… another blocked swing from Ruthven, and Steinhardt's sword arcs through Ruthven's breastplate deeply enough to lay open the tunic beneath. The younger knight falters back a step, mouth gaping in surprise…
Gergesene is about to touch Silberglascht's hand, intending to speak some diplomatic words, when he hears the sudden change in the tempo of the battle and looks up. What –
Ruthven's eyes go wide, he wasn't expecting such a fierce blow. Quickly, he grips his sword and narrows his eyes. The Lord rushes in and in one swift and powerful movement, buries his blade into Steinhardt's chest.
Gergesene gasps! with sympathetic pain, holding his winghand over his heart.
Kensington looks away. He realizes he'd been holding his breath, and it comes back out in a long sigh. The dismayed Korv says nothing else.
Sir Silberglascht is following the fight, watching with earnest the young knight fighting in his place. He gasps in horror, seeing exactly what it is the Landsknecht saw. One word escapes his mouth, "Bosch!" It describes the sight perfectly.
"Star protect us all!" The pain-filled prayer rasps through the room as Steinhardt's legs slowly give way beneath him. "… the Korv was right… was… "
Gergesene boggles.
Ruthven's free hand flies to his chest, pulling his tunic together under the shattered pieces of his chitin breastplate. He is swift enough to hide the sight from all but Gergesene and Hehner observing. Through the rent halves of cloth was visible a large open hole; one that looks as if his body was made of wax and the cavity was melted into it. Inside are visible the veins and arteries that flow up to where his heart should be; once there, they also have a melted, smeared appearance, and pulse in response to a glow in the wound. Ruthven's pelt around this pit glistens red, like little capillaries or tendrils, and not hair. The flesh on the inside edges of the pit is seen to bubble and boil in the instant before it is covered over.
The corsair's head whips back around, his eyes widening, and the feathers on his neck puffing out.
Gergesene chokes. "Lord Ruthven… has no heart?!"
"It was caused by the Khatta's knife!" Ruthven glares at Gergesene, the blood still flowing down from his antler stubs, and coating his face in red. With a rough gesture he pulls his blade free of Sir Steinhardt's corpse. "NOW do you see my desire for your haste?"
"Aye, that cold noble's bastard," mutters Kensington to his cousin, looking over the scene. "A good knight, dead, just fer his pride."
Sir Hehner, still gaping from the memory of the wound, steadies himself by grabbing Gergesene's arm.
"No normal person has a hole where his heart should be," the Korv declares. He raises his free arm toward the Cervani noble. "Lord Ruthven, I accuse you of being tainted and I ask that the clergy purge you of the magic and influence of Bosch immediately. You have slain a fair and good Landsknecht under false pretense!"
Kensington looks stunned. "Eh? What? Wait, what's goin' on? I was right about somethin'? Hold on here!"
Ruthven keeps the tunic clenched together in his hand, "Bosch… what do you know of Bosch, coward? This is the result of the assassination, that damned knife poisoned me! Just as Bosch poisons all of Chronotopia. I wanted you to go to Bosch to stop the it… and you decided to play politician instead. I was brave enough to go in and face Bosch, What do you know of it? You've avoided it… doubted my judgment. Perhaps you should have joined Parliament instead of becoming a knight, they respect the overuse of words there!"
"That knife bore the symbol of the Star upon its hilt, a fact which puzzled me greatly, Lord Ruthven… Until now," the Korv says as he marches forward to the dueling area, putting his hands to the hilts of his swords. He hisses to Kensington and Sir Hehner, "Fetch guards and an exorcist. We must stop this corruption before he escapes."
Kensington edges back, taking hold of the stock of his crossbow. He gives Gergesene a curt nod, and looks at Hehner. "Go! I'm not too sure Ruthven's goin' t'wait around fer Gerry's order to show up… "
"An Exorcism? There is only one way to stop it. *GO TO BOSCH*… you failed. Did the blessing heal me? Bah… what do you know of Bosch… you're too frightened and I was a fool to trust this to a Korv when a Cervani would have done it. You think that I did NOTHING? I knew what would heal me. This trouble began because you always thought you knew better. Bosch wanted to depose me, and thanks to you… it has succeeded. It could not have asked for a better agent, you delayed me at every turn… spoke when you should have charged in and cut the cancer out. I accuse you of being the Bosch agent, Let's find out shall we? Come taste my blade." Ruthven points his sword at Gergesene, the blood forming a mask of red across his face, with his cold eyes gleaming through it in hatred.
"And I think that your plans have been aimed all along at sidetracking me from the true issue, Lord Ruthven," the Korv knight returns angrily as he stands opposite from the Cervani, where Steinhardt originally stood. "First you attempted to have Jael, son of Mage Talia and the Kaizer, seized and brought to the Palace. Then when I believed in you, you told me that it was best he stay hidden! And now you bid me abandon the investigation just as it was bearing fruit – Go into Bosch, you say, chasing what, I know not. Well, I bear not only the steel of my swords but the steel of the truth at last, Lord Ruthven. And it is that Mage Talia and Baron Phelan were right to doubt you! And I was wrong." His swords hiss out from his sheaths as he adopts a double-swordfighting pose.
