Take the body and give me the rest (27 page)

Flint had opted
for the bloodiest path and led a group of men up the stairs to the
left of the gate and straight onto the tower walls. He leapt up the
stone stairs, taking the lead. His axe drawn, the pikemen he was
leading still carried that weapon but had left their cumbersome
shields below on the roadway; this was close fighting. The clang of
sword on sword and the screams of battle was what started to wake
the town. Up the stairs, Flint ran around a corner and, swinging
his axe downward with incredible strength and fury, engaged the
first guard he encountered.

The man was
ready for him, having heard Rosen’s cries, but after a few
exchanged cuts, his sword was knocked to the side and he was
slashed bloodily with the backhand stroke. Flint and his force of
twenty men surged around the wall, cutting a bloody path and
knocking the opposing guardsmen to the hard stone ground, meters
below. If someone cried quarter, it was granted and he was roughly
stripped of sword, weapon and boots. It made escape much
harder.

Flint was met
halfway along the battlements by Stone, who had led another twenty
men up the right side stairs of the wall. It was now clear of all
guards except for them.

‘Should we
raise the gate?’ Flint asked.

‘No, Seth wants
it open, let all the chickens run free,’ said Flint, panting and
wiping blood from both sides of his double headed axe.

Goldie, Grimm
and Dagosh, had an equally dangerous task. While there were about
fifty men on active patrol, mostly on the wall, the major body of
the troop was in the barracks, supposedly sleeping. Rosen’s
shouting and yelling had woken part of the town, but Seth’s men
were running quickly towards the barracks.

Two main
buildings loomed in their view. Goldie ran with his men towards the
mess hall where they had been only a few days ago. He hit the door
hard with his shoulder in a way that would have made Flint proud
and continued to run into the room. Twenty or so guardsmen all
stood in the room, hurriedly putting on pieces of armour and
picking up weapons.

His pikemen all
filled in behind him. Panting, he yelled, ‘We’re taking this keep
for Duchess Elizebetha! Drop weapons if you’re loyal.’ It was
something Seth had told them all to say. The men kept rushing to
pick up their weapons, and one started reaching for a crossbow.
‘Kill them all!’ Goldie shouted. Lunging at the man with a
crossbow, he pushed passed his fellows and cut him down with his
broadsword.

The room was
carnage. Pikemen moved forward, still in formation, and in five
quick strides they had cleared across the room, thrusting their
flat blade points into the swordsmen and taking them down.

Goldie didn’t
even blink. ‘Next room!’ he shouted and pushed through the next
door to the armoury.

Grimm had taken
his men into the second building, which was the bunk room. He ran
into it and was surrounded by at least one hundred guardsmen. This
was it, the bulk of the troop. Dagosh surged in from a door at the
back and quickly the pikemen had the flats of their blades against
forty throats. Most of these men were only half clothed, few
weapons and half awake.

Grimm shouted
out, ‘We’re taking this keep for Duchess Elizebetha! If you’re
loyal to her, sit down.’ At least half of the guards actually sat
down on the floor. Grimm looked at one young man he had his own
sword pointed at. He was only a teen and was close to tears. He sat
down with a look of relief, dropping his sword as fast as he could.
They pointed weapons at the men still standing. Grimm looked them
over quickly and then, pointing to five with the most hate in their
eyes: ‘Him, him, him, him and him.’ The pikemen standing in front
of them didn’t hesitate but quickly thrust cold blades into them,
killing them to the cries of the other men. ‘Men loyal to
Elizebetha, sit your arses down!’ shouted Grimm. The rest of the
men sat down. It was brutal but they needed to be cold to stop the
defiance quickly.

Seth had left
the gate wide open for a reason, and that was so the townspeople
and guards had somewhere to run if they wanted to, he knew the
guards with families would often sleep in their own beds in a soft
troop like this. Groups of them were seen running from the gates
with children and wives in tow, forgetting their duties. It wasn’t
really fair to scare the hell out of people who were at least half
on your side, but some fear would now save them. The twenty
horsemen of the desert rode hard around the town, hoofs sounding
loudly on the cobbles. They herded the Black Rock Keep traders,
peasant and unarmed guards right out the gates. They found a few
pockets of resistance, guards armed and fighting. The pockets were
cut down from horseback with wicked heavy curved blades or shot
with black arrows from their short bows.

