按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Chlod fell away from the wall with a gasp； scrambling backwards。 He heard footsteps inside the
stable； and the horses and ponies began whinnying and kicking in their stalls。 His master’s warhorse was
trembling； ears flat against its skull。
A scream close by made him jump。 It was cut short； ending in the strangled gargle of someone dying。
Chlod’s breathing was coming in frantic gasps； and his hands were shaking。 Creeping forwards； he
peered around the corner of the stall； looking out towards the entrance to the stables。 He saw a handful
of hunched peasants making their way up the aisle towards him。 Their heads were low and swung from
side to side； like dogs seeking a scent。 He ducked back into the stall before he was seen。
‘Ranald； protect me；’ he said under his breath； invoking the trickster god of luck； benefactor of
thieves； gamblers and ne’er…do…wells the Old World over。 He turned around on the spot； undecided as
to his best course of action。 He considered hiding under the loose straw on the floor； but there wasn’t
enough to adequately conceal him； and the peasants would surely sniff him out。 He thought about
mounting his master’s warhorse and riding free； but he doubted that he would have been able to haul
himself up upon its back anyway； let alone ride it。 And if he did somehow survive； his master would
surely see him hang for sullying the noble beast。
He backed away into the far corner of the stall； edging past the powerful destrier。 The horse’s
muscles were twitching； it knew that predators approached。 The feral peasants would be only yards
away now； and Chlod bit his lip； indecision paralysing him。
A shadow appeared in the open stall gate； and the warhorse shuffled uneasily； snorting。 Without
thinking； Chlod slapped the horse hard on the rump。
‘Yah！’ he shouted； and the warhorse reared； smashing the stall gate to splinters。 It leapt forwards；
hooves clattering loudly； and Chlod glimpsed several figures throwing themselves aside。 The destrier
slipped on the cobblestones and half…fell； before righting itself and bolting for the courtyard。
Grabbing his spiked club from his meagre pile of belongings； Chlod dropped to hands and knees and
started crawling frantically under the barriers separating the stalls。 As he scrabbled through the rotten
straw and horse manure； he saw the slapping feet of the feral peasants running up the aisle。
He was almost trampled by an immense draught horse in one stall and barely avoided being kicked
by a panicked pony in another。 With a deep breath he hurled himself under the last barrier and scrambled
to his feet； glancing behind him for signs of pursuit。
He nearly ran headlong into one of the peasants； who was crouched over the body of the stableboy。
It was feeding； mouth caked with blood。 Chlod could not halt his forward momentum； and bowled into
the cannibalistic peasant。 His knee cracked it in the face； and Chlod was sent sprawling on the ground at
the stable’s entrance。
In a heartbeat he was back on his feet and running。 He risked a glance behind him and saw the
peasant stagger to its feet。 It leapt after him； hair streaming wildly as it bounded along on all fours。 More
of the cannibalistic inbreds were streaming through the open gates； and Chlod saw right away that he had
no chance of escape there。 He angled his awkward； limping run towards the inn itself； knowing that his
best chance of survival now lay with Calard。
‘Master！’ he screamed as he ran。 ‘Master！’
At any moment he expected to be dragged down； but he made it across the courtyard and staggered
up onto the inn’s covered stoop； breathing hard。 He was just feet from the door when a weight landed on
his back； bearing him to the ground。 The air exploded from his lungs and he lost his grip on his spiked
maul； which clattered out of reach。
He was pinned to the ground； and though he fought like a wild animal； he could not dislodge the
hissing peasant。 Bony hands grasped his skull； and he felt nails biting deep into his scalp。 He screamed
wordlessly； neck muscles straining to resist as his head was lifted high； then slammed down with brutal
force。 White hot pain blossomed。 Dazed； Chlod registered his head being lifted again。 In moments； his
skull would be pulverised； his brain matter splattered across the stoop。
Blinking heavily； unable to focus； he vaguely saw the door to the inn swing open before him。 He saw
a shadow emerge； and a flash of silver。
Calard took the peasant’s head off with a double…handed sweep of his broadsword。 The headless
corpse slumped forwards over Chlod； blood pumping from its neck。
‘Up！’ shouted Calard； grabbing Chlod by back of his flea…ridden tunic and dragging him to his feet。
His manservant’s legs were unsteady； unable yet to support his weight； and he flopped back to the
ground； struggling to focus。 Blood was dripping from his forehead。 Swearing； Calard adjusted his grip on
his manservant； then hurled him bodily through the door of the inn。 He kicked the club through after him；
then spun back to face the courtyard as three rabid peasants hurled themselves at him。
He cut the first down with a heavy blow that shattered its ribcage； and sliced the second from groin
to sternum with the return sweep。 The third leapt on him； scratching and biting； but he threw it off；
sending it crashing into the wall of the inn。 It dropped to its knees； and before it could recover Calard
stepped in close and brought the pommel of his sword down onto its head； killing it instantly。
Seeing dozens of the creatures swarming across the courtyard towards him； Calard stepped back
inside the inn and slammed the door shut。 He threw his weight against it。
‘Chlod； the locks！’
A heavy impact struck the door； almost dislodging Calard。 He gritted his teeth as his heels began
sliding across the floor。 The door was forced open a fraction； and claw…like hands reached around the
edge。
Chlod picked up his spiked cudgel from the floor and bashed at the clutching hands； breaking bones
and crushing fingers。
