The Crusader's Crown (Tales of the Brotherhood Series Book 1) by James Mercer (ink ebook reader txt) 📗

  The mounted detachment stopped when their Commander raised his hand and the men looked at him puzzled.

   “Arm up, full kit.”

  Without a word, they all fastened their helmets and retrieved the shields from their saddles.

   “Jürgen, Cherik, take the flanks. Robert the front. Jimmy the rear. Paulo! You stay with me.”

   “But my lord there is nothing to fear,” Paulo said anxiously.

   “No harm in being careful. Anyhow, you’ll be safest with me because they’ll likely want me alive.”

   “They?” asked the guide.

   “Aye Paulo, they!” said the Commander dangerously.

  The small party advanced, each man constantly looking for danger. Then the signal came, but not the one that was expected. A scream of pain echoed amongst the rock faces that surrounded them.

   “Ambush!” yelled Jimmy, raising his shield.

  Arrows started to fly past them from both sides, one ricocheting off Cherik’s shield. Four men appeared ahead of them brandishing long pikes.

  In the chaos Paulo tried to rush his horse toward the safety of the four pike men but was immediately unsaddled by the butt of the Commander’s shield.

  Robert quickly dismounted Jupiter trying to draw the enemy arrows away from his charger. To his left he heard the shrill scream of Jürgen’s own horse as an arrow thudded into the animal’s side. Leaping back on its hind legs hysterically, Jürgen was forced to jump from his saddle, missing an arrow by only a few inches.

  Robert started to approach the four pike men, his shield up and sword drawn, while his comrades sought out the enemy above. Another piercing cry of agony sounded followed by the dead body of an archer hitting the ground. The body, clad in an old coat of chainmail under a short sleeved leather jerkin, had shattered on impact.

  One of the pike men looked up cautiously after seeing his fellow brigand lying in a crumpled, bloodied heap. Then to the right of him, another of the four grunted and fell to the floor. As the pain increased the man rolled around in agony clutching his stomach. An arrow had planted itself deep into the man’s gut, compliments of one of the blonde haired savages who was already loading for a second shot.

  Wasting no more time, the pike man charged the lone warrior ahead of him.

  Robert was prepared for the attack and pushed his shoulder against his shield as the spear head of the pike bit deep into the timber. Allowing the attacker to continue with his driving thrust, Robert waited until the pike head was stuck tight in the wood of the shield. Then when he was confident that the pike head was going nowhere he twisted his shield, unbalancing his opponent and then swung forward with his sword and severed one of the attacker’s hands.

  The man bellowed in agony and holding the bloody stump of his arm dropped to his knees. He was quickly silenced as Robert sliced his sword across the man’s neck. Another of the pike men charged at him, attempting to split his head in two by bringing the axe head of the pike down on his victim’s skull.

  Abandoning his shield, Robert repelled the attack with his sword, holding it in two hands. When his adversary realised that his method had failed, he swiftly lowered the weapon and brought it underneath the raised sword, swiping it across the swordsman’s middle.

  Robert felt the sharp point of the pike’s spear tip scrape across the chainmail covering his exposed body. If he had been only a few inches closer, the stroke would have opened his entire stomach. Robert snarled and stepped forward to get inside the pike’s boundary. When he was close enough he thrust the blade of his sword into the man’s brow.

  Blood spurted from the deep gash that had been opened by the razor sharp blade. Concussed and half blinded by his own blood, the pike man dropped his weapon and staggered backwards. So blinded by fury that the man had nearly gutted him, Robert drove his sword deep into the man’s chest.

  Turning to face the last of the four, Robert saw the attacker had started to flee, his weapon abandoned on the ground.

   “Robert!” came the voice of the Commander.

  Looking behind him, he could see Reynard holding his shield up, protecting himself and Cherik. The archer who had fired his first arrow at Jürgen had now turned his efforts on the man’s brother. A bad idea. While the archer continued to line up a shaft for Cherik, who was also notching an arrow. Jürgen had snuck up behind the archer and swung his pick axe deep into the back of the man’s neck.

   “Robert, we need him alive,” shouted the Commander, pointing to the fleeing pike man.

  Returning to Jupiter, who had found shelter behind some rocks. Robert quickly pulled himself up into the saddle and started to pursue the enemy runner.

  When he was about fifty paces away the pike man looked back, only to see the man who had dispatched two of his comrades, closing down on him, riding a giant warhorse. Almost close enough to trample the man if he wanted to, Robert kicked out with his boot, sending the man sprawling to the floor.

  Scrambling to his knees, the pike man held his hands up in surrender, pleading for mercy from the mounted warrior who was covered in the blood of the men who had tried to kill him.

  Robert did not understand a word of what the pike man was saying, so instead pointed his sword at him and then back to where they had come. Slowly getting to his feet, the captive started to stumble back toward the failed ambush site in which he had fled. He started