Ruthven has no reply as he leaps over slain Landsknecht with a slash to clear the air and keep Gergesene back. The knight and lord now face each other at they end of their swords.
Mostly ignored, the corsair circles around the side, fumbling with the catches and unfamiliar weight of the large crossbow he'd borrowed. He raises it to point at Ruthven, mumbling to himself, "Never fired one of these, but there's a first for everything… " One wing-claw squeezes the trigger…
"I say to you all, the Kaizer has a son!" the Korv Knight shouts, dancing back, playing defensive as he buys time to throw the words to the crowd. "Let the truth no longer be hidden! His name is Jael, but for the past weeks, we have raised him as one of our own. And he will be truly great among us all!"
The bolt buries itself in Gergesene's right wing; he is betrayed by his cousin, just like in his vision.
Gergesene's beak parts in a surprised gasp of pain.
The Landsknecht nearest to Kensington, a Khatta named Sir Patri, takes the Korv's arm and pulls him back. "Hold! Put that down, You nearly killed your brother."
Gergesene staggers back, his right-hand wing saber clattering to the floor as the bolthead juts starkly through his arm; he brings his left saber up to a defense, unaccustomed to having to work with one sword only. The narrow metal blade rolls out of the dueling area…
The Korv knight looks worried. With two swords, he had an advantage; with just one and that off-hand as well… ?
Grinning, Ruthven shouts, "there are some loyal Chronotopians left!" He steps in and slashes at Gergesene's remaining blade, repeatedly battering it and trying to fatigue the arm holding it.
"No! What've I done?!" The crossbow clatters to the floor, and the corsair struggles against Patri's grasp. "Lemme go! I 'ave t'make things right, or I'll never forgive meself!"
Gergesene hops! With one wing folded against his breast, he circles about, wholly on the defensive. "Cousins, friend Landsknechts! *pant, clang!* I don't know how long I can hold out, but I will do my best. *gasp* *clingclang!* Go and make sure that Jael is safe, Kensington. Take him to Parliament, present him! Too many have died already because he was a secret."
Hehner draws his own blade, and like an aged lion is beside Gergesene in a second. "You're open!" He calls, slashing at Ruthven long enough to distract the lord, and step into the place where he can block for the wounded Korv.
Kensington tugs desperately against the Landsknecht restraining him. "I can't! Yer no match for Ruthven now, an' it's my fault! Curse me and banish me later, but I have to stay!" He wrenches his wing, pleading, "For the Star's sake, let me go, knight!"
Gergesene looks shocked. "But this is a fair… " His voice trails away as he realizes that if Lord Ruthven is truly of Bosch, there is no such thing as a fair fight for them.
Patri looks at the Korv he's holding back, and in a second judges, and decides. He releases the corsair, "Get him out of there. Don't engage."
"Sir Silberglascht, hold! This is a fair duel." Sir Vandenberg calls out, the other knights seem to be in agreement, not having seen the horror.
Gergesene decides there's only one way to prove it, if the others didn't see the gaping cavity where Ruthven's chest was… He whispers to Hehner, "We must shatter his defense and open him up for the others to see. Then they will all see his Boschian nature! Circle left, hold his blade with yours, and I'll strike."
Wings flailing, the corsair nearly stumbles into the dueling arena. "Nay, nay, it isn't fair!" he shouts. "I've wounded Gerry, I should take his place!"
"Wait your turn!" Ruthven declares, thrusting at Hehner now. The older knight is pressing Gergesene back, trying to move the wounded Korv out of the way. "Yes, get ready" Hehner says, parrying the trust off to the side, then following Gergesene's suggestion.
Gergesene, too intent on taking this one opportunity to speak to his cousin, ducks lower than Sir Silberglascht's right arm and runs forward, trying to take Ruthven in a gut-to-throat strike – all offense, no defense.
The Lord's blade is locked with the old knight's, but seeing Gergesene's move, he wrenches back on it. Still, he is too slow, and the Korv's saber slices into him above the belt, and rises into his chest. The strike never reaches as high as Ruthven's throat, the edge jamming hard against his ribs with a crackling noise; it is still a deadly enough wound, and the deer is forced back.
Ruthven staggers, inside the reach of the two Korv, and within a lunge of Hehner. He falls, holding himself up by clutching at Gergesene's blade.
Gergesene gasps for breath, having spent it all on that one string. "Look!" he calls, half-pushing, half-falling to the side so that the bright steel blade will force the edges of the cut open.
The Korv knight's breaths are sobbing. He has struck at a lord of the realm, and in an unfair fight as well. What will happen next – will the sky fall as well?
