Dark shadows suddenly fell over the hall; scattered thoughts brought hesitant glances to vaulted windows set high along the east and western walls. The windows were designed to fill the chamber with light from dawn to dusk. It could not already be nightfall, thought Captain Brodst. “Had the battle lasted that long?” he wondered.
“Geoffrey. We must reach Geoffrey first!” yelled the captain.
The four surged forward, straight into the onslaught of their assailants. Captain Brodst wasn’t surprised at all as he watched Midori hold her own in battle. She had, after all, learned from the same master he had although matched daggers offered no reach compared to a full-handed sword.
Lord Fantyu bit back the pain in his side, and vaulted into the enemy. At least now the invaders were dividing. King Jarom had ordered all available men to chase down and capture Lord Serant and Princess Calyin. The scorn rang evident in his words as his voice boomed over the top of the cacophony of battle.
Geoffrey was also grateful for the slight reprieve, but the advantage was still on the side of the enemy. Words muddled in his mind as his frenzied thoughts slowed. He still did not think he would survive, nor did he hope to, but now he would surely take more of the vile wretches with him.
As the mass of bodies thinned out, Geoffrey saw Lord Fantyu and the good captain for the first time. “Flee!” he shouted to them, “Flee!” although now with both exits fairly secured, he knew the opportunity was gone. Captain Brodst lowered his head for a moment; they were going nowhere.
Midori reached out with her mind, straining to find the will of the Mother. Her consciousness still spun with disbelief at the absence; how could the Mother abandon them in their time of need? As dark shadows lighted over the hall a second time, she hesitated, but slowly her attention was drawn westward, up the raised rows and beyond to the vaulted windows. The sun was indeed setting.
Wearily, Lord Fantyu raised his sword; the clash sent his body reeling. His knees wanted to collapse under his weight, but he strained to hold on. A second blade reached for him; Fantyu moved to block, but he was too slow to recover. He moved to dodge, but he was struck full in the mid-section. Although the gleam of victory was in his opponents’ eyes, Lord Fantyu did not lower his gaze.
Captain Brodst’s eyes were wide with rage as his blade crushed downward; the two forces collided. Brodst’s blow was clearly stronger; he drove through, severing the opposing weapon unmercifully from the other man’s hands. The contempt was evident upon his face as he plunged the tip of his sword deep. He watched as the man fell, careful to move around him as he toppled, making his way to his next foe.
Catrin grimaced as she dodged an attack. She was quick to send her daggers home into the man’s gut, thrusting upward to reach his heart. Her first blade found its mark as did the second. She laughed as his blood ran bright down her hands to the floor. She held no pity for his soul; she would make them pay for their evil deeds.
Geoffrey sidestepped a blow while he parried a second. He fought to gain back the offensive, but he couldn’t get any blows past the two who blocked his every move. A third moved to his side. Geoffrey stopped just short of tossing an elbow into the man’s chest. “Captain Brodst, you old son of a wood troll!” he yelled.
Lord Fantyu wavered as his thrust was knocked harmlessly back at him. He perceived a presence to his left and right, Midori and Catrin, but he knew they were too late. He was beyond their help. His countenance held firm, almost regal, as he raised his sword to counter one last time. A surge of adrenaline swept over him as he launched himself full onto the enemy before him.
Two blades sank deep, piercing cleanly through, reaching outward, as Lord Fantyu fell upon the other. A trickle of blood pouring from his mouth spoke of his demise, but the smile held to his lips as he looked into the eyes of the one who lay beneath him. His aim had been true. He breathed in his last breath.
A tear fell from Midori, rolling crystalline down her cheek. She knew without a doubt that Lord Fantyu had passed. The remorse on her face was quickly banished, as she immediately moved to re-engage. She had paused only an instant to say a prayer to the Mother and to the Father. She hoped they would still hear her words even if their will did not walk through her.
Both Geoffrey’s and the captain’s minds were jolted with a burst of speed and anxiety. They had seen Lord Fantyu fall; similar thoughts moved through their minds. The military mind within them carefully tallied the odds: now they only numbered four.
Midori raised her voice to a pitched, venomous screech, the effects of which were not lost on those around her. Even the most stalwart of figures cringed as the sound pierced their ears. Steadfast, Midori turned the instant’s hesitation into an advantage as she lunged. Daggers level, she descended upon her prey, evil justice in her eyes.
King Jarom stood and turned to face Midori. “Kill her!” he shouted to his henchmen, “Kill her now!” Jarom feared those of the Mother as much as he feared the dark priests, both of which had their uses at the proper time. But now was not the proper time, and he had no use for their sort. He would have his fun with the priests they had captured.
He chuckled as he watched his men turn with new vigor. The attack was taking longer than he had planned, but he liked its progression thus far. In a short while, the kingdom, all its subjects and domains, would be his. He would make sure there were no heirs, apparent or otherwise; even now his servants sought out all those of royal lineage.
