Michael Spradlin - Trail of Fate

Both men were so startled that they jumped, releasing their grip on the father, who slowly keeled over in the dirt. They looked at me and drew their swords.

“Qui etes-vous?” the one closest to me shouted. I was fairly certain he was asking me who I was. Curse my poor French!

“What are you doing to these people?” I asked in English. Both men stared at me in confusion.

The first man spoke quickly, and it was hard for me to follow. But from what I could understand, they were going to execute the man.

I had no idea what else to say or how to communicate with them. So I ordered them to let the man and family go free. “Leave these people alone,” I commanded.

He spoke rapidly again. I couldn’t understand everything, but I heard the word Cathar and he pointed to the family. They must be some of Celia’s people.

“I demand you release him,” I said, trying to put as much menace in my voice as I could.

The two men looked at each other, then back at me, and burst out laughing.

“Non,” they said. They must have understood some of what I’d said. Or like Celia and her party, they did speak English, but chose not to reveal it. Was everyone in this cursed country so deceitful when it came to language?

“In the name of the Knights Templar I demand you step aside,” I said, rising up slightly on the balls of my feet, ready to move.

They did not answer but started for me. I retreated slowly, trying to draw them away from the family. Maryam emerged from between two buildings on the other side of the square, and silently moved toward the family.

When I had drawn the men past the first hut, I stopped and let them close in on me, all the while keeping Maryam in my peripheral vision. She had reached the people now, and with her dagger, quickly cut the man’s bonds and tried to rouse him. She needed more time.

The men had smiles on their faces as they approached. They had the advantage in numbers, skill and experience. I had only my sword and my righteous indignation.

“Tell me,” I said. “Do you enjoy beating up small children?”

The men just kept coming forward, but they were cautious now. They saw the short blade in my hand and Sir Thomas’ weapon laced across my back and would not be easily duped. Maryam had managed to pull the woman to her feet, and together they were lifting up the husband. She carried the unconscious boy under one arm, and the little girl followed along as they headed toward the woods.

And then my plan fell apart.

The soldier closest to me caught me looking behind him and looked back to find Maryam leading the family away. He cursed and his companion immediately took off toward them.

“Maryam! Look out!” I shouted.

She looked back to see the soldier closing fast.

Maryam handed the boy to the mother, pushed her and the girl toward the woods and lowered the unconscious father to the ground. As the soldier approached, she ululated in her horrible Hashshashin war cry and drew her daggers, waiting for his charge as he came at her, sword high.

The other soldier raised his sword and charged me. I quickly darted between the buildings and raced around the far corner, with him fast behind me. I wanted him to chase me, for I was afraid if I stood and fought, he could easily defeat me before the woman and her children could hide. I ran quickly around the building and tried to circle back on him. I’d temporarily lost sight of him and paused at the next corner, my back to the wall, trying to hear over Maryam’s shouts.

I waited. Five seconds. Ten. Then a shadow fell across the ground, coming slowly toward the corner. When it was close enough, I jumped out, swinging with all my might.

But he was expecting it and ducked my swing. My blade glanced off the timber of the hut. He thrust back at me, and I barely pulled my sword back in time to block his stroke.

We traded blow upon blow, both of us swinging desperately. He tried to push me back against the wall of the hut, but I refused to give ground. Then he swung at me with an overhead strike, and as I raised my sword up to block his blade, he slashed me across the forearm. I gasped in pain, and staggered backward. He raised his weapon again and came at me. I launched myself at him before he could bring the blade down and hit him squarely in the chest with my shoulder. He stumbled backward, giving me time to switch hands.

My arm burned and I was angry now. I tried to remain cool, but images of Philippe and the small boy being treated like an animal clouded my vision. Swinging wildly, I gave him no chance to mount an offensive, but he was calm and parried each attack.

Rage was not gaining me anything; he was too good. I needed a deception, trickery of some sort. I also had to stop the bleeding in my arm. Where was the power of the Grail when I needed it? It remained silent, nestled in the bottom of the satchel hanging across my back.

I moved out from the wall to my right, keeping him at bay with my sword. Then I stepped in as close as I could get to the corner of the hut. I took a wild swing at him to draw him in, and as I hoped, he reared back to bring his sword around in a mighty arc. Instead of blocking it this time, I ducked and the blade whistled over my head. When the sword hit the corner of the hut, it bit into the soft timber and was stuck there. His eyes went wide as he yanked desperately to free his blade. Not giving him the chance, I ducked under his arm and rose up, driving the hilt of my sword as hard as I could into the side of his head. It connected with a solid thump and the man’s eyes rolled up in his head. He slumped to the ground unconscious.

Breathing hard, I worked his sword free from the side of the hut and tossed it as far as I could into the woods. I searched him quickly, removed a dagger from his belt and threw it away as well.

Racing back to where I’d last seen Maryam, I came around the side of the building and found her sprawled on the ground. She had lost her daggers and rolled over, crawling on her hands and knees, desperately trying to reach them. The soldier closed in on her, his sword raised. She was helpless and about to die unless I could reach her in time.

But I didn’t have to, for an arrow suddenly appeared in the center of the soldier’s chest. He looked down in shock at the instrument of his death, and then tumbled backward to the dirt.

I spun around to see Robard standing there. Maryam looked up from the ground in wonder.

“Robard?” she said, her face breaking into a wide smile.

“Hello, Assassin,” he said, grinning. “Did you miss me?”

My mouth hung open as if I’d been struck dumb. He smiled and gave us a jaunty little salute. A black-clad blur rushed past me, and Maryam took Robard in a fierce embrace. Momentarily startled by the force of her attention, he held his arms out gingerly to the side while she wrapped hers around his back.

“You came back,” she said, unable to keep the joy from her voice.

“I did. Um. Maryam?” he said.

“Yes,” she said, looking up at him but still not releasing her hold.

“I can’t breathe,” he said.

She laughed and buried her head in his chest, hugging him tighter.

“Assassin?” he coughed. “I’m serious. Can’t breathe.”

She let go of him then and stepped back, her face aglow. “You’re really here. You came back,” she said.

“Yes, I came back. The two of you wouldn’t likely make your way back to England without me.”

“Couldn’t find a ship in Perpignan?” I asked.

“Not a one!” He laughed. “No. In truth, I followed the High Counsel and his troops toward Perpignan and had the chance to see some of their work up close. The afternoon after they left us on the beach, they burned a village to the ground. Dragged all the people out of their homes and shops and torched it completely. Even their church. I could only watch from the woods. I don’t know what he said to those people, but I’ve heard men like him before. He enjoyed terrifying them. He delighted in burning them out of their homes.”