Questing Knight(科幻战争)-第14章

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as　pale　as　virgin　snow。　He　drew　a　slender　dagger　from　his　hip　and　placed　it　across　his　naked　hand。　His
fingers　closed　tightly　around　the　blade；　and　with　a　smooth；　slow　movement；　he　slid　the　dagger　free。　His

blood　shone　brightly　upon　the　blade。
Sheathing　the　knife；　Merovech　clicked　his　fingers　and　a　goblet　of　wine　was　handed　to　him。　He　lifted
his　pale　hand　above　the　goblet；　still　clenched　in　a　fist；　and　let　his　blood　drip　steadily　into　the　wine。　When
the　flow　ceased；　he　handed　the　goblet　to　Bertelis；　who　accepted　it　with　a　look　of　hunger。
‘All　of　Mousillon　salutes　you；　Bertelis；　champion　of　champions；’　said　Merovech。
Bertelis　lifted　the　goblet　high；　then　threw　his　head　back　and　gulped　back　its　contents。　He　shuddered
in　rapture；　his　eyes　half…closed　as　he　lowered　the　drinking　vessel　from　his　lips。
Calard　groaned　in　horror　as　he　watched　his　brother　drink　the　wine　infused　with　blood；　shocked　to
the　core　of　his　being。　Bertelis　wiped　a　ruby　drip　from　the　corner　of　his　mouth；　and　Duke　Merovech
stepped　down　into　the　centre　of　the　duelling　ring。　He　moved　with　a　lion’s　grace。
Bertelis　had　always　been　tall；　standing　half　a　head　clear　of　Calard　himself；　but　Merovech　towered
over　him。　He　turned　around　on　the　spot；　eyeing　the　gathered　knights。　His　white　features　contrasted
sharply　with　the　black　of　his　armour；　and　his　red…tinged　eyes　glinted　in　the　torchlight；　like　those　of　a　wolf。
All　conversation　had　ceased　in　the　chamber；　and　now　all　were　gathered　close　in　around　the　duelling　pit　to
hear　their　master’s　words。
‘Tonight　is　an　auspicious　night；　my　brothers；’　said　Merovech；　his　voice　booming　out　to　fill　the
expansive　hall。　He　began　to　stalk　around　the　perimeter　of　the　circle；　like　a　caged　beast。　‘Tonight　is　the
dawning　of　a　new　era　in　Mousillon’s　history。　Once；　our　realm　was　the　most　powerful　in　all　Bretonnia。
Now　we　have　a　chance　to　reclaim　that　glory；　you　and　I。’
Calard　found　himself　captivated　by　Merovech；　unable　to　tear　his　eyes　away　from　him。
‘For　seven　hundred　years　I　slumbered；’　said　Merovech。　‘I　awoke　to　find　Mousillon　a　pale　shadow　of
its　glorious　past；　overrun　with　vermin；　its　lands　annexed　by　its　neighbours；　its　very　name　a　by…word　for
despair　and　failure。　But　now；　I　have　returned。　Now；　Mousillon　will　rise　again。　And　you；　my　brothers；　will
rise　with　it。’
Merovech　had　returned　to　the　centre　of　the　circle　and　now　he　stopped　his　restless　pacing。　Calard
could　feel　the　excitement　building　amongst　the　onlookers。
‘Each　of　you　has　proven　yourself　worthy；’　said　Merovech；　‘and　so；　I　will　grant　you　the　greatest　gift
that　you　shall　ever　receive。　Tonight；　you　become　as　gods　among　men；　and　together　we　shall　take　back
what　is　rightfully　ours。　All　of　Bretonnia　shall　kneel　before　us；　and　the　lands　shall　run　red　with　blood。’
As　if　on　cue；　there　came　a　grinding　of　gears　and　the　turning　of　ancient　mechanisms；　and　the　domed
ceiling　overhead　began　to　open；　unfurling　like　the　petals　of　a　black　rose　under　the　midnight　sky。　The
clouds　were　parting　overhead；　and　the　silver　light　of　Mannslieb　shone　down　into　the　expansive　chamber。
There　were　gasps　from　the　crowd　of　onlookers；　but　it　was　not　for　this　mechanical　wonder；　or　the　sight　of
the　silver　moon。　No；　those　intakes　of　air　were　for　the　appearance　of　the　second　moon：　Morrslieb；
glowing　malignant　and　green；　that　stared　down　at　them　like　a　baleful　eye。
