It was a grey, misty morning and the air was chilly and damp. I looked at our small war band and gauged our chances of victory. The men looked confident and well-disciplined. In addition to the knight in his deadly armour, there were the eight master archers and another fifteen men-at-arms. All were on foot. Sir Gilbert had told me that they would not put their horses at risk. We were heavily outnumbered but had a good chance of achieving a temporary victory.
I had outlined my plan to the knight and he had given it his approval. The intention was to destroy the kretch and kill as many witches as possible before retreating back into the castle. Later, under cover of darkness, Thorne and I would make our escape; the surviving witches would follow, leaving the inhabitants of the castle and its surroundings to return to their peaceful lives.
But then things started to go wrong. A soldier on watch on the battlements called down a warning to us. The enemy were approaching.
From that high vantage point I estimated their number. There were indeed well over a hundred, led by the kretch and the dark mage. They halted about two hundred yards short of the moat, and the kretch came forward alone. Once directly below us, it rose up on its hind legs, drew a blade and called out a challenge in its booming voice.
My heart sank. The challenge was not aimed at me, but at the knight.
‘Sir Gilbert Martin, I hail thee! You are the slayer of the Great Worme and famed throughout this land for what you have achieved. I wish to pit myself in personal combat against one of such renown. Defeat me, and those with me will disperse and trouble you no more.’
‘If I lose the fight, what then?’ the knight called down. ‘I would know the terms of combat.’
‘Defeat will cost you your life and the siege will continue. That is all. Do you accept my challenge?’
‘I accept, and will fight you in single combat before these walls. Do you agree? Do I have your word?’
‘You have my word. We will fight at the water’s edge where you defeated the Great Worme. Your followers must remain within the castle walls. My people will retreat far beyond the river.’
‘It is agreed!’ Sir Gilbert replied.
With that, the kretch bowed its head slightly, showed its teeth in a wicked grin and turned to lope back towards the river.
I almost called down my own challenge to the kretch, but the knight had given his word: I could not intervene. However, I did make an attempt to dissuade him.
‘It’s a trick!’ I warned. ‘Such a creature does not think like you. Neither do its companions. They are servants of the Fiend – the Father of Lies. They have no idea of honour. Go down there alone and you will die! They want the head of the Fiend and have no intention of dispersing until it is in their possession.’
‘That may be so,’ Sir Gilbert said, turning to face me. ‘But as a knight I am not at liberty to refuse a challenge to single combat. It is the code by which I live. And even if that creature does intend to deceive me, all is not lost. When I leave, close the main gate but do not lock it. Leave the drawbridge down too. At the first sign of treachery come to my aid. There is little difference in this to what we intended.’
‘I cannot agree,’ I warned. ‘We would have left this place as a compact unit and protected your flanks and rear as you attacked the kretch. Now you will fight alone, and at some distance from us. If there is treachery, we may not be able to come to your aid in time.’
He bowed his head in acknowledgement of what I had said, but he remained resolute, and without another word went down to await the opening of the gate and the lowering of the drawbridge.
When this was done, Sir Gilbert clasped hands with his son in a brief farewell. Will looked very proud of his father, but his bottom lip was trembling with emotion and I knew that he feared for him. The knight lowered the visor on his helmet and strode towards the river. The door was closed after him but not locked. The archers and men-at-arms waited behind it, weapons at the ready. But I led Thorne back up onto the battlements, where we would get a better view of the fight.
Sir Gilbert was approaching the river ford, and I could see the kretch waiting on the far bank. Of the mage and witches, there was no sign, but a wall of thick mist had appeared about a hundred yards away covering both banks of the river. No doubt it had been conjured by magic: they could easily be hiding within it – much closer to the combatants than we were. I sniffed, and immediately sensed danger. It was a trap – I was certain of it. But what could I do? I had warned the knight but he had not heeded my words.
No sooner had he left the muddy bank and entered the shallow water of the ford than the kretch loped towards him, running on four legs like a giant wolf, sending up a curtain of water. Sir Gilbert had not anticipated its speed and he drew his sword too late. The huge beast clamped its jaws upon the man’s right, sword arm and bit hard. Even at that distance I heard the knight cry out in pain.
And what of the kretch? There were spikes on the metal plates that enclosed Sir Gilbert’s arm. Now they must surely be cutting into the creature’s jaws. It had gradually been changing and growing more powerful. Was it now impervious to pain? Or able to overcome it and exert its will despite the agony it must be feeling? That made it very dangerous indeed. Only death would stop it.
With a great effort, the knight tore his arm free. As he did so, blood dripped from the open jaws of the beast, staining the water. There was blood on the armour too, but was it Sir Gilbert’s or the beast’s?
Even from this distance I could see that the metal covering the knight’s arms was dented, and he struggled to lift the sword as the kretch attacked again. The creature seemed even larger, and it reared up to tower over him. It was growing more powerful with each day that passed.
Although hurt, Sir Gilbert was brave and did not flinch but stood his ground, transferring the sword to his other hand. The weapon was heavy and should really have been wielded with both hands. Nevertheless with his left hand – no doubt the weaker of the two – he thrust the point into the creature’s belly. This time it did feel pain and let out a shrill scream, immediately followed by a bellow of anger.
The scream made me feel a lot better. The kretch could be hurt. Yes, I wanted the knight to put an end to it, but really I longed to slay it myself. It was a long time since I’d wanted to hurt and kill something so much. And yet I could not venture forth while the knight was still standing his ground. He was a brave man and I would not deny him his chance of victory.