Scott Kirkman Books

Now, sitting in front of Henkleson’s inn, Barquark was staring into the same steel gray eyes. The face was weathered with lines and a touch of silver dusted his close cropped hair, but he was still lean and rode straight backed in the saddle.

A loud noise followed by angry cursing drew Barquark’s attention away from the captain. Ahead of the princess’ carriage, a heavily loaded wagon had lost a wheel. It tipped precariously, spilling part of its load and forced the two horse team to pivot sideways where horses, wagon and mess blocked both directions of traffic.

Somewhere deep in Barquark’s gut, a survival instinct was screaming a warning: something was not right.

An instant later, the captain bellowed, “Cover!” He dove from his saddle, knocking the young woman out of the carriage. He enveloped the girl, driving her to the floor of the carriage, just as three cross bow bolts sprang from his broad back. The driver and guard barely had time to react before more bolts from the surrounding rooftops took them down.

Barquark’s mind could barely register what what happening. It was an ambush, an attempt to assassinate the princess.

The guard who had been opposite the captain was nowhere in sight. The two banner men in front were both down along with two other men. Men with the broken wagon must have drawn weapons hidden in the cargo and fell on the two mounted guards. The battle had been quick but brutal. Three assassins now remained, and they closed on the carriage, weapons held ready. One moved to the carriage team. The two horses were rearing and snorting, eyes rolling wildly with the smell of blood and the loss of their driver. The assassin grabbed their bridles and quieted them with practiced efficiency as his companions advanced on either side of the carriage.

The young woman got to her feet, white linen shendyt streaked with dirt, strands of black hair loose from her braid. With a guttural snarl, she charged the assassin.

The woman was fast, and the assassin was forced to take a step back before he knocked her to the ground with a savage backhand blow. He brandished his short sword at her. “Stay down and you can live. No more warnings.” But he could tell by the wild look in her eyes that she would not listen.

She spat blood onto the dusty cobbles and started to rise.

The assassin pivoted to meet her charge, this time with the point of his blade, when the table slammed into the side of his head and sent him sprawling. He bounced off the carriage wheel to land in a boneless heap.

Barquark hefted the table onto his head, grabbed one leg to steady it, and looked down at the astonished woman. “Get under the carriage, now!” He turned and saw the other assassin already in the carriage. He held a long dagger and was reaching for the captain’s body. As Barquark leaped into the carriage, he felt the bone jarring thuds of multiple cross bow bolts hammering into his table.

The assassin only had a moment to glance at the troll before Barquark’s bare foot caught him in the chest. The powerful kick knocked him clean out of the carriage. He landed with an audible thump on this back in the cobbles. Barquark felt more bolts slam into the table. One just clipped the corner closest to his head, sending an explosion of splinters flying in all directions. Another just missed his foot, burying itself into the polished hardwood floor of the carriage. Are these clowns ever going to run out of bolts? Barquark wondered.

Maintaining his forward momentum, Barquark planted a foot on the seat and launched himself after the assassin. As he landed in the street, the man was already rolling to his feet. Barquark no longer felt bolts slamming his table, so he decided to take a chance. Besides, he had no chance against this trained killer one handed trying to balance a table on his head. He reached up with his free hand and grabbed the other table leg. Taking a skipping half step, he flipped the table off his head and brought it crashing down on the assassin.

The heavy table would have been a dangerous weapon by itself, but bristling with stiff shafted cross bow bolts, it was frightening.

One shaft drove deep into the man’s shoulder and another pierced clean through the meat of his forearm before the wood cracked over his upraised arms and flattened him to the cobbles.

Barquark stood over the downed man and the broken pieces of table, his skin crawling with the anticipation of cross bow bolts about to sink into his flesh. He was just starting to think the rooftop archers had finally run out of bolts or run away, when he heard the high pitched call.

“Look out!”

Instinctively, Barquark pitched himself sideways and dove for the ground just as the ax cleaved the air where his spine had been. He rolled to his feet and saw the assassin who had been with the horse team coming at him with an ax. The man moved with purpose but not rushed, holding the ax high with both hands.

Barquark continued backing up, maintaining the distance. He thought, What is it with axes lately!

He spared a glance around, searching for some kind of weapon or anything to block an ax strike, when he heard the crack ring out over the street. The assassin’s head whipped forward and he took a stumbling step toward Barquark. Like a striking snake, Barquark’s left hand shot out, grabbed the ax handle, and yanked. As the assassin stumbled further off balance, his jaw met with a meaty troll fist. His head jerked back, and he crumpled to the cobbles.

To his astonishment, Barquark saw the young woman standing there, still clutching one of the guards’ spears. Her face was a mixture of fear, triumph, and white hot rage.

Barquark, still holding the ax, pointed toward the carriage. “I thought I told you to stay under the carriage.”

Her expression turned instantly to indignation as she opened her mouth to respond.

Barquark raised a hand. “Sorry, it’s my sense of humor. ‘Gets me in trouble all the time.” He paused and looked down at the unconscious ax man, then back at the woman. “Actually, I owe you thanks. You saved my skin.”

The woman shook her head. “No, sir. It is I…and the princess, who…”

Another disturbance up the street drew their attention. Armed men were pushing through the crowd.

“Oh, here we go,” Barquark said under his breath, then tossed the ax. He wiped drool from his chin with the back of his hand and flung the results into the street. Then, mechanically, he dropped to his knees and locked his fingers together on top of his head.