Seth ran up the
stairs of the main keep and through the wide open door. He was
headed to the ducal bedchamber. He knew the door was wide open
because he’d seen Rosen running through it, terrified, just moments
before, followed by a good number of armed men.

‘Archers with
me!’ he shouted again, knowing they still were.

He passed
around a corner to face two guardsmen. He charged in with his
broadsword, but with the sound of a whisper spinning next to him.
They fell to arrows shot from behind as he came. So they swept
through the Keep, at least ten guards falling to the volley from
the crossbows. Seth heard a clang and a shot from behind him. He
spun quickly and saw a man in the dark black of Renton’s household
guard swinging a sword down into one of his archers.

The woman got
her weapon up in front of the blade, which was blocked by the short
dagger blade but the force of the hit cracked her crossbow in half
as she staggered to the ground. Before the others could get their
weapons pointed, he brought the sword down again. Seth lunged
forward, blocking the blade and roughly tackling the man to the
ground. With little more than a second thought, Seth brought a
dagger up into the man’s stomach and twisted it hard. The man died
under Seth, kicking hard, blood pouring for his wound onto Seth’s
hands. Seth pushed himself off the ground and looked around the
dark hall. All twenty of his troop still stood, some slightly
panting and a bit shocked by the close call.

He looked at
the shaken woman; she was as young as he. ‘Can you still fight?’ he
said, more roughly than he intended. She stood up taller. ‘Yes,
sir,’ she said looking at her broken crossbow. The Captain of the
troop stood forward and gave the woman a back-up weapon, which was
slung across her back, good thinking thought Seth.

Seth grinned at
them all, some blood in his mouth from the tackle. He stood up tall
and faced the corridor again, ready for more. ‘Archers with me!’ he
shouted.

‘Yes, sir,’
they chanted back with passion.

At the end of
the hallway was the main door for what he knew was Renton’s room.
Seth could clearly see in his mind what lay in the room and knew he
had Elizebetha to thank for the vision, he was so close to her now.
In the far corner, Lord Renton stood holding Elizebetha, with a
small silver blade to her aged neck. Rosen stood next to him,
panting with exertion with a stolen sword in his hand, looking
useless. On either side of the small double door were five men with
raised swords in a deadly honour guard.

Seth turned
back to his archers. ‘They are on the other side of the door. Five
on each side with swords. Form a wedge.’ They did. ‘Now face
outwards.’ They did. They were like the tip if a spear and him at
the point. ‘I’m going through that door and you come in as quick as
you can. They will be close up so make it count. You’ll get one
shot from the crossbow and then it’s dagger point all the way’

The crossbow
troop stood close to the door and, with a shout of ‘Lord Renton!’
just to confuse the enemy a little, Seth smashed into the door,
went through it, hit the stone floor hard and started to roll as
the sword blades started swinging down at him after a second of
hesitation.

That hesitation
cost them. Twice shadows and swords loomed over him as he fought to
stand up and twice, they lurched to the side, an arrow in the eye,
side of the neck. A guard right at the end roughly kicked Seth in
the face as he fought to stand up. The boot connected hard with his
jaw, sending him reeling back on the floor. The man jumped to
straddle him and, with sword in backward grip, plunged it down. It
never reached. The short dagger point of a cross bow thrust hard
into his eye socket, send him sprawling off Seth, dying in bloody
agony. Seth quickly stood up, his head ringing with pain. The
Captain of the troop stood with the woman he’d saved, already
loading more arrows after just saving him with the bloody
thrust

The carnage was
over. The guards were all dead in the space of moments, and Seth
had the worst injuries of them all. ‘Right on door, left with me,’
Seth said, and half of the archers, all loading more arrows into
their weapons, turned to guard the door and the others stood by
him, covering Renton, who still held a now-trembling blade against
Elizebetha’s throat. Rosen also stood, still slightly panting and
pointing his sword vaguely at Elizebetha.

‘What did you
do that for, Rosen?’ asked Seth.

