle axe. He tucked it under his arm like a lance and charged back at the two riders, who once again had chosen to ride on either side of Gorton. He aimed his axe at the closest rider, who was on his wounded side. There was a split second where it seemed the man would risk fighting Gorton, then just before impact, he turned his mount away. Gorton, waiting for that moment, swung his axe with all the strength he could muster back toward the other rider, who had closed in on Gorton in what he thought was a vulnerable moment. The attacker, his sword raised for a killing stroke, was knocked off his own horse, the side of his head crushed by the big axe.
Fairan was taking the most direct route back to Kain, but was pursued by three attackers also. He turned in his saddle and shot arrows at them with his small bow. One of them was hit and fell backward off his saddle, but the other two closed on the General, undeterred by his marksmanship. The aging warrior dropped the bow and drew his sword. The attackers were on his right hindquarter and, leaning back in his saddle, he engaged them, blocking the first strike of his foe and countering with a quick flick of his sword at the attacker’s horse’s head. The horse felt the steel cutting its flesh, moving toward his eye, and, contrary to his master’s wishes, wheeled away from Fairan. The man dropped his sword in his effort to keep from falling off the horse. The other attacker was closing in on Fairan when an arrow suddenly protruded from his chest.
Fairan knew it was Devlyn, but had no time to thank his friend. Ahead of him, he could just make out the outline of a man standing over the Third Prince.
&n
bsp; Chapter 16
Kain lay on his back. There was a sharp pain in his right leg near the hip. He wondered what had happen to him; he didn’t remember falling off his horse. He looked up, the sky was such a bright blue it made him squint. And then a face appeared. He was in the dream again, he thought. But there was something different, he couldn’t get his mind around it, but he didn’t have time to. The man above him knelt beside him and grabbed his throat.
This isn’t right, Kain thought, trying to understand what was happening. He reached for his dagger and stabbed at the man’s arm. Blood erupted and showered down into Kain’s face. He rolled as the man stood back up, cursing and yelling at him. Kain dropped the dagger, wiping the blood from his eyes. He was hurting, but his survival instincts were disconnecting the pain reflex, allowing him to stagger to his feet. He heard the distinctive sound of a sword being drawn from its scabbard. He drew his own and turned to face his attacker. With a shout the man rushed at Kain, swinging his sword in a mighty arc from down at Kain’s left, up toward his right shoulder. Kain pushed his sword clumsily into the path of the oncoming weapon and was knocked backward, off his feet. His enemy didn’t wait for him to recover, but stabbed down at him. Kain rolled, and the man’s sword sunk into the earth. Kain scrambled back to his feet as the man wrenched his weapon free.
Kain held his weapon low as Fairan had shown him, waiting for the attacker to charge again, but this time the man stepped forward slowly. The man gripped his sword with both hands and set his feet. It occurred to Kain that his man was a swordsman; that he would be slain as surely as if he were fighting Fairan. He reached for one of the throwing knives that Fairan had given him and flung it at the man. It sped through the air, directly at the man’s heart, a perfect throw, but the man batted it away with his sword. Then the man attacked, swinging his sword at Kain’s left hip. Kain parried and stepped in, swinging his elbow at the man’s chin, but he struck only air. The man had moved away, as if he was expecting this maneuver. Kain raised his sword just in time to block the man from cutting his head off. The force of the strike once again knocked Kain off balance and as he staggered back the man struck again, this time the blade slashed across Kain’s stomach. His chainmail shirt saved his life, but the force of the blow knocked him to the ground and left him coughing for breath.
Third Prince (Third Prince Series) Page 14
