Raven’s Rise

by Cole, Elizabeth

  “That would be appreciated,” she replied, with a look toward Bethany, who agreed heartily.

  Rafe signaled the men that the cortège would stop briefly. “Stretch out. But stay close. We’ll be moving soon!”

  After it slowed to a halt, he opened the door of Angelet’s carriage. He helped Bethany step down, then offered a hand to Angelet.

  At that moment, Simon gave a shout of warning. Rafe looked to see a number of men rushing toward them from the direction they’d come.

  “Damn it,” he swore. There was nothing friendly in the mood of the approaching group. Fifteen men? Twenty? This was going to be bad.

  “What is it?” Angelet asked.

  “Get back. And stay down!” Rafe pushed Angelet back into the carriage, and wheeled about. Hell, he knew something wasn’t right all day, yet he disregarded all the warnings.

  The approaching group split into two, some mounted, some on foot. One second later, all turned to chaos. Simon and Marcus rushed toward the largest group of attackers with swords drawn. Angelet had, thank God, withdrawn into the interior of her carriage. The maid Bethany, however, was still outside of it, shrieking and pointing seemingly at random.

  “Bethany!” he shouted.

  She paid no heed.

  Rafe rushed up and grabbed her by the shoulder. She squealed in surprise and whipped a knife upward.

  He blocked it by instinct, striking her arm. The knife fell to the ground.

  “Oh, God!” Her eyes widened. “I thought you were one of…never mind.”

  “Pick up the knife. Get into the carriage with Lady Angelet. It will be safer. Go.”

  He turned away, hoping she’d follow his instructions.

  Rafe couldn’t spare the women another glance for the moment, because a big man with a missing eye was charging directly at him, wielding a short, wide sword. The man used it like a scythe, making huge swings to clear his path. Anyone who could rush away did.

  By contrast, Rafe stood his ground, despite the natural fear that always flooded through him before a battle. He’d been in this position many times, probably more than any other man in the fray. He flexed his sword arm, taking a deep breath.

  When Rafe fought, he felt a sense of calm come over him, despite the madness and the desperation in so much of what happened. He was himself when he was on a battlefield. He understood exactly what was required of him, and he knew just how to move. He knew what to look for when it came to exploiting his opponents’ weaknesses. He spun, struck, and parried almost on instinct, relying on his reflexes and his intense training to protect him.

  This fight was no different.

  Rafe stepped forward to engage the man just at the right moment to put the other off his timing. Rafe blocked several wild swings with small, precise shifts of his position. No need to waste energy. He kept his gaze locked on his opponent, already seeing patterns, guessing the man’s next moves.

  His opportunity came a second later. His opponent hacked with his blade and overbalanced. Rafe grabbed the other’s arm, and swung his own sword upward in a deadly, controlled movement.

  The tip of the sword hit just above the man’s breastplate, sinking into the exposed flesh. Rafe was in no mood to be merciful, so he twisted the blade, hard.

  The man’s eyes widened and he gurgled something as his body jerked violently on the end of the sword. Rafe pulled his sword free, and the man crumpled to the ground.

  Rafe whirled around, looking for the next fight.

  The next fight was easy to find, since the whole scene was now swarming with assailants. Rafe jumped at the nearest one, dispatching him after only a few moments. It was not a fair fight. Rafe was just too skilled at hand-to-hand combat.

  Rafe knocked the man’s dagger out of his hand, then kicked it away. “If you want to live, lie flat on your belly.” What Rafe desperately needed was information.

  Instead of obeying, the man sprang like a cat toward Rafe, as if he intended to take him down. But Rafe was ready and slashed the man’s chest with his sword, going for a killing stroke.

  The man fell in mid leap, crumpling into a pile of loose limbs and dirty clothing. Rafe leaned down to yank the man’s shoulder, turning him over slightly.

  A blank-faced stare greeted him, with no hint of who or what this man was. A quick perusal of the corpse showed that he was dressed much like any common man in the area—sturdy but heavily patched hose, and a tunic in a faded green color, along with a newer capuchin with a darker green dye. The dagger was plain but well cared-for, the edge viciously sharp. Rafe leaned over to pick it up.

