Knight Fall (The Champion Chronicles Book 1) (31 page)

Brace took a long, deep breath and winced at the pain.  He was going to have to rest a minute to gather the energy for his next push.  “Who are you?” Brace asked.

“The man who is going to kill you.”

“I’m already dead,” Brace shouted back. “The arrow hurt me bad.  At least give me the courtesy of knowing who killed me.”

“You seem to be moving pretty good for a dead man,” the shooter said.  “I will unfortunately let you die not knowing.  I know it is a cruel thing to do.  But I am a cruel person.”

“You are not Karmon.  And likely not Thellian.  That would make you Taran,” Brace said.  “How much did Neffenmark pay you?”

The shooter let out a chuckle.  “To kill you?  Nothing.  I paid him for that honor.”

Brace gave the table another push and another bolt followed into the table.  This time a sliver of the tip punched through.

“We could make this easier,” Brace shouted.

“This seems pretty easy as it is,” the shooter called back.

“I will give you one free shot.  If I survive, I get a free shot on you.”

The shooter laughed.  “That would be unfair to you.  I would put the bolt between your eyes and your death would be too quick.  I would prefer you to have a death that will take some more time.  Time for you to reflect upon your treacherous acts.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about!” Brace shouted back.  He leaned over to peak around the table.  As the curtain shifted, he pulled his head back and a bolt whizzed through the space where his head just occupied.

He was still about twenty or so feet away.  A feeling of dread came over him.  There was no way that he could charge and survive.  His breathing was shallow and the pain that was spreading through his body made it difficult to even blink.  His only hope would be to force the shooter to fire a bolt and then he could charge before the shooter was able to reload.

Just as he was about to peak around the table to see where the shooter was, he noticed the curtain billow out on the other side of the room from the shooter.

***

Conner pulled the door open and stepped aside, half expecting a flurry of arrows to cut him down.  But only darkness greeted him.  He stuck the torch through the doorway.  The hallway went about ten feet before making a sharp turn to the right.  Cautiously, he stepped into the darkness.

The torch had nearly expended its fuel so Conner moved more quickly than he wanted to.  Because he was in near total darkness, the little light the torch did give off gave him enough to see by.  At the corner, Conner reached the torch out to see what was there.  The hallway around the corner was wide enough for three people to easily walk side-by-side.  And there was a door on the left wall.

At the door, he turned the doorknob slowly and gave it a little push.  He stuck the torch in the room.  What little he could see told him that it was likely just a storage room.  There were shelves full of bags, boxes, and jars.  He closed the door and moved on.  Ten feet later, there was another door.  Again, he carefully opened the door and was greeted by starlight coming in from windows high up on the wall.  This was clearly a kitchen.  Another set of doors were on the wall directly across from him.  He thought for a moment about going through the kitchen and checking on what was behind those doors, but his instincts told him to move on.  So he did.  He closed the door and continued down the hallway.

After about twenty feet, the hallway ended at a door.  With a little less caution than before, he pushed the door open and found himself looking down a very short hallway, only about five feet long.  It was not as wide as the hallway he was just in, maybe half the width.  At the end of the hall was a red curtain that was moving, probably from when he had opened the door.

“Your treachery will be well known through the land,” a voice said from the room beyond.  Conner tilted his head, trying to recognize the voice.  Not only did he not, the words were spoken in an odd manner, as if he didn’t know how to speak the common language of the Karmon people.

Conner tossed the torch back into the hallway that he had just come from and closed the door.  As quietly as he could, he drew his swords and inched towards the curtain.

***

Sir Brace Hawkden shouted back, “You may call me what you will, but I am a servant of the kingdom of Karmon!”

Laughter erupted from the shooter.  “Servant?  You are but a common soldier.  A peon who serves a dead king!”

