Knight's Creed

by P. J. Cherubino

“Your fuckin’ right it burns, you murdering assholes!” Astrid found herself screaming in spite of herself. She was enraged by the causal order to kill people they thought would be defenseless.

  “Poison!” voices shouted.

  “It’s not fatal, you fools!” Clarence screamed from somewhere in the crowd.

  The barrage of gas grenades slowed down.

  “Keep throwing!” Astrid bellowed as the second wave came forward with the barrels of pepper goo.

  “Archers!” Astrid shouted.

  They must have had arrows nocked and drawn. The missiles flew while the command was still in her throat.

  “I’m blind!” men choked and screamed.

  It was a slaughter, but it needed to happen. “Keep firing!” Astrid shouted.

  The barrel troops were slower than she had hoped. She ran to the rear to find out what was going on. One of the hoses had separated from the nozzle at the barrel. The men struggled to reattach it. At least one spray team got going.

  A stream of thick, syrupy red liquid made contact with the enemy as the fine mist from the grenades began to fade. The troops came in close and sprayed the enemy in their faces. One of the bandits took a sword through the belly for his effort.

  “Archers, don’t let up!” Astrid shouted.

  The pepper sprayer troops had gotten into the line of fire. Some of the enemy began to stumble toward them. Even half blind, they were deadly.

  Astrid jumped in and smashed some skulls with her rope darts, then jumped back. “Here!” she shouted, nearly in a panic. A barrage of arrows felled the enemy, who were rapidly compensating for their disadvantage.

  But Clarence came from nowhere. She found his black, sightless eyes just feet from her. Snot and tears covered his face and his breath wheezed, and he was still lethal.

  “Time to die, tricky bitch,” Clarence said, his voice raspy with the burning gas.

  Two bandit bodies flew past Astrid, nearly knocking her down. She danced back, only to watch the camouflaged bandits land among the enemy. Even barely able to see, Jank’s men were effective.

  They killed the bandits by feel alone.

  “No!” Astrid shouted.

  “Oh, yes,” Clarence bellowed, turning to the sound of her voice.

  He thrust his fist in her general direction and something slammed into her chest. She fell with the wind knocked from her lungs.

  He can touch me without hands, Astrid thought. What magic is this? She had heard about this ability, but the experience startled her nonetheless.

  Astrid jumped back to her feet. She charged him, but he was ready. He seemed to feel her coming. His short sword cut a large gash across her left forearm as she lashed out at him with the rope dart.

  Clarence bent back and to the side, and Astrid’s strike missed his arm by mere inches. She would have to get closer.

  She feigned to the left, then jumped right and spun, letting the egg-dart fly. He took a hard hit to his sword shoulder. Astrid spun around again, letting the rope slide along her arm. He ducked the first dart, but the second caught him in the right shoulder blade.

  He stumbled forwards, and Astrid hit him with a reverse roundhouse. Her left heel made painful contact with his chestplate. Astrid planted her feet again, squatted, then jumped.

  Her flying tackle caught him in the solar plexus. Her arms wrapped around his back as she tried to squeeze the breath out of him between her arm and shoulder, but he was well-trained.

  Clarence surrendered to the tackle, letting Astrid’s force carry him. Then, he somehow got his legs under her as they went down. Clarence curled his back and kicked. Astrid found herself weightless and flying up and out of control. Her flight was definitely the result of a magical attack.

  As she rose up high in the air, she saw the battle ten feet below. Most of the enemy were dead, with a disturbing number of bandits lying between the bodies.

  She tried to correct her body in flight, but ended up on her side. Even though she straightened her arm and tried to slap the ground as she was taught, something broke. Maybe it was her collarbone. It was definitely a fracture. The flash of white light and stars before her vision told the tale of broken bones she knew very well. Her left arm wasn’t much use as she jumped back up.

  Clarence was on her. His sword nearly cut her face in half as she danced back.

  Bringing both arms over her head, she jumped, then swung her arms down to describe an “X” shape. Her left arm was weaker and slower and trying to make it work like it should caused even more pain.

