Bindoe slowly drew his cavalry sabre. ‘I hope you know how to use them beauties, boy,’ he said. ‘Because I’m going to rip out your bowels if you don’t.’ As he spoke he rushed forward.
Luss saw Kaelin raise one of the pistols and pull the trigger. The flash pan flared, but no shot followed. The second pistol came up – and fired. The ball smashed into Bindoe’s face, shattering the teeth on the right side of his mouth and exiting in a bloody spray over his cheekbone. He staggered and almost fell, then righted himself. With an angry roar he charged at Kaelin Ring.
Instead of running Kaelin dropped both pistols and reached into his pocket, coming up with a small knife. Flinging the sheath aside he darted in to meet Bindoe. The sabre slashed through the air. Kaelin Ring ducked under it. The knife slid into Bindoe’s belly and ripped upwards. A scream of mortal agony came from the dying soldier as his entrails spilled over the hands of his killer. Kaelin wrenched the knife up further, then slammed it deep into Bindoe’s chest. Pushing the soldier away Kaelin kicked him in the ribs, hurling him to the boards. His guts splayed around him, Bindoe began to shake and scream. Kaelin Ring knelt beside him. Grabbing his hair he hefted the skinning knife and carved seven letters into his brow. As he reached the seventh Bindoe gave out one last juddering sigh, and died.
Luss Campion saw Kaelin Ring rise up from beside the body and walk towards him. His hands and arms were covered in blood, and in his eyes there was a fury that Luss found almost inhuman.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘So sorry. I didn’t want. . .’ Something cold swept across his throat. There was little pain. He tried to speak, but only a garbled noise came out. His vision swam, and he pitched to his knees. Blood was pumping from his neck. He tried to reach up and stem the flow, but Kaelin Ring pushed him to his back. The knife cut into his brow. There was no pain.
Kaelin knelt by the water’s edge, in the shadow of the old log bridge. The dawn sun shone down on him, and by its light he stared at his blood-covered hands and arms, at the gore-drenched white shirt, and the red streaks and splashes to his leggings.
The frenzy had passed now, and he felt weak and disorientated, his mind numb. He found himself looking at the reflections in the water, the glints of light sparkling on a jutting white rock, and the newly opening yellow flowers on the river bank. He wondered what made the flowers open in sunlight and close in darkness. On the far bank he saw two rabbits emerge from their burrow. Birdsong filled the trees, and the land seemed to sigh with awakening.
Kaelin’s hands were sticky and he plunged them into the water. The movement caused the rabbits to flee back to their burrow. Kae^in watched the blood swirl on the surface. Not so long ago this same blood was flowing in the veins of living men, now headless corpses sprawled on the bridge above. The water was cold, but Kaelin waded out into it, ducking down and scrubbing at his shirt, trying to remove the stains. He was shivering as he emerged some minutes later. The front of his shirt was still pale pink. He stripped it off and scrubbed it again, beating it against a rock until no sign of his excesses could be seen upon the garment.
He had not known what to expect, nor what he would feel if he avenged Chara’s murder. But there ought to have been at least a sense of satisfaction, of balance. There was none. A sweet girl was dead, and no amount of vengeance could alter that. ‘The blame is mine,’ he whispered, remembering her words in the lane outside her home.
‘I don’t care what people say, Kaelin.’
‘It is not about what they say.’
‘I’m not frightened of them either. You are my friend, Kaelin. I value that friendship, and I’ll not hide it to please bigots.’