Anger burned deep within Brace, but he knew that he couldn’t let it control him.  He was a Karmon Knight, the best warrior the world had ever known.  And it wasn’t only because he was a skilled swordsman, but because he was more than just a fighter.  He had to control his anger, or it would control him.  He had to keep his mind clear, despite the pain that throbbed in his shoulder.  Brace took one last glance at the curtain and thought for sure he saw someone behind it.  It had to be Conner for he was about to bet his life on it.

“Conner!” Brace suddenly called out.  “Far wall!  Charge now!”

The command of the Knight Captain startled Conner into action without thought.  The part in the curtain was right in front of him, so he pushed through with swords drawn.  Brace had been behind a table, but now he was charging out from behind it, screaming at the top of his lungs.  The movement at the far end of the room caught his attention, so he started running towards it.  A thin man clad in a silky black cloak stepped from behind a curtain, leveled a crossbow at him and fired.

Conner’s sword flashed up, striking the bolt just as it was about to get to him.  The remnants of the bolt scattered to the floor.  He did not think about what he did, he just kept charging at a full sprint.

The shooter, his eyes wide with surprise, pulled another fully loaded crossbow from the floor and aimed it Brace, who was just feet away.  The bolt didn’t have far to go and embedded deep into Brace’s stomach.  The Knight Captain fell to his knees, but he kept his legs moving, trying to get to the shooter.  But the pain and shock to his system was making him unable to take another step.  He simply fell to the ground.

Conner drove his sword deep into the right shoulder of the shooter who was trying to load another bolt.  The shooter had tried at the last instant to parry the blow with the crossbow, but he was too slow.  The sword was buried to its hilt.  The crossbow fell to the floor.  As he was taught many times by Master Goshin, Conner expected the desperate dagger attack.  The shooter, using his left hand, struck out with a small dagger.  Because he knew it was coming, Conner easily stepped aside from the attack.  He released his right hand from the sword that was buried in the shooter’s shoulder, switched his other sword from left to right hand and slashed down on the left arm of his opponent.  The hand fell to the floor, still grasping the dagger.

The shooter was in shock.  His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open.  All color drained from his face as quickly as the blood was pouring from his stump.  Desperately, the shooter tried to pull the sword from his shoulder, but he couldn’t get his remaining hand to work right.  Conner plunged his sword deep into his chest.  A look of desperation crossed the shooter as he realized he was taking his last breaths.  Conner pulled the sword out slowly and then the shooter slumped to the floor and did not move anymore.  He then turned to Brace, who was trying to sit up on his own.  Conner dropped to his knees and helped the Knight Captain to sit up.

Brace smiled.  “I am dying.”  His hands touched the end of the bolt that was buried deep into his gut.  Only a small part of it was sticking out from his front, the rest was pushing his chainmail away from his back.

“You are the Knight Captain, you cannot die!” Conner said, continuing to hold the Knight Captain up.

Brace shook his head.  “No, that is all that is left for me.  Help me to the wall.”

Conner pulled the much heavier man up to his feet and used himself as a crutch to guide Brace to a nearby wall.  As gently as he could, Conner let Brace slide down into a sitting position.

“It is almost all the way through,” Conner said, looking underneath his chainmail shirt.  “I think I can pull it out.”

Brace closed his eyes and shook his head.  “No.  Leave it.  I am ready.”

Not knowing what to do, Conner slumped down next to the Knight Captain.  In front of him lay the crossbow shooter, his bloody stump lying in a widening pool of blood.  The man died with his eyes open, and they were staring off into nothingness.  Conner looked down at himself and he was a bloody mess.  He wasn’t sure if the blood was his, the shooters, or Brace’s.  His twin swords lay near his feet, covered in blood.

And then it finally hit him.

