The Long War 01 - The Black Guard (27 page)

Hasim hit his head firmly against the wooden steps and lost vision for a second as he heard a voice shout, ‘Sergeant, I’ve found the Karesian!’ followed by the sound of armoured steps moving quickly along the wooden tunnel beyond.

He tried to get to his feet, but fell back as an armoured knight of the Red flung the door open and advanced upon him. The sound of other knights approaching grew louder as Hasim inched back up the steps towards the watch-hole, drawing his kris blade and trying to focus on the advancing knight.

‘You’re mine, boy,’ said the knight as he drew his sword, ducked under the small wooden doorway, and crouched at the foot of the stairs.

Hasim shook his head and hefted himself backwards on hands and knees. He was still dazed and only vaguely aware of the knight attempting to grab his foot as he scuttled back up the stairs to the watch-hole. He kicked out with as much strength as he could manage and heard a solid steel clang and a sharp intake of breath.

The knight stumbled back, getting his armour and sword tangled up in the narrow tunnel. Hasim swore to himself and rubbed his eyes. He could feel blood on the back of his head and was in considerable pain. Hasim turned and rapidly darted up the stairs.

‘I’ll make you bleed for that, horse-fucker,’ shouted the knight as he advanced again towards the watch-hole.

Hasim briefly considered throwing his knife in order to silence the knight, but thought better of it as he reached the top of the narrow staircase. There was nowhere to go. The tunnel ended in the watch-hole overlooking the great hall and there was no way down, just a small grating through which the hall could be seen. He had to think fast, as reinforcements had reached the hatchway at the bottom of the stairs.

‘He crawled up there. The scum’s trapped, sir,’ said the knight who’d found him.

‘There’s nowhere to go, boy, surrender and you may survive this,’ said an older voice from the tunnel.

More men were converging on his location and Hasim could hear shouts and orders passed loudly along the tunnels. He breathed in heavily and shook his head. His wound was not bad and he began to think quickly.

Crouching, he moved as rapidly as he could down the tunnel towards the watch-hole. The knights below began moving through the hatchway and he could hear more men approaching. Holding the kris blade between his teeth, he reached the grating that overlooked the great hall of Ro Canarn and stopped.

‘We’re coming for you, little boy,’ called the first knight, as he began ascending the cramped staircase.

Hasim couldn’t fight his way through the knights. He was a realist and knew that, even in close quarters, there were too many, and this time he didn’t have the advantage of surprise. Multiple shadows flowed over the top of the stairs and he could make out the voices of perhaps as many as ten knights approaching him. He started to laugh, an outburst of hysterical desperation.

Hasim glanced down through the watch-hole, took his kris blade from between his teeth and smashed it against the wood of the grate. The wood was solid, but Hasim was strong and he quickly broke off a piece. He hit it again and, as the first knight’s head emerged at the top of the narrow stairs, he feverishly smashed at the wooden grating. Not enough of a gap had opened and he lay down on his back and kicked his feet into the wood. His left boot broke through, sending splinters into the hall below.

‘Sergeant, the Karesian’s trying to break through into the great hall.’

The sound of wood breaking was loud and Hasim could not hear if any of the knights were leaving. He spared a quick glance behind him and saw two men of Ro, their upper bodies squeezed into the narrow passageway at the top of the stairs. They began clumsily crawling towards him as he changed to a crouched position, braced himself, and flung his shoulder at the broken wooden grate. His weight was sufficient to finish the job his knife had started and, with a loud shout, he plummeted into the great hall.

He landed face up, with a thud, on one of the duke’s feast tables. The fall had winded him and his shoulder felt as if it might be dislocated. Above, he saw the face of a knight poking through the broken watch-hole.

Hasim rolled off the table, got to his feet and quickly glanced around the hall. The main doors were open and beyond he could see the night. Behind the duke’s platform several figures were emerging from an anteroom.

‘You… Karesian,’ shouted a voice from the antechamber, ‘stop there!’

Hasim turned and saw Rillion and three knights, swords drawn, advancing on his position. He turned quickly and darted across the great hall. As he approached the darkness beyond the main doors, for a second he thought he might actually escape. As he began to smile he looked up and saw a figure approaching through the doors.

