Questing Knight(科幻战争)-第4部分

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‘Where？’　said　Calard。　A　trickle　of　blood　ran　from　Raben’s　throat。
‘The　ducal　palace　of　Mousillon　city；’　he　said　in　his　gravelly　voice。　‘He　does　proclaim　himself　to　be
the　long　lost　ruler　of　this　realm；　after　all。’
‘The　mad　duke　was　killed　centuries　years　ago；’　hissed　Calard。
‘Who　am　I　to　dispute　his　claim？’　said　Raben。　‘I’m　just　an　outcast。’
‘Indeed。’
‘Is　that　it？’　said　Raben。　‘Are　we　done？’
Calard　lowered　his　sword；　and　the　dispossessed　knight　let　down　his　hands。　Without　warning；　Calard
slammed　the　heavy　pommel　of　his　sword　into　the　side　of　Raben’s　head。　He　fell　sidewards　from　his　chair
and　hit　the　floor；　unconscious。
‘We　are　done；’　said　Calard。
CHLOD　AWOKE　WITH　a　start；　his　heart　pounding。　It　took　him　a　moment　to　remember　where　he　was：　the
stable　of　Morr’s　Rest。　He　lay　there　in　the　rotting　hay；　breathing　hard。　The　sound　came　again　–　something
like　a　heavy　chunk　of　wood　being　dropped　to　the　ground。
A　shaft　of　torchlight　seeped　in　from　the　courtyard　outside　through　a　knothole　in　the　wall。　Chlod

squatted　alongside　it；　squinting　through　the　gap。
At　first　he　saw　nothing　untoward。　The　courtyard　of　the　inn　was　deserted。　His　eye　swept　the
compound；　and　at　last　settled　on　the　gatehouse。　He　frowned。
The　shadows　beneath　the　archway　were　dark；　but　even　so　he　could　see　that　the　gate　was　open。　The
heavy　locking　bars　were　on　the　ground。　Sealed；　nothing　short　of　a　battering　ram　would　be　able　to　breach
those　gates；　but　they　had　been　flung　wide；　an　open　invitation　to　the　creatures　beyond。
For　a　moment；　Chlod　half…considered　a　mad　dash　across　the　courtyard　to　lock　the　gates；　for　he
knew　well　the　horrors　that　lurked　outside。　However；　he　was　no　hero；　and　they　would　have　been　too
heavy　for　him　alone　anyway。　He　stayed　put；　rooted　in　fear；　staring　at　the　gate　in　silent　dread。
For　long　minutes　he　watched；　barely　daring　to　breathe。　After　what　seemed　an　eternity；　he　saw　a
shadow　appear；　and　the　hairs　on　the　back　of　his　neck　rose。
The　dark　shape　hugged　the　ground；　moving　low。　It　paused　at　the　edge　of　the　torchlight；　then　edged
forwards。　Chlod　saw　a　pallid　face　atop　a　scrawny；　malnourished　body。　Bones　were　starkly　visible
beneath　its　skin。　It　sniffed　the　air　like　an　animal；　then　hissed　over　its　shoulder。　Rising　from　the　ground　into
a　low　crouch；　the　starving　peasant　padded　warily　into　the　courtyard　of　Morr’s　Rest；　hands　twitching。
A　second　peasant　came　through　behind　the　first；　a　filthy　bearded　man　carrying　a　rusted　plough　blade。
More　followed。　Chlod’s　heart　was　hammering　loudly　in　his　chest；　but　he　could　not　tear　himself　away　from
his　spy…hole。
He　froze　as　one　of　the　peasants　came　within　feet　of　him；　separated　only　by　the　thin　overlapping
planks　of　the　barn　wall。　This　one　was　a　foul　creature；　barely　human　at　all。　It　came　to　a　halt　and　cocked　its
head　to　one　side；　nostrils　flaring。　Chlod　could　make　out　the　fine　web　of　blue　veins　beneath　its　skin；　and
could　smell　its　animal　stink。　It　turned　and　stared　straight　at　him。　Chlod’s　heart　skipped　a　beat　as　it　saw
him。　It　grinned；　exposing　stained；　jagged　teeth。
Chlod　fell　away　from　the　wall　with　a　gasp；　scrambling　backwards。　He　heard　footsteps　inside　the