  He glanced up again, taking in the skirmish. Simon and Laurence were fighting back to back as they confronted a group of assailants. They appeared to be doing well, in the sense that they were still alive, but Rafe didn’t wait any longer.

  He charged toward the group, smashing into the ring of attackers and breaking their formation with a few well-chosen swings of his sword. One man clutched his bleeding arm, falling to his knees. Another fell dead.

  “Everyone halt!” a new voice yelled. “Or I’ll spill this one’s blood all over the road.”

  Rafe looked to the sound. A huge man held Bethany up. The petite woman was actually dangling in the air.

  She whimpered, but was otherwise still.

  “There’s treasure in one of these carts,” the big man went on. “And I want it. Show me where it is, or I’ll slit her throat.”

  No one spoke for a moment. The attackers were waiting to hear where the chest was. The defenders were all staring at Rafe, waiting for him to make the fateful decision of whether to save Bethany’s life and give up the gold, or refuse the offer.

  Why was this his choice? Rafe groaned inwardly. This was exactly why he avoided command. Fighting was one thing, but giving orders always led to a situation like this, where lives lay in his extremely fallible hands.

  Rafe had a duty to protect both the money and Angelet. But allowing Bethany to die would be unconscionable.

  He took a breath, prepared to order his men to stand down.

  Then a clear voice broke the silence. “Let her go. I’ll show you where the chest is.”

  Angelet stepped from the carriage, astonishing in her gown and the moonstone necklace and her silvery-blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders. How had she managed it? In that moment, she could have claimed fey ancestry and Rafe would have believed it.

  The big man seemed to forget everything when he saw her, and unceremoniously dropped Bethany to the ground, where she lay groaning in pain.

  “You’re the lady,” the big man said, as if he’d never seen a lady before.

  “I’m Angelet d’Hiver, and I will give you the chest. But you must not harm anyone else.”

  The big man glanced around the clearing, obviously judging his odds. Then he nodded. “Where’s the chest?”

  Angelet pointed to the food wagon. “That cart. It’s hidden under the straw at the front. You’ll need two or three men to carry it.”

  The big man grinned and ordered a few of his underlings to uncover the chest. He stayed near Angelet, his axe at the ready.

  Rafe narrowed his eyes, sensing exactly what was going on in the other’s thoughts. The man wasn’t going to let Angelet go free. He would use her as a hostage as soon as he had the chest. Rafe started to shift his position, to be ready to rush over to Angelet. If only she’d stayed hidden!

  Meanwhile, two of the attackers had uncovered the chest, and with shouts of triumph, they began to wrestle it out of the cart.

  Several of the attackers began to grin, pleased with the imminent payday.

  Rafe shook his head. So much for making a fresh start. No one would hire them for another job like this. Apparently, Simon had come to the same conclusion, watching in chagrin as the chest was hauled up to be taken away.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” Simon muttered. Without warning, the younger man whipped a small dagger through the air at one of the men carrying the chest. Simon’s aim was
true, and the blade sank into the man’s hamstring.

  He howled with pain, and his whole body jerked. He didn’t just lose his grip on the chest. He flung his arm upward, driven by a sudden rush of energy in reaction to the pain. The chest half flew out of his hands.

  The other handler lost control as the weight all shifted to him. He cried out, jumping away before the heavy chest could fall and crush his feet.

  A fraction of a second later, the chest was loose, spinning oddly. It hovered in the air for a breathless moment.

  Everyone watched, mesmerized.

  Then the chest fell, hit the rocky ground, and cracked open with a sound of splintering wood. Time seemed to slow as they all waited for the inevitable scattering of gold and silver on the earth. Then it would be chaos as all the men looked out for themselves and scrambled to take what they could.

  The chest rotated once more, one corner hitting the ground. The lid separated from the chest, and the contents spilled out. Rafe heard the shout of one of the soldiers.

