The Kinshra warrior cried out as Kara ran her blade deep into his chest, his armour no hindrance to her weapon.
Without pausing, she leapt to Theodore’s side to confront the squire’s two opponents, whilst from behind them Doric hurled his hand-axe at the first of their foes, stunning him. But the two men behind leapt over their comrade without slowing. As the dwarf readied his axe, a blazing red ball of flame struck the nearest attacker squarely in the chest, setting him alight.
The man ran wildly away, shrieking in horror, trailing the smell of burning flesh.
The last of the Kinshra, outnumbered, turned to flee, but Doric leapt after him, his axe cutting deeply into the back of the soldier’s calves. The man howled as he fell and Doric silenced him with a vicious blow.
“That’s the last of them for now!” Theodore called, for the squire’s two enemies had fallen quickly and without mercy at Kara’s hand. He peered at her strangely.
“Do not look at me like that, Theodore” she chastised. “These people deserve the same mercy they offered others. Others like my family.” There was anger in her eyes, and a hunger for revenge.
“And what of him? Are you going to kill him also?” Theodore demanded, pointing to the man whom Doric’s hand-axe had stunned. The man lay prone, unmoving, but he was still alive.
Kara put her sword to his throat and gritted her teeth.
“Don’t do it Kara,” Arisha warned. “Killing in battle is one thing, but what you are about to do is quite different.”
A horn sounded in the courtyard, drawing their attention away from their unconscious enemy.
“We must ride out now” Theodore insisted, watching the Kinshra gather. “If we leave it any longer there will be too many of them.”
“We are ready to go,” Brother Althric said wearily. “Every man who is still able is ready to ride.”
The wind changed suddenly, carrying the heat of the raging fires toward the stables. With a blistering crackle the flames found new thatch to consume.
“It is the archives” one of the monks moaned in despair. “The archives will burn. All our labours will have been for nothing.”
The words felt like daggers piercing Kara’s skin. Looking at the flames, she made a decision.
“I am going to get the records,” she cried. “If you have to go, then go without me-but I will not let the Kinshra win again!” She gripped her sword and ran into the courtyard before anyone could stop her.
A Kinshra soldier shouted out in alarm and several men ran to intercept her.
“Come on!” Theodore yelled, running after her. The small group split, with Gar’rth and even Castimir refusing to heed Doric’s cries of warning in their eagerness to help Kara.
“Impetuous youths!” the dwarf called out, knowing that her rash action had likely condemned them all. With an oath he followed them, leaving behind a fearful Ebenezer who watched discreetly from behind the wooden paling, deep in thought.
The first man who tried to seize Kara died before he could even touch her. He saw her blonde hair and noted her slight frame, and with a brutal arrogance he underestimated his foe. Her sword edge sliced across his throat. Without waiting for him to fall she ran past, Gar’rth following close behind her.
Then Theodore, yelling an ancient battle cry of the knights, charged into the midst of the invaders. He made straight for the largest of the enemy but quickly the Kinshra warrior parried his sword thrust, slipping his own blade beneath the squire’s shield to stab him in the side.
Theodore screamed.
But even as the sword tip stabbed through his leather armour, the Kinshra warriors were put to flight. His blue robes flailing behind him as he ran, Castimir hurled red flames from his hands, scattering the enemy. Doric followed, hurling his hand-axe with unerring accuracy, felling a Kinshra foot soldier as the sharp edge embedded itself in the man’s forehead.
And then there was Gar’rth, who carried no weapon. One of the Kinshra lunged toward him but he was too quick, sidestepping the foot soldier’s thrust and hitting him with all his strength. The man went down at once, a sickening crack sounding from his jaw.
“Follow Kara!” Doric yelled to Gar’rth as he leapt toward Theodore, putting the wounded squire behind him so he could face the big warrior in his stead.
The dwarf ducked and parried the warrior’s attacks, buying time for Theodore to overcome his pain and rejoin the fray. The squire’s blade intercepted his enemy’s thrust. Seizing the advantage, Doric drove his axe into the man’s calves, felling him instantly.
Theodore stepped over the soldier, an angry glare in his eye.
“For Saradomin!” he declared, and ran the man through in a single thrust, putting his weight onto his sword to drive it through the man’s armour and into the soft earth beneath.
“They are regrouping” Ebenezer called out in warning. He ran out to support a weary Castimir who had spent much of his strength with his magical fire and was clearly exhausted.
“I’m not sure if I can go on,” the young wizard wheezed.
“You have to, Castimir,” the old man said, squeezing his hand in support. “For all our sakes!”
FORTY-NINE
Sulla watched the battle from the saddle of his horse.
“My friend, your enemies are before you. Do you wish to avenge yourself upon them?”
He lowered his gaze to the werewolf who stood beside him and noted how haggard the monster looked. Perhaps the strain of forcing his way over the holy barrier had been too great an effort.
“Very well.” The werewolf spoke slowly, pulling the cowl farther across his face and striding forward.
The heat from the fires radiated down into the courtyard, warming Theodore uncomfortably. He noticed with alarm how the roaring flames had swept dangerously close to the archives.
“Kara?” he called out, his voice unable to overcome the blistering cries of the wooden beams or the crackle of burning thatch.
It shouldn’t have taken Kara and Gar’rth so long to rescue the archives. He was tempted to run in after her, but Doric’s warning cry held him back.
“It’s him! He’s here!” The dwarf cried. His companions looked to the lone figure who was striding toward them-the one who had inspired the dwarf’s terror.
“The werewolf!” Doric shouted.
The figure stopped several yards in front of them, standing absolutely still.
“You were lucky to survive last time, creature” Doric shouted, readying his two hand-axes.
“As were you, dwarf,” came the guttural reply. “Only the intervention of the girl saved you. Tell me, where is she? And where is Gar’rth?”
No one spoke, and the werewolf reached up with his hands, pulling back the cowl to expose his face to the onlookers.
“You cannot win” the werewolf said. “If you give me Gar’rth and the girl, then the rest of you may leave here. Sulla has given his word.”
“You would ask us to give up our friends?” Theodore spoke with disdain. “The reputation of the Kinshra is well-known to us. Sulla will not honour his word!”
“Very well” the creature said flatly. With deliberate slowness he pushed up his sleeves.
Theodore knew only Kara’s blade had been sharp enough to pierce the unearthly hide, but now they had Castimir at their side. The squire was certain that the werewolf was not impervious to magic, yet he had seen how weak Castimir had become from his previous exertions.
He needed to buy the wizard time to recover his strength.
“Wait!” he uttered as the creature stepped forward. “If you intend to fight us, then you can grant me a moment to answer a question. Who is Gar’rth? Why is he so important to you?”
The werewolf halted, his eyes glowing in thought.
“You cannot understand the customs of my people, human,” he growled. “Gar’rth has disgraced his family by his cowardice. He has refused to accept our way of life, refusing to be blooded when he came of age. The lords of our land wish him returned so he can be forced to embrace our ways and become one of us.”