The Scourge of Muirwood (Legends of Muirwood 3)

Jouvent shook his head warningly at her, his eyes quailing with fear and pain.

Lia’s stomach wrenched with knots as she approached the knights. She knew she had to be unpredictable – throw them off their guard. She glanced towards the nearest window and wondered if she would have the strength to break it as well as fling herself out of it in time. The scattered tables and chairs would assist her, offering cover and opportunities to distract them. She had absolutely no intention of going with them.

“That is wise, lass,” the leader said, his chin and neck thick and muscled, but he was clean-shaven.

As she approached she gave Huette a reassuring gesture. “I thank thee for thy hospitality,” she said in port speech. Then she looked at the man holding Jouvent and said simply, “It is a wonder, captain, that you only brought five.”

“Why even bring five when only one will do?” he replied tauntingly. His eyes suddenly glowed silver and that was when she noticed the whorl of tattoos crawling up his neck.

His will reached out and clamped around her mind, sending a gush of fear and panic inside her heart. It swelled her anxiety a hundred fold, and even though she knew her emotions were being manipulated, the feelings were real – like a night terror that will not fade after waking.

Lia stomped on the nearest man’s foot, so hard and so sudden she felt his bone snap, and he howled with pain and dropped to the floor. Whirling as fast as she could, she dropped low into a crouch and bashed another knight’s manhood with her fist and as he crumpled, she reversed the blow, bringing her knuckles up as he bent over, smashing his nose. Already two were incapacitated, but the other three had managed to draw their blades and fan out around her.

“Do not kill her!” the leader said, his eyes glowing. His will crushed against hers, trying to force her to cower before him. It may have worked on a weaker person. It may have worked on every other person he had used his kystrel against. Though she experienced the surge of fear, it did not overcome her.

She drew her gladius and dagger in a fluid motion. “Do not expect the same terms from me,” she said threateningly, hoping he would not hear the tremor in her voice.

The leading knight shoved Jouvent roughly away and came at her hard and fast. Lia deflected his blade with the gladius and stepped around him, keeping the others from getting behind her. She kicked a chair over and moved again, forcing them to adjust to her actions.

“You are quick witted, lass,” he said. “But I will wear you down. We have all night to play this game. They say you bested a kishion at Muirwood with nothing but a dagger.”

Another knight lunged at her, grabbing her arm. In a moment, his strength would overmatch her, but she had been trained by the Evnissyen and knew what to do. While twisting her arm hard and down, she struck his hand with the sword pommel and broke his grip. She cut his cheek as he backed away and nearly took his eye with it. He snarled with pain and jabbed his weapon at her. Lia caught it between her gladius and dagger, slid her longer blade up its and sliced his hand open. He dropped his sword.

Lia whirled fast and hard, for the other two were charging in as well. She ducked a blow aimed at her shoulder and thrust her dagger at his stomach, but the hauberk deflected it. Lia brought her knee up into his gut, making him cough. The leader was reaching for her when he slackened and stumbled, and she realized Jouvent had wrapped himself around the man’s leg.

The door of the inn shuddered open, sending wind through the gap with a howling sound. Lia grit her teeth, expecting more enemies and then she saw Malcolm enter, his face furrowed with anger. He turned and called behind him, “She is here! Hasten!”

The leader of Dieyre’s knights hammered his fist at Jouvent’s head and hair, but the boy did not shriek or cry, he only squeezed harder and ducked away from the blows. When at last he was thrown off, the knight stood and saw he was surrounded by twelve iron-hard sailors from the Holk.

Malcolm had a cudgel in his hand and tapped it menacingly against his palm. “Why threaten the lass?” he said roughly. “What beggars are you to do that? Drop your swords or we kill you here and now.”

“Captain?” one of the knights moaned fearfully as the crew quickly surrounded them.

Malcolm glanced at the frightened man. “You should fear us. We are the crew of the Holk.”

The leader of the knights cast his weapon to the floor with humiliation in his eyes. The other man cast his down as if it burned him. The other three men were writhing still.

Malcolm looked at Lia respectfully. “Shall we escort these hostages to our hold? They be Dieyre’s men. He may not miss them for a while yet. That will give us some sport and you a chance to leave Vezins.”