  But there was no glint of metal. Only strange dull pebbles flew through the air. Then Rafe gasped, realizing that was exactly what they were. Ordinary pebbles, stones scooped up from the dirt.

  They had been guarding worthless rocks. There wasn’t an ounce of gold in the chest.

  Chapter 13

  Angelet stared at the mess on the ground, utterly confounded.

  Then everyone around her started to mutter.

  “What in hell,” someone said.

  “This is wrong,” came another voice, stunned by what he saw…or rather didn’t see. “Where is it? Where’s the gold gone?”

  “Men! Get ready.” Rafe’s voice came clear to her ears. She saw him about thirty or forty feet away. He tightened his grip on his sword, ready for what was to come.

  The big man near her suddenly let out a roar, his voice ringing out over the whole company. “Where the fuck is our gold?”

  Someone else growled, “This was a set-up! A trick.”

  Angelet felt the mood shift. The attackers had been fierce but confident before. They’d had a goal. Now rage ruled them, and they might do anything. And she had foolishly put herself in the middle of them.

  Just as the big man lunged for her, she heard someone howl, “Sir Rafe! Look to the lady!”

  She dimly recognized Simon’s voice as her attacker grabbed her and dragged her a few feet away from the carriage. His meaty arm curled around her neck, and she clawed at his forearm with both hands, trying to free herself.

  She stilled when the big man angled his blade into her neck.

  Then Rafe was there, his sword out and ready to strike a killing blow.

  “Hurt her, and you’ll lose the ransom she’s worth.” Rafe faced the man. “You’ve already lost the money.” He took two steps toward the attacker.

  “We don’t want her for ransom,” he hissed. Then he yelled as Angelet raised one hand to his face, raking her nails across his skin. The move was desperate, but it worked. The man loosened his chokehold just long enough for her to drop to the ground and scramble a few feet away, against the carriage.

  The man made a grab to retrieve her, but Rafe was already moving. He rushed the man, and just as the other swung back, his blade raised, Rafe shifted his attack slightly, compensating for his opponent’s moves.

  Rafe straightened his sword arm, aiming for the heart.

  “Angelet, stay back,” he yelled.

  Angelet did, but she gasped when something thunked right by her head. She looked to the carriage wall behind her, where a crossbow bolt was now jutting out only inches away from her head.

  Rafe reached out, grabbed Angelet by the hand, and pulled her next to him, using his body to block her from the general direction the bolt must have been fired.

  “We have to go,” he ordered.

  Angelet nodded, but lunged to the open carriage, where she grabbed the sack lying on the seat. “We can go!”

  She glanced around, but saw no one holding such a weapon as a crossbow. Not that it meant anything. The thick underbrush and densely wooded area could hide any number of bowmen.

  Rafe started to move toward where his horse Philon stood, unperturbed by all the noise and shouting, just as a well-adapted war horse should. He muttered to Angelet, “We’re walking to Philon. Quick!”

  She matched his pace and a moment later they reached the massive creature. “Stay here. Right here. Keep your head low.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Just wait here!”

  Rafe moved away, and Angelet waited for an agonizing time.

  She watched the ongoing fight through slitted eyes. How were there so many attackers? What would happen?

  Then Rafe reappeared, holding the lead to a white horse. “Let’s go,” he ordered, as he mounted Philon.

  “We can’t leave! Look!” She’d just seen Simon get struck by a black-clad man. Simon howled in pain and slid to his knees, still parrying the other’s blows. “Rafe, you must help him!”

  Rafe looked about to object, but then Simon himself saw them.

  “Go, Rafe!” Simon shouted from where he was locked in a grim battle with his attacker. “Get her out of here! Just go!”

  Rafe leaned over and scooped Angelet up in one arm. He swung her up into the saddle in front of him, then rode hard back the way the cortège had come. The white horse galloped behind, the lead still gripped in Rafe’s hand.

  “Where are we going?” Angelet gasped, clinging to him. She was shaking with fear, and the heat of his body made sweat break out on her skin.