Uncertain of just what course to take, Kensington stoops to retrieve Gergesene's fallen sabre. He looks back and forth between the Landsknechts… Strike or wait? The tide seems to favour his cousin and the elder knight, and to his shame, he has done nothing to help it…
Ruthven's blood spills down from the widened slash, making a red pool beneath him in which his hooves slip. His tunic is forced open, and the gaping hole in his chest bared for all to see. With an unexpected snarl, Ruthven draws the knife from his belt, and in the apex of the action, slashes across Gergesene's elbow, cutting it open.
Gergesene kaws! He reels and staggers back from the vicious attack, metal saber left gleaming high like a steel lily in the Cervani lord's chest… Now weaponless. Dizzy, the Korv knight looks at his handiwork.
Hehner grabs Gergesene by the shoulders, pulling him back and interposing a blade, pointing. "Look!"
The other knights look. Ruthven's armour and shirt are rent, concealing nothing. The cavity where his heart should be pulses and bubbles in Boschian perversity. His other wound is a mortal one, with Gergesene's saber stabbed through him. Despite it, he grabs the weapon and hauls it free. His legs are soaked in red, and he keeps bleeding even as his chest continues to writhe.
"Eeeaagh!" Horrified, the corsair acts on instinct, his face twisted madly. Brandishing his cousin's blade, he sweeps it about in a flashing arc at Ruthven. "T'the deepest abyss with ye, monster!"
"Sweet light of the Star, protect us," Gergesene croaks. He reflexively tries to sign the Star, but winces as he is reminded both his wings have been injured.
Ruthven starts to chuckle, then laugh, like a drunken fool who doesn't know when he's beaten. He swings his heavy sword up to meet Kensington's attack. The parry is too slow, letting a little of the strike in to knock him in the side of the head. The Cervani staggers.
The downed Korv knight looks horrified as Kensington is about to engage the Boschian monstrosity, believing his cousin to have been a merchant shipper. "Cousin, you've never been Landsknecht-trained! He'll kill you!" He tries to pull himself to his feet, but his wings fail him, forcing him to huddle them about his chest where they hurt less. "A healer," he croaks to Sir Vandenberg.
Sir Amruk yells, "Bosch! Kill it!" Leaping forward with a blow down across Ruthven's back. His sword bites in, spinning the Lord, laying open a wound from shoulderblade down to ribs.
Chaplain Volker just stares at the horror. Hearing Gergesene's cry he shakes himself free of it, and rushes to where Hehner has taken the Korv. Sir Vandenberg, and the other knights are drawing swords and axes, moving in to surround the creature.
Gergesene whispers to the Chaplain, "Forgive me, for I have sinned. I believed that monstrosity… To be a fit candidate for the Kaizership… " He stares with a sinking heart reminding him how close they all came to failing in this realization.
Ruthven keeps bleeding, and laughing. His face is full of smiles as he looks at Sir Amruk and says, "You should know not to interfere in a fair duel, unless you want to be a part of it. Here, fight on your own terms." He stamps his hoof, splashing into the bloodpuddle around him.
The tip of the sabre whips around as Kensington's sub-brain takes over, guiding him through a practiced maneuver. He stabs forward to insert the tip of his blade beneath the crosspiece of Ruthven's weapon, lifting up.
The slap of the hoof sprays tiny spheres of blood up into the air, and they stay, hanging in defiance of the first laws. More follow, and the shape of a Cervani appears, formed of tiny droplets of blood. It is even complete with a sword of droplets, and when it moves, it has Ruthven's stances. The blood knight advances on Sir Amruk.
The Corsair's expert disarm succeeds, pulling Ruthven's weapon away. The Cervani just smiles at Kensington, stooping to pick up Gergesene's other saber that lies at his feet.
"By the Great Gear." Sir Hehner gasps.
Gergesene shudders! at the sight. "We need help," he says to Sir Hehner. He looks down the hall, large enough to fly in… If he could fly. The Korv knight turns to the chaplain. "Try your blessed holy oil upon that monstrosity! It may work against true Boschian magic, instead of just the fleshy shell he was wearing. I'll try and find others to run fast and bring help."
Gergesene pulls himself to his feet, still shocked, the feathered end of the crossbow bolt jutting from his arm with a faint trickle of blood running down the shaft.
"Die! Die! Why won't ye die, ye blood-soaked abomination?!" cries Kensington. Swipe after swipe is leveled at the arcane horror, the wrist, the head, anything he can possibly aim at, trying to reduce it to chunks. His vision has tunneled, he barely even notices the blood-apparition.
Sir Amruk backs defensively away from the blood knight, ready to parry. The attack comes, a thrust to the deer's face. He blocks, but the blade just passes through the droplets, and he is struck in the face. Upon contact, the red particles all flow into his mouth and nose, Amruk staggers back, gagging, his chest swelling as his lungs fill with blood, the monstrosity inside him.
One of the younger knights, Sir Colwyn, just recently still a squire, balks at the sight. He backs away, and remembering Gergesene's call to get help, runs for some.
Ruthven takes two more slashes from Kensington before he parries; despite the corsair's frantic orders, he doesn't die, and after two more attacks from the Korv, he succeeds in laying open the corsair's weapon arm.
