Questing Knight(科幻战争)-第7部分

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Boos　and　hisses　greeted　the　appearance　of　a　cloaked　and　hooded　marionette　that　reared　up　behind
the　Duke　of　Mousillon　and　stabbed　him　to　death。　The　deed　done；　the　puppet　threw　off　its　disguise；
revealing　its　identity　as　none　other　than　the　Duke　of　Lyonesse。　The　lights　dimmed　and　the　curtain　fell。
The　crowd　booed　loudly；　but　they　hushed　as　the　curtain　rose　one　more　time。　The　stage　was　unlit　and
bare　but　for　a　puppet　reclined　in　death；　wrapped　in　a　shroud。
‘But　before　he　died；　our　beloved　duke　swore　an　oath。　He　swore　that　he　would　return　from　beyond
the　grave　and　seek　vengeance！　He　swore　that　Mousillon　would　be　returned　to　its　former　glory；　and　that
the　rest　of　Bretonnia　would　pay　for　its　betrayal！’
The　death　shroud　was　suddenly　whisked　away　from　the　puppet…corpse　and　the　figure　of　the　Duke　of
Mousillon　leapt　up；　a　sword　held　in　each　hand。
‘Long　live　Duke　Merovech！’　screeched　the　narrator；　and　the　curtain　fell　for　the　last　time。
Calard　shook　his　head　as　the　crowd　cheered　and　banged　their　tables。　His　gaze　settled　on　the　knight
that　he　had　bumped　into　at　the　bar。
Perhaps　sensing　someone　watching　him；　the　knight　looked　up；　but　by　the　time　he　did；　Calard　had
already　gone。
VI
AN　HOUR　LATER；　the　knight　made　his　way　up　the　narrow　staircase　to　his　room。　He　unlocked　the　door；

which　opened　with　a　drawn…out　creak。　It　was　dark　within；　and　he　cursed。　He　had　left　a　lamp　burning　low
on　the　table　within；　but　a　draught　must　have　blown　it　out。　Leaving　the　door　ajar　so　that　he　could　see　by
the　light　in　the　hallway；　he　moved　towards　the　table。
The　door　clicked　shut　abruptly；　and　darkness　swallowed　him。　He　spun　around　on　his　heel；　reaching
for　his　blade。　It　was　half…drawn　when　the　tip　of　a　sword　touched　his　throat；　and　he　froze。
‘Sheathe　it；’　said　a　voice　from　the　darkness。　The　gaunt…featured　knight　scowled　but　did　as　he　was
bid。　The　shutters　of　a　lamp　were　opened；　and　the　knight　squinted　against　the　glare。
‘Sit；’　said　Calard。　He　forced　the　knight　back　with　the　point　of　his　sword；　making　him　sink　into　a
moth…eaten　chair。　To　his　credit；　the　dishonoured　knight　showed　no　fear。　‘Put　your　hands　behind　your
head；’　Calard　said。　The　knight　gave　Calard　a　long　look。
‘You　are　making　a　mistake；’　the　knight　said；　placing　his　hands　casually　behind　his　head。　His　voice
was　coarse；　little　more　than　a　growl。　Calard　lifted　the　man’s　chin　with　the　point　of　his　blade；　exposing　a
jagged　scar　that　reached　across　his　throat　from　ear　to　ear。
‘Nice　scar；’　said　Calard。
‘I’m　alive；’　growled　the　knight。　‘The　same　cannot　be　said　for　the　whoreson　who　gave　it　to　me。’
‘What　is　your　name？’
‘Raben；’　said　the　knight。　‘Who　the　hell　are　you？’
‘You　are　going　to　anse；　Raben。’
‘You’re　the　one　with　the　sword。’
‘You　are　one　of　Merovech’s　knights？’
‘You　already　know　the　answer　to　that。’
‘Where　is　he；　then？’
‘You　honestly　don’t　know？’　said　Raben。
‘If　I　did；　I　wouldn’t　need　you；　outcast；’　said　Calard。
‘Outcast；　is　it？　Oh　that　hurts；’　said　Raben。
‘Where？’　said　Calard。　A　trickle　of　blood　ran　from　Raben’s　throat。
‘The　ducal　palace　of　Mousillon　city；’　he　said　in　his　gravelly　voice。　‘He　does　proclaim　himself　to　be
the　long　lost　ruler　of　this　realm；　after　all。’
‘The　mad　duke　was　killed　centuries　years　ago；’　hissed　Calard。
‘Who　am　I　to　dispute　his　claim？’　said　Raben。　‘I’m　just　an　outcast。’
‘Indeed。’
‘Is　that　it？’　said　Raben。　‘Are　we　done？’
Calard　lowered　his　sword；　and　the　dispossessed　knight　let　down　his　hands。　Without　warning；　Calard
slammed　the　heavy　pommel　of　his　sword　into　the　side　of　Raben’s　head。　He　fell　sidewards　from　his　chair
and　hit　the　floor；　unconscious。
‘We　are　done；’　said　Calard。
CHLOD　AWOKE　WITH　a　start；　his　heart　pounding。　It　took　him　a　moment　to　remember　where　he　was：　the
stable　of　Morr’s　Rest。　He　lay　there　in　the　rotting　hay；　breathing　hard。　The　sound　came　again　–　something
like　a　heavy　chunk　of　wood　being　dropped　to　the　ground。
A　shaft　of　torchlight　seeped　in　from　the　courtyard　outside　through　a　knothole　in　the　wall。　Chlod

