The Silver Knight Read Online Free Page A

doorway, seemingly more animal than man as it swung its head from side to side. It was almost naked, a scant length of winding-cloth wrapped around its loins as if to hold its body together. Its limbs were skeletal, the bones showing through, and its skin was like parchment, torn in places across torso and thigh to reveal blackened, empty orifices where once organs and muscle had lain.
    Its gaze fastened on them and its eyes—mere pinpricks of glowing red deep within shriveled sockets—narrowed. It sniffed, even though it had no nose, just two stretched nostrils shrunk upon its rotting face. Its jaws opened and closed with an audible click.
    “ Bism'allah! ” Sufyan exclaimed. He backed up against the font, keeping his swords wide apart, ready to defend himself if the fiend should attack.
    “You call upon your god,” Everard remarked softly beside him. “Let us hope he is listening.”
    Sufyan glanced up. The knight had circled around the font and now stood alongside him, the heavy, antiquated sword held out at a slight angle. The situation struck Sufyan as amusing: a Saracen and a Christian united against a common foe, their hands full of naked steel even though they stood on holy ground.
    A cold wind blew around the church, extinguishing the lamps. Sufyan took a deep breath, inhaling the twilight along with the cloying scent of old incense, burnt wicks, and rotting flesh. As his eyesight adjusted to the darkness, he saw the blood-fiend move from the door. It didn't run or shamble; it darted, as fast as a greyhound, crouched on all fours—and it came straight at them.
    Everard flung himself to meet the monster, swinging up his sword to cleave a path through the blood-fiend's body. But the fiend dropped to one side, dodging the blow easily. It crashed against Everard, knocking him off balance, and ricocheted onward. Its skeletal hands opened, grasping like claws as it launched itself at Sufyan with a horrible shriek.
    Sufyan snarled in response, crossing his scimitars to catch the fiend against both blades. It drove against the swords, shrilling wildly as it tried to break through with brute strength. Sufyan stood his ground, his arms trembling with effort as he kept the monster back. It screamed at him, its jaws yawning wide to reveal sharp teeth. He gagged at the stench of decay that rolled from its open mouth, but dared not turn his head.
    Everard staggered to his feet and clouted the blood-fiend across its back with one strike of his sword. Sufyan saw dried flesh and dust fly into the air like spores released from a fungus. The fiend seemed confused. Its red eyes glared at Sufyan as it pulled itself free of his swords and collapsed onto the floor.
    “It is defeated!” Sufyan shouted. He stamped a foot on the fiend's chest and began to crouch beside it, ready to send the monster back to Hell.
    “No!”
    Everard's cry stopped him. Sufyan hesitated long enough for the fiend to jerk back into life. Undamaged and angry, it leaped up and tried to seize the sleeve of Sufyan's surcoat, its nails scrabbling at the leather and velvet.
    “Don't let it bite you,” Everard warned. “Otherwise, you will be twice damned, a Muslim and a blood-fiend both. A sorry state in which to exist.”
    “I will cut off my own head before I become a creature as foul as this.” Sufyan retreated a few steps and then charged at the blood-fiend. It whipped around and snapped at his swords, dropping down onto its haunches like a dog and uttering sharp, angry cries. Then it sprang at him.
    Sufyan spun around and kicked the fiend in the chest. He felt its ribcage give way beneath his boot as dust exploded around him. A wave of coldness struck him, and he fought the urge to vomit. He jumped back and then attacked the moldering fiend with both swords, hacking at it while it writhed and screeched.
    Everard dragged the wooden lid from the font. Sufyan caught a gleam of silver mail as the knight plunged his hands inside, and then Sufyan cursed as