by Ben Cassidy
Joseph collapsed back, struggling to breathe.
It was over. He had lost.
Sir Reginald stepped over him with a smirk on his face, and readied his rapier for the final thrust.
Kendril caught Bathsby’s attack, and deflected it as he backed towards the altar railing.
Bathsby came at him again, and hammered down blow after blow with a howl of rage that echoed through the rafters of the church.
Kendril parried each strike, but was quickly pushed back towards the railing. Afraid of tripping, he leapt up on to it, then slid down onto the floor by the front pews.
Bathsby leapt over the railing, and aimed a powerful swing at Kendril’s head.
The Ghostwalker caught it with the edge of his blade. He slashed in with his other sword and narrowly missed Lord Bathsby’s arm.
They both backed away, facing each other and panting for breath.
“You’re a fool,” snorted Bathsby between gasps. “You should have joined me when you had the chance. I would have made you a general.”
Kendril smiled. Sweat slipped down his nose. “I didn’t like the uniform.”
A horn blew outside, and sounded clearly through the open doors of the church.
Lord Bathsby gave a startled look behind him. The first sign of real fear crossed his face.
“Those aren’t your men,” Kendril said matter-of-factly. “They’re Sir Mulcher’s, and that means he’s got the gatehouse, and probably the palace as well. You’re finished, Bathsby.”
A wild look came into the nobleman’s eyes. “If I am,” he said, “then so are you.”
He took a step forward and swiped his sword at Kendril.
Just as Sir Reginald was about to strike, there was a loud crack from the wall.
He jerked his head up in the direction of the sound, and pulled his rapier away from Joseph’s neck.
One of the curtain rods hanging above the massive ballroom windows crashed down, the heavy curtain still attached.
Reginald tried to leap back, but the heavy fabric enveloped him and knocked him to the ground.
Joseph threw his hands up over his face just before the curtain covered him as well.
For a moment there was a muffled cursing as Reginald slashed away with his rapier and free arm, trying to disentangle himself from the weighty mass that engulfed him. He finally managed to tear away the last bit of curtain, and threw it back behind him. As he turned he saw the flash of a rapier behind him.
Sir Reginald lifted his sword, but he was too slow.
A stinging cut swiped across his hand. He yelped in pain and dropped his rapier.
Another darting blow came in, and Sir Reginald felt the piercing heat of a blade as it pierced his gut. Shocked, he collapsed backwards. His body shook from pain and fear.
Kara stepped forward, a fiery look in her eyes. Joseph’s rapier was in her hand.
Reginald slid backwards on the floor. He held up a hand. “Wait, please!” he pleaded.
Kara took another step, then slashed the rapier down again.
Kendril parried two blows in quick succession, then darted backwards as Lord Bathsby pressed forward.
The nobleman was a superb swordsman, and his rapier moved almost too fast to see. With a longer sword Kendril might have stood a better chance, but Bathsby was using the extra reach of his weapon to full advantage.
It was all Kendril could do to fend Bathsby’s attacks off.
He leapt out of the way as Bathsby’s rapier skated across the top of one of the pews.
Bathsby gave it an angry kick and sent it toppling over with a resounding crash.
Kendril spun inside Bathsby's defenses, and gave the nobleman a shallow cut across the left shoulder. He dodged back and barely blocked Bathsby’s infuriated return blow.
Bathsby stopped for a moment, and glanced down at his bleeding shoulder. He looked back at Kendril, and whipped his rapier back into position.
“First blood to you, Kendril,” he said with a smile.
The Ghostwalker didn’t respond. He took the brief interlude to catch his breath.
Bathsby lifted his sword in a salute. “Last blood will be mine.”
His rapier sliced forward again.
Kendril moved to block it, but the force of the blow was so strong that the short sword in his left hand was knocked clear away. It bounced off into the pews.
Eyes gleaming, Bathsby pressed forward again, and jabbed at Kendril’s face.
