Chapter 7
Boys Will Be Boys – Part 2
“He's got Lanky Jim...you four...get him!” the big, bald man ordered.
A barmaid screamed and caused Magnus to looked up, but before he finished saying, 'fucking hell,' Francois had a pistol loaded and pointed at a black-bearded man who was running with a short sword, charging at Klaus. Francois dropped the man with a shot to the temple, just as Klaus slit the skinny man's throat, letting him fall to the floor.
That was two men down.
Klaus retrieved his coin purse - stuffing it back in his pocket - drew his long sword and took a stance in the middle of the room – sending all six of the well-dressed gentlemen scurrying for the exit. Klaus moved so fast Magnus blinked in disbelief.
At the same time, Francois flipped the table on its side, ordered Magnus to 'stay down,' then dashed across the room. Giving Klaus a nod, he leaped over the bar, just as an onslaught of four men came rushing at Klaus from the right side of the room. The big, bald man and another red-headed man hung back behind an overturned table.
At the same time, Francois flipped the table on its side, ordered Magnus to 'stay down,' then dashed across the room. Giving Klaus a nod, he leaped over the bar, just as an onslaught of four men came rushing at Klaus from the right side of the room. The big, bald man and another red-headed man hung back behind an overturned table.
Quickly reloading his pistol, Francois had a memory flash through his mind. He recalled two women at the well this morning, gossiping about a group of troublemakers, led by a bald-headed man. He thought he overheard the word 'thieves' at the time. Were these the same men?
The four scoundrels flung tables and chairs out of the way in their haste to get to Klaus.
A chair flew over the bar, crashing into the mirror at the back, and several bottles of whiskey on the counter, spraying glass and booze everywhere. Matty cursed and scooted farther away.
Two of the well-dressed gentlemen tripped over an overturned table, landing on top of each other. A tankard went flying through the air and cold-cocked one of the gentlemen in a red coat. Furious, a gentleman in a blue coat smashed a chair into the back of a dark-skinned ruffian. Quickly turning, the dark-skinned man grabbed the shocked gentleman and tossed him in the air. The blue-coated gentleman landed on the two men on the floor – who were just starting to get up – knocking them back down creating a three-man heap. The other two gentlemen, left standing, went to the aid of their companions.
Meanwhile, the maids clung to each other, huddled in a back corner to the left of the bar. The three minstrels looked at each other, shrugged their shoulders and started a loud, rousing tune. Matty stayed crouched behind the bar, bemoaning the state of his newly renovated tavern, thinking maybe it was time to sell.
Magnus drew his rapier, nervously watching from the relative safety behind his table. At this point he had no idea what started this fucking fight. Holding his sword and trembling, Magnus prayed – to whatever gods might be listening - that Klaus and Francois would come out of this unscathed, and that he, himself, would not die today. With so many tables turned over the candles on them had gone out. Magnus saw a faint light coming from behind the bar and guessed that Matty had the oil lamp back there with him. All in all, it was hard to see in the dimly lit tavern, Magnus concentrated on Klaus, who was closest to him. The noise of shouts, cursing, and scuffling furniture filled his ears. Underneath all the racket going on, Magnus was vaguely aware of music playing.
As Klaus held his stance, he gripped the hilt with both hands, one behind the other. He quickly, but easily, turned his wrists, swinging his blade to circle his head. “BRING IT ON, ASSHOLE!” Klaus shouted with a smirk, as he circled his blade first to the left, then to the right.
A muscled man with a brown ponytail charged head-on, shouting, “DIE, COCKSUCKER!' and lunged at Klaus.
“NOT TODAY, ASSHOLE!” Klaus swung his sword from the right, coming up in an ascending cut to slice the man's sword hand off at the wrist. He then carried the momentum of his strike to a descending swing. Bringing his sword straight in front of him and stepping forward, he buried his blade in the muscled man's chest, as his eye caught movement at the bar. Not wasting a second, Klaus held the dead man on his sword with his left hand, while he pulled out a knife with his right hand and threw it.
