“They scream and demand to let them in,” the soldier said.

- Stop yelling, you idiot! Snapped the count, “Can't handle a bunch of sheep?”

“We can handle the rams,” the guard said in a firm voice, “But there the people are well-armed.” And among them, I noticed a lot of slum thugs.

- And already in the pants put, - mockingly grinning, said Sebastian, - Go out on the walls and shoot the crowd with crossbows.

- We can not, sir! - shouted the soldier.

- What? What did you say, bastard? Can not fulfill the order of his master? - livid with anger, hissed Lazar.

“All weapons disappeared from the barracks!” - choking with excitement, the guard answered, - And from the arsenal cellars too! We only have short swords and a few copies and darts. But all this is useless if the assault begins. The enemy is armed with long heavy swords, spears with hooks, and who did not get a weapon, grabbed forks, long knives and axes.

- Damn it! - the count howled, - the messenger to me! Quick, slacker!

Lazar rushed to the exit, but suddenly stopped at the door and threw a terrible look at the slave. His eyes were bloodshot, his hands shook, his head began to twitch strangely. Clenching his fists, he hissed like a snake driven into a corner:

- I have no doubt that this is the trick of your sweet and this black-ass slave Kull. They sang well. But I can beat them. And then, before your eyes, I will tear apart this stranger. I will make him howl in pain and ask for mercy. And when it's all over, I'll take care of you myself, whore!

The heavy iron door slammed shut with a terrible screech, and the prison again plunged into darkness. But Libya was no longer afraid of this impenetrable darkness. Her feminine instinct unmistakably suggested that the Horn would soon come for her and get her out of here, and they would be together again.

- If only to hold out! - she repeated, as a spell, - If only to wait!

And Sebastian fled to his apartment, where a man with a pale face and a curled eagle nose was already waiting for him. Earl called him in extreme cases and used for special secret assignments. The name of this dry tall man was Verd.

The messenger quickly got up when the count flew into the office. Lazar cast a quick glance at the table, piled with papers, shook his head and squeezed hoarsely:

- No time. Head to the magistrate and that in an hour there would be soldiers of the city guard. This is my order, Verd.

“I won’t be able to get out of the castle,” the messenger answered in a firm, dry voice, “The gates are under the control of the rebels.”

- Use the secret passage that leads to the grove.

“Understood, Earl,” Verd bowed shortly and disappeared behind the door.

Lazar walked leisurely to the window and flung open the doors. An unimaginable fuss reigned in the courtyard: the soldiers ran around the yard, dragging barrels, tables, logs to the gates, in a word, everything that could somehow prevent the enemy from penetrating inside. A small detachment of guards, climbing the castle wall, desperately fought off the attacks of the crowd, but with every minute the number of defenders decreased.

The arrow, whistling at the very ear, was stuck in a heavy curtain. The count instinctively turned aside. At the same time, a heavy bolt fired from a crossbow smashed a large porcelain vase into smithereens.

- Devilry! - Sebastian swore, bouncing off the window.

Trying to keep cool, the count began to put on his armor: a bronze shell, shoulder pads, knee pads. Of course, such protection was useless against crossbows. Any bolt punched thin plates, but it gave confidence. Lazar waved his hands, checking the freedom of movement. Heavy armor ominously grated.Chuckling, the count put on his helmet and, taking up his heavy two-handed sword, left the room.

Outside, there was a crash of breaking logs and the heart-rending cries of soldiers. Running to the window, Lazar saw heavy wrought iron gates collapse, and an angry mob rushed into the castle. The soldiers were instantly crumpled and thrown back into the courtyard. They did not even resist, but simply stood with their backs pressed against the courtyard buildings. Many were injured and could hardly stand, but no one paid any attention to them.

The count cursed fiercely. He was furious with such a swift assault. Having pulled off a heavy and useless helmet from his head, he angrily threw him into a corner. Self-confident by nature, Sebastian piously believed in his strength and did not even admit the thought of defeat.

Side niche silently moved aside. The count turned his head, and at the same instant Verd flew into the hall. Crashing to the floor, he froze in a daze. His leather breastplate was splayed, there were traces of beatings on his face, blood was oozing from his dissected shoulder.

- What the devil? - roared Lazar, staring at the messenger, - Why are you still here?

“Because I want to,” came the thick bass, and in the niche a huge figure of the Moor appeared.

Kull, with a scimitar in his hand, was slowly advancing on his former master. The pupils of his large eyes rotated, saliva oozing from his open mouth. The Negro now looked like a wild, enraged beast, ready to attack prey, for which he chased a long time.

The count prepared for battle.

- He's mine! - from behind Kulla came a young slim man, - Well, hello, brother! So we met. It's time to pay the bills.

“I have been waiting for this meeting for a long time,” Sebastian slowly began to take off the shell that had restrained his movements.

- Kull, - Horn, without taking his eyes off the enemy, turned to the Negro, - Find Libya. You know where she might be.

“Got it, sir,” the Moor shot a scornful look at Lazar and quickly left the hall.

- What are you counting on, youngster? - Sebastian with a quick wave struck a vertical slash.

“To the triumph of justice,” the young man easily repelled the attack, placing the block with his blade.

- And you grew up, brother! - Sebastian stared at Gorna unblinking eyes.

“But you have fallen even lower,” snapped the young man.

- Do not be rude to me, puppy - Lazar made a fraudulent attack.

“And you don’t deserve any other treatment,” the young man walked away easily.

- What are you up to? - smiled Earl, - My death?

- Such a nit like you should not live.

- I'll show you nits! - Lazar rushed to the enemy.

Their blades were crossed, metal rang out, sparks flew. The bout began.

DEATH CLARO

The battle was already inside the castle. The soldiers fought fiercely, but now, perhaps, none of them thought about loyalty to their master. They fought for their lives. But their forces were limited, and the rebels were still arriving. Two people rose to the place of one killed or wounded, and the battle inflamed with a new force.

Kull, like a whirlwind, sweeping away the enemy on his way, rushed to the cave. Running into a narrow corridor, he snatched a torch from a niche and rushed to the far end, where the sinister torture chamber was located. Some guard did not manage to free the way for the giant and was cut in half.

Negro stopped and took a breath. He pushed the door, but it was locked. Roaring, Kull went to the opposite wall and kicked with all his strength. The solid oak door shook, but stood firm. The giant hit still. This time, the iron loop could not stand it. Inspired by success, the Negro put all his power into the next blow. There was a rattle, and the shutter shattered into pieces, opening a narrow entrance to the room.

The cell was light and hot. In addition to the torches in the corner the fire blazed in the fireplace. In the middle of the chamber stood the famous torture frame with the girl crucified on it, and next, grinning, was fumbling around dressed in a red caftan of the hangman Klaro. He raked the coals with a long iron rod, licking his thick lips and squinting at the slave.

Kull took a step, but the freak raised his hand in a warning gesture.

“Just try,” he said in his raspy voice. “And I will pierce it with this twig.”

- Let go of the girl, ... Read more →