Richard Ford - The Shattered Crown

She could hear Lord Marshal Ryder screaming at his Wyvern Guard, who duly rushed in disciplined ranks to stand in the creature’s path. Sentinels ran to join them, raising shield and spear as the crowd fled.

Kaira felt unusually sluggish. Her injuries still troubled her, but she had to act.

The creature dragged its huge bulk ever closer to the queen, batting some unfortunate courtier from its path and sending him smashing into a pile of loose masonry.

Tannick bellowed to his men who rushed forward, chopping at the trunk of the ash tree and hacking at its flailing branches. White gore seeped from the creature, but still it battled on, tearing a path through the bronze-armoured knights that stood against it.

They would never stop it before it reached Janessa.

‘Get the queen to safety!’ Kaira yelled desperately.

Merrick tore his eyes away from the creature, grabbing the queen and pulling her from the dais. There was no way he could reach the exit from the amphitheatre, which was blocked by the monster’s approach, so he guided Janessa into the crumbling tunnels of the arena, followed by several other Sentinels.

Kaira turned back to the foul monster, and saw its onslaught had been checked by the knights, but they looked unable to destroy it. They could never defeat such a creature; surely a thing born of such dark magicks would kill them all. She briefly wondered where in the hells that magistra had got to, but then all thought but battle was gone from her mind.

Gripping her sword tight, Kaira rushed to join the defenders.

It had dragged itself out of the ground with the sound of a thousand breaking bones. Merrick had watched as it turned its giant creaking head, pulling itself along on rotten twisted limbs. It wasn’t until the killing started, and Kaira screamed at him, that anyone had moved.

And that was when Merrick grabbed Janessa’s arm. Regardless of protocol, it seemed the right thing to do. He all but dragged her down from the wooden podium, slipping on the bottom step, almost sending them both sprawling.

The exit from the amphitheatre was across the arena floor. There were around a dozen knights in the way, their weapons flailing.

Merrick pulled the queen after him towards a gap in the broken wall. Odaka and two more Sentinels were right behind them, and that made him feel a little better. The break in the wall led to a crumbling stone passage. Merrick could see through the rotted mortar of the stone wall to the other side, to freedom, but there was no way through.

‘Keep moving,’ growled Odaka.

Merrick didn’t have any quarrel with that, and he hauled the queen along the corridor. For her part, she made no complaint, following as best she could as the passageway reached a set of stairs. Merrick paused at the bottom.

‘Up,’ Odaka ordered. ‘We will guard the way here.’

As Odaka and the two Sentinels took up positions, Merrick dragged the queen after him. Outside he could hear the sounds of battle; someone was screaming, there was a clash of steel on wood and something roared like a beast.

The staircase led to a rickety platform with passageways that led off to either side. Merrick picked a path, the one he thought might lead away from the carnage and pulled Janessa after him.

You’ve got no idea what you’re doing or where you’re going, have you? Get a fucking grip.

The passage darkened before they came out into another room, one with no exits. Merrick stopped dead. On the ground was the body of an armoured knight, a Sentinel. There was a single puncture wound in his breastplate, right above the heart.

Whoever had killed this Sentinel might still be around and Merrick was none too keen to meet him. He turned, ready to flee back down the stairs, but stopped as someone walked out of the dark passage behind them. For a moment he hoped it was Odaka, come to find him and tell him everything was going to be all right.

Inside, he knew it wouldn’t be.

The man was old, too old to have such a confident gait. His shoulders were wide, his hair and beard greying, but his eyes … those eyes were like two deep pools of winter staring out coldly as if they hated the world and would turn it to ice.

Merrick backed away, Janessa behind him, but there was nowhere else to go. They were trapped.

The old man held a sword at his side, the blade straight, the handle worked in a fashion Merrick had never seen before. He got the impression that, despite his age, this fella knew how to use it.

‘No closer,’ Merrick said, brandishing his own sword. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

The old man took two steps forward and stopped. ‘You won’t hurt me, boy. I am the Father of Killers. There is nothing you can do that would hurt me. But I have not come for you, I have come for-’

‘Yeah, yeah, I get the picture.’ Merrick dropped into a defensive stance. ‘You’ve come to kill the queen, blah blah. I’m going to stop you, blah blah. Let’s just get on with the fucking fighting, shall we.’

This seemed to amuse the old man, who walked forward, his guard down.

Never squander an opportunity, Ryder.

Merrick leapt to attack, feeling not a little guilty for taking his opponent by surprise. It didn’t matter anyway, as the old man batted the thrust aside, his sword coming up in a counter that Merrick struggled to avoid. He stumbled back as the blade almost took his eye out.

This was looking all too familiar. He’d had his fill of being humiliated by better swordsmen, he couldn’t let this old man join the list.

Merrick struck again, this time totally focused. This time he’d make no mistake. Everything he’d learned from House Tarnath-

The old man parried again, and this time Merrick’s blade almost flew from his grip. He was forced to dance back to stay out of the old man’s range, Janessa moving along behind, staying at Merrick’s back.

‘There is nothing you can do,’ said the Father of Killers. ‘The end is inevitable. I will allow you to walk free. Leave your queen and I will let-’

Merrick struck in again. This time he managed to put a slice in the old man’s robe, but the consequent counter was more ferocious than before. Merrick staggered back into the wall. He pushed Janessa out of the way as his opponent’s sword cut in, taking a chunk out of the ancient stone behind him.

The Father of Killers moved like a phantom, in one place one moment, somewhere else the next. Merrick struck in again and again, but every blow was parried with ease. He thrust one last time and the old man’s blade knocked the sword out of Merrick’s grip. It clanged off the wall and came to rest some feet away and the Father of Killers bore down on him, each footstep carefully placed, his eyes never wavering from their immediate target.

‘You have shown surprising courage in the face of certain death,’ said the old man.

‘Trust me — no one’s more surprised than I am,’ Merrick replied.

The Father of Killer’s raised his blade.

Odaka Du’ur burst in through the archway with a savage cry. He was like an animal, his curved blade scything in and giving the Father of Killers little time to parry.

‘Run!’ Odaka screamed. Merrick needed no further encouragement.

He grabbed Janessa’s hand and pulled her from the room. The sound of clashing swords rang out behind him as they fled.

He had failed his warriors and led them to an ignominious death. The knowledge that they would die by the executioner’s blade filled him with a shame greater than he had ever known. So when the fell monster dragged itself from the ground, Regulus Gor’s heart had leapt. No longer would they be slaughtered for the delight of a baying mob. At least now they would die at the hands of a worthy opponent.