"Ughn!" Kensington's right wing droops, and the pain seems to bring him back to his senses somewhat. He backs away warily, clutching at his injured wing and panting.
The Chaplain stands, shaking the wand of holy oil at Ruthven. "I bless you with the oil of purity that drives the great machine. I bless you with the fluid the fights the corruption of friction, I bless you with the power of the prime gear, and I banish you to Bosch where you belong."
Gergesene hobbles after, calling to the Sir Colwyn, "We need clergy to exorcise this monstrosity!" He stops as his gaze falls upon a torch set in a wall… Might it be possible to burn Ruthven, if the holy oil does not work? He reaches up to grab one… And gasps at the pain in his elbow, the muscles not wanting to work.
Another Landsknecht, Sir Bardolf steps into the corsair's place, brandishing his axe.
The oil, seems to have no effect except to increase Ruthven's mirth. "I told you Gergesene, a blessing will not work."
Gergesene clenches his beak. He must silence that mocking voice! He lunges up and grabs the torch, then turns and starts run-hopping back to the fray. "Kensington!"
Kensington releases his wing. He winces, but it seems workable. "Saints preserve us, Gerry! How do we kill this thing?!"
"Burn it," Gergesene says grimly. He motions his cousin to fetch another, then joins the fray.
Ruthven is engaged by the other knights. Even though they land blows that slice him open, or crush bones, the bloody Cervani seems unaffected, and moments later crippled limbs have healed enough that he can fight still. The wounds never completely close, but remain flowing; his skill seems to increase with the amount of blood he loses, and he has already shed more than should be in one body.
The corsair quickly takes a torch from a wall sconce, and advances alongside Gergesene with the flaming brand.
"Gergesene, you're too wounded." Hehner tries to pull back the Korv Landsknecht from entering the fray again.
Gergesene says to Hehner, "Then take this torch!" He holds it out to the older Landsknecht. His eyes say clearly that he wants to be one of the crew that deals the final blow… But he is forced to recognize that he does not number among the heroes who fight despite their great wounds.
Kensington clenches his torch like a main gauche, and awaits an opening, his sabre held in front of him. His avian head flicks about as he tries to keep track of the chaos the hall has become.
Hehner takes the torch, and just as quickly it is taken from him by Sir Vandenberg. "I will do it Sir, I have been to the practice yard more frequently." He holds the flaming brand expertly in front of him, nodding at Kensington, and moving in, waiting for an opening with the other knights.
Gergesene's winghands clench painfully. In the stories, the hero never falters… He watches, praying for his cousin and Vandenberg to succeed.
An Opening comes quickly enough as Sir Patri stabs with his chitin weapon into the heart of corruption in Ruthven's chest. His eyes go wide, as if he is seeing more than is in the room, then dark as the Lord stabs his own weapon into the throat. The knight falls, leaving a space closest to Kensington.
As the Khatta knight falls away, the corsair jabs his blade forward to lock with Ruthven's, Gergesene's weapon meeting its twin in this mockery of a melee. Before his injured wing can give way, Kensington thrusts his torch forward like a punch-dagger, his eyes watering from the cinders…
The bloody Cervani pulls away from Kensington's thrust with the torch, blade trapped by the Korv's. His movement puts him directly into the attacks from two of the other knights surrounding him. Sir Meinrad's blade bites deep into Ruthven's shoulder and Sir Chetwin's strikes the hip, turning the tainted Lord and exposing the gaping cavity to Sir Vandenberg's attack; The fire is thrust into the pulsating hole.
As the torch touches the corruption the flames flare with wild energy and shoot up Sir Vandenberg's arm. The knight staggers from the fray, trying to extinguish the fire as his armour and skin are consumed. The blazes die, both on his arm, and at Ruthven's chest. While Vandenberg's wound is painfully crippling, Ruthven doesn't seem to be suffering from the experience.
Gergesene gasps! "By the Grand Machine! Burn his flesh, not that… thing!" he yells to his cousin. He casts about for anything else that might possibly be usable against this horror.
Sir Hehner stares at the conflagration, "Will nothing stop it? It defies all rationality. What can be used against that madness… YES!" He breaks and runs for his office.
Kensington struggles to keep his foe's blade in check, trying to jab the grotesque being of mangled flesh in spots where the holy oil itself has alighted. "Hurry, Hehner! It's too strong for me!" he gasps, preparing to disengage as his stamina trickles away.
Gergesene looks after Sir Hehner in startlement, and then hurries after him.
The Korv knight catches up with Sir Hehner in his office, as the old knight pulls a long cloth wrapped weapon from where it has been left. "This!" He says, as he starts pushing books aside looking for one other item, "and that amulet from Jonas. They're of Bosch. If nothing we have here can stand against Ruthven, something from his new homeland must."
"Take it Sir St. Germain, while I find the amulet." The old knight holds the weapon out to the Korv.
