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

   “So be it,” replied Sir Guarin.

  The pot helm, often favoured by the Temple knights had many qualities – not least being that they protected the head far better than the conical helmet. Yet its flaw was the undoing of the arrogant youth who approached Sir Frederick. It had restricted vision.

   “Nos defendant, id quod est in nostra potestate!” bellowed a voice behind him.

  Sir Guarin spun round in time to see the battle scarred priest, astride his destrier, riding straight for him.

  With its street abandoned of the Templar men-at-arms, Father Anzac had entered the courtyard unchallenged. Seeing his friend in mortal danger, the mailed priest swung his mace towards the Order knight’s grand helmet. The force of his strike caused the masked knight’s head to whip back, snapping his neck. He had served the Order for only a few years, certain that he had been fighting for the greater good and in the service of the honourable Order. But now the young misguided Sir Guarin de Caron was dead.

   “About bloody time you grizzled churchman,” mumbled Schaffer, staggering toward the nearest building and using its wall to support him.

*****

Reynard watched in horror as he saw his mentor drop to the floor, holding his side. He could see the Templar who had dealt the killing blow driving the knife into Taillefer’s side. The Commander roared in anger as he ran to the aid of Sir Arnaud. One of the last of the Templar sergeants was about to charge him with his spear when a scimitar flew through the air, burying itself into the sergeant-at-arms’ chest and bursting out his back.

  With no others in his way, the mercenary Commander of The Forgotten Army ran straight for the rogue Templar who now turned to face him. The knight had picked up his sword and spat to the floor.

  His sword retrieved, Garcia could see the fury etched on the face of the man bearing down on him. Not knowing who his opponent was, he watched as his new challenger threw his shield to the ground. He smiled, confident that such sentiment would give him the advantage. But just out of the Temple knight’s sword reach, the Commander slowed, and holding it in both hands, swept his blade high before bringing it down with such ferocity, the power of the strike split the Templar’s shield in two.

  Having little time to discard its remains, Garcia swept his blade across, allowing him a split second to prepare to combat this new opponent with only their blades to aid them.

  Regardless of their similar tempers and constant arguing, the admiration and loyalty Reynard held for his mentor vented through his sword. Each blow he dealt released a fresh memory of serving alongside the Master of the Keys.

  Garcia was given no chance to strike back. Every time he blocked the deadly blade coming for him, another would follow. What he had thought would be the man’s downfall had only spurred him to fight as if he had only just entered the melee. It was clear that both swords were of the highest quality but if this continued, each strike only blunted both blades. Stepping closer to lock blades, the Templar tried a new method.

   “You would waste such effort to avenge a withered fool such as him?” he snarled.

  Reynard said nothing. His teeth bared and his eyes blazing, he stared the Templar straight in the eye. He could see no fear as yet but there was some doubt for sure. Knowing the knight’s intentions he remained silent and continued to wrestle blade against blade.

  As the knight was about to hiss another pointless insult Reynard seized the chance and pulled the cross-hilt of his sword across the Templar’s brow. The mail coif failed to do its job and the knight howled as the corner of the cross-hilt tore open the skin.

  Blood seeped from the wound, obstructing the Templar’s vision. Nowhere near finished, Reynard brought his right elbow up and rammed it into the man’s throat. Unlocking his sword, he spun on his heel and thrust the point of his blade into the top of his enemy’s left leg.

  The knight cried in pain as his leg gave way, causing him to lower his guard. Before he could even attempt to retaliate, Reynard kicked the sword from his hand. Through obscured sight, Garcia stared up at the warrior who had thwarted him.

   “You are him?” he said. “You are Reynard Sancerre.”

   “That I am. And that man you have just slain taught me everything I know,” answered Reynard between huge gulps of air.

   “My Brothers of the Temple will avenge me,” Garcia growled.

   “No Garcia. You abandoned your Brothers when you aligned yourself with Alexander Pierron.”

  With the last of his strength the rogue Templar pulled the knife from his belt and attempted to drive it into the Commander’s stomach. Reynard had expected such an attack and caught hold of the knight’s arm.

   “You killed the Master of the Keys with your blade. Allow me to return the favour.”

  Dropping his sword, Reynard drew his Brotherhood dagger from his belt and without another word drove it into the knight’s throat.

Chapter 17

Esca sprinted down a narrow side street that followed the crumbling outer wall. There was someone pursuing him but he dared not look back to see who. The Order, the Templar, the Brotherhood, it could have been any of them. Dawn was breaking and the sky was light enough to see that there was nowhere to hide. If only he had been given the time to hide the box which contained the priceless treasure within.  He could hear the pursuer getting closer and he knew they would soon