The Ghostwalker knocked away the rapier with his short sword, then hurled back another slash at Bathsby’s legs.
Bathsby suddenly twisted his wrist, and subtly changed his aim.
In a blinding moment of realization, Kendril saw that his own sword was too short to stop it, the angle too extended.
He tried anyway, and braced himself for the inevitable.
Bathsby’s rapier slashed into his leg. It penetrated all the way through.
Kendril bit his lip against the pain. Searing fire tore through his limb. He stumbled back, and almost lost the grip on his remaining sword.
“Second blood to me,” said Bathsby.
He plunged the tip of his bloodied rapier towards Kendril’s chest.
Kara’s sword cut across Sir Reginald’s outstretched hand, and sliced through two of his fingers.
Sir Reginald screamed and clutched his bleeding hand.
Kara moved forward again. Her blade hovered just over Sir Reginald’s prostrate form.
“Kara!” Joseph dragged himself out from under the curtain, holding his arm tight against his bleeding side. “Kara, enough!”
“It’s not enough,” she said. Her eyes never left the cowering figure of Sir Reginald.
Her blade came down again.
There was a skittering clang as Kendril parried Bathsby’s blow, and threw the rapier back as he vaulted forward with an assault of his own.
Surprised, Bathsby backed hard against one of the pews, and overturned it as he avoiding the Ghostwalker’s sword.
Kendril limped backwards toward the chapel dais. Blinding pain shot up his leg with each step.
Bathsby turned and launched another quick set of cutting blows.
Kendril managed to deflect two of them, but as he leaned back on his wounded leg the pain was so great that it caused him to waver a moment.
It was all Bathsby needed.
The nobleman snapped off a quick swipe with his rapier that caught Kendril’s sword and flung it over the altar rail and into the corner.
He was completely defenseless.
Kendril reached for his belt, but Bathsby was already moving in.
His rapier came down towards the Ghostwalker’s chest. And this time, there was no stopping it.
Sir Reginald screamed again as the rapier bit into his leg.
“Please,” he cried, trying to slide away, “please, I beg you!”
“Kara!” Joseph shouted again. He struggled to get to his feet. “He’s unarmed!”
“He killed my brother!” she said. The rapier trembled in her hands.
Joseph got to his feet with a grunt, pressing his hand harder against his wounded side. “Don’t do it, Kara,” he said in a quieter voice.
She didn’t reply. Tears of rage and frustration formed in her eyes. The sword in her hand continued to shake violently, but she kept it pointed at Sir Reginald.
The doors to the ballroom opened and several of Mulcher’s men stepped inside. They stopped in surprise when they saw what was before them.
“Don’t be a murderer, Kara,” said Joseph again. He took a hesitant step away from the wall.
She clenched her hand on the weapon, indecision in her eyes.
For a terribly long moment, no one in the hall moved.
Kara’s lowered the blade. She took a deep breath, and stepped away.
The men came forward and grabbed the shaking and bleeding Sir Reginald.
Kara dropped the rapier and covered her face with her hands. She fell to her knees on the ball
room floor, and began to weep fiercely.
Joseph limped over to her and put his free hand on her shoulder.
Kendril threw up his arm at the last second. It saved his life.
Bathsby’s rapier penetrated his arm just above the elbow, passing completely through it and into Kendril’s upper chest. Though he could feel the steel tip scrape against his ribs, the point didn’t penetrate to his heart.
Bathsby withdrew the blade with a snarl.
Kendril collapsed onto the steps of the dais. He clutched his bleeding chest with his unwounded arm.
Bathsby took a step back, then kicked the Ghostwalker hard on his left side.
All the old pain from Kendril’s crossbow wound seemed to suddenly explode to life, and mixed in with the screeching new pain in his chest, arm, and leg. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to pull himself backwards up the dais steps.
Bathsby stepped in front of him, and held the blade held level with Kendril’s face. He gave a sneering smile, then drew his sword back to strike.
“Last blood is mine, after all,” he said.
