David Gemmell – Rigante 3 – Ravenheart

Alterith was thrown against a wall. Strangely this dulled the pain from the lashing. Both men had drawn knives.

‘You were warned about the evil of your ways,’ said the first. ‘You did not heed the warning. Your fate was in your own hands, and you chose death. Now you will pay for the corruption of your soul.’

‘How can you use those words?’ asked Alterith, amazed that his voice did not quaver. ‘Can you really believe that the Source favours murder in alleyways? That He smiles down upon those who kill innocent bootmakers and teachers?’

The man smiled. ‘The demons may have blessed you with a silver tongue, schoolteacher, but it will avail you nothing. If you speak words of repentance, however, then you will not burn in lakes of hell fire, but will be welcomed in Paradise.’

‘If Paradise is filled with the likes of you, then give me hell fire,’ said Alterith Shaddler.

The second man sheathed his dagger and pulled an odd-shaped implement from his belt. It looked to Alterith like a pair of tongs, save that the ends were curved and sharp. ‘What is that?’ he asked, fear in his voice.

‘I promised Sir Gayan to bring him your foul tongue,’ the man told him. ‘I would have drawn it out once you were dead, but you need punishing for your insults.’

Alterith felt his legs giving way. The first knight stepped in, grabbing him by the throat and hauling him upright.

‘My, my,’ came a deep voice, ‘but you are an unpleasant pair.’ The knight with the tongs spun round. Alterith saw a huge figure standing in the alleyway. He was cloaked and hooded, but appeared to be carrying no weapon. ‘Begone, rascal,’ said the knight. ‘This is no business of yours.’

‘Aye, I am a rascal, no doubt of it,’ said the man amiably. ‘By heaven, I’m renowned for it.’

The knight slipped the tongs back in his belt and drew his dagger. ‘This is your last chance, fool,’ he said. ‘Leave now, or the wrath of the righteous will end your miserable life.’

‘Isn’t that the schoolteacher?’ responded the man. ‘Never liked him. Spent too much of his time thrashing my nephew. Just goes to show how wrong it is to make swift judgements. For here he is defending a highland woman and being lashed for it. Now, my little mice, my good humour is fading. It is cold and I am hungry. So be on your way while your faces are still pretty.’

The knight suddenly lunged. The big man’s right hand blocked the dagger, his left thundering into the attacker’s face. Stepping forward he grabbed the knight, spinning him. Then, with one hand gripping the back of the knight’s belt, the other holding him at the nape of the neck, he rammed the man’s face into the alley wall. Shards of broken teeth scattered to the pebbles. Alterith stood transfixed. The knight holding his throat released him and leapt at the newcomer. Once again the dagger was brushed aside, and the knight was hauled into a sickening head butt which smashed his nose. This was followed by a punch to the solar plexus which doubled the knight over. He too was then spun and hurled head first into the wall, where he sank to the ground alongside his comrade.

Alterith slid down the wall. Now the pain in his back flared again and he felt sick.

The big man approached him and, pushing back his hood, squatted down. Alterith recognized him as the man who had been at the farm when he had first visited Maev Ring. ‘What an exciting life you lead, schoolteacher,’ said Jaim Grymauch, with a grin.

‘I … I thank you, sir,’ said Alterith. ‘Those men planned to murder me, as they murdered Gillam Pearce.’

‘Aye, I heard. I wish I’d been here sooner. Come, let us get you inside. I don’t doubt you’ll be wanting your dinner.’

‘I couldn’t eat,’ said Alterith.

‘I could,’ said the man. ‘I’ve been walking for fifteen hours and I’m weak as a newborn calf.’ He hauled Alterith to his feet. ‘So invite me to dine with you, man, for I’ve no coin.’