"Move aside, Sir Knight. This need not concern you."
"Oh, but it does," Raynald replied. "I'm afraid I cannot allow you to proceed."
"So be it," said Nikolai, waving his hand to bring his men closer. "Kill them!"
A crossbow bolt sailed down the corridor, narrowly missing Stanislav. He countered by rushing forward, his sword striking out with precision, taking a man in the leg.
Sir Raynald, who had given his sword to his comrade, stomped forward, parrying a blow with a deft move, then stabbing forward with his dagger, sinking the blade into the stomach of his opponent.
Nikolai backed up, letting his men do the dirty work. He watched the swordplay for a while, but when two more of his men staggered back, he took up the cause, launching himself towards his nemesis.
Sir Raynald struck down a henchman, slicing across the man's forearm with a wicked stroke of his dagger. Another appeared before him, and he stabbed at his foe's face, causing his opponent to flinch. The knight followed up with his fists, disarming his opponent and grasping the wayward sword as the man fell back, flailing about. Now armed with a more formidable weapon, he struck out, stabbing and slicing with great skill.
More men piled in behind the first wave of attackers, and Sir Raynald pulled back, Stanislav at his side. The knight struggled to keep them at bay and then felt the back of his boot strike the stair behind him.
"Now!" he yelled, taking a step upward.
Stanislav performed the same manoeuvre even as his blade struck true, puncturing the arm of Nikolai.
A door opened, off to the side, revealing the startled countenance of a Holy Brother. He stepped into the corridor, watching the backs of Nikolai's men, then waved his hand. Athgar and Natalia exited the door, moving slowly, making their way to the stairs that led down to the main floor.
Federov was the one who noticed them, spotting them out of the corner of his eye. He wheeled around to face them, but the Holy Brother ran forward, tackling the henchman and driving him to the floor. Federov rolled to the side, desperate to get the man off him, but by the time he managed to push Brother Rickard out of his way, it was too late; the fugitives had fled.
He tried to yell out, but the clatter of steel, mixed with the shouts of the combatants, drowned out his words. Rising, Federov prepared to run after them, but the cursed brother clung to his feet, and he fell to the floor, sprawling once more.
Sir Raynald struck down another man, his chest heaving with the effort. Beside him, Stanislav parried Nikolai's blow, the two men coming face to face, a mere sword blade between them.
"I should have killed you when I had the chance," said Nikolai.
"You've tried that before," said Stanislav. Taking a step forward, he struck out with a series of wicked slashes. Nikolai backed up, overwhelmed by the sheer ferocity of the attack.
Stanislav was breathing heavily now as were they all. The wounded men cried out in agony, their lifeblood dripping from their veins. He took one more step, driving the tip of his sword deep into Nikolai's chest.
"That," he said, "is for Viktor!"
Nikolai staggered back, gasping for air. He looked down at his chest, noting the gaping wound, then fell to his knees amongst the wounded.
"It's too late," he said, a defiant tone to his voice. "I sent word to the family. They'll never stop looking for that child." His eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell face-first onto the floor, forever silenced.
Sir Raynald stomped forward, but there was little fight left in their opponents. Those who remained on their feet turned and fled, leaving the knight with Stanislav and a handful of wounded men lying in agony.
The knight watched as they streamed down the stairs, too exhausted to follow. A muffled sound came from the wounded, and then Brother Rickard sat upright, his cassock covered in blood.
"Don't worry," the Mathewite said, "it's not mine."
Sir Raynald surveyed the carnage. "This is quite the effort they put into finding those two."
"Indeed," said Stanislav, "but it looks like we got the better of them."
"We did," the knight agreed, "but did you have to go and kill that fellow? I would have liked to have gotten some answers."
Stanislav frowned. "It couldn't be helped. He was trying to kill me."
"I take it you've met before?"
"Oh, yes. He used to work for me many years ago but then betrayed me and murdered one of my friends."
Sir Raynald looked down at the corpse. "Well, I think it's safe to say his murdering days are over."
"This fellow here looks like someone important," called out Brother Rickard.
The knight advanced, staring down at a man sprawled on the floor. There was very little blood, and yet he remained motionless. "What happened here?"
"I tripped him," explained the lay brother. "He was trying to follow Athgar and Natalia."
Sir Raynald knelt by the body. "And what makes you think he's important?"
"The cut of his clothes for one thing. He was also trying to yell orders, or so I thought. It was considerably noisy in here at the time."
"Is he still alive?"
Brother Rickard moved closer, looking for a pulse. "Yes, though he's taken a nasty bump to the head. He must have hit it on the floor when he fell."
Sir Raynald eyed the lay brother. "Are you sure you're not a Temple Knight?"
"Saints, no. Why would you even suggest such a thing?"
"You handled yourself quite nicely in the fight."
"I was merely doing Saint Mathew's work. Now, help with the wounded, will you? There's more work yet to be done."
"Help them?" said Sir Raynald. "Definitely not. They attacked us for Saint's sake!"
"We must be charitable to the defeated," insisted Brother Rickard.
"If you say so."
They began moving the bodies, separating the wounded from the dead. The commotion had been loud, but no one from downstairs had dared to intervene during the