He had been on the move for so long that he really hadn’t had time to think.  Even when he was alone in the woods waiting for Brace to recover from the fall of his horse, he didn’t think.  He had spent most of that time hunting, keeping his mind occupied with trying to find dinner.  But now, with nothing but death around him, he had little else to do but think.  He had killed a man.  But he had done more than that, he had slaughtered him.  And the same with the many other men back on the battlefield.  He justified his actions back there because he was in battle.  They were trying to kill him and he had to defend himself.  But so did this man – this crossbow shooter.  He had fired a crossbow bolt at him and he had miraculously deflected it.  If he hadn’t killed the shooter, he would have done the same to him.

“You think he has any family?” Conner asked quietly.

“They all do,” Brace replied.  “Someone will miss him.  Someone always does.  But he would have killed you.  Without worrying about whether or not you had family.”

“I know,” Conner replied.  “It doesn’t make it any better.”

Brace reached a hand out and put it on Conner’s shoulder and squeezed with what strength he had remaining.  It wasn’t much.

“I think I’m going to throw up,” Conner said.

Brace chuckled.  “He wasn’t your first, and he won’t be your last.  You are an incredible warrior.”  He squeezed Conner’s shoulder harder.  With a demanding voice, Brace said, “Look at me, Conner.”

Conner did.  He could see death in the Knight Captain’s eyes.  He didn’t have long to live.

“I have never, ever seen fighting like what I saw from you.  Ever.  Whatever Master Goshin taught you, it is incredible.  You are too fast.  Too fast for me.  There is not a Knight or soldier anywhere in the world that could stand up to you in a one-on-one fight.  Even the Taran with a crossbow couldn’t stand up to you!  That was pretty incredible to see you knock that bolt out of the air.  But listen closely.”  Brace paused to catch his breath, squeezing his eyes shut to try and ignore the pain that was shooting through his body.  “Listen.  What makes you great will not be how you fight or your skill with a sword.  It is who you are here.” He tapped Conner on the chest.  “And here.”  Then he tapped Conner on the forehead.  “Whatever you do, don’t become numb to killing.  Killing is not your job.  It is not the job of a knight.  Anyone can kill.  But not anyone can be a knight.”

A wry smile crept across Conner’s face.  “I can’t be a knight, you know.”

Brace laughed, and then winced at the pain.  “You are right.  But my point is, don’t be afraid of your distaste for death.  Hate it.  Don’t embrace it.  Honor the man you just killed, even if he is your worst enemy.  Fight only when you have to.  When there is nothing else left.  Listen carefully.  I have failed as a knight.  As a man.  I let my own ego get in the way of my honor.  I let Neffenmark convince me that I myself could preserve the kingdom.  And I believed him because I felt I was a great knight.   I ended up being a failure of a knight.  I caused this war with Thell.  I caused the death of the king, and now I accept my punishment.”

“Sir Brace, you have done so many great things, do not let this one thing destroy who you are!”

“When you are in my position, the leader of many men, many knights, anything you do means everything.  And yes, this one thing has ruined it all.  That is my shame, and I must live with it for eternity.”

“I will get Neffenmark for you," Conner declared proudly.

Brace reached back and grabbed Conner on the arm and shouted, “No!  Do not be a killer.  Do not kill for pleasure or revenge.  Only do it because you must.  Neffenmark must be dealt with.  But you are not an assassin.  You are not a murderer.  He must be brought to justice.”

“You are so much like Master Goshin,” Conner said.

“He and I are so different,” Brace replied, releasing his grip on Conner.  "Very different."

“No.  He says the same things.  I guess I never realized you would say those things as well.”

“When you’re on your deathbed, the strangest thoughts come to mind,” Brace said.  “He is a good man.  I hoped you listened to him.”

“What do I do, now?” Conner asked.

“You must go back to South Karmon.  There will be a play for the throne, and the princess will be caught in the middle.”

“Who will be king?"  Conner asked.  "There is no heir.”

“I do not know.  Neffenmark has his mercenaries.  He just might be able to convince enough of the lords that he is strong enough to take it.  He may try and claim the princess as his bride, and then it will be his son that will take the throne.”