Free The Rogue Knight by Vaughn Heppner Page B

squire’s face was very white. As the horse squirmed, he moved Richard’s body by his motions. The horse’s front legs looked broken. Sweat poured off the stallion, and the sweat had a strange, sickly odor.
    Sir Philip, Sir Walter and the rest of the boarhounds raced around the cliff.
    Below, his neck hairs bristling with rage, Old Sloat stepped toward Richard.
    “No!” shouted Cord. He hurled a stone that pinged off the monster pig. Sloat squealed with rage, spinning to face the Baron.
    Baron Hugh, his fine clothes soaked with slime, his face haggard with fatigue, dismounted. He clutched his boar spear two-handedly. Lady Alice, also mud-splattered, readied her javelin.
    Cord desperately needed Old Sloat dead. He feared that Baron Hugh didn’t have the stamina left do to the deed. Nor did he think that a mere javelin could slay the pig. Also, he was worried that Sloat would gore Richard.
    “Come on,” he hissed at Sebald. Cord turned and slipped over the cliff. With his toes, he found purchase. Wearily, as he watched Old Sloat, he slid down a little more. Sebald whined from above. Then the dog lunged and made a controlled drop beside the squire.
    Baron Hugh laughed in dreadful glee. The monstrous boar with his small dark eyes breathed heavily. He bled from several dog bites. With a short hop, Sloat widened his stance and lowered his bloody tusks. Rage glistened in his inky eyes. His mane stiffened even more than before.
    The old white-haired Baron leveled his boar spear. His hands trembled. No doubt, he was very tired. Just then, Lady Alice shouted, rose up in the stirrups and hurled her javelin. The missile shot true, but it slid off Sloat’s callused rutting shield.
    Enraged, the eight hundred-pound beast charged Baron Hugh. As Cord dropped to the ground, the Baron set himself. The spear’s sharp head slid into Sloat’s shoulder. Then it bounced off the thick tissue of the boar’s rutting shield. Sloat darted his head down and up. Baron Hugh bellowed in outrage as his feet left the earth. Old Sloat trampled him, spun atop him, trampled some more, and then rushed Cord.
    Panicked, Cord picked up Richard’s boar-spear. Blood pumped out of Sloat’s wound. Through the blood peered the wickedly black eye of Old Sloat. The beast meant to slay him. It meant to trample his corpse and gloat.
    All the fear of losing his hand, all his hatred of Sir Philip and the injustices he’d had to bear all his life welled like a boil in Cord. The boil broke, and out oozed hatred. Cord roared as he backed up a step against the cliff. He knelt, ground the boar-spear against the hill and held on with all his youthful strength.
    As Sir Philip rode into view, Old Sloat smashed into Cord’s pike. The hardened pole buckled in Cord’s hands as the razor-sharp steel entered Sloat’s neck. The monster’s vast weight pushed the spearhead deeper. Squealing, Sloat tried to slash Cord. Sebald bit into Sloat’s throat and jerked the tusks from Cord. Cord shouted with rage and fear and twisted the boar-spear. The fat pig squealed, thrashing his stumpy legs as life drained from him. Then Old Sloat died and grew very still.
    A mighty feeling of victory washed over Cord. He let go of the boar-spear as he shouted, “Yes! Yes!”
    Huge old Sir Philip sat motionless upon his destrier, his mouth agape. He looked at Cord as if he’d seen a ghost or some other supernatural horror.
    Sebald growled as he shook Old Sloat.
    Sir Philip, his scarred face pale, worked his mouth. “You... You slew Old Sloat.”
    Cord grinned savagely.
    Philip gasped. Then he whispered, “Tostig.”
    Lady Alice glanced sharply at Philip.
    Cord cocked his head. Had Philip said Tostig? Had Philip spoken the name of his, Cord’s, long dead father?
    Philip blinked, and he glanced at the Baron. “Hugh!” he bellowed. “Hugh!” Philip alighted from his mount and ran to the trampled and quite dead Baron Hugh.
    Cord wiped sweat and blood from his face. He’d done the