‘Seth, pleased
to introduce my skinflint business partner, in the caravan you came
in on and many other ventures. Sorry to cause you so much trouble,’
he said with fear in his voice. ‘Please don’t kill me.’

‘You’re a fool
you should have told me and worked with us. Now he really has
gotten you killed. He probably paid those brigands too, you know,’
Seth said. He thought for a moment and then spoke. ‘Captain, left
leg.’ He’d no sooner said the words than an arrow had been fired
into Rosen’s left leg above the knee, sending him screaming to the
floor and dropping his sword with a clang on the stonework.

Renton had fear
in his eyes but also anger. A thin trickle of blood ran from the
knife at Elizebetha’s neck and down the weathered skin of her
neck.

‘Renton, you
hold the advantage, what do you want?’ asked Seth.

‘It’s Lord
Renton!’ he shouted. ‘And what I wanted was for your little army
and you to die against these walls!’

‘It’s looking a
bit late for that now. How about you let her go and we just spare
your worthless life?’ Seth said.

‘I don’t
believe you,’ he said, voice full of fear and anger as well. Seth
could hear the voice of Yend speaking to him; he knew how to play
this one.

Seth started
laughing and lowered his sword completely, looking relaxed. ‘You?’
he laughed again. ‘You’re just a weak little child. A spoilt little
boy. You’re a maggot, a worm; my slave army kicked your army to
pieces in just moments,’ Seth said, taunting him.

‘Shut up,’
Renton said, ‘you goddamn savage bastard, I won’t listen to talk
like that from you.’

Seth laughed
again and gestured to the door. ‘Just go. I don’t care; you’re less
than nothing to me. Once you’re gone, the people of the Keep will
spit when they hear your name.’ He saw Renton roughly push
Elizebetha to the side and, with a clear ring of metal, the man
drew clear his rapier.

Seth and Renton
faced each other across the small space. Broadsword to rapier and
dagger in the backhand. He heard someone say, ‘Sir?’ in a
questioning voice.

‘Hold arrows,’
he said, stepping back into a proper stance. Renton lunged forward
and almost killed Seth. Seth moved almost too slowly but avoided
the blade, lashing out with the broadsword. Renton jumped backward
and lunged in three times, slashing at Seth with the dagger hand.
Seth dodged backwards, barely avoiding a piercing thrust aimed at
his exposed throat.

He’d under
estimated Renton’s skill with a rapier, and it was clear Renton had
taken more than one great swordsmen. So had Seth, but with a
broadsword in his hand, he was at a disadvantage, unless . . . Seth
realised he was fighting like the General and not like himself.
With this weapon, it was all Seth, including the style and the new
strength he’d never fully unleashed in battle. Seth leapt forward
screaming and slashed downward with a giant stroke. Renton leapt to
the side, having to move out of the way of the much heavier blade.
Seth let loose a volley of cuts aimed at Renton and his sword,
knocking the rapier from his numb hand. Renton thrust the dagger
into Seth’s exposed upper arm. Seth dropped his own sword from the
pain but, swinging back on instinct, smashed his heavy fist into
Lord Renton’s finely boned face. The force of the blow lifted him
off his feet with a bloody crunch, making him drop his blades.
Renton hit the ground hard, clutching his face. Seth knelt down
next to him and with his bleeding arm lifted his face and brought
his fist into it again. Renton’s head hit the floor,
unconscious.

After a moment,
Seth stood slowly to his feet and turned to his troop of archers.
They all looked at him with a kind of awe and pride. ‘Good work,
all. Now, Captain, go find if Dagosh needs help in the
barracks.’

Chapt
er
30

The lush
bedroom was silent except for the soft crying of The Duchess
Elizebetha, who sat crumpled on the floor, looking frailer than
Seth had ever seen her and the silence created after a storm of
violence. Renton lay on the ground, bloody dagger still clutched in
his hand, face bloodied and broken but alive—as was Rosen, who had
hit his head hard against the stone wall when he had collapsed.

‘It’s okay,’
Seth said to her softly. ‘Your brother is still alive.’

She looked up
at Seth with the eyes of an eighty-year-old woman. Even when she’d
come through the gate a few days ago, she’d looked much younger.
‘That’s the worst part, Seth. Now I have to decide again what to do
with someone’s life,’ she said.