Chapter Twenty #2
Therefore, he had to change his plans. He didn’t even know where Achilles or Alexander or Bric, or even Susanna, were.
They were somewhere around him, fighting for their lives, but he couldn’t stop to see where they were.
At this point, he thought that if he could gain control of Atilius somehow, he could force the de Shera men to stand down.
That was his only hope. Atilius was an excellent swordsman, however, and he had no intention of letting Kress get the better of him.
He and his men were ganging up on Kress, who was increasingly having to watch himself from all sides.
At one point, Kress unsheathed a fairly large dagger so he could at least fend off weapons with his right hand while he used his broadsword with his left.
Given that most men used their right hand, Kress had learned to adapt over the years with swifter movements and different angles than most when in a sword fight.
Right-handed men came at him and he would fend them off differently than most, so in a fight like this, it was essential he have weapons in both hands so he could defend himself from all sides.
But it wasn’t without peril.
Someone managed to gouge him fairly deeply in his right hip, an odd spot for a wound, but it was a painful one.
The man who inflicted it had received a slash to the face with Kress’ right-handed dagger, and even as that man fell away, there was someone to take his place.
But that didn’t lessen Kress’ determination that he should get to Atilius, who was too arrogant to allow his men to do his fighting for him, or even protect him.
He was in the forefront of the fighting, now furious because his brother had been killed right in front of him.
There was great anger in Atilius’ movements.
“My men shall catch the lady and all of this will have been for naught,” he snarled. “I will string you up by the neck for what you did to my brother, you bastard. I want you alive!”
Kress stabbed one of Atilius’ men right in front of him as he came too close and tried to gore him. As the man fell away, mortally wounded, Kress smiled thinly at Atilius.
“You would have had the lady on the morrow had you not been so stupid and greedy,” he said. “Your brother deserved what he received. As shall you.”
Atilius slashed at him, shouting at his men to back away because he wanted the pleasure of subduing Kress personally.
But he made a tactical error; in order to give the command, he’d let his guard down slightly, and his attention was briefly divided, and Kress took the opportunity to throw his shoulder into Atilius’ chest, sending the man flying backwards.
He crashed into the rear door of the inn, which had been locked by Jude and her father when the fighting started.
They didn’t want the battle to spill inside, which was wise, and Kress didn’t blame them.
But Atilius falling backwards into the door jarred his sword from his hand, and as the weapon fell to the ground, Kress threw a punch with his enormous fist, catching Atilius in the jaw with it.
Very quickly, the sword fight became a fist fight, and a brutal one at that.
Kress and Atilius wrestled against the door, throwing punches and trying to knock each other down.
Kress had the size and strength advantage, and he headed-butted Atilius so badly that it split the man’s nose and lower lip.
Blood streamed. He was just wrapping his hands around Atilius’ neck with the intention of squeezing the life from him when something surprising happened.
The back door suddenly opened and out of Kress’ peripheral vision, he caught sight of a hand with a dagger.
A particular dagger with an elaborate gold hilt; he caught the flash of gold quickly.
Suddenly, the dagger was in Atilius’ torso, not once but at least three times that Kress could count, and Atilius groaned and sank to his knees as the same hand drove the dagger in at least three more times before stopping.
Stunned, Kress watched as Atilius fell forward, planting himself face-first in the mud of the kitchen yard.
He was as still as stone.
Shocked, and puzzled, Kress looked up to see Tatius standing in the doorway with the elaborate de Shera dagger in his hand, covered in blood. Before Kress could say a word, Tatius charged out into the kitchen yard and began screaming at the de Shera soldiers.
“Cease!” he bellowed as loud as he could. “Stop your fighting! I command it! As your liege, I command that you stop your battle against these men and return to your horses. Return now!”
It was a pivotal moment. Would the de Shera army listen to the earl?
Or had they been too conditioned by his greedy brothers?
Very slowly, the fighting began to ease back as the de Shera soldiers, confused and even perturbed, ground to a halt only to see Atilius de Shera lying face-down near the door to the tavern, Fabius de Shera lying in a pool of his own blood in the middle of the kitchen yard, and Tatius de Shera actually giving the commands.
The earl was the only one left to give orders.
That seemed to be enough of a factor to bring them to a complete halt.
It was a tense, terrible moment as far as Kress was concerned, but one of relief when he realized the de Shera soldiers were actually listening to Tatius.
Kress then dared to look around the yard to see where his comrades were and he could see Achilles over by the stables along with Bric.
Both men were beaten and bloodied, but there were more than their fair share of bodies around them.
Alexander was near the boiling cauldron of water with his hand around a man’s throat.
Even though Tatius had commanded his men to cease, Alexander wasn’t willing to let go, not yet.
But it was the sight of the last warrior that had Kress moving.
Susanna was down.
“Christ,” he muttered.
He rushed towards the woman as she lay on the ground near the alleyway to the north, where the first wave of men had entered. When Achilles happened to see what Kress saw, he bolted in that direction, as well.
Around them, the de Shera soldiers were starting to disband because Tatius shouted at them again, all but ignoring the four knights and one lady warrior they’d been battling against. Kress reached Susanna’s side a split-second before Achilles did.
“Susanna,” Kress said, looking her over and seeing a bloom of blood down by her right groin. “We’ll get you inside, lass. We’ll find a physic.”
Susanna was ghostly pale as she looked up at Kress. “Nay,” she insisted hoarsely, reaching up to grab the neck of his tunic. “Find… Cadie. She must be protected at all costs.”