The Crusader's Crown (Tales of the Brotherhood Series Book 1) by James Mercer (free children's ebooks pdf .TXT) 📕

  His superior numbers had been carved down to the point where the two forces were almost equal. Most of his men-at-arms and sergeants now lay dead. Of the Order’s force, only the two knights still stood and Chevalier had an arrow in his shoulder. They must have felled almost a dozen of his men and nevertheless the four still stood.

  He watched as the one closest to him cut down a Brother Templar. He glared at the knight who discarded his helmet and now wore only his mail coif to protect his head. He could see by the silver wisps of hair and the white streaks in his beard that this knight had passed his prime.

  The two locked eyes and his opponent then spoke just loud enough to hear over the clamour around them.

   “The foresworn Temple knight, Sir Alejandro Garcia I presume?”

   “And you are?” he snarled.

   “I Sir am the Master of the Keys.”

  Garcia had heard the title whispered. But knew not the name. Instead of asking, he raised his sword while his opponent imitated him. The two men’s swords clashed together with such force that sparks briefly flared where the two blades met. The two of them growled and snarled like two wolves grappling with one another.

   “I have heard your name spoken but never expected such a withered excuse for a knight to own such a reputation,” Garcia said through gritted teeth.

  The Templar’s strength was starting to outmatch that of the knight who was at least twenty years his senior. Sir Arnaud also knew that his strength was slowly failing as every fibre in his muscles burned in the massive effort to hold his adversary at bay. However with age came knowledge and the veteran war dog still had a few tricks up his sleeve.

   “Tis strange for I had never heard your name spoken until you broke your oath. Have you been cowering behind your walls and masters all this time?” he answered.

  Garcia roared at the insult and shunted his opponent away from him. The gap between them allowed Sir Arnaud to take a breath before Garcia came at him again. The Templar was powerful and his sword thundered again and again until Sir Arnaud’s shield arm had gone numb.

  His energy almost spent, the Master of the Keys angled his shield causing the Templar’s sword to slide down its front. Stepping forward, he barrelled into Garcia’s chest. The charge had taken Garcia completely off guard, causing him to drop his sword. His shield was of no use for the veteran knight was too close. He felt a sharp pain as something pierced his flesh then reached for the back of his belt.

  Taillefer was ready to collapse from exhaustion but his legs carried him a few paces further. His mail coif and leather cap beneath protected his head as he charged into his opponent. With his head facing down he saw the beautifully made broadsword fall to the ground but at such close quarters, his own sword was rendered useless as well.

  Using the corner of his shield, Sir Arnaud jammed it into the knight’s sternum. The wound would not do much but it had broken the mail and punctured the leather gambeson beneath. Seeing the blood on the corner of his shield, Taillefer inwardly smiled with satisfaction. Then in a matter of seconds he grunted when a sharp pain, shot through his side and shuddered around his rib cage.

   The dagger Garcia had used was a treacherous weapon and certainly not something a knight of the Temple would have been expected to carry. Its blade was thick and sharp on only one side, more like a hunting knife than a dagger only larger. The Templar had drawn it from his belt and struck the knife deep into the Brotherhood knight’s side. The blade grated agonisingly against bone and sliced through muscle before piercing the old man’s vital organs. The Master of the Keys dropped to his knees and Garcia knew that the knight was now helpless. He would bleed out soon enough.

Schaffer too was almost spent; he had been close to cutting his opponent in half when a crossbow bolt thudded into his shield arm. The bolt had slipped over the rim of the shield, burying itself in the knight’s mail and flesh, rendering his arm helpless.

  Seeing the bolt skewer his blood-covered adversary’s arm, Sir Guarin doubled his efforts. He stepped forward and brought his sword across, intent on splitting the knight’s chest open. However his attempt was thwarted when the injured knight blocked it with his own and returned with his own attack which Sir Guarin blocked with his shield. He tried again this time stepping forward and while swinging with his sword he rammed his shield into the useless shield of his opponent’s.

  Schaffer’s shield remained only because of the straps which were looped around the knight’s arm. As shield met shield, an agonising pain seared up his arm and echoed through his shoulder blade. He had tried to parry the Order knight’s blow but his sword had not been quick enough and the knight’s blade had broken through the mail that covered his arm, cutting through the padding beneath. Seeing no other option, Schaffer butted Sir Guarin’s pot helm with his own helmet. Both helmets were well made and Schaffer could hear ringing in his ears. His left arm was helpless and it was only the imbedded bolt which had stopped him from bleeding out. His right arm now injured as well, Sir Frederick staggered back.

  He heard a brief cry of triumph come from beneath the knight’s helmet.

   “Yield to the Order and I will spare your life,” he said proudly.

   “You think me a fool boy. I would lose my manhood