  The rope darts lashed out like a pair of scissors as the lines crossed. She had hit nothing, but set herself up for a set of spinning moves.

  Her second revolution with the egg darts scored one solid hit. But again, Clarence was fast. His touchless strike clocked her across the jaw, making her stumble. He had cut her rope!

  She drew deeper from the Well. She was in trouble. Instead of giving into the fear, she let the energy wash over her. She felt totally immersed, time seemed to slow.

  Clarence swung at her with a touchless strike that she dodged by leaning back and to the right. It was clear that he had found her weak side. Another touchless strike caught her in the forehead and snapped her neck back.

  The punch hurt, but it was wild. She recognized his mistake. He should have been going for body shots to sap her strength. Face strikes were always personal.

  “You won’t get anywhere like that,” Astrid found herself taunting. “Let me show you how it’s really done.”

  “Ha!” Clarence spat back. “You’re pitiful, just like the worthless scum you choose to champion.”

  Astrid just smiled as she danced back to create distance. “You’re about to demonstrate how fools die, you arrogant toad fucker. These people are everything you’ll never be.”

  “What’s that?” Clarence laughed, “stupid, smelly and criminal?”

  The words that came out of her mouth next surprised her. She was raised to believe in law and order and defend the same. But in this land, law and order broke people. “You stupid puddle of goat semen. These people do what they have to because people like you use the law as a weapon. Killing you will be a good start to setting things right. They have more honor than you can even imagine.”

  They circled each other in a shrinking circle until Clarence came in high with his sword. Astrid drew back her hand, crouched low and lashed out with the frayed rope that Clarence had cut. The rope wrapped around his left leg. That was his odd step. He had already committed himself to the strike with the right.

  Astrid rose back up and pulled with all her strength. Her fractured collarbone let go with an audible pop. It was completely broken now. She knew a compound fracture when she felt one. Now, her left arm was completely useless. It wasn’t so with her right.

  Clarence ended up on his back. He tried to slash at her legs with his short sword, but Astrid kicked it out of his hand, then stomped on his forearm, pinning it to the ground. He tried to strangle her with his other hand. She felt invisible fingers clamp around her throat and squeeze, but they did nothing.

  The force exerted on her neck was tremendous, but the Well countered all of that strength. Astrid looked down at Clarence. His face was contorted with all the rage, hate, spite and evil that drove him. He was the picture of the injustice that infested this land.

  In the last few seconds of his life, it was rage and arrogance that made him fail. He thought that his power would prevail. He mistook Astrid’s stillness for an upper hand. When she smiled down at him, His eyes widened.

  “No,” Clarence gasped. “I—I’m choking you. I win…I win…”

  “Nope. You lose, dumbfuck.” Astrid brought the egg dart squarely down in the center of his face. “Be ever and always the champion of right and good.”

  “Not again!” Moxy shouted. “What the hell did you do?”

  “Report,” Astrid slurred, stumbling woozily backwards as she released just a bit of the Well energy. Now was a crucial time. She
needed to heal, but her body could only channel so much.

  “We killed them all,” Moxy said flatly.

  “Jank?” Astrid said.

  Moxy was about to answer, but Tarkon spoke up. “I killed him in single combat after he took out a few of our own.”

  “Oh, no,” Astrid said, near tears. “How many did we lose?”

  “Enough,” a familiar voice said. Gertrude came toward her picking her way over the bodies of woods people and enemies alike. “It could not be helped. We are here. Those who fell made sure we lost none of the children or the defenseless.”

  Astrid stumbled back. “I need someone to set this bone. It’s already trying to mend. Where is Gormer?”

  “Is he your damn medic now?” Moxy asked.

  “He’s the only one cold enough to do it. This one hurts worse than the bolts, for some reason,” Astrid groaned.

  Gormer came trotting from the mouth of the cave with a bloody short sword in each hand. He wore an expression that conveyed both disgust and worry. He dropped the swords as if he didn’t realize they were in his hands.

