The hooded men must have seen enough signs of hostility to commence their attack. Vero grabbed Conner by the arm and pulled him into the dungeons. The heavy oak door was unlocked, and she slammed it shut behind them. There was no bar on the door, so Vero pushed herself and Conner against the entry to brace it.
The door shuddered and opened part way.
It slammed closed again, but not before an arm and leg pressed into the gap. There was a solid grunt of pain- followed by shrieks of agony.
Vero worked her knife with deep and methodical slashes along both the exposed limbs. The arm and leg attempted to withdraw, but with both her and Conner pressed against the door, they remained trapped.
The door burst open again and this time Vero pulled them back into the hall. There were empty cells to either side. The first man fell into the doorway grabbing at his open wounds in desperation.
The blood leaked through his fingers in rivulets.
She kept her knife held out ready in front of her. The four remaining able men were momentarily disinclined to step over their wounded companion and rush her.
Vero heard Alexius’ voice call out in warning, but she could not turn away from her attackers to find his cell. “If you pursue this path, it can lead only to your own destruction!”
“I don’t have much choice!” she called back, with her weapon still raised.
“I was speaking to them, my Lady. Several deaths will soon occur, but I do not see yours among them.”
Vero still felt in danger, no matter what the madman had to say.
She heard Conner scrambling somewhere behind her, but she could not turn to see what he was doing.
The largest attacker pushed his way through the others and moved in first. He was trying to move cautiously and lead the others, but Vero advanced on him and forced him back with quick cuts at his hands and forearms. He was preparing to strike back at her with his club when he tripped over his wounded companion while moving backwards.
The next attacker charged over the first two. Vero tried to retreat again to gain space, but he was too quick and lunged forwards to catch one of her legs. Then, with an expert move, he swept her down and trapped her lower half under him.
Vero struggled to regain her wind, while her foeman continued to crawl forwards to try and mount her. Once she had her breath back, she used her free leg to push herself away.
She took her knife with both hands and jabbed it down into his head with all her might. Juddering shocks ran through her arms each time the blade deflected gruesomely off the hard bone on the top of his skull.
He tried to defend himself with his arms, but he could not see her attacks as he pressed her down with his chest and head to prevent her from escaping. Nothing could be heard any longer besides the screaming.
The two able-bodied men passed the doorway, but Conner intercepted them wielding a fallen club. He struck one viciously on the head before they knew he was there. The man was wounded and stood on weak legs.
Vero momentarily had cause to hope that they might come out of everything well after all. Then the largest hood struck Conner on the side and shoulder several times to knock him against the wall. The other man recovered himself and joined his companion in beating Conner to the ground.
Vero brought her knife down again hard, and felt something give.
Her knife was tightly lodged in her attacker’s skull. There was a brief shudder as his spirit left his body.
She wrenched his limp form off her using her knife’s grip for leverage. She then tried to free the weapon itself, but it was lodged too tightly in the head hidden behind the hood.
Even if they held no hope for victory, Vero intended to do her best to injure or kill as many of her assailants as she could before she fell.
If they intended to rape her, she would be beaten unconscious first. If they intended to kill her, then she would leave as many marks as she could for Pentarch to find them after.
The largest of them held down Conner. He continued to struggle, but to limited effect. There was no telling what they would do to him now, but perhaps she could distract them long enough for help to arrive.
The one Conner had hit still seemed to be unsteady on his feet. He moved to advance on Vero in cooperation with his last fresh companion, but she suspected that behind the fabric he was glassy eyed.
She was back on her feet, but there was no more room behind her. Breathing was difficult, the air was so damn thin.
Vero raised her arms to guard her head and advanced on the weaker enemy. The more damage she did, the more likely Pentarch would be able to find the culprits. She was sure he would avenge them.
For the sake of the boy at least, if not her own.
Vero moved to circle around the side of her target. She used his body to shield herself from his companion as well as the cramped surroundings would allow. Then she clinched the back of his head with her left hand, while he made only feeble and confused attempts at defense. He had lost his weapon somewhere amidst the fighting.
She pulled his head down sharply and uppercut him with her free hand, using a closed fist and as much force as she could muster. He fell to the ground stiffly, in a manner Vero found unnerving to watch, and he did not move. His right knee came down beneath his own weight and was pulled out of its socket.
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Her muscles burned and ached for a moment’s respite.
A bat struck her hip and Vero felt her leg buckle under her. She turned the fall into a semblance of a grab at her next opponent’s leg, but this only resulted in further blows across her head and back with the club.
Repeated strikes eventually robbed her of any coherent resistance, and he easily pinned her down under him.
For a long time, she could perceive only a long dark tunnel and sudden jolts of pain all over her body. There was a light ahead of her and it grew until she was awake again.
Vero was laying on her stomach. Her head was turned over and her cheek was pressed to the stone floor. She felt a club across her shoulder blades and force behind it, holding her down.
Conner was unconscious, laying beside the man with the head injury and disjointed leg. That one had pulled off his hood, and she saw it nearby, flaked with vomit. She recognized him as one of Richard’s circle, Herman.
Vero remained still to avoid alerting them that she was awake, but all the attackers were more concerned with themselves.
The man in the doorway was trying to apply a tourniquet to himself and stop the bleeding. From the way he was haranguing the others, she was sure he was the leader. He was shouting for Herman to put his mask back on.
