The Wayward Knight

by Carfagno, Charles

  Tracs didn’t reply.

  “Tracs, where were you going when you decided to enter my town and start all this trouble?” Traybor asked and took a drink of ale.

  “That’s of no concern of yours.”

  “I guess you’re right. I’m growing tired, take him upstairs and keep him locked up until morning.”

  The men came over to Tracs.

  “One more thing,” Traybor leaned in and took on a sinister look, “the girl from the tavern who helped with your capture will be well rewarded.”

  The look on his face told Tracs what he had in store for her.

  “Can you blame her though? It was either help me or die for what she did to my men in the cellar.” Traybor smiled.

  “Leave her alone.” Tracs demanded.

  “You still don’t get it. I run this town and if someone betrays me, then I need to do what is necessary.”

  “I can’t wait to kill you tomorrow.”

  “Oh that I’m sure of. Get him out of here.” Traybor said and drank the rest of his beverage.

  The men escorted Tracs upstairs to the attic. After searching him for additional weapons, they locked him inside. The cramped room, didn’t provide much space for him to move around, and the window at the far end was too small for him to fit through. Tracs sat down thinking about Traybor. Something didn’t feel right about him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. Was he really that good of a fighter or just an overconfident person? One way or another, he was going to find out tomorrow.

  Dawn’s light poured through the tiny window in the attic and woke Tracs when it hit his eyes. At first, he didn’t realize where he was then it occurred to him that he was going to fight Traybor. He sat up and began mediating.

  An hour later, the door opened and six men armed with crossbows and one carrying a tray of food, walked in. One of the guards was pointing Recur at him. Tracs thought about taking it away, but he had a feeling it was a ploy by Traybor, and the weapon was probably empty.

  “We brought you some food. You’ll be fighting soon, so enjoy your last meal.” The guard snickered and placed the tray down.

  Tracs didn’t reply and watched them leave. He stared at the eggs and ham thinking it might be poisoned or laced with something that might make him slow during the fight. Instead of eating, he got up and exercised. He’d fought many times, but never like this with so many enemies watching. He had a feeling that if he started winning the battle, they would intervene or kill him. The thought of dying like that frightened him.

  He stopped stretching and said. “Zerawen,” he began, “let me defeat Traybor. Please show me his weakness and let my aim be true. If I should fall on this day, let me take him with me. He has done atrocities to mankind and must be stopped. This I pray.” Trace felt her presence and knew that she was watching over him.

  He put his chainmail shirt on and pulled it as far down as it would go, then he strapped on the breastplate around his body, locked the gorget around his neck, placed the spaulders on his shoulders and greaves around his legs, and finally put his gauntlets on.

  When the men came for him, he grabbed his helm and followed them without saying a word.

  Outside, Traybor’s armed men were in a big circle, so that no one interfered when the fight started. Spectators were standing just beyond them, hoping Tracs would defeat Traybor and liberate their town. Tracs was led to the center of the circle and told to wait.

  A few minutes later, Traybor came out of the house. He was in a full plate holding a two-handed sword. The visor to his helm was lifted, so that he could view the townspeople as he walked to the center. Traybor grinned at Tracs before addressing the crowd.

  “Before you, is a brave man from the Order of the Blessed Knight. His name is Tracs and he had the grandiose idea to try and stop me. His plans fell through and today he will die by my hand. Let this be yet another lesson to any who think about opposing me.” He paused. “I know he had help in this foolish attempt, so bring forth the guilty.”

  The doors to the inn suddenly opened and out stepped several of Traybor’s men holding a rope. Behind them, they were pulling the girl who helped him. She was bound and gagged.

  “I’ve decided to sweeten the deal.” You’re not only fighting for your life, but hers as well.” Traybor said grinning widely.

  Tracs looked over at Traybor. “It doesn’t surprise me that you would use such tactics.” He said.

  “Come now Tracs. It should be no problem to defeat me. You said so yourself.” Traybor snickered.

  “Pathetic attempts mean nothing to me.” Tracs looked directly at the girl. “I will do my best to defeat him, but if I should fall, know this, paradise is waiting for us because evil will never triumph over good.”

  “Evil will never win over good, such a cliché. Too bad you won’t be here to see the day when evil is triumphant.”

  “Let’s get this over with. If it’s my time to meet my goddess, then I welcome it with open arms. Now give me my weapons.”

  Traybor nodded to one of his men, who then came over offering Tracs his sword. Tracs noticed his holy dagger tucked in the man’s belt and had an idea.

  “Traybor, I want my dagger as well, because you clearly have an advantage."”

  “Give it to him.” He ordered.

  After Tracs was handed his weapons, he looked at the picture of his goddess on the dagger and knew it would taste Traybor’s blood before the fight was over. Tracs turned around and faced his opponent holding the sword in his right and dagger in his left pointing outwardly.

  He’s been studying Traybor’s armor since the moment he stepped out of his house plotting his offensive. Armor in general had a few weak spots. The major joints such as knees, elbows, and shoulders, were easiest to penetrate. They typically covered only half the limb and often left the interior of the joint exposed. His armpit was another place he wanted to hone in on, because even if Traybor was wearing chainmail underneath, the sharp point of his knife should easily pop through the rivets and if that was to happen, he was finished. The slit in the visor and underneath the helm offered two more areas to attack.

  Defensively, he would have to be careful if Traybor decided to fight in the half-sword. The technique would allow him to use the sword as a staff, while giving him a powerful thrusting ability and give Traybor the advantage of both long and short range. The latter, would negate his own. He had a feeling; Traybor was also armed with a dagger, so he would have to be mindful of that as well.

