Guard of the Evergreen Princess

CHAPTER FOUR

As adrenaline flooded my body, I took in the scene from a tactical perspective. Helen, too, had appeared from the chamber behind Sir Chelan and Sir Everett. She grasped the Princess and pulled her close, away from the horrible scene that was about to take place.

I was facing two warriors, both about five paces away from me as they charged through the open doors of the ballroom we had just left. Their eyes were bloodshot, and saliva droplets were spewing from their mouths, which were open with ghastly roaring. One of them wielded a crudely made and rusted sword, while the other carried a gore-encrusted mace in both hands. I knew that on the other side of my grace, Sir Chelan and Sir Everett were facing twice their number as well, and one of those four had a strange wrist-mounted arrow device.

In confidence, one of the men in black roared, "Long live the Gems!"

Lunging forward, sword in my right hand, my left hand took hold of a loose wall chalice on the hall, ripping it from the mortar. Without hesitation, I flung it at the Gem warrior who had the mace in both hands. The hot wax of the chalice splattered across his face as the chunks of mortar and metal of the chalice holder mashed into his nose and left cheek. He roared in fury and staggered back as the burning wax smashed into his new facial wounds and his hair caught fire.

In that moment, the other gem warrior swung his sword in a wide arc, and its serrated edge tore through my lower left arm. I felt a horrid ripping sensation as muscle and skin were shredded by his attack, and my arm began to immediately pulse with sharp pain as blood began to stream from the gaping wound. But adrenaline kept me going. With a retaliatory surge of wrath, I gripped my sword even harder in my right hand, and bashed the pummel into his jaw, feeling the sickening crunch of shattering bone and teeth as the steel of my royal blade smashed through his barbaric mouth parts. The warrior staggered back, clutching his shattered jaw as broken bits of jawbone and teeth sprayed across the brick wall behind him. Without hesitation, I plunged my sword into his gut, wrenching it to the right, disemboweling the Gem brute as he collapsed onto the floor.

At that moment, I heard a fearsome roar, and felt a rush of air leave my lungs as a heavy body slammed into my own, sending me sprawling on the ground. His face coated in hardened wax and bits of mortar, parts of his hair burnt, the mace-wielding barbarian lunged on top of me, using the handle of his mace to press my neck into the floor. A swift kick of his heavy boot sent my sword scraping across the floor away from my right hand, which grasped wildly for anything to use as leverage against the brute. My vision clouded as the handle of the two-handed mace was pushed harder against my windpipe, restricting airflow. His face was right in my face, and I felt the heat of his angry breath as he roared an unintelligible curse in my face, spraying saliva, blood, and chips of wax over my face.

In a last ditch effort to get his crushing weight off of me, I shoved my right knee upward into his side, knocking him off balance. The weight on my throat subsided long enough for me to catch a breath, before he lunged downward again. But my knee moving up was all I needed. Grasping wildly with my right hand, I felt the hilt of the small dagger I had in my boot. As the barbarian roared in fury, I shifted it out of its sheath and into my hand, using a swift motion to jab the dagger repeatedly into the Gem warrior's ribcage. His roars became gasps as the squealing of burst lungs escaped from the wounds I had made with the dagger, which was coated in blood and torn veins. As he wavered, I used all my force of both arms, despite the pain on my left, to shove him off me and onto the floor. As he lay on his back, he laughed through his pain. My boot slammed into his neck several times, crushing his own windpipe in retaliation and snapping his neck.

I couldn't see my sword. My vision was blurred with blood and wax, but there was no time to look around. Princess Seattel and Helen huddled together in the hallway in horror, having just witnessed my performance in the brutal spectacle that is often referred to as "honorable combat" by many knights.