Herman did not respond, and Vero doubted he knew where he was at the moment. He looked blankly at the dead body in the corner. “Get up. William, we need to go… William-”
“No names! Put the godsdamn mask on right now!”
“Wake up. It’s not so bad…”
“He’s dead, imbecile!”
There was sobbing, more shouting, and Vero felt hands trying to pull down her trousers without removing her belt first, making only slow progress.
“Forget that! Kill her- we need to leave immediately!”
“What about the boy?” the one over her asked.
“What about William… he’s hurt…”
“He’s dead!”
“I think-” the big one began.
“Kill them both!” the leader interrupted.
The man on top of her stopped fumbling with her pants. “If Pentarch finds William’s body he’s as good as caught us.”
“He needs help… he’s hurt…”
“Look at him! She put a dagger through his skull! He’s not hurt- he’s dead!”
A new voice cut through the din. “Explain yourselves now!”
Vero turned her head to see master slayer Iosephus stood over the injured leader. He held a dagger, but rather than pointing it outward, he held it threateningly over his left palm.
No one moved.
“She killed William-” the leader began, before realizing that wearing a hood over his face would undercut his pleas of innocence.
He pulled it off to show himself. “I know how it appears, but we only came for retribution- for how she maimed Richard. We only intended to give her a beating, but she’s Pentarch’s whore and he put the boy here to watch her every move, so we had to wear these hoods. He attacked us first so we gave him some rough treatment… but this witch killed William! Same as she would have murdered Richard, if he hadn’t been able to escape the trap she lured him into! She’s like a wild animal- she’d kill any of us without a thought if we don’t stop her!”
“A judicial tribunal will be assembled to resolve this,” Iosephus stated matter-of-factly. “Everyone shall put down their weapons and surrender themselves to me.”
“Pentarch will use the potential for sickness to keep the Curia hidden away, and then use Diana and Lothair to control any tribunal!” their leader countered.
Iosephus’s voice was steady. “If your actions are just, they will vindicate you before any jury.”
The three men still capable of rational action exchanged glances between themselves, coming to what Vero considered, an irrational conclusion. Then everything began happening at once.
The leader tried to lunge upward and pull the elderly Iosephus down where he could come to grips with him. Iosephus had already opened his palm and drops of blood fell through the air.
The big one readied his club and positioned himself to watch their prisoners, as directed by the man atop Vero. Meanwhile, that final man tried to climb off of her and move forwards to assist his captain.
Vero was waiting for just such a moment. As he was imbalanced, she bucked her whole body as violently as she could, and caused him to stumble down on the blood slick floor. He fell badly and knocked his head on a cell door, leaving him momentarily stunned.
Iosephus was too old to pose any physical threat, even to a wounded man. Still, his voice rang out clear, speaking in Sylvan tongues Vero could not understand. An undulating started where his blood met the pools and splatters which already covered the battleground.
Vero tried to push her aching body to move, to rise to her feet, but every muscle suddenly seemed to be screaming in agony to her. Above the cacophony of pain, she felt the she sharp strike of a club across her back.
The man Vero had unbalanced was the first of them to notice what was happening. To steady himself, he laid a hand beside where the largest droplets of enchanted vitae sangris landed, spreading the power within out through all the expended blood.
It used the life essence it fed on there to fuel the spell’s further exponential growth. Vines started to emerge, studded with wicked barbs, and soon became a mass of brambles covering his wrist.
It was the victim’s screams that drew Vero’s eyes to what was occurring. He tried to pull his hand free in panic, but that only let the brambles tear further gashes and drink more of his fresh blood, spurring deeper growth to seek out the rest of his succulent flesh. They were spreading faster than he could move, and eventually covered him completely.
The big man was distracted by his companion’s plight, and she used the opportunity to retrieve one of the fallen clubs from the floor. Vero did not believe she could stand, so she took aim at the blackguard’s kneecap and swung with all the strength she had left.
Black spots covered her vision. Her foe fell with a cry and his weapon was knocked from his grasp. Then the vines were over both of them.
Vero’s base survival instructs urged her to wrench herself free and flee, but she held still and allowed the vines to slowly crawl over her. She clenched her chin tight to her chest and attempted to protect her bare skin as best she could. In moments, it had engulfed her totally, and the entire room around them blossomed into a massive briar patch.
She heard struggling and cries of pain, but all she could do was lie in an exhausted heap on the floor.
Eventually, all the free blood was drunk up. Iosephus’s chanting faded away, and as quickly as they had sprung up, the vines began to desiccate. When they cracked and crumbled into dust all the blood spilled by the battle had vanished.
Herman remained completely still and took no notice of them; Conner was unconscious and also looked mostly unharmed. The big thug was covered in painful looking lacerations and pale from the blood loss, but he was still alive.
The one who was nearer to the center of the vines had been literally torn open and drunk dry in his vain struggles against the questing plants. The leader of the hoods was also dead. His throat was slit, and it looked too clean to be the work of a vine.
Iosephus pulled himself to his feet with remarkable dexterity. “Remain here. I’ll send someone to assist you.”
He left before Vero could manage a moan in response.
She pulled herself over towards Conner. He had several ugly looking bruises, but he was still breathing. She carefully tried to wake him. “Conner, can you hear me? Are you well?”
There was a murmur.
“Conner, can you speak?”
“I- yes…” When he opened his eyes, they were glazed.
They waited together for Iosephus, who returned with Pentarch and several others.
“I tried to warn them.” She heard Alexius remark somberly from his cell. “Why wouldn’t they listen?”