Questing Knight(科幻战争)-第7章

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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