Ducking and weaving from the madman, Wayte struggled to free the blade that was caught in his mailshirt, still cutting into him with every movement. As Birkett dived in again Wayte swung around, the pommel of Birkett’s sword coming around and smashing Birkett in the face sending him reeling, but the blade digging deeper into his own side. Though causing him immensely more pain, the move had loosened the sword from the chainmail and it fell free and clattered to the ground. Wayte fell to his knees in pain while Birkett stumbled trying to clear his head. Putting his hand down to steady himself while propping himself up with his sword, Wayte’s hand made contact with Birkett’s sword. Picking it up, he rose to his feet. Wielding both swords, Wayte flew at Birkett, the blades missing by inches as Birkett backpedalled. Hiding the pain in his side, Wayte lowered the blades, “I clearly have the upper hand. You can’t win form here. Do you yield?”

Birkett spat, “What do you think?” and threw the dagger at Wayte who brought his swords up to deflect the flying blade. The pain in his side flared up as he moved and he dropped Birkett’s sword. While Wayte dealt with the dagger flying towards him and in pain by the wound in his side, Birkett dove forward and grabbing his sword, rolled onto his back and thrust upward towards Wayte’s groin, knowing that if he severed the artery there, it would be all over for Wayte. Fortunately for Wayte, he recovered in time; holding his own sword two handed, he thrust straight down, skewering Birkett and pinning him to the ground. Birkett’s eyes widened in pain and shock, it was over, he was beaten.

“I thought you didn’t want to kill me?” rasped Birkett with a cough.

“You didn’t give me much of a choice brother,” replied Wayte softly.

“Finish me. Please,” pleaded Birkett, the pain growing stronger.

“Your victims would want you to suffer,” said Wayte coldly.

Birkett’s eyes closed tightly against the pain.

“But after all you have done, you are still my brother in law and I owe it to your sister. May you find peace in another life brother,” said Wayte softly as he drew his dagger.

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“Tell them that I am sorry,” rasped Birkett.

“I will,” promised Wayte as he drew his dagger along Birkett’s throat ending his pain.

Guardsman Jonathan Wayte knelt on the ground, his head bowed tears flowing for his fallen brother. Birkett had been his brother for a long time, his madness recent.

A moan from the cart brought his mind back to the present, “Judith!” he cried out and stood up. The pain in his side exploded and he nearly collapsed. Kneeling back down, he undid Birkett’s belt and with a great deal of difficulty looped it around his chest as tight as it would go, restricting the movement. The pain was still there, but it would be limited, he could at least move again. He clambered up onto the cart, “Judith?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”

She wailed and thrashed around, “Dmitri?” she moaned.

“No,” replied Wayte softly, “It’s Wayte.”

Her eyes opened and she struggled briefly before catching sight of Wayte’s face; the eyes were different. They didn’t shine with the madness she had seen in them when she was captured. They were deep and echoed the sadness within.

“Jonathan?” she asked timidly.

“Yes,” he replied with a smile, “it is me; I’m back to my old self.”

“Dmitri!” she cried out.

“No, Wayte, you were right the first time. Dmitri is still back in the castle,” he replied, his smile falling as she went into delirium.

“No, no,” she moaned, “He’s good. I won’t die!” she finished with conviction.

“But the disease,” started Wayte.

“Is not real,” she managed to get out.

Wayte’s eyes widened at the prospect, “He did sabotage it? Birkett was right?”

Judith scowled at the mention of Birkett but nodded in relief as he finally understood.

“Where should I take you? Back to the castle?” asked Wayte.

She lurched upright through her pain, “No!” she cried out. “The village, need to go to the village. The church, need Uriel.”

Wayte nodded, “I’ll take you there. It might be a little rough. You just hold on.”

He climbed down of the cart, his wound stretching but the belt helping to restrict movement. He unhitched the horse and with great effort, he helped Judith off the back of the cart so she was standing and leaning up against it.

“I’m going to need to have you on the back of the horse behind me holding on, it will be painful for both of us, but it’s the only way,” informed Wayte grimly.

Judith nodded numbly and let Wayte put her on the horse where she began to sway. Changing his mind, he jumped up behind her and reaching around her, grabbed the reins and kicked the horse into motion.