Bant walked towards the camp. “Fol!” he yelled as he entered the clearing the camp was in. Instantly men leapt to their feet, drawing swords and readying spears. Two bowmen drew arrows but before they could lay them to their bows two arrows flew from behind Brant and severed their bowstrings. Unnerved they dropped their weapons. A tall man wearing a chainmail shirt and greaves stepped from a tent. A long two handed sword by his side.
“You!” he hissed as Bant shed his cloak. Revealing the chainmail and the white surcoat he was wearing. Bearing the symbol of the Hidden Swords. A simple sword with a star at the point.
Bant drew his sword and spoke. “This is between you and me, Fol.”
“Kill him!” yelled Fol and stood back as his men charged. Bant already had his sword drawn. And, Like Coll’s skill with the bow, his skill with the sword was legendary. Matched only by other members of the Hidden Swords.
He blocked a blow, ducked another, and killed two men with a backhand sweep. The point of his blade passing through their throats and killing them. as the remaining traitors tried to surround him Coll started picking them off. Between Bant’s swordsmanship and Coll’s archery, the fifteen men soon turned into fifteen very dead men.
Bant stood facing Fol who’d drawn his sword. “Must I do everything myself?” said Fol as he swung.
Bant parried then sidestepped. Swinging his sword almost casually. Fol tried blow after blow. Bant gave ground and Fol thought he was beating him down and intensified his swings. However, to Coll’s experienced eye, none of Fol’s swings even came close to penetrating Bant’s defense.
Then, Bant went on the offensive.
Fol never had a chance. His massive sword was just two unwieldy in this sort of combat to defend against Bant’s smaller and quicker sword.
In a matter of seconds Fol was kneeling on the ground. One hand clasping a wound on his chest. The other a cut in his thigh. His sword lay on the ground beside him. A beaten man and he knew it.
“You killed my apprentice,” said Bant. “I left you until the last. So my anger could grow. I could keep you alive, torture you until your mind is broken, your body crippled. Then set you free to live a few days until you die. But I will show you mercy, in its own way.”
Bant’s sword flashed in the light of the fire and Fol’s last feeling in this world was one of pain. Then, nothing.
Bant and Coll watched as Fol’s head toppled off his shoulders. His body fell to the ground and twitched once, then it was still.
“It’s over,” said Coll as he put a hand on Bant’s shoulder. “Inted has been avenged.”
“He was only fourteen,” said Bant. “I should have made him stay at Ulor Castle.”
“As your apprentice he took an oath the same as you,” said Coll. “Don’t blame yourself. Blame the traitors who started this.”
“Eleven,” said Bant. “eleven of them have fallen to my blade since the battle. Fol was the last.”
Bant looked at the sky. Just visible above the trees was the gray light that proceeded dawn.
“Let’s go.”
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