The door slammed shut and Chlod slid first the upper lock home； then the lower one。 Breathing hard；
Calard stepped away from the door； his sword levelled towards it。 It shook violently； but held。
‘What in Morr’s name is going on？’ came a slurred a voice。 Calard looked over his shoulder to see
one of Merovech’s knights stumbling down the stairs； a drawn blade in his hands。 He was clearly still the
worse for wear from the night’s drinking； and he was followed by several of his comrades； all in various
stages of dishevelment。 Other guests of the inn were emerging from their rooms； their faces drawn and
pale。
‘We are besieged；’ said Calard。
The banging at the door subsided； and Calard edged towards it； listening intently。
‘How did they get into the compound？’ said one of the knights。
‘Someone let them in； most likely；’ said Calard； glancing around。 ‘The innkeeper would be my guess。
’
‘What？’ said a voice。 ‘Why would you say that？’
‘Do you see him here； or any of his staff？’ said Calard； gesturing around him。 ‘They are probably all
holed up in the gatehouse。’
‘The bastard’s sold us out to Mortis；’ growled one of Merovech’s knights。 At mention of the name；
Chlod whimpered。
Several of the other guests began to speak at once； their voices rising in panic。
‘Quiet；’ snapped Calard。
In the ensuing silence； they could all hear shuffling around the exterior of the inn。 There were scuffling
noises at the walls； and Calard looked up。
‘They are going for the second floor windows；’ shouted someone； and Calard quickly looked around
him。 There were over half a dozen armed men in the main room of the inn now。
‘You three；’ he said； jabbing a finger a cluster of men holding weapons。 ‘Get upstairs and barricade
the windows。’
‘I’ll be damned if I take orders from–’ snarled one of them； but Calard cut him off。
‘Do it！’ he thundered。 The man looked like he was going to argue； but the others saw sense in Calard
’s words； and hurried up the stairs。 Calard gestured towards other men with his sword。 ‘Get those tables
on their sides to block the windows！ You and you； help me slide this one in front of the door！’
Unseen by Calard； Raben staggered unsteadily down the stairs into the common room； one hand
pressed to his temple。 He had a sword in his hand； and his eyes burned with cold fury。 He moved
purposefully towards Calard as he heaved at a heavy oak table； positioning it to block the front door。
A shuttered window suddenly exploded inwards amid a shower of splinters； and feral peasants began
clawing their way through； howling and braying like demented madmen。 A table propped against another
window was shoved aside； and more of the cannibalistic rabble began clambering inside。
‘For the Lady！’
Calard leapt forwards and brought his sword down on the head of the first peasant to scramble
through； cleaving its skull down to the teeth； spraying blood。
He smashed another peasant back with the pommel of his sword； but dozens more were straining to
get in。 He could hear banging from upstairs； but that was soon drowned out by shouting； the clash of
weapons and the sickly sound of blades hacking into flesh and bone。
Hands clawed for him and he stepped swiftly away from the door； slashing with his sword。 A clutch
of fingers dropped to the floor； twitching。
Chlod backed off； looking around frantically for an escape route。 He ran behind the bar and tugged
at the cellar door； but he could not lift it。
The front door was ripped off its hinges and tossed aside suddenly； and a flood of peasants streamed
in； scrambling over the table slid up against it。 Some carried crude clubs and rusted farm implements；
while others seemed intent on killing with nothing more than tooth and claw。
Chlod dropped to the floor and crawled under the bar； trying to make himself as inconspicuous as
possible。
Calard found himself fighting side by side with Raben and two other men。 Despite the knock Calard
had given him； the outcast knight fought with poise and control。 He was fast and deadly； his timing
impeccable。 Calard was careful not to turn his back on him。
The devolved peasants came on like a living tide； scrabbling over tables and sending chairs flying；
forcing Calard and Raben back against the bar。 For every one of their number that was cut down； two
more squeezed through the windows and clambered through the gaping door。
The room was filled with their stink； a mixture of sweat； rotting meat and wet soil。
It was not long before they started to attack down the inn’s stairs。
‘They’ve taken the upper floor；’ said Calard。
One of Raben’s knights was knocked to the ground and brained with what looked like a human
thigh…bone。
‘This is hopeless；’ growled Raben。 ‘There are too many of them！’
‘I have no intention of dying here；’ said Calard； kicking a twitching corpse off his blade。 ‘The Lady is
with me。’
Raben ran another peasant through； then spat derisively。 ‘The Lady forsook this place long ago。’
One by one； the inn’s defenders were dragged down； their heads smashed in with sticks and their
throats ripped out with blood…stained teeth。 The peasants descended on them like starved beasts； and
screams rang out from those not yet dead when the cannibals began their gory feast。
‘There must be another way out；’ shouted Calard； now fighting back to back with Raben。 The notion
of fleeing from mere peasants wrenched at his sense of pride； but it would not serve the Lady’s purpose
if he died here。
Calard was wielding his bastard sword in one hand now； and had drawn the Sword of Garamont
with his other。
A screeching； near naked peasant leapt at Calard from atop the bar； its body scrawny and
malnourished。 Calard cut it down in midair； and it fell in a bloody heap to the floor。 Calard glanced
around him； getting a sense of their position within the common room。
‘The kitchen；’ he said； indicating towards it with a nod。 ‘That’s our best chance。 There must be a
back door。’
Both Calard and Raben were splattered with blood； and while most of it was not their own； neither
man was uninjured。 Raben risked a quick glance back towards the kitchen。 It was at least ten yards
away； and they were now completely surrounded。
‘We