  “I barely know how to use these things,” Gormer declared casually.

  “You did OK,” Tarkon remarked.

  “Yeah, it helped that you kept making anyone who came near me fucking explode into human stew,” Gormer said.

  “Ah, guys?” Moxy said, nodding her head to the white spike of bone poking out of Astrid’s shoulder.

  “Yeah, I see,” Gormer said. His voice quivered.

  “Damn it, Gormer,” Astrid growled, semi-serious. “I need the old, cold Gormer back. This is going to be a tough one. I will definitely curse you, and you might get punched.”

  “Where is she!” Vinnie’s unmistakable voice shouted.

  The ground rumbled as he ran up. He cursed in his home language and pulled at his hair.

  “She’ll be OK, big man,” Gormer said. “I’ve seen her survive worse.”

  “Help me lay down,” Astrid said. She screamed when her left shoulder blade touched the ground. “Prop me up! Prop me up!”

  Vinnie brought a clear bottle out of his bag. “Antiseptic!” he exclaimed, and tossed the water on her wound.

  She punched him square in the jaw when he wiped away the dirt from her shoulder. The pain had made her react like an animal. “Motherfucker!” she screamed. “Set this fucking bone before I rip Gormer’s nuts off!”

  “I know anatomy,” Vinnie said. “Her head is in the wrong position.”

  “I don’t know,” Gormer said. “I’m pretty sure she can rip my nuts off from any position.”

  Astrid screamed again, but only because Gormer’s comment made her laugh hysterically.

  That’s when Vinnie struck. It was too perfect. Gormer’s wisecrack put her in the right position. Astrid found Vinnie’s knee across her left temple. His weight pressed her right cheek into the ground. “I’m so sorry my friend. I need you in this position to set the bone. Hold her arms and legs!”

  It took Moxy, Tarkon, and six bandits to hold Astrid down. “I’m trying not to fight you!” Astrid said. “I’m losing control!” She went slack for a second and it was enough.

  Gormer took a deep breath, grabbed Astrid’s left wrist and yanked it straight out as hard as he could. Astrid’s scream made every ear ring. Gormer came down hard on her arm with his knee while the arm was still extended.

  He pushed the bone back under the skin, then slowly released the tension on Astrid’s arm. As he did, the bone slipped back together. He pinched the collarbone with his thumb and forefinger to hold the pieces together.

  “Fuck, I hope I’m doing this right!” Gormer said.

  “You did it!” Vinnie said. “The bones are lined up. Well, good enough.”

  Astrid’s animal thrashing began to slow. Her black eyes faded back to their normal hazel, but continued to give off a soft, blue light.

  “Ow,” she said only a moment before she passed out.

  “We need to make her a litter,” Vinnie said. “Gather some long boards. I’ll have to tie her down, so she doesn’t move that bone.” The skin around the broken bone glowed red and crackled with red static electricity.

  “What the hell is she?” one of the bandits asked.

  “That woman is my Protector,” Gertrude said with solemn nod. “Yours, too.”

  Somebody showed up with a broken nose. Vinnie tended to her while Tarkon, Moxy, and Gormer went to go collect the wounded. Some bandits scurried off to collect boards and other material for a gurney.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Aftermath

  Astrid woke in a warm place with the smell of cooking food around her. Her sleep had been so deep, that it took her a few seconds to realize she had been fighting. It took a few more seconds to realize she had been hurt.

  Her body ached, but the Well had healed her. She tried to lift her arm to rub her face, but something held her wrist back.

  “What the fuck…”

  After a few blinks, she focused in on a leather strap around her wrist.

  “Hey!” she tried to shout, but her mouth was gummy.

  She only realized she was in some kind of a tent when the flap opened and bright sunlight streamed in. She squinted against it, wincing when she tried to lift her arm and felt a pain in her right shoulder.

  “Untie me,” she demanded groggily.

  “You’re awake!” Vinnie exclaimed. He quickly released the straps holding down her left arm. “Sorry. I wanted to keep your arm in the correct position for the bone to heal. You were moving around in your sleep.”