Sir Hallam Pevain entered the great hall slowly, his two-handed sword held casually across his shoulder blades. ‘You’re mine, Hasim,’ he said with a growl.

A bell had begun to sound and Hasim could hear armoured feet approaching through several side entrances and antechambers. There was no obvious way of escape.

Behind him stood Commander Rillion and three knights of the Red, with Ameira, the Karesian enchantress, positioned in the doorway. The knights stood on the raised platform, by the duke’s chair, content just to cut off Hasim’s escape. In front of him, blocking his path to the main door, was Pevain and a dozen of his mercenaries. On both sides of the great hall, other Red knights appeared and encircled him. Hasim judged that he was finally captured.

Rillion drew his sword and stepped within ten feet of the Karesian. ‘Al-Hasim, you are to stand down and be subject to the king’s law,’ he said with smug authority.

‘And if I don’t?’ Hasim replied defiantly.

‘Then I’ll cut your arms off and give the rest of you to my boys,’ Pevain butted in, grinning viciously and nodding at his mercenaries, who smiled and looked at Hasim as if he were a piece of meat.

‘Pevain, we need information from this spy,’ Rillion countered, causing the mercenary knight to look at the floor and nod with frustration. ‘Don’t kill him outright. Get the location of the girl from him and you can let your dogs turn him into a woman. Clear?’

Pevain and his men evidently liked this order. The bastards were known for not being too choosy when it came to rape, and Hasim had heard stories of men broken to the point of suicide after an encounter with them. Each of the dirty, grim-faced mercenaries was smiling at him, and a few even winked and licked their lips in anticipation.

Pevain advanced towards Hasim, his sword held low and his face twisted in a grotesque grin. Hasim had only his kris blade with which to defend himself.

‘Do you yield?’ Pevain asked mockingly.

‘Do you?’ Hasim shot back with venom.

He saw a group of five more knights of the Red enter the hall behind Pevain’s mercenaries and stand in front of the large wooden doors, peering over the men in front.

Pevain didn’t hesitate for more than a second before he lunged forward and aimed a powerful thrust at the Karesian’s chest. He was a huge man and a skilled swordsman, but Hasim was faster and simply rolled to his right and across the wooden table he’d landed on.

Two mercenaries moved to cut him off and Pevain shouted, ‘We can dance around the hall all night, Hasim, but you’re going nowhere.’

Hasim found his feet on the other side of the table and crouched, spun round, and directed a lightning-fast kick at one of the mercenaries. The man’s leg buckled and he fell, letting his longsword clatter to the ground. A second pursuer swung downwards at Hasim but missed as he darted back under the table, grabbing the fallen sword as he did so.

Pevain laughed as he said, ‘The longer you wait the angrier my men will get… and they aren’t gentle when they’re angry. If you give up now, you might make a fine little Karesian wife.’

Hasim moved quickly along the floor as the mercenaries began to circle the table. Swords were swung at him, but either struck wooden chairs or missed entirely. Hasim had no real delusions about escaping, but was not going to give up easily. He did a forward roll out from under the table and knocked another mercenary to the floor as the others moved quickly in pursuit.

Pevain let out a roar of exertion and swung his huge sword downwards at the table between him and Hasim, splintering the wood down the middle. Hasim didn’t turn to engage the huge mercenary knight but instead dived back across the broken table and rolled past him. He was met with a group of knights who had entered the hall from a side door and were brandishing weapons.

Hasim stopped, he was surrounded and out of options. The mercenaries and knights had him encircled and his room for movement was getting smaller and smaller as they penned him in. He held a longsword in one hand and his kris blade in the other, but he was faced with twenty or so Red knights and several dozen mercenaries.

He turned and was met with a powerful punch to the face from Sir Pevain. He felt blood flow from his nose and mouth and lost the strength in his legs for a moment, crumpling to a heap on the floor.

He looked up and rubbed the blood from his face, and saw dark faces loom into view. A kick to the stomach and he lost his breath, a kick to the back and he lost his grip on his weapons, and a kick to the groin and he exhaled sharply and involuntarily curled up into a ball on the stone floor.

‘Don’t kill him, you dogs, we need information from him,’ ordered Rillion. His voice sounded close and Hasim was vaguely aware of him shoving the mercenaries aside. ‘Pevain, control your bastards.’