Gergesene nods to Sir Hehner. "We must pray to the Star. And if not that… Perhaps help will arrive from the Cathedral." He folds the cloth-wrapped weapon against his side, under his elbow-slashed wing.
The Korv knight, clutching to this new ray of hope, run-hops down the corridor, back to the main hall…
Sir Bardolf has fallen, making the knights around Ruthven one fewer, and as Gergesene approaches Sir Meinrad joins those on the floor. Kensington and Sir Chetwin, are the last engaging the bloody deer, and both wounded; the human knight tries to draw Ruthven's attention, while Kensington applies his torch. There is little effect, the blood hisses and the oil burns, but the thing is not impeded.
"Cousin!" Gergesene yells. He fumbles with the cloth wrapping, cursing as the bolt twinges again, then drops the bundle and starts ripping it off, so the blade turns and clatters out of them.
Kensington tosses the useless firebrand aside, and focuses on buying time with parries and locks, no longer trying to draw blood. He attempts half-hearted disarms every so often, but is loathe to find out what sort of weapon the creature may summon should he lose the steel. "What is it, Gerry? I can't… ugh!" "Can't 'old him off for too long!"
The Korv Knight gingerly picks up the strange warped blade of bone, as if expecting his soul to be damned any moment. Looking up at his cousin desperately trying to damage the so-called Ruthven, he steels his grip around the hilt and picks it up, then begins running forward. There's just one last chance…
Ruthven turns, grinning at Kensington as he sees Gergesene rejoin the fight, "It looks like you didn't kill your cousin. Let me show you how."
"It's all or nothing," Gergesene calls to Kensington as he lunges forward… "Now!"
"Ye… will… not!" Kensington slams the forte of his sabre into the base of Ruthven's own, holding it once again. The corsair's wrist twists, forcing his foe's blade to the side. Drawing his sabre across the other's basket, he drags it back, and leaps clear. Ruthven's captured sword falls to the floor, along with several fingers.
Gergesene takes a deep breath and then stops precisely two feet away; he levels the sword, and pivots on his foot, throwing the full force of his body behind the strike. Blood wells out from the bolt-hole as his arms work. "FOR CHRONOTOPIAAAA!" he yells.
The sword of Bosch is driven into Ruthven's chest, seeking the melted hole where his heart should be. The blood soaked deer laughs, "It won't work Gerge… gurg… " then his words turn into a bubbling choked noise. The Korv's clawhands are gripped tightly around the weapon, and he can feel it start to feed.
Gergesene holds onto the weapon, for fear that it will stop working if he lets go. "Great Gear and lots of little pulleys," he whispers, looking more like a black feathered lump half-folded around the hilt, spindly feet braced in the slippery blood than a bold Landsknecht.
Ruthven clutches at the blade, as he did the time before with Gergesene's saber, but this time he has no surprise knife, and this time he sinks to his knees for real. His chest bubbles around the bone weapon, being sucked against it. The red hair, or blood tendrils on the deer's chest flail in tiny violent resistance, but can't.
"Snap the anchor-chain… " breathes Kensington, half in amazement, half in disgust. The ragged corsair kicks the stray sabre farther away, just to be on the safe side.
Gergesene stares up at Ruthven's eyes. "Die," he scrawks flatly.
The sword drinks, and whatever magic of Bosch was filling Ruthven with blood, is now being counteracted by the sword drawing it all away. The heartless deer is drained, his skin body taking on the hollow aspect Gergesene first saw with Talia. His motions become more feeble, he slumps.
Like a scarecrow, Gergesene nearly hangs from the sword's hilt as the tip is buried into the pile of Cervani flesh. His breathing comes in slow shuddering gasps, and his eyes are shut.
The sword is more like a live creature in the Korv knight's hands, than a weapon. He can feel it's greed, and even subtle motion, as it satiates itself on the husk that was Lord Ruthven of Chronotopia. It continues for a revoltingly long time, with Gergesene concentrating on holding the cursed weapon so it will not stop for any reason. He doesn't notice the sounds of Hehner returning, or other knights on the stairs, or the arrival of the Ministers, Guards, and others who were locked outside the keep.
Jonas shoves his way to the front of the crowd. Under other circumstances, he would be more polite, but he has had a trying day. A question on his lips dies as he sees the tableau that has unfolded in the hall. "Great Mother and all the Primogen preserve us," he swears.
Gergesene makes no reply, only shivering as he leans against the blade. Whatever there was to the entity called Ruthven… He wants not a trace to survive to infest Chronotopia another day.
Kensington looks up wearily from where he's deposited himself against a wall, streaked with grisly spatters and flecks. He dimly recognizes Jonas, but doesn't say anything, instead casting his gaze over the corpses littering the hall.
Jonas moves out towards Gergesene. His knowledge of field medicine shows him that both Korv are in shock, and that Gergesene is badly wounded, to say nothing of the other Landsknechts that are still standing. He turns to the bystanders and barks out, "Doon't jest stand there like a bunch o' brainless nits! Yer comrades are injured!" He steps towards Gergesene, moving to help him away from the corpses. "I think ye'd better sit down, Gergesene. Ye look like ye fought the Great Devourer Himself."
