“And what of the others?” Sulla asked, eager to unleash his soldiers.
“The girl is also to be handed over to me, for she has caused me great injury.” The werewolf held his hand in front of Sulla’s face and again the lord of the Kinshra noted the missing fingers.
“She did that to you?”
“She got very lucky in Falador” Jerrod growled. “I was playing with my food, and she must have heard me in the darkness.” He pulled his long sleeve over his hand. “She should not have been able to see me, much less strike as she did.”
“I thought normal blades couldn’t harm you?” Sulla asked suddenly.
“Not unless they are wielded by a strong or skilled enemy, but she doesn’t wield a normal weapon. It is a stronger and sharper blade, and could cut through most armour with ease.”
Sulla thought back to his encounter with the blonde-haired girl who had ambushed his men. She had fought with ferocity, and the sword she had used had easily cut through the armour of his soldiers. Could it be the same girl?
Could this be the girl the sybil has warned me against? he wondered grimly. The one who invades my dreams?
“Tell me, my friend, this girl-what exactly does she look like?”
Ebenezer’s head pounded from the blast. His vision was blurred as he looked for his companions, peering through the murky light. One by one they crawled swiftly from under whatever protection they had found.
The alchemist himself had ducked behind one of the fountains, for his heavy pack and his aged limbs had not allowed him enough time to find anything better.
And he had been lucky. He had been so lucky he laughed hysterically. A shell had landed a short distance from him, impacting in the soft earth of a once-pristine flowerbed, its fuse sputtering wildly. Ebenezer had done the only thing he could think of-he had suffocated the flame with a clod of damp earth, holding it tightly over the burning fuse. And it had not gone off.
A moment later, a second shell had landed directly in front of him, splashing into the fountain and spraying his face with water. It, too, had failed to detonate.
“I’m living on borrowed time,” he breathed to himself as he attempted to pick up the shell that had landed by his side. It was heavier than he had expected, and hot. To overcome the heat he wrapped it in a discarded cloth that he retrieved from the nearby body of a monk who had been far less fortunate.
Castimir ran to his side and pulled him towards the safety of the stables.
“The monks are ready to go,” the wizard shouted.
“The town of Edgeville is closest,” Ebenezer answered. “If we can break out then we should turn east. It is a day’s journey away.”
Suddenly a huge explosion sounded from the southern end of the courtyard. The wooden gates were blasted off their hinges, sending deadly splinters flying in all directions.
As the smoke cleared a single rider appeared through the haze. A large black-armoured warrior on a heavy warhorse stared at the survivors. With a cry, he lowered his visor to shield his face, digging his spurs into his horse as he did so. At once the animal leapt forward and galloped into the courtyard. At least a dozen armoured warriors followed their leader, with as many men again running in behind them.
“What are we going to do?” Castimir asked in a panicky voice.
“Scatter!” Doric said quickly. The dwarf didn’t wait for the others to respond-he swiftly ran to the cover of the stables, his efforts inspiring action in his companions.
Castimir’s fear forced him to act quickly. Unconsciously his hand dipped into a pouch on his belt, then another. He hurled a ball of red flame at the foremost Kinshra warrior. His aim, although inaccurate, caused the man’s horse to turn suddenly in fright, confusing the charge behind. His magic had bought them valuable time.
“They aren’t attacking us” Theodore said, watching as the Kinshra rounded up two prisoners near the wreck of the gate. “What are they using the monks for?”
The answer came a second later. The monks were herded to the entrance. Although Theodore’s sight was obscured by the Kinshra horsemen, he could tell by their savage cries and the vicious thuds of heavy axes that the monks had been slain. He held a hand to his mouth as comprehension sank in.
“We are going to have to fight for our lives” he shouted to his friends. “They have killed the monks near the gate-they mean to kill us all!”
“Then they shall have a heavy price to pay” Doric growled, his eyes burning in righteous rage.
The rest of the companions stood silently, their grim faces removing the need for them to speak. They all knew Theodore was right.
“The entrance to the monastery has been defiled by the blood of the monks.” The man spoke to Sulla with breathless excitement, the heat of the raid instilling a passion that flared brightly.
Sulla smiled.
“Then take our friend to the monastery and allow him his fun.”
“Is there any sign of Gar’rth, or the girl?” the werewolf asked the messenger. The man hesitated, peering suspiciously at the tattered figure, then answered.
“Yes” he said. “They have taken cover near the stables at the rear of the courtyard. The men have refrained from attacking them, as you instructed.”
Sulla nodded.
“I would like the girl alive,” he said, his hand resting firmly on the chest of the werewolf.
The creature drew back his lips in a gleeful snarl.
“I shall keep her alive for you, Sulla. Together we shall design a fittingly slow end for her!” Without another word he stalked toward the monastery’s shattered gate.
The raiding party had lost what discipline it had once possessed. The leather-clad footsoldiers advanced toward the end of the courtyard to assault the monks who cowered near the stables.
There was a small paling near the stables, and the first soldier who advanced on it expected no resistance. He had no time to raise his guard as Theodore ran him through. The squire looked into the man’s eyes as he died, sliding from Theodore’s blade soundlessly.
“I killed him,” Theodore said, his face suddenly pale. He turned to his companions. “I just killed a man! I’ve never killed anyone before.” Suddenly he felt very sick.
“He would have killed you if you had not,” Doric muttered, his expression grim.
Ebenezer caught his look and nodded discreetly. The alchemist turned to his friends, speaking in low tones.
“We must fight. All of us! And we can have no qualms about killing these murderers, for if any of you hesitate then you will die today.” He turned to face the squire. “Theodore, you are a trained warrior of Falador-now is the time when all your learning will come into use. Castimir, you are a wizard in the real world now-your power is going to be important to keep the enemy at bay. Kara, you must ensure that Gar’rth stays close to us.”
A faint moan from Abbot Langley caught their attention. He lipped toward them pale-faced, clutching Arisha’s wrist for support.
“Gar’rth” he stammered, “you must not be afraid to fight. It is only the blood of innocents that you must fear to spill. These men are not innocent!”
The youth seemed to understand, and he nodded, moving forward to stand beside Theodore. Behind him stood Doric, his axe ready, and farther back, his runes ready, Castimir waited.
But now the Kinshra attack was renewed with increased ferocity. With terrifying yells, six of the leather-armoured foot soldiers charged amongst them, hacking wildly in their anger.
Theodore was the first to bar their way. With a cry he smashed the nearest with his shield and slashed at another man’s hands, severing fingers and forcing his enemy to drop his sword with a scream. He heard Kara yelling wildly at his side as she fought the third, the ring of adamant on steel echoing as swords clashed, and he heard the sharp crack as the steel weapon was severed in two.