stable；　and　the　horses　and　ponies　began　whinnying　and　kicking　in　their　stalls。　His　master’s　warhorse　was
trembling；　ears　flat　against　its　skull。
A　scream　close　by　made　him　jump。　It　was　cut　short；　ending　in　the　strangled　gargle　of　someone　dying。
Chlod’s　breathing　was　coming　in　frantic　gasps；　and　his　hands　were　shaking。　Creeping　forwards；　he
peered　around　the　corner　of　the　stall；　looking　out　towards　the　entrance　to　the　stables。　He　saw　a　handful
of　hunched　peasants　making　their　way　up　the　aisle　towards　him。　Their　heads　were　low　and　swung　from
side　to　side；　like　dogs　seeking　a　scent。　He　ducked　back　into　the　stall　before　he　was　seen。
‘Ranald；　protect　me；’　he　said　under　his　breath；　invoking　the　trickster　god　of　luck；　benefactor　of
thieves；　gamblers　and　ne’er…do…wells　the　Old　World　over。　He　turned　around　on　the　spot；　undecided　as
to　his　best　course　of　action。　He　considered　hiding　under　the　loose　straw　on　the　floor；　but　there　wasn’t
enough　to　adequately　conceal　him；　and　the　peasants　would　surely　sniff　him　out。　He　thought　about
mounting　his　master’s　warhorse　and　riding　free；　but　he　doubted　that　he　would　have　been　able　to　haul
himself　up　upon　its　back　anyway；　let　alone　ride　it。　And　if　he　did　somehow　survive；　his　master　would
surely　see　him　hang　for　sullying　the　noble　beast。
He　backed　away　into　the　far　corner　of　the　stall；　edging　past　the　powerful　destrier。　The　horse’s
muscles　were　twitching；　it　knew　that　predators　approached。　The　feral　peasants　would　be　only　yards
away　now；　and　Chlod　bit　his　lip；　indecision　paralysing　him。
A　shadow　appeared　in　the　open　stall　gate；　and　the　warhorse　shuffled　uneasily；　snorting。　Without
thinking；　Chlod　slapped　the　horse　hard　on　the　rump。
‘Yah！’　he　shouted；　and　the　warhorse　reared；　smashing　the　stall　gate　to　splinters。　It　leapt　forwards；
hooves　clattering　loudly；　and　Chlod　glimpsed　several　figures　throwing　themselves　aside。　The　destrier

slipped　on　the　cobblestones　and　half…fell；　before　righting　itself　and　bolting　for　the　courtyard。
Grabbing　his　spiked　club　from　his　meagre　pile　of　belongings；　Chlod　dropped　to　hands　and　knees　and
started　crawling　frantically　under　the　barriers　separating　the　stalls。　As　he　scrabbled　through　the　rotten
straw　and　horse　manure；　he　saw　the　slapping　feet　of　the　feral　peasants　running　up　the　aisle。
He　was　almost　trampled　by　an　immense　draught　horse　in　one　stall　and　barely　avoided　being　kicked
by　a　panicked　pony　in　another。　With　a　deep　breath　he　hurled　himself　under　the　last　barrier　and　scrambled
to　his　feet；　glancing　behind　him　for　signs　of　pursuit。
He　nearly　ran　headlong　into　one　of　the　peasants；　who　was　crouched　over　the　body　of　the　stableboy。
It　was　feeding；　mouth　caked　with　blood。　Chlod　could　not　halt　his　forward　momentum；　and　bowled　into
the　cannibalistic　peasant。　His　knee　cracked　it　in　the　face；　and　Chlod　was　sent　sprawling　on　the　ground　at
the　stable’s　entrance。
In　a　heartbeat　he　was　back　on　his　feet　and　running。　He　risked　a　glance　behind　him　and　saw　the
peasant　stagger　to　its　feet。　It　leapt　after　him；　hair　streaming　wildly　as　it　bounded　along　on　all　fours。　More
of　the　cannibalistic　inbreds　were　streaming　through　the　open　gates；　and　Chlod　saw　right　away　that　he　had
