Deathknight by Andrew J Offutt

Author:Andrew J Offutt [Offutt, Andrew J]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Venture Press
Published: 2016-12-21T00:00:00+00:00

FIVE

One need not love his neighbour and thus all men. That would be ridiculous and lead to great frustrations and crippling guilt as well as encourage a society based on the impossible — egalitarianism — and pauper the people to make them “equal” while less free. No. We say that you must instead deal fairly with each individual as an individual, whether he or she is loved (or even lovable) or not.

— Sath Firedrake

*

In a dark area of Ryar where he really had no business at this time of night, Sir Relashah came upon three footpads in the act of attacking a man, who was down on the pave. Relashah called out, drawing as he broke into a run. In the pale light of the moon called Jera, one look at the charging man in black persuaded the trio to flee.

Relashah of Kem saw that they were still running as he reached their victim, and sheathed his blade. His cloak made him resemble a great bat alighting as he went to one knee beside the poor fellow. He put a gauntleted hand gently on the fallen man, who, twisting with inordinate swiftness for a wounded victim, stabbed straight up into Relashah’s throat.

Making gargling sounds in his own blood, Relashah caught that murderous wrist and used it to yank the blade out of his neck. It fountained. He forced the treacherous barga’s hand down, and down, and forced the dagger into his killer’s chest. Or tried to; it skidded off well-lacquered armour under the man’s tunic, and the fellow chuckled.

“No such luck, Deathknight swine!”

Sir Relashah sagged, spewing blood as he died.

The supposed footpads came hurrying back to speed him along with vicious kicks. Drenched with Relashah’s blood, their supposed victim hustled to his feet to help.

“Fell right into it, didn’t you, Deathknight swine! Uh! Feel that one?”

“These swinish Deathknights can’t resist aggrandising theirselfs by helping poo-oor people in trouble! Here’s one in the — uh! — nuts!”

“That’s enough; look, he’s running out of blood. This ain’t a Deathknight, it’s a Deadknight!”

They laughed. Swifty they stripped off the dead omo’s equipage and clothing, which they stuffed into a waiting pair of rough-cloth bags.

“Look how pale the pig is under his blacks!”

“Huh, look at the size of these stones! No wonder he’s a monk!”

The victim laughed as he peeled off Relashah’s coif. “And look at this! Ever see anything so ridiculous?”

They left him there, dead and naked in an alley in Ryar.

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