He flew through the narrow gap between the top of the gate and the arched stone, and landed safely on the other side of the bars, inside the courtyard. The soldiers outside charged for him, but they were stuck, unable to get through.
Erec fell through the air and landed in a role, rolling seamlessly onto his feet and getting his bearings, immediately prepared to attack the soldiers within the courtyard.
The first of several green knights attacked, and Erec knelt down and plunged his sword into the man’s stomach, finding a weak point between where the armor met his waistline-and the man keeled over, dropping a flail, dead.
Erec reached down, grabbed the man’s flail, stood and spun it around, smashing the studded ball into another attacker’s face, knocking him flat on his back. Erec kicked the third attacker in the chest, sending him backwards before he could bring down his ax. He then took a short spear from his belt and hurled it at another attacker, piercing him at the weak point in his armor between his knee and thigh. He then grabbed a small throwing axe from his belt, spun in the other direction and hit the final attacker at the weak point between his shoulder blade and chest, sending him to the ground with a shout.
Erec surveyed the courtyard: five bodies not moving, and for the moment, no more attacking him.
He wasted no time. He took off at a sprint across the courtyard and rushed inside the small castle.
He stood there in its dark and narrow corridors and looked all about, disoriented.
“ALISTAIR!” he screamed out, desperate.
There came no response-except for another attacker, coming around the bend, attacking him with but a moment to spare. This man lunged at Erec from behind with open hands, grabbing for his throat, preferring hand-to-hand combat. Erec grabbed the man’s wrist, bent over and flipped him over his shoulder. He then stepped forward and stepped on the man’s neck.
Another attacker came from behind, and Erec spun and elbowed him in the gut, then grabbed him and threw him headfirst into the wall. The two bodies lay on top of each other in the narrow corridor.
Erec wasted no more time. He chose a direction and turned and ran down the corridor, leading into the heart of the castle. He hoped Alistair was being kept in this direction.
“Alistair!” he leaned back and shrieked again.
“Erec!” came a faint cry.
At first, he could not tell from where it came; but after a moment, the cry came again, louder this time.
“Erec!” came her cry. “Up here!”
Erec turned, saw a flight of spiral stone steps, and ran for them. As he charged, three soldiers came charging down them, all in green armor, swords drawn. Erec reached into his pouch, grabbed a handful of the small, smooth rocks he reserved for his sling, and threw them across the bottom of the stairs, before the feet of these men. They had no time to react, and the three of them stumbled, tumbling end over end, their armor crashing as they hit the ground right before Erec.
Erec stepped aside and let them tumble right past him, not wanting to waste precious time and energy on a confrontation when he didn’t need to, as their own momentum and weight brought them tumbling down, unconscious at the base of the steps.
Erec ran past them, charging up the stairs, up flight after flight. Behind him, in the distance, he could hear the metal gate of the castle beginning to be crashed in by the host of soldiers. He didn’t have much time.
“Alistair!” he screamed out again.
“Erec!” she shrieked back.
Then there came a scream. Her scream. She was in distress.
Erec’s heart pounded and he ran twice as fast.
He reached the top landing and finally heard where the screams were coming from. He turned to his right and charged down the hall, saw an open door at the end and raced for it, hearing the sounds of struggle.
He burst into the room and saw Alistair, her hands bound behind her, and saw an attendant, one of the lord’s men, grabbing her roughly and pushing her towards the open window.
“You will pay for what he did to my master!” the attendant said to her.
The attendant ran with her, racing for the open window, and Erec could see that the man was preparing to hurl her out the window, send her plunging to her death. He could also see that he was too far across the room to reach her in time. He could kill the man afterwards, but he could not save her. She was going to die.
Erec did not hesitate. He racked his brain and came up with an idea. He knew it would risk Alistair’s life to try it, but he had to try: he reached into his waist, grabbed his throwing dagger, leaned back, and prayed to all the gods that he did not miss. If he was off by a hair, the dagger would kill Alistair instead.
Erec leaned forward and threw it, and he watched, his heart stopping, as it flew end over end. He held his breath.
To his great relief, it pierced the man in his throat, and just missed Alistair.
The man let go of her and reached up to his throat, screaming, blood spilling everywhere as he slumped down to the floor.
Alistair stopped right before the window and turned and faced Erec. He ran to her, took out another dagger and cut the ropes binding her hands.
She embraced him, crying hysterically, wrapping her arms tight around him. It felt so good to have her back in his arms.
Erec opened his eyes and looked over her shoulder, and to his surprise he saw the attendant suddenly rise from the floor and get back to his feet, pulling the dagger out of his throat, somehow getting a second wind. He raised the dagger high and charged forward, aiming to bring it down on Alistair’s back.
With a second to spare, Erec threw her out of the way, stepped forward and grabbed the man’s wrist mid-blow. He then yanked the man’s arm behind his back, grabbed him, took three steps forward and threw him face-first out the open window, giving him the same death that he had intended for Alistair.
The man went hurling through the air, screaming, tumbling end over end, until finally he landed on the ground below with a thud, just a few feet from his master.
As Erec looked out the window, he saw a site he did not like: dozens of knights were charging across the bridge, for the castle, pouring in from all over the countryside. They were already beginning to pry it open, to make their way inside. Clearly, this lord had powerful vassals, and they were showing up as they had sworn to.
“There’s another way out,” Alistair said, coming up beside him, watching his gaze. “I noticed it when they brought me here. There is a back way.”
“Show me,” Erec said.
They ran down the corridor, all the way to the opposite end of the castle, and she led them to a corner room, where they looked down out the open window. Erec saw the back of the castle, leading to an open meadow, with no knights in view. She was right. The back entrance was also blocked by an iron gate. Erec realized that if they could get down another way, beyond the gate, they could flee for the countryside and avoid a confrontation with scores of knights. He might win such a confrontation, but there was no way he could keep Alistair and himself safe at the same time. He had to choose the way of least confrontation if he wanted her to survive.
Erec reached down into his waist and pulled out the long bunch of wire he kept tied up. It was a long wire, maybe twenty feet, with a spike at the end of it, which he kept for special occasions, to trip up opponents’ horses. He’d never used it for a purpose like this, and he realized it would not even be long enough to reach the ground-and that it would be a long, hard fall. But he had no choice.
Erec scanned the stone walls outside the window, spotted a metal flag post embedded in the wall, wrapped the metal ball around it, and threw the wire out. It dropped down the castle wall, landing about ten feet short of the ground, and landed on the other side of the castle, beyond the metal gate. If the fall didn’t kill them, it could get them out.