Vandenberg and Chetwin, the only knights still alive of those who engaged Ruthven, also stand exhausted and suffering from their wounds. Everyone else, knights, nobles, guards, look on with equal expressions of horror and confusion. Steinhardt steps forward and asks, "Sir Silberglascht, someone, what has occurred?" To Gergesene and Kensington he is a disturbing sight, at first glance like the Landsknecht back from the dead, before he is recognized as the older Steinhardt, Lord and brother to the knight that valiantly fell.
Gergesene looks up at last. "We have. Lord Ruthven… It was him all along! He must have come back from Bosch like this, and no one suspected… "
"Except for Mage Talia. And Baron Phelan. And Sir Silberglascht. I should have listened to their doubts," the Korv knight whispers.
Jonas nods, not quite sure of Gergesene's state of mind, but unwilling to cause any more mental fatigue to his friend. He steps forward to take the blade from Gergesene, and his foot strikes the lifeless corpse of Sir Steinhardt. He glances down, sees who it is, and heaves a great sigh, moved by the sheer enormity of the death in the hall.
Gergesene lets the blade fall into Jonas's hands, falling backward to a kneeling position. "I feel unclean." His gaze flits across the older Steinhardt, provoking a startled exclamation, "You died!"
"It's dead," rasps Kensington, as if this should make perfect sense to the other Steinhardt. He rights himself, standing with a wobble, and leaning on Gergesene's sabre for balance. "Dead," he repeats.
"I beg your pardon?" Lord Steinhardt asks Gergesene, then sees his brother fallen on the floor. It strikes him almost as hard as a physical blow, and in shock he asks, "What, why?" Sir Hehner is kind enough to take him aside, and tells the stunned lord the details of what transpired.
Jonas lifts the blade free of the desiccated remains of Ruthven. A look of disgust crosses his face. He looks to put it somewhere, finally deciding to hang onto it and turn it back over to Hehner for destruction.
Jonas looks up suddenly, remembering his reasons for his flight from the Palace, reasons that were temporarily forgotten in the face of such bloodshed. "The boy! Is he safe?"
Gergesene slowly stands and then takes Kensington's blood-streaked hand. "Thank you, cousin," he whispers in a bone-dry voice.
The haggard Korv brigand lowers his head to duck under the larger bird's wing to help support him. "We 'avn't seen th' boy yet," he rasps. "We'd best look after 'im. First though, let's walk past Ruthven, so's I can spit on 'im… "
The wounded are seen to, explanations are given. The dead are respectfully removed, Ruthven is cleaned up as part of the gory mess in the hall. Sir Rainscroft and Jael are found, and Jonas is arrested, then temporarily remanded at Sir Silberglacht's request to Landsknecht custody. It is late in the day when Gergesene meets the visitor Hehner told him about when he arrived.
It is the priest from the Cathedral of Precision, Father Baruch, the one who was asked to find information on the assassin's knife. Told to wait at the Korv's room for his immanent return, the priest managed to miss most of what occurred, and then was unable to leave while everything was sorted out.
The bandaged Korv winces as the Keep's doctor stitches at his wound. "Ah! I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Father. I was somewhat distracted this morning. We all were."
"That should do it," Brother Waldron says, as he finishes closing the wound. He gathers up his things, saying "Don't scratch at it, and I have to go help with Sir Vandenberg now," then leaves.
Jonas, bandaged from the scrapes and bruises garnered from his run through, and under, the city, stands at the back of the room. He is as he was when he first came to Sinai, bruised and without weapons, his future uncertain. Fortunately, he is in much friendlier surroundings, and, with his duty to Jael done, and the boy's safety seen to, he has promised to be on his best behavior.
Jonas says, "Aye, ye could say that, Gergesene."
Kensington sits nearby on a cot, his flesh wound unlikely to scar as much as his mind. The Korv has since returned Gergesene's blade, looking ill at any mention of weapons or fighting. Still, he has recovered well enough to be largely alert. "Aye… distraction," he whispers with a grind of his beak.
Father Baruch nods, looking at the bandages on everyone present. "Well, it must have been. I won't trouble you with endless questions, you have probably given enough explanations for today. If at some time however, you feel the need to confess, or talk of things that trouble you, I will be available at the Cathedral. For now, I would like to give you the message I brought, so I can get back there."
"Message?" Gergesene echoes.
"Yes," the Cervani priest takes the knife out of his robe. "I know you are going to Bosch, and I wanted to tell you about this before you left, in case it was important. We had to do some searching to find out where this came from."
Jonas leans forward, curious. The knife was the beginning of this, almost. Perhaps it will be the end of it.
If he had ears, the Korv Knight would perk them up. "I am not sure any longer if Bosch is where my answers ultimately lie," he says. "Nevertheless. I confess that I am greatly curious as to what you found, good Father."