Merovech　was　standing　with　his　arms　raised　to　the　heavens；　bathing　in　Morrslieb’s　sinister　emerald
glow。
‘It　is　time！’　bellowed　the　duke。　‘Bring　forth　the　prisoner！’
BOUND　IN　HEAVY；　ensorcelled　chains　and　surrounded　by　armed　guards；　the　prisoner　was　dragged　up
through　the　palace　halls　from　the　oubliette　that　had　held　it；　far　below。　It　bellowed　its　fury；　the　sound
echoing　deafeningly　through　the　lower　levels。　Its　massive　body　was　a　patchwork　of　burns；　savage　cuts
and　mottled　bruises　courtesy　of　the　duke’s　finest　torturers。　More　than　a　score　of　muscle…bound　wardens
hauled　upon　the　thick　chains；　straining　and　heaving　to　keep　the　prisoner　moving。　They　wore　black　leather
hoods　over　their　heads；　and　were　accompanied　by　an　entourage　of　palace　guards；　silent；　long…dead
warriors　enclosed　in　black　plate　armour。

The　ambush　hit　them　hard　and　fast。　The　battle　took　place　halfway　up　a　wide　marble　staircase；　with
the　attackers　striking　simultaneously　from　above　and　below。　The　fight　was　brutal　and　bloody；　and　over
within　thirty　heartbeats。　The　prisoner　itself　tore　apart　half　a　dozen　of　its　gaolers；　ripping　them　limb　from
limb　in　a　gory　explosion　of　rage　and　savagery。
Grandfather　Mortis　approached　the　prisoner　warily；　hands　raised；　as　one　might　approach　a　wounded
bear。　His　eyes　were　full　of　pity　as　he　looked　upon　his　lord’s　tortured　flesh。
Murmuring　calming　words；　he　laid　a　hand　gently　upon　one　of　the　prisoner’s　immensely　muscled
shoulders。　Its　heavy　head　came　up　sharply；　snarling；　and　Mortis　jerked　back。　Its　snarl　descended　into　a
low；　warning　rumble　deep　in　its　chest；　and　Mortis　placed　his　hand　back　upon　its　shoulder。　This　time　it
accepted　his　touch。
‘It’s　over；’　said　Grandfather　Mortis　in　a　soothing　voice。　‘It’s　over。’
‘No；’　growled　the　prisoner；　forming　the　words　with　some　difficulty。　Its　mouth　was　built　for　tearing
and　ripping；　not　for　speech。　‘It　is　time　for　vengeance。’
CALARD　SAW　THE　thrill　of　anticipation　on　Bertelis’s　ungodly　pale　face；　mirroring　the　expression　of　every
onlooker。　His　brother　grinned；　exposing　needle…sharp　canines。
‘Blessed　Lady　of　mercy；’　Calard　breathed。
As　if　hearing　his　words；　Bertelis’s　head　snapped　around。　For　a　second　his　eyes　darted　from　face　to
face；　searching　for　who　had　spoken；　but　then　they　settled　on　Calard。　His　grin　widened；　and　he　began　to
chuckle。　With　slow；　unhurried　movements　he　drew　his　sword　and　began　walking　towards　Calard。　The
knights　and　ladies　around　the　questing　knight　drew　back　away　from　him；　leaving　him　isolated　and
exposed。
‘Hello；　Calard；’　said　Bertelis。　‘What　a　pleasant　surprise　this　is。’
‘What　has　he　done　to　you；　my　brother？’　said　Calard；　standing　alone。
‘Nothing　that　I　did　not　wish　for；’　said　Bertelis　with　a　grin；　loosening　the　muscles　of　his　neck　and
shoulders　languorously；　like　a　cat　stretching。　‘And　it　feels　fantastic。’
‘Finish　it　quickly；’　hissed　Merovech。　‘The　time　of　the　conjunction　draws　near。’
‘I’ve　been　looking　forward　to　this　for　a　long　time；　brother；’　spat　Bertelis；　hefting　his　sword　and
moving　purposefully　across　the　killing　circle。
Reluctantly；　Calard　drew　the　Sword　of　Garamont　and　stepped　out　to　meet　him。　He　swung　his
battered　shield　from　his　back　and　secured　it　on　his　left　arm。
‘It　does　not　have　to　be　like　this；　brother；’　he　said。
‘Oh；　it　does；’　said　Bertelis。　‘It　truly　does。’
BERTELIS　ATTACKED　WITH　such　savagery　and　speed　that　Calard　was　instantly　fighting　for　his　life；