Francois raised up from behind the bar, a pistol in each hand, just as a blonde man, with a short sword, landed on top of the bar with a loud thud. A knife was buried in the man's neck, severing his jugular.
That's four men down.
“Shit...thanks, man!” Francois laughed and called to Klaus. A shot rang out from across the room! The two maids screamed, and the music stopped. Immediately, Francois ducked, using the bloody body on the bar for cover.
“Don't mention it,” Klaus hollered back, already engaging a tall man with short, black hair. The whole room was filled with the sound of metal clanging together as their blades crossed again, and again. In the background, the music started to play.
Francois waited until the man, who had shot at him from behind the table, came up to shoot again. As soon as the red-headed man raised up and fired, Francois fired back, over the dead body, striking the unfortunate red-head between the eyes. Francois let out a hearty laugh. This was all so exhilarating, he loved it. It reminded him of the days on the front lines. The stage here was different but the plot was the same. The thrill of kill or be killed, with he and Klaus covering each other's backs. Watching Klaus as he expertly wielded his sword brought up old-time feelings. Fuck – he was getting a hard-on!
That's five men down.
The gunfire, between Francois and the red-haired man, played out right in front of the musician’s stage. The violinist was so frightened, he yelped and jumped back to avoid being hit. Unfortunately, he also slipped and fell backwards, whacking his head hard enough to knock himself out, leaving the flute and lute players to carry on by themselves.
As for the party of six well-dressed gentlemen? - They managed to escape by crawling out the door, dragging their unconscious friend with them. Nobody gave a shit about them anyway.
Then there was Matty, who stayed hunkered down behind the bar, holding his head and moaning about the destruction to his tavern. He had a feeling that the rough looking group was bad news the moment they came in.
Klaus laughed and taunted the tall, black-haired man as they clashed swords, circled each other, and clashed swords repeatedly. The tall man suffered wounds to both shoulders and his stomach, bleeding profusely where Klaus had already cut him. Klaus could have killed the man at any point in this match, but he was having a hell-of-a good time, so he kept it going.
Magnus felt helpless the whole time, wondering who these guys were, and why they were trying to kill Francois and Klaus. He watched it all from behind his table, chewing his nails, and was completely awed by Klaus's skill. It was truly amazing how fast and precise Klaus was with his sword, becoming such a deadly killer. Magnus has never seen this side of Klaus. Yet, instead of being afraid, the sight of Klaus in action made his heart race. Magnus’s palms were sweating as held his rapier, and butterflies were dancing around in his stomach, as he admired Klaus, unable to look away.
With all the commotion and the dim light, nobody noticed the dark-skinned man that was hiding behind two overturned tables, to Magnus's right, and near the middle of the room. Then again, the dark-skinned man forgot about Magnus. After he had tossed aside the blue-coated gentleman, he hid himself, waiting for an opportunity to get at Klaus. But such an opportunity didn't really show up – until now
Holding his long dagger and poised to strike, the dark-skinned man was watching Klaus intently. ‘I will only get one chance to take this guy out,’ He thought. ‘This swordsman is unquestionably the best I’ve ever seen. If my timing isn’t perfect, I’m not going to make it out alive.’ There was also the sharpshooter, Francois, he needed to watch out for. ‘That guy never misses,’ he thought, continuing to assess his situation. The dark-skinned man paid attention to how quick Klaus was to step, pivot, turn- moving so fast it was hard to keep up with him. Now Klaus was turning to his right more, the side with the eye-patch – his blind side. When the dark-skinned man saw Francois look away at the same time Klaus turned to his right, he saw his chance – NOW!
Magnus thought he detected movement off to his right. His eyes had adjusted to the dim light, but he still wasn't sure. He was watching Klaus so intently that he lost track of how many of these assholes were dead, and how many were left. He kept a firm grip on his rapier, just in case someone tried to sneak up behind him.
