The Long War 01 - The Black Guard (13 page)

Magnus remained silent and looked around the hall, counting the knights arrayed against him. At least a hundred armoured men stood in the great hall of Canarn, and he was chained, without armour, and Skeld was nowhere to be seen. This was as bad a situation as he had ever found himself in and he tried to calm his mind with thoughts of past adventures and of those who had fallen under his hammer. He had friends who would laugh if they were to see him now, friends who would teach these men of Ro that a few men can be mighty when the need arises.

Lord Rillion raised his hand. ‘Enough, I have made my decision.’

The hall fell silent and Rillion slowly moved to resume his seat. Rashabald and the Gold cleric both looked intently at the commander, their desire to see the Ranen killed clear on their faces. Magnus scanned the faces of the other Red knights and was glad to see they appeared dispassionate towards him. Sir Pevain, the mercenary knight, was staring at the Ranen, bloodlust in his eyes. Magnus considered him one of the more dangerous men in the room and doubted he’d stay neutral if the Red church had paid him.

Rillion then spoke, loudly and clearly. ‘This man is a foreigner and his ignorance is the only thing that makes me not take his head.’ The others on the raised platform showed their disagreement, but they kept quiet and allowed the commander to continue. ‘However, his friend, the duke, is worthy of no such mercy. I think to witness the justice of the One God will be punishment enough for his foolish actions.’ He waved a hand behind him. ‘Sir Pevain, fetch the duke and bring him before us.’

Magnus kept his eyes on the large mercenary knight as he walked past the platform and through a side door, exiting the great hall.

Rillion then stood and addressed Magnus directly. ‘The children, Bronwyn and Bromvy, will bear the dishonour of being named to the Black Guard until their deaths.’

Bronwyn looked through the ranks of Red knights, towards Magnus, and the huge Ranen saw real fear in her eyes. She was a young woman, the twin sister of Brom, Duke Hector’s heir, and Magnus had grown to care greatly for her in the short time he had been in Ro Canarn. To brand her face with a mark of dishonour was unthinkable, and anger began steadily to build up within him.

The women of Ro were rarely allowed to wear armour or wield a blade, but Bronwyn was becoming a skilled swordswoman, a testament to her father’s insistence that all his children should be able to fight for their lands if the need arose.

Sir Pevain returned, carrying a heavy steel chain and leading a broken and bloodied figure into the great hall. Duke Hector had been stripped naked and was bleeding from several wounds to his chest and face, making Magnus think he had been whipped.

The duke stumbled as Pevain pulled hard on the chain and he had to be dragged before the raised platform. Behind him, with a fearful look in his eyes, came Brother Lanry, the chaplain of Ro Canarn. The Brown cleric was a portly man wearing only the heavy brown robes of his order. He was a cleric who represented the One God’s aspect of poverty and charity and Magnus thought him honourable. The chaplain had wielded his quarterstaff against the Red knights and had only been spared because he was a churchman.

Magnus took an involuntary step forwards, wanting with all his being to throw the line of Red knights out of his path and to help his friend. In response to the movement, the executioner stood and hefted his large axe. ‘My Lord Rillion, if this peasant priest moves again may I have permission to cut off his hand and let him bleed?’

With rising anger, and with little thought, Magnus broke his silence and shouted out a response to the executioner’s threat. ‘You are a coward…’ The hall fell silent. ‘Remove these chains, give me my hammer, and no man here would stand before me.’ He took another step forward, now standing inches from the kneeling line of knights.

Brother Lanry saw Magnus through the press of knights and a shallow nod of greeting passed between the two men. The cleric looked exhausted, but uninjured. Rillion maintained his calm, Rashabald and the Gold cleric looked as if they were about to burst with rage, and Sir Pevain smiled an ugly smile. Out of the corner of his eye Magnus could see the guards standing round Bronwyn move closer; they were physically holding her now and she was clearly distressed at not being able to see her father through the crowd of knights.

‘I was told knights of the Red had honour… this is not honour.’ He roared out the last few words and tensed his huge arms, feeling the heavy steel chains that bound him.