defending　desperately　as　furious　attack　after　attack　rained　down　on　him。　It　took　all　his　concentration；　skill
and　hard…earned　experience　just　to　survive　the　opening　exchange；　and　such　was　the　power　and　vitriol
behind　each　blow　that　he　was　knocked　physically　backwards　each　time　his　sword　met　his　brother’s。
He　was　given　no　opportunity　to　even　consider　launching　a　counter…attack。；　and　his　left　arm　was　numb
from　the　jarring　blows　he　took　on　his　shield。　He　was　doing　all　he　could　to　evade　Bertelis’s　furious　assault；
stepping　off　the　line　of　attack　and　retreating　hastily　in　an　effort　to　put　some　distance　between　them。　His
brother　came　after　him　relentlessly；　sword　blade　flashing　as　it　sliced　through　the　air　again　and　again。　Had
any　of　those　attacks　struck　home；　they　would　have　been　fatal。
Calard　knew　that　he　was　a　vastly　superior　warrior　now　than　he　had　been　when　he　first　took　up　the
quest；　six　years　earlier。　The　long　years　on　the　road　had　hardened　him；　body　and　soul；　forging　him　anew

and　honing　his　killer　instincts　to　a　razor’s　edge。　He　was　stronger；　leaner　and　faster　than　he　had　been；　and
was　confident　enough　in　his　own　abilities　to　back　himself　against　any　man。　Even　so；　he　was　struggling
now　with　the　pace　of　battle　that　Bertelis　was　setting；　and　struggling　even　more　with　his　brother’s
unprecedented　strength　and　fury。
Calard　and　Bertelis　had　trained　together　since　childhood；　and　both　had　been　schooled　by　Gunthar；
the　old　weapon　master　of　Garamont。　Growing　up；　their　duels　had　always　been　evenly　matched；　though　it
had　been　obvious　that　Bertelis　was　the　more　gifted　of　the　two；　a　natural　swordsman　with　the　perfect
blend　of　strength；　balance；　speed　and　instinct。　He　had　always　relied　too　heavily　on　his　natural…born
talents；　however；　and　in　his　youth　had　been　a　lax　student；　earning　many　stern　words　from　Gunthar。　In
contrast；　Calard　had　worked　hard　at　his　swordsmanship；　rising　hours　before　the　rest　of　the　household　to
hone　his　technique　and　strengthen　his　body。　It　was　only　after　Gunthar’s　death　that　Bertelis　began　taking
his　training　more　seriously；　devoting　himself　to　it　with　a　focus　bordering　on　obsession。　Only　then　had　he
started　to　show　his　true　potential。
It　was　clear　now　that　Bertelis　had　eclipsed　those　expectations　and　taken　them　to　a　whole　new　level；
reaching　a　plane　that　Calard　had　no　hope　of　matching；　and　even　less　of　competing　with。　Bertelis’s　skill
was　bordering　the　sublime；　and　Calard　could　think　of　few　–　perhaps　only　the　Grail　Knight　Reolus；　Lady
rest　his　soul　–　that　could　have　equalled　it。　The　speed　of　his　blade　was　incomparable；　and　Calard　had
rarely　crossed　blades　with　one　who　struck　with　such　power。　It　was　overwhelming　how　far　Bertelis’s
blade　skill　had　come　in　the　last　six　years。　Calard　felt　a　child　facing　a　master。
A　blow　thundered　into　his　shield；　wrenching　it　out　of　shape；　and　he　winced。　He　slashed　a　riposte
towards　his　brother’s　neck；　but　it　was　batted　aside　with　contemptuous　ease。　Bertelis　grinned　and　stepped
back；　allowing　Calard　a　moment　to　catch　his　breath。　He　realised　that　his　brother　was　toying　with　him；　just
as　he　had　his　earlier　opponent。
‘You　have　grown　soft；’　said　Bertelis。
‘Turn　from　this　path；　Bertelis；’　said　Calard。　‘It　leads　you　only　to　damnation。’
‘You　drove　me　onto　this　path；　brother；’　snapped　Bertelis。　‘You　turned　your　back　on　me！’
‘And　I’m　truly　sorry；’　said　Calard。　‘My　words　were　spoken　in　haste。　I　was　blinded　by　grief。　I　m