squatted　alongside　it；　squinting　through　the　gap。
At　first　he　saw　nothing　untoward。　The　courtyard　of　the　inn　was　deserted。　His　eye　swept　the
compound；　and　at　last　settled　on　the　gatehouse。　He　frowned。
The　shadows　beneath　the　archway　were　dark；　but　even　so　he　could　see　that　the　gate　was　open。　The
heavy　locking　bars　were　on　the　ground。　Sealed；　nothing　short　of　a　battering　ram　would　be　able　to　breach
those　gates；　but　they　had　been　flung　wide；　an　open　invitation　to　the　creatures　beyond。
For　a　moment；　Chlod　half…considered　a　mad　dash　across　the　courtyard　to　lock　the　gates；　for　he
knew　well　the　horrors　that　lurked　outside。　However；　he　was　no　hero；　and　they　would　have　been　too
heavy　for　him　alone　anyway。　He　stayed　put；　rooted　in　fear；　staring　at　the　gate　in　silent　dread。
For　long　minutes　he　watched；　barely　daring　to　breathe。　After　what　seemed　an　eternity；　he　saw　a
shadow　appear；　and　the　hairs　on　the　back　of　his　neck　rose。
The　dark　shape　hugged　the　ground；　moving　low。　It　paused　at　the　edge　of　the　torchlight；　then　edged
forwards。　Chlod　saw　a　pallid　face　atop　a　scrawny；　malnourished　body。　Bones　were　starkly　visible
beneath　its　skin。　It　sniffed　the　air　like　an　animal；　then　hissed　over　its　shoulder。　Rising　from　the　ground　into
a　low　crouch；　the　starving　peasant　padded　warily　into　the　courtyard　of　Morr’s　Rest；　hands　twitching。
A　second　peasant　came　through　behind　the　first；　a　filthy　bearded　man　carrying　a　rusted　plough　blade。
More　followed。　Chlod’s　heart　was　hammering　loudly　in　his　chest；　but　he　could　not　tear　himself　away　from
his　spy…hole。
He　froze　as　one　of　the　peasants　came　within　feet　of　him；　separated　only　by　the　thin　overlapping
planks　of　the　barn　wall。　This　one　was　a　foul　creature；　barely　human　at　all。　It　came　to　a　halt　and　cocked　its
head　to　one　side；　nostrils　flaring。　Chlod　could　make　out　the　fine　web　of　blue　veins　beneath　its　skin；　and
could　smell　its　animal　stink。　It　turned　and　stared　straight　at　him。　Chlod’s　heart　skipped　a　beat　as　it　saw
him。　It　grinned；　exposing　stained；　jagged　teeth。
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