The Devastation (Unexpected Circumstances 7)

One I had battled before.

“Sir Remy.”

“Sir Branford.” The captain of Edgar’s army now stood before me and sneered.

I took a short step backwards and readied myself. He walked slowly from the left to the right, and we circled each other. I looked into his scruffy, blood-covered face and remembered some of the things Alexandra had told me of him. How he had treated the handmaids of the kingdom when they were given as tournament prizes and how he had often spoken to Alexandra as if she were nothing but common trash.

I growled as he sneered at me. Unwilling and unable to wait any longer, I attacked.

I brought my sword up high and aimed for his shoulder, but he blocked me with his own blade. A tremendous clash rang out from where they met, and I quickly side-stepped and slashed at him again and again. I pushed with my blade as both swords came together, stepping forward at the same time and trying to wrench the hilt from his hand. My shoulder hit his chest and arm, and his elbow came up to smash me in the cheekbone, cutting me with the edge of his gauntlet.

I stumbled away, quickly righting myself and gripping my sword between both hands. I swung the long sword in a wide arc and again clashed with his blade. As I did, my foot slipped in the dirt, and I felt the blade of my foe’s sword dig into my arm. Sir Remy laughed and taunted me.

“This is what they call King in Silverhelm?” he said with another laugh. “Is this all you have to challenge me? Why, you are no more challenging than that so-called commoner queen of yours!”

I refused to listen as I went for him again, ignoring the blood running down my forearm. Our weapons sang out as they met with more force than before, and this time as I turned his blade aside, I brought up my foot and connected with his chest.

It was his turn to fall back though I gave him little opportunity to right himself. He continued with his jeers.

“I have had her, you know,” he yelled out. “Shoved her on her face and fucked her like a dog. I could not stand looking at that bloated body or that ugly face, but she was still complacent enough to take my verge without crying too much.”

All breath left me. I told myself not to listen, for I knew he would say anything with the intent of distracting me. He had done it in tournaments even when our lives were not at stake. He had not touched Alexandra. He could not have…

No…God, please, no…

With a scream, I went for him again.

As my sword hit his, I reached out with my hand, wanting to feel his flesh in my grip. He parried the blow, stepped backwards and away from me, but I did not stop. I grabbed for his neck, and my fingers found purchase.

I could feel his sword at my side, but we were too close, and he could not get the right angle to pierce through my chain shirt and into the leather beneath it. I snarled into his face as our eyes met, and he glared up at me. He moved swiftly and suddenly, and his forehead made contact with my own, sending me backwards.

Though I tried to keep my grip, my head spun, and I heard rather than felt my sword hit the ground beside me. I fell onto my back, dazed and unarmed. There was a low, dangerous laugh from above as I tried to focus on the shape of the man standing over me. There was a glint of shiny metal in his hands.

“And so you end,” he said quietly.

I heard a growl, but it was not from my opponent; it was from behind me. A mere half-second later, a dash of brown fur and floppy ears flew over the top of me, snarling and barking. I heard Sir Remy yell and saw his form fall back and away.

I grabbed for my sword as I righted myself and shook my head to clear it. Once I regained my vision, I saw Amarra snapping and clawing at Sir Remy’s leg as he kicked out at her repeatedly. I stepped forward quickly, seizing the opportunity to drive my blade into his gut.

He stiffened and stilled, his cold blue eyes turning toward me as his weapon dropped from his hand. He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came forth as I pulled my sword from his flesh. I grabbed his arm and pulled him closer to me as I impaled him again, this time with a better angle, and I twisted the blade in a half circle inside of him. A strange gurgle came from his throat as life dimmed from his eyes. I threw him backwards, yelling incoherently at the body as it dropped to the ground. My breath came in pants as I leaned over with my hands on my knees, trying to regain my senses.

Amarra walked up to the still form, growling low in her throat. She sniffed at the blood coming from his stomach and chest, then stepped back, turned, and trotted away. Apparently, she thought she had done her duty.

I could not argue with the sentiment.

Romero was still close, and Erik held the horse’s reins as he brought him forward to me. I mounted the steed, and Erik followed behind us as I rode back into the fray. Additional mercenaries and soldiers from Edgar’s army fell to my blade as I rode through their midst. As more of Edgar’s men dropped, many of those still standing began to back away from the main battle and make their way toward the castle gates.

Though injured, our foes were still heavily armed, and Rylan pointed out the mercenaries in unmarked armor, not unlike the armor worn by those who had attacked my carriage. It was the same type worn by the man I had killed earlier. They all fought with similar maces and wore the same studded, leather armor.

I closed my eyes for a moment as I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself. It was difficult when there were so many enemies around me, and the blood on my sword was just beginning to dry. I wanted more death. It was the only thing that could distract me enough to keep thoughts of her out of my head. I still dared not think her name.

My gaze fell on the two men in front who seemed to be the center of the mercenaries’ attention. One tall man with a full beard appeared to be directing the other mercenary soldiers toward the younger lads with poor weapons and no armor. The other was at his side, relaying his orders to the ones behind them.

The bearded man’s face held a sinister grin as he kicked a farm boy of no more than thirteen years.

“Hand me your crossbow,” I murmured to Rylan.

“Of course,” Rylan replied. He took the heavy, crank-powered crossbow from the back of his horse and handed it to me. He placed a handful of bolts in my hand as well, and I quickly fitted one into the slot and cranked it back. I steadied Romero, placed the weapon against my shoulder, took steady aim at the second man, and pulled at the trigger.