The Temporal Knights (49 page)

“That would be Dorn,” Jefferies whispered.

“Dorn. God what a name,” the General answered quietly, and moved about in a vain attempt to find a place to sit that was not soiled in some way. Finally, he gave up and sat. No one talked for a time and he must have slept, which was surprising considering the circumstances, but the day had been a long and hard one. When his eyes finally popped open, he was instantly alert, aware of the danger. Jefferies was struggling with one of the prisoners directly at the General’s feet. It was a short struggle, since the man was obviously weakened by his time in captivity.

“Corporal,” Peebles said with impatience.

“He was creeping up on you,” Jefferies complained in his own defense.

“I was only comin’ to thank
ye,” the man said in a frightened whisper.

Peebles nodded, a bit surprised that he could understand the man. “Corporal, let the man up. Who are you?”

“My name is Sir Ordmere, son of the Earl of Sussex, and cousin to King Alfred. I am a guest of Lord Eadwulf’s and have been for nearly two years now...I think.”

“You’re a hostage?”

The man nodded. “Sir Eadwulf needed me father and his southern armies to gain hold on the east, and to watch his back when he finally gets the courage to move against the King.”

“Your father is an ally of Eadwulf’s?” Jefferies asked surprised.

“Me father hates Eadwulf, but at the moment he has little choice, if he moves against ‘im he’ll likely lose his lands and his son,” he answered bitterly. Peebles sighed and wished that Rice were here in this cell to help make sense of such things.

“Eadwulf has offered a similar arrangement with a few of my men...” Peebles said and decided not to mention the additional threat to Eve just yet. He needed his men cool and calm.

“God help yor men,” Sir Ordmere replied sadly.

“How did he capture you?” Private Trotske
asked, his voice barely above a whisper. It was clear that the other prisoners were growing very nervous as the conversation continued. 

“I wasn’t,” he whispered back. “Sir Eadwulf took me sister when she and her party were off to Guildford to see her friend Lady Ælfgiva. After her capture I came in her stead...now we best
be quiet. Dorn has an ugly temperament, and talking gets him riled.”

Peebles nodded, feeling great admiration for this dirty, smelly man in front of him. He wanted to do something to show the measure of his respect, but could think of nothing. Finally he reached out and touched Sir Ordmere on the arm.

“You speak wonderful English,” he whispered.

Sir Ordmere gave him a curious smile, for he had noted the strange accent of the new men, though he could not place it. “Thank you,” he answered. “I’m Anglish.”

They all settled down and went to sleep once more, only to be awakened again by Dorn and three guards at their gate.

“Wake up ye mealy, smelly cuss,” Dorn yelled and stormed into the cell. Peebles, Trotske and Jefferies were instantly on their feet and ready, but the master of the dungeons passed them by and moved directly to Sir Ordmere of Sussex. The guards, who were armed with long, wicked looking pikes moved into the cell to watch the other prisoners as Dorn quickly grabbed Sir Ordmere by the hair and pulled him out into the dark hallway. The gate swung closed with a clang without anyone doing the slightest thing to help the condemned man. Peebles, Jefferies, and Trotske immediately ran to the bars and looked out, but the other two prisoners just huddled together near the back of the cell. Rice, Sadao, and Moore were also at the bars of their cell, across the narrow corridor, no more than six feet away.

“Seems me Lord has need for ye na more, me pretty lad,” Dorn said, his voice echoing off the walls as the group headed up the corridor.  “Bin waitin’ a spell for this day....”

The General looked across the hall to Rice. He was thinking fast now. He had only just met Sir Ordmere and said no more than a few words to him, but even so, he knew he could not allow the man to be killed, have his tongue cut out or any other gruesome torture Dorn might have in mind, at least not without making some sort of attempt to save him.

“We need out,” Peebles said simply and then began to study the gate closely. It was made of iron and very strong, but the frame was only embedded into deep holes in the rock and not secured with any strong sealant, such as concrete or the like, with time a man, any man could work his way out. But time was not on their side at the moment.