The corsair glances between the priest and Gergesene. "No-one mentioned a Boschian knife t'me. What's this, then? Is it anythin' like that sword?"
"We had to look through records that were twenty years old before we found mention of it." Baruch turns the weapon over in his hands, "Fortunately, we did find them. This knife was part of a gift to one of the Landsknechts of that time, a Sir Tihbs; From what I read he was a particularily brave, and very tenacious Khatta. I suspect one would have to be, in any case, you know more about knighthood than I."
Gergesene explains to Kensington, "A Khatta assassin attempted to kill Lord Ruthven with a knife one day, while several of us were in audience with him. It was a great shock, and none of us had any idea as to why he had attempted to do so… He struck him exactly through the heart, and Sir Rainscroft commented at the time that there had been no blood from the wound… "
Jonas says, "A Khatta? A Child o' Felis? Would this knight have been of a black pelt, sir?"
Gergesene shakes his head. "Thank you, Father… Sir Tihbs may yet live, then. 'Ruthven' said that the Khatta assassin would have been my guide into the land of Bosch. Sir Hehner will be interested to know of this."
Gergesene kaws, "If only we had guessed sooner… "
"Nearly all the Khattas in Chronotopia have black pelts, it would be quite hard to pick out any single one as exceptional. The records did not contain that detail, but I suspect Sir Tihbs was like most of the Khatta, completely black." The priest replies.
"Well… " Father Baruch continues, "… there is some more. The blade was later consecrated specifically for an expedition into Bosch, the one led by Lord Ruthven. All the knights that accompanied him had their equipment dedicated before hand."
Kensington shakes his head at Gergesene, leaning forward to sit on the edge of the cot. "No point in pinin' about would coulda been." He rests his wings to either side to listen some more.
Gergesene pauses, trying to remember an important detail. Sir Rainscroft had killed the Khatta… Had he not? He turns to the bear. "Were you there, Commis – Jonas?"
Jonas leans back, scratching his chin in thought. "P'raps yer Sir Tihbs survived in a different manner, Gergesene. In the Highlands, we have tales o' the Revenant, a spirit that revenges itself on the one who killed it. P'raps Ruthven was followed out o' Bosch by someone needin' a little revenge… "
"I'd 'ave thought things from Bosch twouldn't be needin' any reasons fer slaughter," comments Kensington.
Jonas nods to Kensington. "Aye, but what if it were a thing not o' Bosch, but o' yer Great Machine. A spirit of a true and faithful warrior, seeking to assist his people, and more importantly, his fellow Landsknechts? That'd be reason enough, don't ye think?
The Cervani priest listens to the highlander's words, and nods slowly. "The ways of Bosch are many and strange, and not predictable in the least. What you say is entirely possibly, and could just as easily be totally wrong. Only Lord Ruthven and one knight survived that expedition, and nothing of the other Landsknechts' were recovered. How to explain the knife, I'm not sure."
"It is perhaps so," Gergesene says with brows furrowed. "He should be sought out, or his remains, if they live. If he is dead, he may be interred with honors due to a Landsknecht who died doing his duty… And if he is alive, he should be purified, should there be any taint of Bosch – perhaps a legacy of 'Ruthven'."
Jonas nods. "Oh, aye, no dooubt aboout that, sir. Highland stories are not yer stories, and may only apply to my homeland."
Jonas says, "Ye said another knight survived, aside from Ruthven. Who?"
The avian brigand nods, rubbing the bottom of his beak thoughtfully. "Ye 'ave a point, Jonas. I can't say as I'd like t'think o' what might've 'appened t'him."
Father Baruch looks sadly at Gergesene, "I think after this many years, that there would be nothing left of those Landsknechts in Bosch; if anything was, it would be the greatest kindness to put it out of it's misery. Only a metal object could last that long and not be corrupted."
Gergesene turns to the priest. "You should know what happened today." He summarizes the events of the past months, but focuses more on the fact that neither the blessing nor a further application of holy oil deterred the horrible creature of blood that Ruthven had become; only the blood-sucking Boschian weapon had proven efficacious.
Gergesene blinks. "By the Grand Machine! Do you think that perhaps that knight's spirit, incorruptible, was somehow attached to that blade? If so, it might now be a relic."
The deer priest is stunned by Gergesene's revelations, and doesn't immediately respond to his new question about the knife. "Then we are truly fortunate that Bosch fights itself, as much as outside."
Gergesene nods soberly.
"Anythin's corruptible," reminds Kensington. "Methinks that thing we fought in the hall really were Ruthven, at some time."
Jonas says, "Aye. But still there is another knight that returned, is there not? Ye mentioned that one other rode out o' Bosch with Ruthven. Is he still alive? He may hold some clue in his memories."
Baruch looks down at the knife, then turns it to look at the cogwheel imprint in the butt. "I have studied it greatly, but I can't claim a deep understanding of the Great Design, it may be that in some way, a knight of determination could overcome all obstacles, by whatever means. Unfortunately, there is no one left alive to ask. I checked to see if the sole other knight could shed some light on this."