A pistol shot barked out.
The bullet struck Bathsby in the back and propelled him forward against the altar rail. His rapier dropped to the ground, and rolled towards Kendril’s feet.
The Ghostwalker used every last ounce of strength he had to rise. He grabbed the sword off the ground.
The wounded Bathsby tried to turn around. He reached for the dagger on his belt.
It was already too late.
Leaning on his good leg, Kendril rammed the rapier through Bathsby’s heart.
For a brief moment Bathsby stared at his killer with a face frozen in surprise and hatred. Then he collapsed back, his unseeing eyes staring up at the church ceiling.
Kendril turned slowly around, holding onto the railing for support as he wobbled in place.
Serentha stood a few yards away in the center of the chapel aisle. In her hands she held the pistol Kendril had dropped earlier.
“Good shot,” Kendril said. The rapier dropped from his hands, and he reeled back against the steps of the dais.
Serentha threw the gun to the floor, and ran over to the wounded Ghostwalker. She knelt beside him, tearing off pieces of her dress and pressing them against his wounds.
Blood was already darkening Kendril’s clothes where Bathsby’s blade had bitten into him.
Kendril stared blankly at the pistol lying on the floor of the church. He turned his head to Serentha. “How--?”
She smiled. “You taught me how to reload it, remember?” She opened her hand and revealed two of Kendril’s pistol cartridges. “I’ve been holding onto them.”
He chuckled despite the numbing pain, then closed his eyes and laid his head back against the wooden steps.
“Hold on,” said Serentha in a worried voice. She pressed a torn piece of fabric against his chest wound. “Help will be coming soon.” She glanced behind her at the chapel doors.
“Jade?” Kendril said. His voice was faint.
She turned her face back to him, her hair brushing against her shoulders.
With considerable difficulty Kendril reached down to his belt with his unwounded arm, and grabbed at one of the gloves that was tucked there.
Serentha saw what he was trying to do, and pulled the leather gauntlet free. She slid it over his bloodstained hand, and pulled it down hard to his wrist.
As soon as it was on Kendril reached up toward her face.
Serentha stayed absolutely still. She closed her eyes as Kendril’s gloved hands lightly caressed her cheek, then stroked her hair.
When she opened her eyes again they were filled with tears. “Hold on,” she said again in a choking voice.
Kendril let his hand drop back to the floor. The pain in his shoulder and leg started to lessen. He closed his eyes as the room began to spin around him. He thought he felt Jade’s warm hand against the side of his face, but he couldn’t tell for sure.
The next instant, everything faded into darkness.
Chapter 16
The first thing Kendril heard was the soft sound of rain tinkling on glass. He didn’t open his eyes, but merely lay where he was, listening. For a long moment he didn’t know whether he was awake or dreaming. Part of him dearly hoped it was dreaming. Without thinking he started to reach over to the woman lying beside him.
A sharp pain shot through his body as he moved, breaking through the fog in his mind.
There was no woman next to him. And he was not dreaming.
Kendril opened his eyes, blinking for a moment.
He was in a room, lying in a large bed. To his right were two large windows. The sky outside was gray and overcast, streaked with the soft light of pre-dawn. Rain thudded continually against the windows, dripping down the glass. He shut his eyes again for a moment, and then opened them. He shifted his body ever so slightly.
Pain erupted from his upper chest, stabbing like a hot blade into his flesh. He felt something heavy there, like a bandage, and the same on his leg and arm.
It all began to come back to him, ever so sluggishly. The chapel. Lord Bathsby. Jade.
He opened his eyes again and looked around the room. His gaze fell on a chair to the left of the bed.
Kendril stared, and wondered again if he were dreaming.
Jade was sitting there, her head leaning against the cushioned back. She was asleep, one hand limply draped over the chair arm. Her breathing was soft and steady, her chest rising and falling in regular intervals.
She was beautiful, Kendril thought with a sudden pang. Like the day he had first seen her, back in the Howling Woods.