no　chance　of　escape　there。　He　angled　his　awkward；　limping　run　towards　the　inn　itself；　knowing　that　his
best　chance　of　survival　now　lay　with　Calard。
‘Master！’　he　screamed　as　he　ran。　‘Master！’
At　any　moment　he　expected　to　be　dragged　down；　but　he　made　it　across　the　courtyard　and　staggered
up　onto　the　inn’s　covered　stoop；　breathing　hard。　He　was　just　feet　from　the　door　when　a　weight　landed　on
his　back；　bearing　him　to　the　ground。　The　air　exploded　from　his　lungs　and　he　lost　his　grip　on　his　spiked
maul；　which　clattered　out　of　reach。
He　was　pinned　to　the　ground；　and　though　he　fought　like　a　wild　animal；　he　could　not　dislodge　the
hissing　peasant。　Bony　hands　grasped　his　skull；　and　he　felt　nails　biting　deep　into　his　scalp。　He　screamed
wordlessly；　neck　muscles　straining　to　resist　as　his　head　was　lifted　high；　then　slammed　down　with　brutal
force。　White　hot　pain　blossomed。　Dazed；　Chlod　registered　his　head　being　lifted　again。　In　moments；　his
skull　would　be　pulverised；　his　brain　matter　splattered　across　the　stoop。
Blinking　heavily；　unable　to　focus；　he　vaguely　saw　the　door　to　the　inn　swing　open　before　him。　He　saw
a　shadow　emerge；　and　a　flash　of　silver。
Calard　took　the　peasant’s　head　off　with　a　double…handed　sweep　of　his　broadsword。　The　headless
corpse　slumped　forwards　over　Chlod；　blood　pumping　from　its　neck。
‘Up！’　shouted　Calard；　grabbing　Chlod　by　back　of　his　flea…ridden　tunic　and　dragging　him　to　his　feet。
His　manservant’s　legs　were　unsteady；　unable　yet　to　support　his　weight；　and　he　flopped　back　to　the
ground；　struggling　to　focus。　Blood　was　dripping　from　his　forehead。　Swearing；　Calard　adjusted　his　grip　on
his　manservant；　then　hurled　him　bodily　through　the　door　of　the　inn。　He　kicked　the　club　through　after　him；
then　spun　back　to　face　the　courtyard　as　three　rabid　peasants　hurled　themselves　at　him。
He　cut　the　first　down　with　a　heavy　blow　that　shattered　its　ribcage；　and　sliced　the　second　from　groin
to　sternum　with　the　return　sweep。　The　third　leapt　on　him；　scratching　and　biting；　but　he　threw　it　off；
sending　it　crashing　into　the　wall　of　the　inn。　It　dropped　to　its　knees；　and　before　it　could　recover　Calard
stepped　in　close　and　brought　the　pommel　of　his　sword　down　onto　its　head；　killing　it　instantly。
Seeing　dozens　of　the　creatures　swarming　across　the　courtyard　towards　him；　Calard　stepped　back
inside　the　inn　and　slammed　the　door　shut。　He　threw　his　weight　against　it。
‘Chlod；　the　locks！’
A　heavy　impact　struck　the　door；　almost　dislodging　Calard。　He　gritted　his　teeth　as　his　heels　began
sliding　across　the　floor。　The　door　was　forced　open　a　fraction；　and　claw…like　hands　reached　around　the
edge。
Chlod　picked　up　his　spiked　cudgel　from　the　floor　and　bashed　at　the　clutching　hands；　breaking　bones

and　crushing　fingers。
The　door　slammed　shut　and　Chlod　slid　first　the　upper　lock　home；　then　the　lower　one。　Breathing　hard；
Calard　stepped　away　from　the　door；　his　sword　levelled　towards　it。　It　shook　violently；　but　held。
‘What　in　Morr’s　name　is　going　on？’　came　a　slurred　a　voice。　Calard　looked　over　his　shoulder　to　see
one　of　Merovech’s　knights　stumbling　down　the　stairs；　a　drawn　blade　in　his　hands。　He　was　clearly　still　the
worse　for　wear　from　the　night’s　drinking；　and　he　was　followed　by　several　of　his　comrades；　all　in　various
