“Now,” Guy told Theron, “give me the blade or both of you will die.”
“Don’t you mean all four?” a voice behind Hadrian said and he looked over to see Mauvin and Fanen coming up the slope spreading out, each with his sword drawn. Mauvin held two, one of which he tossed to Theron, who caught it clumsily.
“Make that five,” Magnus said holding two of his larger hammers in his hands. The dwarf looked over at Hadrian and swallowed hard. “He’s planning on killing me anyway, so why not?”
“There are still eight of us,” Guy pointed out. “Not exactly an even fight.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” Mauvin said. “Sadly, there’s no one else here we can ask to join your side.”
Guy looked at Mauvin then Hadrian for a long moment as the men glared across the ash at each other. Then he nodded and lowered his blade. “Well, I can see I will have to report your misconduct to the archbishop.”
“Go ahead,” Hadrian said. “His body is buried with the rest of them just down the hillside.”
Guy gave him a cold look then turned to walk away, but as he did, Hadrian noticed his shoulder dip unnaturally to his right and his foot pivot, toe out as he stepped. It was a motion Hadrian had taught Theron to watch for, the announcement of an attack.
“Theron!” He shouted, but it was unnecessary, the farmer had already moved and raised his sword even before Guy spun. The sentinel thrust for his heart. Theron was there a second faster and knocked the blade away. Then out of reflex, the farmer shifted his weight forward took a step and performed the combination move Hadrian had drilled into him, parry, pivot, and riposte. He thrust forward, extending, going for reach. The sentinel staggered. He twisted and narrowly avoided being run through the chest, taking the sword thrust in his shoulder. Guy cried out in agony.
Theron stood shocked at his own success.
“Pull it out!” Hadrian and Mauvin both yelled at him.
Theron withdrew the blade and Guy staggered back gripping his bleeding shoulder.
“Kill them!” the sentinel hissed.
The seret knights charged.
Four Knights of Nyphron attacked the Pickering brothers. One rushed Hadrian, another launched himself at Theron, and the last took Magnus. Hadrian knew Theron would not last long against a skilled seret. He drew both his short sword and the bastard and slew the first Knight of Nyphron the moment he came within range. Then he stepped in the path of the second. The knight realized too late he was walking into a vice of two attackers as both Hadrian and Theron cut him down.
Magnus held up his hammers as menacingly as he could, but the little dwarf was clearly no match for the knight and he retreated behind his anvil. As the seret got nearer, he threw one hammer at him, which hit the seret in the chest. It rang off his breastplate, causing no real harm, but it staggered him slightly. Realizing that the dwarf was no threat, the seret turned to face Hadrian who raced at him.
The seret swung down in an arc at Hadrian’s head. Hadrian caught the blade with the short sword in his left hand, holding the knight’s sword arm up as he drove his bastard sword into the man’s unprotected armpit.
Mauvin and Fanen fought together against the four attackers. The elegant rapiers of the Pickerings flew—catching, blocking, slicing, slamming. Every attack turned back, every thrust blocked, every swing answered. Yet the two brothers could only defend. They stood their ground against the onslaught of the armored knights who struggled to find a weakness. Mauvin finally managed to find a moment to jump to the offense and slipped in a thrust. The tip of his blade stabbed into the throat of the seret, dropping him with a rapid jab, but no sooner had he done so than Fanen cried out.
Hadrian watched as a seret sliced Fanen across his sword arm, the blade continuing down to his hand. The younger Pickering’s sword fell from his fingers. Defenseless, Fanen desperately stepped backward, retreating from his two opponents. He tripped on the wreckage and fell. They rushed him, going for the kill.
Hadrian was too many steps away.
Mauvin ignored his own defense to save his brother. He thrust out. In one move, he blocked both attacks on Fanen—but at a cost. Hadrian saw the seret standing before Mauvin thrust. The blade penetrated Mauvin’s side. Instantly the elder Pickering buckled. He fell to his knees with his eyes still on his brother. He could only watch helplessly as the next blow came down. Two swords entered Fanen’s body. Blood coated the blades.
Mauvin screamed. Even as his own assailant began his killing blow, a cross slice aimed at Mauvin’s neck. Mauvin, on his knees, ignored the stroke much to the delight of the seret. What the knight did not see was Mauvin did not need to defend. Mauvin was done defending. He thrust his sword upwards, slicing through the attacker’s rib cage. He twisted the blade as he pulled it out, ripping apart the man’s organs.
The two who had killed his brother turned on Mauvin. The elder Pickering raised his sword again but his side was slick with blood, his arm weak, eyes glassy. Tears streamed down his cheeks. He was no longer focusing. His stroke went wide. The closet knight knocked Mauvin’s sword away and the two remaining seret stepped forward and raised their swords, but that was as far as they got. Hadrian had crossed the distance and Mauvin’s would-be killers’ heads came loose, their bodies dropping into the ash.
“Magnus, get Tomas up here fast.” Hadrian shouted. “Tell him to bring the bandages.”
“He’s dead,” Theron said as he bent over Fanen.
“I know he is!” Hadrian snapped. “And Mauvin will be too if we don’t help him.”
He ripped open Mauvin’s tunic and pressed his hand to his side as the blood bubbled up between his fingers. Mauvin lay panting, sweating. His eyes rolled up in his head revealing their whites.
“Damn you, Mauvin!” Hadrian shouted at him. “Get me a cloth. Theron get me anything.”
Theron grabbed one of the seret who had killed Fanen and tore off his sleeve.
“Get more!” he shouted. He wiped Mauvin’s side finding a small hole spewing bright red blood. At least it was not the dark blood, which usually meant death. He took the cloth and pressed it against the wound.
“Help me sit him up,” Hadrian said as Theron returned with another strip of cloth. Mauvin was a limp rag now. His head slumped to one side.
Tomas came running up, his arms filled with long strips of cloth that Lena had given him. They lifted Mauvin, and Tomas tightly wrapped the bandages around his torso. The blood soaked through the cloth, but the rate of bleeding had lessened.
“Keep his head up,” Hadrian ordered and Tomas cradled him.
Hadrian looked over at where Fanen lay. He was on his back in the dirt, a dark pool of blood still growing around his body. Hadrian gripped his swords with blood soaked hands and stood up.
“Where’s Guy?” he shouted through clenched teeth.
“He’s gone,” Magnus answered. “During the fight he grabbed a horse and ran.”
Hadrian stared back down at Fanen and then at Mauvin. He took a breath and it shuddered in his chest.
Tomas bowed his head and said the Prayer of the Departed:
“ Unto Maribor, I beseech thee
Into the hands of god, I send thee
Grant him peace, I beg thee