It seemed like a lifetime ago now.
He lay there for a long while, trying to move as little as possible. The bed was comfortable and warm. It took him a while to realize it was a feather bed. For some reason that seemed particularly ironic.
After a few minutes Serentha began to stir, her eyes blinking open. She looked over at Kendril. A relieved smile formed on her face.
“You’re awake,” she said. She straightened in her chair. “I’ve been so worried about you. We all have.”
Kendril raised his eyebrows. “We?”
“Joseph and Maklavir. Even Kara.”
“Kara?” said Kendril with an incredulous smile.
“Yeah.” Serentha leaned forward and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. “You’re lucky to be alive, you know. We weren’t sure you’d make it.”
“Word is that I’m a difficult person to kill,” Kendril said. He looked over at the princess. “What about you? Have you been here all night?”
She nodded, and put her hand on top of his arm under the blanket. “I…didn’t feel I could leave you alone. I wanted to make sure you would be all right.”
“What time is it?” Kendril tried to push himself up in bed, but the pain was so great that he quickly gave up the effort. “Have I been out all night?”
Serentha brushed back her hair. “You’ve been unconscious for four days, Kendril.”
He stared over at her. “Four days?”
She nodded. “You were badly wounded.”
Kendril glanced at the door to the room. “What about Bathsby?”
Serentha looked down at the floor. “He’s dead. Sir Reginald and some other officers are still awaiting trial.” She glanced back up. “There may be others involved as well, but Lord Whitmore is not pressing an investigation too hard. He needs the support of the army right now.” The young woman gave a weary smile. “All the nobles have pledged their loyalty to the monarchy. Even the officers of the two regiments that were heading for Balneth from the Calbraithan frontier claim they were coming to stop Bathsby, not help him.”
Kendril leaned his head back against the feather pillow. “Of course. All is well, then?”
She lifted her shoulders. “As well as we can expect, for now. From what I understand most of the Royal Guard loyal to Bathsby surrendered to Sir Mulcher and his men rather quickly, and there
was no other real resistance. The noble families have backed Lord Whitmore, and right now he seems to be unopposed in line for the throne.”
Kendril took a long breath. His chest burned with the effort. “So what about the marriage?”
She looked up at him, a sudden sorrow in her eyes. “I’m…I’m to be married to Lord Whitmore tomorrow, Kendril. The coronation will be the following day.”
He shifted his head and looked out the window again.
“Llewyllan needs a King,” Serentha said quietly. “Lord Whitmore has all the qualifications.”
Kendril looked back over at her. “He’s a good man,” he said stiffly. “I’m sure he’ll make a fine King.”
Serentha nodded her head. She looked down at the floor and saying nothing.
For a long moment there was silence in the room, broken only by the pattering of rain against the windows.
“I should tell your friends you’re up and around,” she said at last. “They’ll want to know you’re awake.”
Kendril cursed as he stepped down another stair, leaning heavily on a makeshift cane.
“You’re doing fine,” said Joseph from behind him. “We’re almost to the bottom.”
“I’ll be happy to get rid of this as soon as I can,” Kendril growled. He moved the cane forward and hobbled down another stair. His other arm hung in a sling. “I feel like a bloody invalid.”
“That’s because you are an invalid,” said Joseph with a smile. “At least for the time being. If it makes you feel better I won’t be jumping any fences for a while either, at least until this wound of mine heals.”
They reached the bottom of the steps. The front hall of the palace stretched before them.
Maklavir strode up, decked out in a fine new suit. “Kendril! I must say I’m delighted to see you’re still alive, despite all your efforts to the contrary. How are you feeling?”
The Ghostwalker leaned on his cane. “I’ll survive. How about you?”
The diplomat beamed. “I can’t complain. Lord Whitmore has had a bit of a need for my talents recently, mostly in clearing up some matters of a rather delicate nature with some of the noble families. I’m glad to say, however, that we have secured support from almost everyone.”