“Finish this. I grow weary!” he barked at his remaining bodyguards save two, which he motioned should stay. Afterwards he also sent his captain to urge those following Lord Serant and Princess Calyin. King Jarom smiled and turned to the other kings. All save one were calm. “Do not fear, King William, I hold no grudges.”
King Jarom smiled as he walked over and patted King William on the back. “All is forgotten,” said Jarom as he lifted his jeweled stiletto from its sheath. King Jarom fiddled with the blade in his hand while he stood behind King William. He watched as William thumped his fingers against the tabletop. William lurched in his seat as Jarom placed his hands back onto William’s shoulder. William sighed in relief and his heartbeat returned to normal.
Catrin spun around and clipped the arm of her opponent, her blade visibly raking into his leathered armor. The man’s blade fell to the ground as the tendons in his hand were severed. A gasp of pain came from his mouth. Catrin was quick to follow through with a second slice to the jugular, ending the dispute.
Geoffrey signaled a series of short, defensive retreats so the four could better handle the additional onslaught, which, when coupled with those streaming in from the hall, was utterly overwhelming. It took concerted effort just to make the retreat effective. His eyes sought out a place in the room, which offered little maneuvering; his only hopes were to draw out their demise.
Captain Brodst began kicking chairs at those who covered their retreat, carefully making sure to maintain his balance as he dropped back over the body-strewn floor. As he had a few seconds to think, he reflected that he did not regret his life; he had lived fully. He hoped with all his heart that the lord and the princess had found escape.
Catrin staggered backwards as she slipped across the floor. One of her daggers fell from her grasp and bumped across the floor. She was quick to recover and turned in wild retreat, striving to catch up to the others. As she turned, she caught a blade mid-shoulder, which stunned her to her knees. Her hand stretched out, but no one could help her now; she was beyond them.
Midori stopped cold, and whipped the blade in her hand around to feel the tip between her fingers. She scoffed as she withdrew her hand, and flung it at the warrior who stood so gallant retracting his blade from his victim. The blade caught him clean, low on his neck, just above his armored collar.
The three withdrew all the way to the farthest reaches of the room, fighting their way up the raised platforms, up the rows of benches, to where they did not know. All options suddenly came to a halt as they reached the far wall; there was no place left to go. Geoffrey grimaced as he realized that he had backed into the wall.
“Till the end!” he shouted, as he threw his blade aside. He reached his hands out wide, ready to embrace all those that came near. He hurled himself downward, putting all his strength into the vault, and adding all his weight to the force. As he slammed head first into the closest two, they sent a shock wave rippling down to the last bench, knocking them down along with all in their path.
The waning light suddenly gave way as the last rays of light disappeared with the sun beyond the horizon. The room fell to darkness and shadows, as the glare from the windows above faded with the light. A loud ruckus broke to a roar, immediately following.
“Till the end!” shouted Geoffrey, as he lifted himself up off the floor, bringing his fists into contact with anything available. He flailed wildly about himself, hitting anything and everything around him. A brawl broke out around him, and as none could see in the darkness, no one knew who was hitting whom.
“Get them! Kill them!” shouted Jarom, infuriated. He moved close to the two guards beside him, quickly groping his way back to a chair, and a feeling of relative safety. His curses grew above the noise of the fighting, inciting anger into the minds of those who listened. His voice raised, ranting and raving louder, demanding torches be brought in at once, threatening all who failed him with immediate punishment.
Minutes later, the first torches were carried in from the adjacent halls. King William smirked at the collapse of Jarom’s bravado, which even in the shadows was garish. King Jarom was quick to plant the apex of his stiletto dead center between William’s eyes, sending him reeling backwards, flailing his arms, dead as he dropped.
Geoffrey had edged his way out of the fight, under the cover of darkness, moving skillfully on his hands and knees. As the torchlight brought sight to those around him, he was caught. He poised his eyes pleading up to the heavens, raising his hands, and shrugging his shoulders.
“Not this day!” he yelled to Jarom as he leaped to his feet and up to the captain and Midori, who had been standing at the ready, waiting in the darkness for whatever came their way. Geoffrey clasped his hands together, “Up you go!” he indicated to Midori.
“Where?”
“Hurry, put your foot into my hands. Don’t ask questions. Just do it.”
The puzzled look on Captain Brodst’s face vanished as realization hit him. His countenance changed to an expression that said, “Are you kidding?” But he was quick to assist Midori up to the sill. Afterwards, he stood motionless for a heartbeat. His eyes moved to those that were only seconds away from them. Captain Brodst interlaced his fingers and said, “Go!”
Geoffrey shrugged his shoulders, “No. Set your blade there, and be quick about it!” Geoffrey had snapped it at the captain like an order, to which Captain Brodst was quick to respond, not because he wanted to, but on impulse.
“But where do we go from there?” asked Captain Brodst, as Geoffrey boosted him up. As Captain Brodst moved upward, clenching his fingers against the wall, pulling himself also upward, his face reflected his confusion. His face also reflected his gratitude.
“The choice is yours!” shouted Geoffrey in response, as he grasped the captain’s sword.