Suddenly, a dark figure with a dagger jumped up, lunging at Klaus.
“KLAUS, ON YOUR RIGHT,” Magnus yelled, as he leaped to his feet and threw himself onto the dark-skinned man, knocking the man down and driving his rapier into the man's back, all in one swift motion. At the same time, Francois turned and shot the assailant in the forehead as he went down.
Hearing Magnus's voice, it only took a split second for Klaus to pivot in a circle - slicing the dark-haired man's head off as he turned – and ending with his sword on the neck of the dead man on the floor. The headless body slumped to the floor, as blood poured out in a slick, red puddle.
That's seven men down.
When the shot went off and the head rolled across the floor, the barmaids screamed, and the musicians screamed, dropping their flute and lute. Then, the room went silent.
Klaus flipped his sword back with one hand, resting the hilt on his shoulder. His sword was bloody, but his coat was already ruined so it didn’t matter. Much to his irritation, he would just have to buy a new coat. With his other hand, he reached down and helped Magnus to his feet.
“Fucking hell, Klaus. Are you alright?” Magnus asked, as he stood up. Looking Klaus up and down, he saw that his clothes and coat were covered with blood. Klaus's sweat-soaked, blonde hair was also spattered with blood and plastered to his head. But what struck Magnus the most was Klaus's bright, shining eyes and his big, goofy grin.
“Couldn't be better, thanks to you,” Klaus beamed.
“Magnus, Klaus, get down.” Francois called out from behind the body on the bar. “We only took out seven of these bastards. There's still that bald fucker and I'm not sure where he is.”
“I'm right here,” the big man said, standing up with a long-sword in his hand. He slowly walked toward the middle of the room, his cold, hate-filled eyes fixed on Klaus, as Francois took aim at the man with his pistol. “This is between me and the little piss-ant with the sword,” he snarled, tossing his sword back and forth, from one hand to the other. “No gunman. No pretty boy with the toy blade. You killed my men, so now it's gonna be just you and me. When I'm done with you, then I'll kill them too,” he spat, and glared at Klaus.
Klaus stepped over the headless body, waving Francois back, and took his stance. Hyped on adrenaline, the blood pumping through his veins, he said, “there's just too many fucking assholes here. Guess I'll have to eliminate one more.” He swung his blade in a flourish, over his head, then went back to his stance.
“Aw, come on, Klaus. Let me off this fucking bald prick,” Francois said, dismissing the big man's threats, and rolling his eyes.
Magnus couldn't believe Klaus was taking this big, muscled guy on. He was at least three times Klaus's size.
“I'm going to slice your belly open and watch your guts spill out,” from the bald man.
“Klaus, somebody's coming!” from Magnus.
“Now, Klaus?” from Francois, hearing the shouts and yelling approaching the tavern door.
“Fuck yeah, go ahead. Let's get out of here!” from Klaus.
Francois dropped the bald man with a shot to the back of the head, grabbed one of the unbroken bottles of whiskey, and was out the back door in a flash.
Klaus took Magnus by the hand, as Magnus pulled his rapier out of the dead man's back with his other hand, and they ran to the back door – Klaus tossed his coin purse to Matty on his way out.
They all jumped in the carriage. Francois shouted to Joseph, “go...go...hurry!”
Joseph cracked a whip over the horse’s heads and the carriage jerked forward, as the horses took off running at full speed.
“Klaus,” Magnus said, a look of horror on his face. “I killed a man. I'm a murderer.”
“It's okay, Magnus,” Klaus said, bouncing on his seat as the carriage sped down the road. “You had help. Francois shot that asshole, remember?”
“But now we're all murderers. We’ll be wanted,” Magnus said, tearing up.
“Here,” Francois said, holding out the whiskey bottle. “Have a drink. You need it.”
Joseph didn't slow the carriage until they were many, many miles out of town.
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