Hasim was pulled roughly to his feet and received another punch in the face from Pevain, though this time he was held and not allowed to fall. He was shoved between the mercenaries for a few minutes, punched, kicked, insulted and goaded with promises of rape and worse. Then he was thrown against another table and doubled over, wheezing heavily and spitting blood.

Pevain grabbed him by the neck and held him up to his face. ‘Where is the duke’s slut of a daughter? Where did you send her?’

Hasim laughed weakly and spat blood in Pevain’s face. ‘A few kicks and punches I can handle, you sorry excuse for a knight,’ he said, with as much bravado as he could muster.

Another powerful punch to the face and Hasim spat out a tooth and felt his lips and jaw swell up.

Pevain turned back to Rillion and said, ‘My lord, we need to apply a bit more pressure to this Karesian pig-fucker. He’s a tough little bastard.’

Rillion nodded and Hasim was thrown back to the mercenaries.

‘Break him,’ commanded Pevain simply.

He tried to resist, but many hands held him and he was weak and unfocused from the repeated blows to his head and body. He lashed out and struck wildly at the faces around him, but his arms were quickly wrenched behind his back and a forearm was wrapped roughly round his neck. Vile calls came from the mercenaries as they argued who would get to violate him first, and Rillion and his knights simply watched.

Hasim didn’t stop struggling, but he knew he had no chance of resisting as he was punched repeatedly in the stomach and bent over a feast table, his arms held firmly and a rough hand grasping his hair.

Just as he began to pray to Jaa for a swift death, he heard a man shout, ‘Let him go!’

Hasim turned his head and identified the speaker as William of Verellian. The hawk-faced knight captain was standing just inside the great hall with five of his knights, who looked at Pevain’s men with disgust.

‘Not your business, Verellian,’ said Pevain in response.

The captain stepped forward and glared at the huge mercenary. ‘No man will take his payment in blood or flesh. That applies to you and your men. Cage him, imprison him, question him,’ he said with menace, looking directly into Pevain’s eyes, ‘but cause him to bleed again or violate his flesh and I’ll kill you.’

Verellian’s men drew their swords and faced off against the mercenaries, most of whom were decidedly afraid at the sight of Fallon of Leith, a man renowned as one of the finest swordsmen amongst the knights of the Red.

‘Captain,’ barked Rillion, ‘you overstep your bounds. We need information from this man. He’s a criminal and your knightly code does not apply.’

Verellian looked offended, but maintained his composure. ‘Apologies, my lord, but my knightly code applies in all situations and with all prisoners. I will not disobey a direct order from my commander, but neither will I stand down and let these animals cause any more pain to a captive, criminal or not.’

Fallon and Verellian both looked dangerous with their swords drawn, and the men with them would clearly think nothing of killing the mercenaries if they were ordered to do so. Pevain glared at the captain, but his men were unsure, as if they would rather not have to test themselves against true fighting men.

Hasim remained still, but chanced a quick look at Ameira. She was standing behind Rillion, evidently enjoying the confrontation. This was the closest he had been to her since he had arrived in Ro Canarn and he wondered if she knew that he worked for Algenon Teardrop.

Rillion stepped forward to stand next to Pevain, considering what to say to Verellian. He narrowed his eyes and slowly smiled.

‘I’m honestly not sure who would win if I let the two of you fight.’ He sized up the two armoured knights.

Pevain was larger by nearly a foot, but William of Verellian was a hard man and had a reputation as a swordsman who could kill quickly and efficiently. Pevain was younger, though not by much, and the match was even.

William took a step forward and stared up at the mercenary. Lieutenant Fallon let a hard glare play over the faces of the others.

Verellian didn’t move his eyes from Pevain as he spoke to his commander. ‘My Lord Rillion, I will gladly kill this man and all his bastards if it will convince you that the Karesian should be treated with honour.’

Pevain smirked, showing that he wasn’t scared of the Red knight. ‘Commander, let this boy-fucker try and I’ll make him my little whore the same as that Karesian pig.’

Verellian didn’t change his expression as he rammed his forehead into Pevain’s nose. He had to rise on to tiptoes to reach the taller man, but the blow landed solidly and sent Pevain to his knees, clutching his smashed nose.