‘My knights, stand to,’ ordered Rillion, and the line of Red knights stood and drew their swords in practised military fashion. ‘One more aggressive movement from this man and you are to subdue him. Wound, but do not kill.’

Bronwyn cried out from the side of the hall, ‘Father…’ The word was choked with tears and elicited a sharp slap from one of her guards.

‘Knight,’ Magnus shouted at the man who’d struck her, ‘touch the woman again and I’ll eat through these chains to reach you.’

Magnus maintained his glare and felt his arms strain against the manacles. He offered a quiet prayer to his god. ‘Rowanoco, let not these dishonourable men take the lives of my friends; and if that is not within your power, grant me the strength to avenge them or face an honourable death. Let me not feel the cold stone of a prison cell again.’

The line of knights in front of him formed a circle, surrounding Magnus and cutting off any chance of action. Rillion and Rashabald stepped off the platform and stood over the broken duke of Canarn.

Pevain pulled on the chain, making the steel collar strain around Hector’s neck. His head was pulled to face the commander and the extent of his injuries became evident. He had lost an eye to a sword point, a fresh cut indicating that the wound had been inflicted after the battle. His teeth had been smashed out and he shook violently. Magnus doubted he even knew where he was.

‘Look well upon this traitor, you Ranen dog,’ Rillion said loudly.

‘My lord, can I be the one to take his head?’ It was Pevain who spoke, and he did so with glee.

Sir Rashabald was clearly unhappy with this and looked questioningly at the commander. Rillion appeared to consider it, but then shook his head and wordlessly gestured to his executioner. Rashabald smiled and hefted his axe several times while Pevain removed the prisoner’s metal collar.

Magnus scowled as he looked on and took sharp breaths, glaring at the men of Ro standing before him, the men about to kill his friend. He could hear Bronwyn crying, but did not look round to see. He was thankful she would not be able to see her father killed.

Duke Hector was a small figure, naked and broken; he barely looked up as Rashabald placed the axe against his neck. Rillion raised his hand above his head and everyone present paused, waiting for him to lower it, giving the executioner his order to strike. When it happened, it seemed to Magnus to happen in slow motion. Rashabald raised his axe high above his head, Rillion lowered his hand, and the axe fell.

The sound was of steel cutting flesh and bone, punctuated by a grunt of exertion from the executioner, and Duke Hector Canarn was dead. His head struck the stone floor and his body went limp, falling at Pevain’s feet.

There was a moment of silence, the only sound being a low sob from the duke’s daughter, as Sir Rillion leant down and lifted up the head to show the company of knights. The duke’s face was a mask of anger and torment. Brother Lanry began to weep as his master’s head was paraded in front of him.

Ameira, the Karesian enchantress, cackled. Her eyes were wide with euphoria at the sight of the dead duke.

The strength of Rowanoco now within him, Magnus roared to the ceiling at the sight of his friend’s head. His hands gripped the steel manacles that held him and, with power unlike anything these men of Ro had seen, the steel links began to bend and buckle. His rage had taken over and he could no longer be contained by metal. The guards surrounding him looked on with wide-eyed amazement as, with a swift jerk of his shoulders, the huge Ranen warrior broke his restraints. Rowanoco hated nothing more than to see his people caged and he lent his rage to the priest.

All eyes turned and Magnus was faced with over a hundred armoured men, drawing their swords. He looked at the faces of the senior knights and the old executioner, then back at the men standing directly in front of him. His eyes had turned black and foam flecked the corners of his mouth.

‘Men, restrain the Ranen.’ Rillion stumbled over his words; even he was intimidated by the battle rage of Rowanoco.

The Karesian enchantress moved quickly to the commander’s side and whispered in his ear before lightly touching his hand.

The first knight to thrust at Magnus died quickly with a sheared metal link jammed into his throat. His body was then hefted and thrown at the next man. Magnus easily deflected a hesitant downward swing, grabbing the blade in his hand and reversing it to stab through the wielder’s face, killing him instantly.