“The lock’s a very simple one, only one or possibly two,
tumblers,” Sadao whispered from across the hall. “If I had a tool I could get us out rather quickly.”

Peebles thought only for a few seconds then turned to Jefferies, who already had the sharp piece of metal he’d taken from Sir Ordmere in his hand.

“Fortuitous that it came from him isn’t it?” the Corporal whispered then moved to the front of the cage and showed it to his best friend. He held it loosely in his palm for a moment and then carefully tossed it over. Sadao deftly snatched it out of the air just as a whip cracked in the far room. The sound was quickly followed by a howl of pain.

As Sergeant Lucas Sadao said, the lock was a simple one, but it still took him several minutes to finally make the tumblers fall into place. All the while the sounds of the whip and the screams of the tortured nobleman spilled down the stairs, making them all cringe. The lock finally released with a loud clang which made everyone but Sadao hold their breath for a long moment. The small sergeant immediately crossed over and began to work on the general’s gate.

“Let Jefferies handle this one, you and Sergeant Moore go and see if you can help that poor man,” Peebles ordered, the screams becoming unbearable.

Sadao nodded and the two professional commandos moved off with silent grace. Quietly they went up the small flight of stairs, pausing only to listen for sounds of approaching guards. They heard nothing but the crack of the lash and the screams, which were growing weaker. They moved toward the sound, creeping ever closer, until finally they reached a stone archway. With the utmost care they peeked around the corner and saw a room that thickened the blood in their veins. Despite the fact that their sense of smell had become somewhat accustomed to pungent odors in the last month, the stench emanating from the room was nearly overpowering. Dorn and his assistant Pepper were no friends to soap and water but they were positively fragrant next to the reek of rotting skulls hanging from the rafters like gruesome Halloween decorations. There were others mounted on the walls, like animal trophies, where they were left to fester. Along with the skulls, various implements of torture hung from the ceiling, some were obvious, some less so, but all appeared to be very sharp and very deadly. Sir Ordmere hung from iron manacles against the far wall, and Sadao could tell even from a distance that the man’s back was already a bloody mess. The entire scene was illuminated only by a pair of torches placed on either side of the archway. Besides Dorn and Sir Ordmere, there were three other men in the room, two guards and the pale scarred man named Pepper. They all had their backs to Sadao and Moore, watching the whipping with raucous joy.

‘Careless, careless,’
Sadao thought and he took a brief moment to look around. The two guards who stood watching Dorn whip Sir Ordmere to death were armed with long spears that had large, wicked looking metal tips. The Sergeant also noticed several knives protruding from their belts. Pepper had a long, curved knife which might have been considered a short sword if it was just a bit longer. Dorn appeared to be armed only with the whip, but Sadao knew it was a formidable weapon in the hands of someone capable.

Moore signaled to his fellow sergeant and the two began to move slowly into the room. Sadao moved to the right and Moore to the left, but they’d only taken a few cautious steps forward when Dorn turned suddenly and spotted them. He was so surprised by their presence and obvious fearlessness that he froze for a several precious moments. Sadao used the time to leap forward and grab a long wooden spear from the wall. He tested its balance as he spun to face the guards, while Moore rushed to remove a wicked looking sickle from a rusty nail. He yanked it off the wall but before he could turn the Master of the Dungeon came to life. With an easy, practiced motion, he flicked his wrist and sent the rawhide whip slicing through the air toward Moore. It struck the Sergeant on the left shoulder with a loud crack and cut through his shirt and several layers of skin. The Sergeant gasped and Dorn smiled, but it immediately fell from his face as he watched Sadao wade into the two guards, spear twirling, completely unafraid. It was
plenty obvious that these men were no strangers to the weapons they handled. Dorn cracked the whip at Moore again, keeping him at bay.

Pepper quickly moved to his master’s side and eyed the intruders with unease. If the two guards would have worked together they could have challenged even Sadao, but foolishly only one guard moved forward to attack while the other hung back, undecided. The man thrust his weapon clumsily at the Sergeant’s face, but Sadao easily knocked it aside, crouched and with an effortless sweep of the spear, ripped open the man’s mid-section. The injured guard howled in pain and fell to the floor, desperately pressing his hands to his stomach in a vain attempt to hold his innards in place. He continued to scream as blood poured through his fingers.