stages　of　dishevelment。　Other　guests　of　the　inn　were　emerging　from　their　rooms；　their　faces　drawn　and
pale。
‘We　are　besieged；’　said　Calard。
The　banging　at　the　door　subsided；　and　Calard　edged　towards　it；　listening　intently。
‘How　did　they　get　into　the　compound？’　said　one　of　the　knights。
‘Someone　let　them　in；　most　likely；’　said　Calard；　glancing　around。　‘The　innkeeper　would　be　my　guess。
’
‘What？’　said　a　voice。　‘Why　would　you　say　that？’
‘Do　you　see　him　here；　or　any　of　his　staff？’　said　Calard；　gesturing　around　him。　‘They　are　probably　all
holed　up　in　the　gatehouse。’
‘The　bastard’s　sold　us　out　to　Mortis；’　growled　one　of　Merovech’s　knights。　At　mention　of　the　name；
Chlod　whimpered。
Several　of　the　other　guests　began　to　speak　at　once；　their　voices　rising　in　panic。
‘Quiet；’　snapped　Calard。
In　the　ensuing　silence；　they　could　all　hear　shuffling　around　the　exterior　of　the　inn。　There　were　scuffling
noises　at　the　walls；　and　Calard　looked　up。
‘They　are　going　for　the　second　floor　windows；’　shouted　someone；　and　Calard　quickly　looked　around
him。　There　were　over　half　a　dozen　armed　men　in　the　main　room　of　the　inn　now。
‘You　three；’　he　said；　jabbing　a　finger　a　cluster　of　men　holding　weapons。　‘Get　upstairs　and　barricade
the　windows。’
‘I’ll　be　damned　if　I　take　orders　from–’　snarled　one　of　them；　but　Calard　cut　him　off。
‘Do　it！’　he　thundered。　The　man　looked　like　he　was　going　to　argue；　but　the　others　saw　sense　in　Calard
’s　words；　and　hurried　up　the　stairs。　Calard　gestured　towards　other　men　with　his　sword。　‘Get　those　tables
on　their　sides　to　block　the　windows！　You　and　you；　help　me　slide　this　one　in　front　of　the　door！’
Unseen　by　Calard；　Raben　staggered　unsteadily　down　the　stairs　into　the　common　room；　one　hand
pressed　to　his　temple。　He　had　a　sword　in　his　hand；　and　his　eyes　burned　with　cold　fury。　He　moved
purposefully　towards　Calard　as　he　heaved　at　a　heavy　oak　table；　positioning　it　to　block　the　front　door。
A　shuttered　window　suddenly　exploded　inwards　amid　a　shower　of　splinters；　and　feral　peasants　began
clawing　their　way　through；　howling　and　braying　like　demented　madmen。　A　table　propped　against　another
window　was　shoved　aside；　and　more　of　the　cannibalistic　rabble　began　clambering　inside。
‘For　the　Lady！’
Calard　leapt　forwards　and　brought　his　sword　down　on　the　head　of　the　first　peasant　to　scramble
through；　cleaving　its　skull　down　to　the　teeth；　spraying　blood。
He　smashed　another　peasant　back　with　the　pommel　of　his　sword；　but　dozens　more　were　straining　to
get　in。　He　could　hear　banging　from　upstairs；　but　that　was　soon　drowned　out　by　shouting；　the　clash　of
weapons　and　the　sickly　sound　of　blades　hacking　into　flesh　and　bone。
Hands　clawed　for　him　and　he　stepped　swiftly　away　from　the　door；　slashing　with　his　sword。　A　clutch

of　fingers　dropped　to　the　floor；　twitching。
Chlod　backed　off；　looking　around　frantically　for　an　escape　route。　He　ran　behind　the　bar　and　tugged
at　the　cellar　door；　but　he　could　not　lift　it。
The　front　door　was　ripped　off　its　hinges　and　tossed　aside　suddenly；　and　a　flood　of　peasants　streamed
in；　scrambling　over　the　table　slid　up　against　it。　Some　carried　crude　clubs　and　rusted　farm　implements；
while　others　seemed　intent　on　killing　with　nothing　more　than　tooth　and　claw。
