Morgan Rice - A Clash of Honor

The lord leaned back and smiled, crossing his arms triumphantly, looking down at Erec.

Erec was overwhelmed with a rage unlike any he had ever known. This man represented to him everything that was evil in mankind, the very opposite of chivalry, of everything he strived to be.

Faster than any of his men could react, Erec pulled a short spear from his saddle, a thing of beauty, with a well-honed mahogany shaft and a silver tip, reached back, and hurled it with all his might at the lord.

The spear flew through the air, faster than an arrow, and before the Lord could move, the spear went through his throat, all the way through and out the other side, lodging in the wooden wall behind him.

The Lord stood there for a second, a huge hole in his throat, blood gushing out, and raised his hands to his throat, eyes opened wide in shock and pain. He stood there for a few seconds, looking down at Erec in disbelief, and then slumped forward, over the balcony, and his body plunged down to the ground, tumbling end over end, until he landed face first with a splat.

He lay there, at the entrance to his own castle, dead.

In the stunned silence, none of his soldiers moved, all of them frozen in shock, hardly conceiving what had happened so quickly.

Erec did not wait for them to react. He already burst in motion while the lord’s body was plunging in the air. He took in the entire security situation at once, and decided that he would not waste his time or energy with the soldiers outside the gate. His main objective was to get Alistair and get out of there, and his first order of business was getting beyond that tall spiked gate. He galloped forward, reached into his saddle, grabbed a long chain with a spiked ball at its end, and spun it overhead and hurled it. It went flying high above the gate and caught on a pole, the spiked ball wrapping around it. Erec grabbed hold of it, jumped up off his horse, and swung on the chain, like a pendulum. He went flying by, several feet above the heads of the soldiers, and right towards the gap above the metal gate.

He flew through the narrow gap between the top of the gate and the arched stone, and landed safely on the other side of the bars, inside the courtyard. The soldiers outside charged for him, but they were stuck, unable to get through.

Erec fell through the air and landed in a role, rolling seamlessly onto his feet and getting his bearings, immediately prepared to attack the soldiers within the courtyard.

The first of several green knights attacked, and Erec knelt down and plunged his sword into the man’s stomach, finding a weak point between where the armor met his waistline-and the man keeled over, dropping a flail, dead.

Erec reached down, grabbed the man’s flail, stood and spun it around, smashing the studded ball into another attacker’s face, knocking him flat on his back. Erec kicked the third attacker in the chest, sending him backwards before he could bring down his ax. He then took a short spear from his belt and hurled it at another attacker, piercing him at the weak point in his armor between his knee and thigh. He then grabbed a small throwing axe from his belt, spun in the other direction and hit the final attacker at the weak point between his shoulder blade and chest, sending him to the ground with a shout.

Erec surveyed the courtyard: five bodies not moving, and for the moment, no more attacking him.

He wasted no time. He took off at a sprint across the courtyard and rushed inside the small castle.

He stood there in its dark and narrow corridors and looked all about, disoriented.

“ALISTAIR!” he screamed out, desperate.

There came no response-except for another attacker, coming around the bend, attacking him with but a moment to spare. This man lunged at Erec from behind with open hands, grabbing for his throat, preferring hand-to-hand combat. Erec grabbed the man’s wrist, bent over and flipped him over his shoulder. He then stepped forward and stepped on the man’s neck.

Another attacker came from behind, and Erec spun and elbowed him in the gut, then grabbed him and threw him headfirst into the wall. The two bodies lay on top of each other in the narrow corridor.

Erec wasted no more time. He chose a direction and turned and ran down the corridor, leading into the heart of the castle. He hoped Alistair was being kept in this direction.

“Alistair!” he leaned back and shrieked again.

“Erec!” came a faint cry.

At first, he could not tell from where it came; but after a moment, the cry came again, louder this time.

“Erec!” came her cry. “Up here!”

Erec turned, saw a flight of spiral stone steps, and ran for them. As he charged, three soldiers came charging down them, all in green armor, swords drawn. Erec reached into his pouch, grabbed a handful of the small, smooth rocks he reserved for his sling, and threw them across the bottom of the stairs, before the feet of these men. They had no time to react, and the three of them stumbled, tumbling end over end, their armor crashing as they hit the ground right before Erec.

Erec stepped aside and let them tumble right past him, not wanting to waste precious time and energy on a confrontation when he didn’t need to, as their own momentum and weight brought them tumbling down, unconscious at the base of the steps.

Erec ran past them, charging up the stairs, up flight after flight. Behind him, in the distance, he could hear the metal gate of the castle beginning to be crashed in by the host of soldiers. He didn’t have much time.

“Alistair!” he screamed out again.

“Erec!” she shrieked back.

Then there came a scream. Her scream. She was in distress.

Erec’s heart pounded and he ran twice as fast.

He reached the top landing and finally heard where the screams were coming from. He turned to his right and charged down the hall, saw an open door at the end and raced for it, hearing the sounds of struggle.

He burst into the room and saw Alistair, her hands bound behind her, and saw an attendant, one of the lord’s men, grabbing her roughly and pushing her towards the open window.

“You will pay for what he did to my master!” the attendant said to her.

The attendant ran with her, racing for the open window, and Erec could see that the man was preparing to hurl her out the window, send her plunging to her death. He could also see that he was too far across the room to reach her in time. He could kill the man afterwards, but he could not save her. She was going to die.

Erec did not hesitate. He racked his brain and came up with an idea. He knew it would risk Alistair’s life to try it, but he had to try: he reached into his waist, grabbed his throwing dagger, leaned back, and prayed to all the gods that he did not miss. If he was off by a hair, the dagger would kill Alistair instead.

Erec leaned forward and threw it, and he watched, his heart stopping, as it flew end over end. He held his breath.

To his great relief, it pierced the man in his throat, and just missed Alistair.

The man let go of her and reached up to his throat, screaming, blood spilling everywhere as he slumped down to the floor.

Alistair stopped right before the window and turned and faced Erec. He ran to her, took out another dagger and cut the ropes binding her hands.

She embraced him, crying hysterically, wrapping her arms tight around him. It felt so good to have her back in his arms.

Erec opened his eyes and looked over her shoulder, and to his surprise he saw the attendant suddenly rise from the floor and get back to his feet, pulling the dagger out of his throat, somehow getting a second wind. He raised the dagger high and charged forward, aiming to bring it down on Alistair’s back.

With a second to spare, Erec threw her out of the way, stepped forward and grabbed the man’s wrist mid-blow. He then yanked the man’s arm behind his back, grabbed him, took three steps forward and threw him face-first out the open window, giving him the same death that he had intended for Alistair.