  “Stiff,” Astrid said. Vinnie helped her sit up. She patted his hand. “Thank you, Vinnie. You’re a good friend.”

  Then, she remembered the pain. “Oh, no… Who did I punch… I’m so embarrassed…”

  “Oh, you’re fine. That scene only added to your legend. The bandits of the Caves can’t stop talking about it,” Vinnie said.

  “How long was I out?” she asked, testing out her legs by lifting her knees.

  That’s when she realized she wasn’t in a tent, she was in a large teepee.

  “Nearly three days,” Vinnie said.

  “What!” Astrid shouted. “What happened? How many did we lose? Is Argan OK? Did they attack with more troops? What—”

  “Relax,” Vinnie said. “Please. We’re safe. We lost eighteen.”

  Astrid sat back down heavily. “Damn it.”

  “They didn’t attack Argan. The protectorate is now in disarray. It seems that killing Jank and Clarence set in motion a chain of events I did not expect. All the villages of the Eastern District have lodged formal complaints at Keep 52. They were afraid to do so before.”

  “What the hell is a formal complaint supposed to do?” Astrid said.

  “A lot, apparently,” Vinnie said.

  “Do you remember that dehydrated little gnome named Krann?”

  “Who could forget?” Astrid said.

  “It seems that he is demanding that the Protector address these grievances through a formal process. His fellow… whatever the fuck they are—”

  “Commissioners…” Astrid said.

  “Are also demanding a formal process. As if the fuckers didn’t turn the other cheek for years.”

  “That son of a bitch,” Astrid growled. “He meant what he said…”

  Vinnie cocked his head like a curious dog. “I don’t follow.”

  “When I confronted him, he went on and on about ‘the system,’ and how it was more important than even him. I think he believes that Jank and Clarence went against the system. They went too far, and now he believes that ‘order’ is in peril.”

  “That… doesn’t make much sense. What does he get out of it?”

  “You know,” Astrid said. “Before, I thought he was just a funny little man way too full of his own authority. But now I think he might be useful.”

  “I don’t follow,” Vinnie replied.

  “There are limits to the Protector’s power. These commiss
ioners—his agents—challenge him. His wealth comes from the villages. The entire Eastern district is now opposed to him. His son is dead because he tried to murder hundreds of people. Everyone did what he said. Now, they don’t. He is now an open question.”

  “Ah,” Vinnie said. “He looks very bad in that light.”

  “So now, we’re playing politics,” Astrid said.

  Vinnie sighed. “I hate politics.”

  “Not more than me,” Astrid replied. She wasn’t sure why the thought suddenly occurred to her. “What about… the bodies.”

  Vinnie paused to look at the ground. “We just finished burying the mercenaries. It took a while. We salvaged weapons and armor. We collected their ID medallions for… whoever wants them. The bandits insisted on showing respect, even though…”

  “The woods people are not criminals,” Astrid said. “I know that now. They committed crime because they thought they had no other choice. They hurt the system where it hurt them. I have mixed feelings about that, but they are good people.”

  Vinnie nodded his head. “We haven’t buried Clarence, yet. It’s been snowing, so… he is literally on ice.”

  Astrid sighed. “His father will want the body back. Let’s arrange that. We have to keep this respectful.”

  Lungu Fortress

  The wagon bearing Clarence came through the fortress gates just like any other shipment of tribute. The Protector stood on his balcony and watched it roll along. If it were a tribute wagon, he would consider it light. There was only a single, long box.

  His fingers gripped the cold stone of the balcony railing. He blinked back tears that the dry, cold air of November dried before they even welled.

  “My only son,” Lungu hissed. “A fool.”

  He left the double-doors open when he strode back into his personal chambers. The fireplace roaring with flame would just have to fight it out with the bitter cold air.

  Lungu waved off the secretaries and the Lieutenants who tried to follow him out to meet the wagon. His son’s counterparts were eager to show their condolences and be seen by him. In truth, they just wanted to take over Clarence’s duties in hope of becoming the next protector.