  As he approached Traybor, something occurred to him. The only other time he sensed Traybor’s evil aura was when he first encountered him wearing his armor and not while he was sitting across from him in the house. He wondered if the black material of the armor was demonic in origin, like the weapons he was looking for. He turned his thoughts to the task on hand.

  Traybor and Tracs circled each other like two animals waiting for the right moment to pounce on the other. Tracs kept just out of range of his five-foot sword, knowing he would have to time every move perfectly if he wanted to survive. One slipup and it could spell disaster.

  Several options came to mind. He could invite Traybor to swing at him, quickly move away, and then get in close enough where his sword’s length would be more of a hindrance. Or he could anticipate his strike, close the distance while using his sword to negate the attack and deploy his dagger.

  He could also, use a series of attacks to fool Traybor into thinking one way, while he was really disguising his true intention or finally, he could fight defensively until he figured out Traybor’s style and then land a fatal blow.

  Traybor on the other hand, already knew what he wanted to do to Tracs. He would rely on his enhanced armor for protection and attack Tracs so many times, the holy knight would eventually get overwhelmed. He’s done it so many times during other fights and usually was rewarded with victory. He grinned underneath his helm and attacked.

  His first three strikes missed Tracs because he either stepped backward or off t
o the side. Traybor pressed trying to keep his opponent off balance.

  Tracs blocked Traybor’s sword with his and parried several attacks with the dagger. Despite the dagger’s flimsy crossguard it did manage to keep his hand from severely wounded. Several volleys later made, Tracs realized that Traybor was more skilled than he’d anticipated, and if he wanted to defeat him, he would have to change tactics. He decided on tiring his adversary by using footwork and keeping just out of range of his weapon, but to his dismay, it had the inverse effect, and he found himself slowing, which led Traybor to slicing him along the inside of his thigh. If the wound were an inch, closer Tracs’ life would’ve ended.

  Tracs limped backward, but Traybor pressed and cut Tracs across his right forearm causing him to drop his sword and then hit him with a powerful blow against his side of his body that sent Tracs to the ground several feet away, with broken ribs.

  Traybor grinned inside of his helm thinking he was in a position to end the fight. As he approached Tracs, he raised his weapon into the high guard intending to chop his head off.

  Tracs got into a kneeling position holding up his hands as if pleading for his life, but Traybor didn’t care, and just as he was about to bring down the full weight of his sword; Tracs launched himself like a projectile right into Traybor’s midsection, knocking him off of his feet and jarring his sword out of his hand.

  Tracs, still clutching his dagger, honed in on Traybor’s armpit and stabbed him there, but for some reason, the dagger’s point didn’t pierce through the woven chainmail links. Before Traybor could move his arm, Tracs held the limb with one hand and stabbed him several more times, but still couldn’t penetrate the material. Traybor didn’t know how long the links would hold, so he began punching Tracs in the head with his gauntleted fist. After the first blow, the holy knight raised his hand to protect himself while keeping his head down. With Tracs distracted, he used leverage and rolled Tracs onto his back and tried mounting him, but Tracs rocked his hips back and forth and rolled Traybor over, and then was on top of him again.

  Tracs opened Traybor’s visor intending to stab him in the face, but before he could, someone kicked him in the head and knocked him off of Traybor. Traybor, now relieved of his burden, got up and instead of continuing the fight, he went over to the man who had helped him, took out his booted knife, and plunged it into his throat. He then ordered his men to stay out of his fight. While Traybor was busy lecturing his men on the finer points of sportsmanship, Tracs regained his senses and staggered to his feet. He saw Traybor with his back turned to him and charged ahead. Right before crashing into him, he lowered his shoulder and knocked him off of his feet, which led to them rolling around kneeing each other in the sides and stabbing with their daggers.

  Tracs was cut several times, but none of the injuries were serious. However, his ribs were really bothering him, and his breathing was labored. Traybor on the other hand, remained unscathed and unaffected by whatever Tracs was doing, until Tracs grabbed his arm and jammed his knife right into the elbow joint of the armor and went straight through his flesh.

  Traybor screamed as the holy weapon burned him intensely from the inside. He’d been stabbed before, but something was different about this weapon and whatever it was; he needed to get away from it at all costs.

  First he tried stabbing Tracs in the head and when Tracs thwarted that move, he hit Tracs on the top of his head with the dagger’s pommel. After one such blow, Tracs intercepted his arm with his, and then used both hands against Traybor’s arm to try to immobilize it.

  While Traybor was resisting, he looked to his right and saw his sword a few feet away. Using what little strength he had left in his wounded arm, he grabbed Tracs by the hair and yanked him off with a mighty tug and then began crawling toward his weapon. He was about to grab the hilt, when a heavy weight landed onto his back. It was Tracs, who then violently began pulling and twisting on Traybor’s helmet until he retched it off, but his momentum caused him to fall slightly backward, giving Traybor another chance to grab his weapon. As Traybor wrapped his fingers around the grip of his sword, blackness ensued.

  Tracs’ victory gave the townspeople a renewed sense of courage and as Traybor’s men stared at their leader with the knife protruding from his left eye, they fell on them. The mob began tearing them to pieces and when they were through, all the months of anguish and torment were washed away.

  In weeks that followed, Tracs stayed in the town recovering from his wounds. He dreamt about the little girl a few more times, but the dreams were always the same. He was in that strange place, and she said he defeated the Overlord’s forces. He pondered the message and wondered if it was a sign of things to come or his subconscious dealing with some sort of trauma. At one point during his stay, the townspeople offered him the title of the guardian, and even though he was flattered, and would’ve been paid in gold, he declined. He did advise them to hire some men from one of the local Orders to protect the town from any future occurrences.

  Be sure to follow Tracs in the series A Demon’s Quest and author Charles Carfagno on Facebook.

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