Chlod　dropped　to　the　floor　and　crawled　under　the　bar；　trying　to　make　himself　as　inconspicuous　as
possible。
Calard　found　himself　fighting　side　by　side　with　Raben　and　two　other　men。　Despite　the　knock　Calard
had　given　him；　the　outcast　knight　fought　with　poise　and　control。　He　was　fast　and　deadly；　his　timing
impeccable。　Calard　was　careful　not　to　turn　his　back　on　him。
The　devolved　peasants　came　on　like　a　living　tide；　scrabbling　over　tables　and　sending　chairs　flying；
forcing　Calard　and　Raben　back　against　the　bar。　For　every　one　of　their　number　that　was　cut　down；　two
more　squeezed　through　the　windows　and　clambered　through　the　gaping　door。
The　room　was　filled　with　their　stink；　a　mixture　of　sweat；　rotting　meat　and　wet　soil。
It　was　not　long　before　they　started　to　attack　down　the　inn’s　stairs。
‘They’ve　taken　the　upper　floor；’　said　Calard。
One　of　Raben’s　knights　was　knocked　to　the　ground　and　brained　with　what　looked　like　a　human
thigh…bone。
‘This　is　hopeless；’　growled　Raben。　‘There　are　too　many　of　them！’
‘I　have　no　intention　of　dying　here；’　said　Calard；　kicking　a　twitching　corpse　off　his　blade。　‘The　Lady　is
with　me。’
Raben　ran　another　peasant　through；　then　spat　derisively。　‘The　Lady　forsook　this　place　long　ago。’
One　by　one；　the　inn’s　defenders　were　dragged　down；　their　heads　smashed　in　with　sticks　and　their
throats　ripped　out　with　blood…stained　teeth。　The　peasants　descended　on　them　like　starved　beasts；　and
screams　rang　out　from　those　not　yet　dead　when　the　cannibals　began　their　gory　feast。
‘There　must　be　another　way　out；’　shouted　Calard；　now　fighting　back　to　back　with　Raben。　The　notion
of　fleeing　from　mere　peasants　wrenched　at　his　sense　of　pride；　but　it　would　not　serve　the　Lady’s　purpose
if　he　died　here。
Calard　was　wielding　his　bastard　sword　in　one　hand　now；　and　had　drawn　the　Sword　of　Garamont
with　his　other。
A　screeching；　near　naked　peasant　leapt　at　Calard　from　atop　the　bar；　its　body　scrawny　and
malnourished。　Calard　cut　it　down　in　midair；　and　it　fell　in　a　bloody　heap　to　the　floor。　Calard　glanced
around　him；　getting　a　sense　of　their　position　within　the　common　room。
‘The　kitchen；’　he　said；　indicating　towards　it　with　a　nod。　‘That’s　our　best　chance。　There　must　be　a
back　door。’
Both　Calard　and　Raben　were　splattered　with　blood；　and　while　most　of　it　was　not　their　own；　neither
man　was　uninjured。　Raben　risked　a　quick　glance　back　towards　the　kitchen。　It　was　at　least　ten　yards
away；　and　they　were　now　completely　surrounded。
‘We　won’t　make　it；’　said　Raben。
‘Stay　here　and　die　then；　damn　you；’　said　Calard。
With　a　roar；　he　forced　the　enemy　back；　swinging　his　swords　around　in　a　pair　of　deadly　arcs。　Taking
advantage　of　the　space　he　had　created；　he　leapt　atop　the　bar　and　ran　along　its　length　towards　the　back　of
the　inn。　Peasants　reached　for　him　but　his　blades　sliced　out；　keeping　them　at　bay。　He　leapt　off　the　far　end；

slamming　a　pair　of　enemies　to　the　floor。　He　came　to　his　feet　in　the　kitchen　doorway；　blades　at　the　ready。
The　kitchen　was　disgustingly　dirty；　and　rats　scuttled　in　the　shadows；　but　it　was　free　of　foes。　He　spotted　a
door　on　the　far　wall。
Glancing　back　into　the　common　room；　he　saw　Chlod　emerge　from　beneath　the　bar；　scurrying　under
tables　towards　him。