"I found Sir Deward had died, a year after he returned. It was of a strange sickness that seemed to suck his energy and life out of him, and leave him empty. The Celestial Order had documented it, and had been unable to help him." Father Baruch explains.
Gergesene shivers at the thought…
"There was no discernible cause," the priest waves his hands briefly, "no apparent treatment, and no cases since that they could tell me of. It was an anomaly."
Jonas shakes his head, commenting, "So no others survived." A thought occurs to him. "Was this other knight stationed with Ruthven at the time?"
"The records I looked through didn't contain that information." The priest answers Jonas, "However, I would suspect that the two survivors of Bosch would remain quite close, as they would have witnessed horrors no one else would be able to relate to."
"Like each other?" The corsair laughs humourlessly.
Jonas nods. "P'raps, and this is just p'raps, mind ye, but p'raps ol' Ruthven sucked the fellow dry, to keep him from telling anyone."
Jonas shrugs. "'Course, without any record, we're jest shooting arrows in a fog. No way to tell fer sure."
"Perhaps the records of Einheimische Keep are better, especially relating to Landsknechts." Father Baruch speculates, "There have not been a great many Khatta knights, it should not be hard to find references to Sir Tihbs. I believe he was the only Khatta along on Ruthven's expedition."
Gergesene leans forward on the infirmary's cot. "Father, some are called at a young age, but I find that I have heard mine at a somewhat later age. For a long time I have believed that Chronotopia's troubles could be solved if only the land of Bosch were annihilated… "
Kensington grimaces at the thought of Ruthven draining someone of blood. He shifts uneasily on his cot, wishing for the simple days in which men died when you stabbed them.
"It seems to me now that we should mend our problems at home first, and heal our spirits, before we then try to turn and offer our philosophy to Bosch," the tempered Gergesene offers. "I feel that I would like to study with the Church for some time, and perhaps gain priestly orders."
Jonas looks askance at Gergesene. He shrugs inwardly; combat tempers different furres differently. Some bend, some break, some are made stronger, and some are reshaped, finding solace in a different purpose. Perhaps Gergesene will find his solace with these clergy.
Father Baruch nods to Gergesene, "Yes, there is always the temptation to believe and unworkable design is sound, simply by finding imaginary faults, and ignoring the obvious. Some reflection may help you put in order the chaos you've been through today. The Principles are always there to guide you, and the Cathedral will welcome you if you're interested in following them."
"I would like to get back to the Cathedral now. I didn't intend to spend the entire day waiting here, and you look like you could use some rest." He holds out the knife to Gergesene, "I just felt compelled to bring you what I had found out about this. I hope it has helped in some way."
"Y'know, somehow this don't surprise me," muses Kensington. He studies his cousin for a little bit. "Sure, ye liked the stories, an' the trainin', and all that rubbish. But there seemed t'be somethin' too affable there t'really enjoy scrappin'. Wouldn't Auntie be surprised?"
The Korv knight smiles, the muscles at the edges of his beak turning up. "Thank you, Father. We all fight the good war in our own ways." He takes the knife.
Gergesene kaws! laughter to Kensington. "And I'm sure you didn't learn to fight so well as a merchanter." He raises his Korvish eyebrows. "Perhaps you should have taken to Landsknechtery?"
Jonas nods to the priest. "Thankee, sir. Mother keep ye and Primogen watch o'er ye."
Kensington rasps in his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Aye, well… the knightly life be a bit too structured fer me." He raises a wing at the priest in a sloppy salute. "Peace go with, Father."
The deer bows to everyone, "It was my pleasure to assist in any way possible. It is I who should be giving you thanks for the tremendous acts you were a part of today. You have prevented a flawed man from taking the highest seat in government. The consequences of that, if you hadn't, would be very dire for our land. May you all sit securely in the housing of the great machine."
Gergesene grins at Kensington.
With a final bow, the Father Baruch leaves the room.
Jonas chuckles. "It's good that we kin still laugh. Ol' Jack teaches that if laughter dies, then hope dies." He looks sober for a moment, then exhales a noisy sigh. "Well, I doon't ken about the two o' ye, but I need a drink. A large one. What say ye, Corsair? Will ye and yer cousin tilt one back with me?"
Gergesene tucks the Landsknecht's blade into his belt. There are more comrades to mourn now, and a chapter of his life to close. But still, he feels as if he has gained a new wind under his wings. "I'd be more than delighted, Jonas," he says.
The captain's eyes brighten, and the corners of his beak twist upward. "Ahhh… nothin'd put a better spin on such a hellish day than a frothin' mug. I'd be honored to tap tankards with the both of ye. Leastwise… if'n I'm forgiven fer puttin' a quarrel in yer shoulder, Gerry."
"Better a quarrel in my arm," the Korv knight replies with better cheer than hours hence. "Than a quarrel between us, cousin." He leans forward and wing-hugs Kensington gingerly.