It was the city watch. The rank and file were mostly thugs and bullies, and not even good ones. The best muscle easily found employment with the crime bosses, where the work was easier and the pay was better. The watch was good at one thing however, and that was crowd control. Most of the dozen watchmen were fanning out and, with practiced efficiency, pushing back the crowds, which had started to surge toward the princess’ carriage now that the danger seemed to be past.

Three watchmen came toward Barquark and the woman. They carried the long hardwood clubs the watch was infamous for applying too liberally to the city’s poor. The one in the lead also whore a short sword sheathed at his hip from a wide leather belt. This marked him a sergeant.

The woman looked at the watchmen and then Barquark in his obvious position of surrender and quickly stepped between the men and the troll.

The sergeant waved his club at the woman. “Get yourself clear, miss! That beast has gone wild! Can’t you see the bodies?” He waved his arms around. “This is no place for gawking!” He turned to his men. “Get her out of here.”

The woman raised an arm, palm out. “Stop!” Her voice carried such authority that all three men stopped dead in their tracks. “It is you, sir, who needs to look around. The princess’ carriage was ambushed. This troll came to our rescue.” She gestured toward Barquark. “If he hadn’t intervened, the princess would most certainly be dead!”

Barquark was surprised at the passion with which she defended him.

The sergeant simply stared at her, open mouthed. She might well have just told him the great pyramid was floating away. He pointed again at Barquark with his club. “That’s a troll. Trolls are wild b…”

“Moron! This was an assassination attempt. Well planned and professionally executed. Not the rampaging of a wild beast! Most of the dead were felled by cross bow fire from the rooftops. Open your eyes, man!” She thrust slender arms wide.

The sergeant’s look of disbelief turned to one of anger. “Miss. If you don’t stand aside, I’ll have my men remove you bodily.

The woman shifted her weight to the balls of her feet and let her arms drop, relaxed, to her sides. It was was a subtle change in stance, something the watchman failed to notice, but Barquark caught it. She’s had training, Barquark thought, in at least one of the fighting arts.

“Stop!” It was the same high pitched voice that had warned Barquark of the ax man. He looked up to see a small girl standing in the carriage. Her raven black hair was a tangled mess and her fine shendyt was rumpled and streaked with blood, but her almond shaped eyes were sharp.

“Sirraa!” The woman said, and rushed to embrace the girl, nearly pulling her off the carriage. They held each other for several long moments, and Barquark reflected that this was more than just teacher and student or even caretaker and child. This was love.

The woman released the girl and held her at arms length. “You told me that you were unhurt! What is this blood? Where are you bleeding?”

“Stop. I’m fine. This is Captain Shendant’s blood.” She looked back at the captain’s body still slumped on the carriage floor, cross bow bolts standing up in his back. The girls eyes filled with tears and the woman hugged her tight again.

“Enough,” the girl whispered, then louder, she said, “Help me down.”

The woman lifted her easily from the carriage and the two walked to stand in front of the three watchmen, who quickly dropped to one knee and bowed their heads.

“Sergeant,” Sirraa said. “Do you recognize me? Do you know who I am?”

The princess’ voice was high and thin, with all the adorable qualities of a seven year old girl’s, but it carried a weight of maturity and authority beyond her years.

“Aye, ‘highness,” the sergeant said. “You are Princess Sirraa.”

“Good. My governess and teacher, Miss Trindle, speaks for me. She has explained what happened here, so there is no further need for talk or questions.” She turned to stand in front of Barquark, without fear or hesitation. “Rise, Mr. Troll. Rise and be on your way with our deepest thanks.”

Barquark stood up and bowed his head. “You’re welcome, and thank you, highness. If you hadn’t called out that warning, he would have cut me in half.”

“Then Miss Trindle whacked him!” Sirraa mimed the motion with her thin little arms, the edge of authority gone from her voice, the excited little girl squeaking out.

“Aye, highness.” Barquark said with a smile and slurped back some drool.

“Yes!” the princess said. “We three make a good team, uh?”

Barquark returned her infectious smile then noticed that Miss Trindle was not smiling. She was looking at Barquark but not seeing him. Her face wore a distant expression, as if she’d just thought of something important. The look gave him an uneasy feeling.

The princess’ expression turned grave once again as she turned to look back at her carriage. “Sergeant. You will release Mr…” She paused and looked at Barquark.

“Barquark, highness.”

“Yes, you will release Mr. Barquark, then detail your men to take Captain Shendant’s body along with the rest of my fallen guards back to the palace immediatel…” Her voice broke, and Barquark’s heart went out to her as she fought to control her tears. She was so tiny. “They gave their lives for me today. The day grows hot and I want their bodies under cover before…” Her voice broke again, and Miss Trindle gripped her shoulders and began to steer her toward the carriage. She looked back once more and met Barquark’s eye. “Thank you again, Mr. Barquark. You have done a great thing here today. Farewell.”

Barquark simply nodded once, then returned the princess’ wave as he noticed her little hand and face peer around Miss Trindle’s waist.

Miss Trindle turned to the sergeant and pointed to the ax man. “Sergeant, I believe that one and another by the carriage are still alive. Take those two into custody and collect the bodies of the others. The palace inquisitors will want them dead or alive, I suspect. Oh, and collect their weapons and all the cross bow bolts you can. It might be useful if their maker can be determined.”

Barquark studied the young Miss Trindle. There was more to her than meets the eye.

End – Barquark: Troll pit fighter – Episode 4

Keep an eye out for the next exciting episode!