‘Quickly！’　Calard　shouted。　Peasants　were　close　behind　his　manservant；　their　red…rimmed　eyes　wide。
Raben　was　standing　alone；　surrounded。　He　turned　on　the　spot；　holding　his　sword　at　the　ready　as
peasants　closed　in　around　him；　too　many　to　hold　off　alone。　Briefly；　Calard’s　gaze　met　Raben’s　across　the
room。　He　saw　the　outcast　mouth　a　curse。　The　peasants　attacked　as　one　but　Raben　had　pre…empted　them
and　was　already　moving。　He　swayed　aside　from　a　vicious　blow　and　launched　a　lightning　counter　that　took
off　an　arm　at　the　elbow。
Calard　shoved　Chlod　into　the　kitchen。
‘Unlock　the　door！’　he　ordered。　Calard　stepped　back　to　give　himself　more　room　to　swing　as　the
enemy　came　at　him。　The　first　through　the　doorway　was　hacked　almost　in　two　as　he　cleaved　it　from
shoulder…blade　to　armpit。　He　dragged　his　sword　free　and　waited　for　the　next　to　enter；　but　the　peasants
hung　back；　none　willing　to　be　his　next　victim。　Glancing　over　his　shoulder；　he　saw　Chlod　at　the　back　door；
and　began　to　edge　towards　him。　The　peasants　came　after　him；　spreading　out；　but　they　were　wary　now　of
his　blade。　There　was　a　commotion　behind　the　peasants；　and　he　caught　a　glimpse　of　Raben　barging　his
way　through　the　press　of　bodies。
‘Wait；’　he　ordered　Chlod　as　he　heard　the　bolts　of　the　back　door　sliding　open。
The　knight　burst　into　the　room；　but　the　leg　of　a　chair　wielded　as　a　club　struck　him；　and　he　stumbled。
Three　peasants　were　on　him　in　an　instant。　Without　thought；　Calard　moved　to　his　aid。　He　hacked　into　the
bare　back　of　one　of　the　peasants　crouched　over　the　outcast；　severing　its　spine。　He　kicked　another　away；
sending　it　flying　face…first　into　a　bench　top；　bringing　a　pile　of　dirty　pots　down　with　a　crash。　He　slashed　at
another；　and　it　reeled　backwards　with　a　screech；　blood　spraying　from　its　neck。　The　peasants　had　now
circled　around　them；　filling　the　kitchen。
Calard　gripped　Raben　under　the　arm　and　helped　him　to　his　feet。　Blood　was　dripping　from　bite
wounds　on　his　cheek　and　neck。　The　outcast　knight　had　lost　his　grip　on　his　sword；　and　drew　a　slender
knife　from　his　boot。
‘You　should　have　gone　without　me；’　said　Raben。　‘I　would　have。’
‘And　that　is　the　difference　between　your　kind　and　mine；’　said　Calard。
The　peasants　came　at　them　in　a　rush。　Two　died　to　Calard’s　bastard　sword　and　another　to　Raben’s
stabbing　knife　before　the　two　knights　were　overwhelmed。
Seeing　his　master　disarmed　and　dragged　to　the　ground；　Chlod　slid　back　the　last　bolt　on　the　door　in　a
rush　and　threw　the　door　open。　The　cold　night　air　washed　in　and　without　a　backwards　glance　he　bolted
out　into　the　darkness。
Before　he　had　made　two　yards；　a　hand　locked　around　his　throat。　His　legs　went　out　from　under　him；
and　he　was　hurled　back　into　the　kitchen。　From　the　floor；　he　looked　up　to　see　a　gaunt　peasant　appear　in
the　doorway。　His　eyes　widened　as　the　figure　came　into　the　light。
‘No；　no；　no；　no；　no；’　said　Chlod；　scrambling　backwards　on　his　hands　and　knees。
The　figure　was　covered　in　crude　tattoos　and　wore　a　necklace　of　fingers　around　his　scrawny　neck。
Splinters　of　bone　had　been　pushed　through　the　skin　of　his　forearms。　He　looked　down　at　Chlod　and
smiled；　exposing　stained　teeth　that　had　been　filed　to　points。
‘Hello；　Chlod；’　he　said。

CALARD’S　ARMS　WERE　wrenched　behind　his　back　and　his　wrists　bound　with　tou