The sight of his dying friend completely unnerved the remaining guard, whose eyes twitched as he watched Sadao move forward. He lunged forward but only thrust his weapon at Sadao in short; choppy motions in order to better control the bladed tip. As it was, his attacks posed little danger to Sadao, who circled and waited for a mistake. Finally he managed to parry an ill-timed blow and with a sweeping move neatly slit the man’s throat. He went down next to his friend, clutching his neck and struggling for air, fetid though it was. Dorn’s entire attention switched to Sadao, who he now perceived to be the greater threat. He pulled back the whip, feeling real fear for the first time in a long while. Both of his guards were down, and writhing on the dungeon floor. The dungeon master ignored Moore and launched the whip at Sadao, but was surprised when the strange looking man turned his spear sideways and threw it up into the air. Dorn watched helplessly as his whip caught the flying spear and wrapped neatly around it several times before clattering to the floor.

“Meatholes!”
Dorn cursed. He flipped his wrist to yank back the whip but the spear bounced along with it. Sadao however, did not wait for Dorn to untangle his weapon and instead dove and deftly snatched up a pike carelessly discarded by one of the dying guards. He hit the ground, rolled and was on his feet once more in a single easy motion.

‘I canna die,’
Dorn thought wildly and frantically pulled on the whip, desperately trying to free it from the spear. He did so but not before Sergeant Moore waded in and buried his sickle in the back of the big man’s skull. Pepper whimpered but drew his long knife and moved on Sergeant Moore, whose sickle was still wedged tightly in the skull of the dungeon master. He quickly abandoned his attempt to free the weapon and leaped away as Pepper swiped at him, missing his ribs by inches but then Sadao rushed forward and skewered the pale man, pinning him neatly to the wall. The two soldiers spun about, searching for any hidden threats but all seemed clear. Moore smiled at his deadly friend and winked. All of Sir Eadwulf’s men died within seconds of each other.

“You all right?”
Sadao asked, his eyes still sweeping the room and the archway for more enemies. Sergeant Moore nodded but then as if by magic, the pain, which had been stored somewhere in his sub-conscious, rushed forward. He groaned and went to his knees, one hand reaching around to gingerly touch his wound.

“I’m fine...” he answered, then gestured with his head to the man chained to the wall. “How’s he?”

Sadao, sensing no danger, glanced back at the man hanging limply by his wrists and felt real pity. His back, bleeding freely, was a mass of ribboned flesh. Impossible that he was still among the living, but Sadao stepped forward and felt for a pulse at the man’s neck. He was unconscious, but somehow still alive.

“He’s alive...barely,” he said and quickly stepped over to Dorn and searched for a set of keys to unlock the unfortunate man. He found nothing on the dungeon master, but found one
large key on a single iron ring on Pepper. By the time he turned back to release Sir Ordmere, Moore was on his feet and using both arms to support the man’s weight. Sadao quickly slipped the key into the manacles, hoping that it would work the lock, it did and the two soldiers carefully lowered Sir Ordmere, face down to the floor. There was a bucket of water, with a ladle in one corner and Sadao removed his shirt then undershirt, which he immersed in the water and silently began to clean the nobleman’s wounds.

“Go check on the General,” he said and handed Moore the single key. He was sure that it would open up any lock in the dungeon, and possibly any lock in the entire castle. “I can handle this.”

Moore immediately moved off, and a few moments later the man on the floor began to regain consciousness. He groaned and tried to move, then screamed and passed out again just as the General and the rest of his men topped the stairs and moved through the archway. 

Peebles grimaced and knelt down by Sir Ordmere. He was followed quickly by Dr. Rice, who relieved Sadao of his task.

“He’s alive,” Moore said with a grimace, “but I don’t envy him. My back is on fire. The pain he’s in must be incredible.”