Commotion engulfed the hall, with men jockeying to get close to the fight. Rillion issued commands to several knights and the Gold cleric was quickly removed from the hall. Pevain was stepping towards the melee and unsheathing his huge two-handed sword, while Sir Rashabald adopted a protective stance in front of the commander.

Magnus kept hold of the longsword and quickly killed two more knights with powerful downward blows. The other Red knights, now encircling him, stayed several steps away and held a guarded pose.

Magnus stood with four dead knights around him in a spreading pool of blood. ‘Face me now, cowards,’ he roared. ‘I will be your death…’

With one hand he swung the broken chain around his head, keeping the knights at bay, while with the other he brandished his newly acquired sword with skill and menace. Rillion stood beyond the circle of knights; calmer now that Magnus was contained, he gestured to Pevain to enter the melee and shouted across the hall to his crossbowmen.

Magnus advanced on the encircling knights and swung the chain at those close by. The knights retreated a few steps and refused to engage. They held their swords low to the ground and closed ranks round him.

He crouched, his sword and chain both loose in his hands. The battle rage of Rowanoco had changed into a predatory desire for freedom. He was feeling the survival instinct of a caged animal and barely registered the huge figure of Sir Pevain entering the circle of knights.

‘Pevain, I want him alive,’ Rillion commanded from his position of safety. The enchantress stood close to him and continued to whisper.

The crossbowmen pushed their way to stand within the circle of knights, their cowardly weapons drawn and aimed at Magnus. The sound of Bronwyn crying was the only thing that entered Magnus’s perception, but it was enough to keep his mind sufficiently clear to parry when Pevain launched a huge overhead strike at him. Magnus buckled under the strain, but his strength held and stopped the blow from landing.

‘I said I want him alive. Don’t disappoint me, Pevain,’ Rillion repeated.

Magnus swung out his legs and aimed a kick at Pevain’s armoured thighs. The mercenary rocked back, but didn’t fall, and Magnus rolled out of range of the answering sword thrust.

The mercenary knight let out a grunt as he grasped his sword in both hands and launched an overhead swing at Magnus’s unprotected shoulder. It was powerful, but clumsy, and Pevain relied on the plate armour he wore and the disproportionate size of his sword rather than any great skill.

Magnus was fast and knew how to deal with a man encumbered with steel armour. He didn’t try to parry the blow, instead darting to the left and letting the swing strike the stone floor. Dust flew up and the flagstone cracked, causing Rillion to push his way to the front and bark at Pevain a third time. ‘Sir knight, if you kill that man, you follow him.’

Ameira the Lady of Spiders stayed beyond the circle, but appeared distressed at the suggestion that Pevain might kill Magnus.

‘My lord, we should rid ourselves of this fucking animal,’ Pevain replied through gritted teeth. ‘Let me kill him… let me kill him now.’ He didn’t take his eyes from Magnus, who was again crouched, sword at the ready.

Rillion drew his own sword and entered the circle, causing Rashabald to hurry in behind him. ‘Pevain, I won’t tell you again,’ the commander said quietly, his eyes watchful and his sword held low.

Magnus was clear now of the battle rage and was looking for an opportunity to escape. He was surrounded by a wide circle of closely packed knights of the Red which left little opening for an attack. He could no longer hear Bronwyn crying.

Pevain breathed heavily, angry at being robbed of the opportunity to fight Magnus. He lowered his sword and, still looking directly at the Ranen, backed away to the edge of the circle. The crossbowmen emerged between the Red knights and took aim, waiting for the order to fire. Rillion stayed back, but carried himself with the practised motion of a skilled swordsman.

‘I have made my decision, this brute is to be kept alive,’ he said, looking down at the four dead knights of the Red. ‘But a few arrows in the leg won’t kill him.’

He nodded at the nearest bowman and a bolt was fired. It pierced Magnus above the knee, causing him to cry out in pain and fall to the floor. Before he could gather himself, Sir Pevain kicked him solidly in the face with his armoured foot and Magnus lost consciousness.

CHAPTER 4