  “Away,” he said, sounding out of breath.

  “But Simon and the others. We have to help…”

  “We have to get you to safety,” he said. “That’s what matters. Simon knew that…knows that. The others will defend themselves. But the thieves weren’t just after the gold. They were after you.”

  He glanced behind, searching for signs of pursuit. Angelet did too, and thought she could see a horse and rider in the distance. Rafe urged Philon to go faster. The riderless white horse kept pace.

  When the road presented a fork leading west, he took it. The smaller trail suggested a local path, perhaps to a nearby village. If they were lucky, the pursuers would continue along the main road, assuming Rafe would retreat to the last large town, or just be too rushed to look for alternate routes.

  The road branched again several moments later, and Rafe once again took the westward-leading fork. Only when a huge felled tree blocked the path in front of them did he slow the blistering pace.

  Both horses came to a halt yards before the tree trunk. Angelet glanced behind them again, relieved to see nothing that hinted of pursuit.

  Rafe stilled the horses and listened.

  Angelet remained quiet, so quiet she could feel the thudding of her heart in her chest. The sounds of the forest around them were ordinary, and even though she strained her ears, she couldn’t identify any hoofbeats.

  “I think we can rest for a moment,” Rafe said at last. He circled his horse around to stand parallel to the massive trunk. “Angelet. Hold my hand, and you can slide down. There you go.”

  A moment later, she stood on the trunk, well above the ground itself.

  Rafe dismounted and took both horses by their leads.

  Angelet, still on the tree, pointed to the left. “There’s a little opening that way to get around the trunk. The path is clear on the other side.”

  “Keep watch,” Rafe said.

  Angelet dutifully stood looking at the way they’d come. The landscape remained silent and empty.

  Once Rafe and the horses cleared the trunk, she slid down to the ground on her own.

  “We should go back,” she declared, knowing it was a lost cause.

  Rafe shook his head once. He looked tired, dirty, and sweaty. “No. They’re either waiting there, or on the path between here and there. There were still twelve or fifteen of them when we rode away. That’s too many. I couldn’t fight fifteen
men on my own.”

  “Especially since a few of them had crossbows.” She shuddered. “One shot at me!”

  Rafe frowned. “I saw that. Are you sure? I mean, are you sure you just weren’t in the line of someone else?”

  “No. Remember, I was by the door of my carriage, trying to keep well out of the way,” Angelet reminded him. “The bolt hit the side of the carriage wall about a half a foot away from my head. I was the target. Not you or that big man. I got splinters from the impact.”

  His frowned deepened. “Why would they be so reckless? You’re worth nothing to them dead.”

  Rafe took her by the hand and led her to the white horse. “Come, mount up. We need to keep moving. You can ride bareback?” The white horse hadn’t been saddled.

  She nodded. Rafe lifted her up so she could scramble onto the white horse’s back.

  Then Rafe remounted and started down the path. “Let’s go. Just because we haven’t seen them yet doesn’t mean they’re not still on our trail.”

  “What about the others?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know. Either way, we can do nothing. By this point, they’re either alive or dead. I’m not trying to be cruel, Angelet. But no skirmish lasts long—and this one is over, one way or another. Simon and the others would understand why we fled. Hell, Simon was yelling at me to take you out of there.”

  “I hope he’s all right. All of them. I hope Bethany got to safety.”

  “She was hardly a devoted maid.”

  “But to be a woman alone in the wilderness, or to be captured among a band of thieves…I wouldn’t wish that on any woman.”

  Rafe looked at her. “Ever the noble.” Then he flicked the reins of his horse. “Come. We need to ride.”

  “Rafe?” she asked. “Where are we going?”

  He looked over his shoulder, then directly at her. “I’ve got no idea. But we can’t go back there.”

  Chapter 14

  Angelet was very willing to let Rafe make all the decisions as to where to go and what speed to take and when to rest. She was numb from the events of the morning. Several times she almost convinced herself that it was a dream, and that she wasn’t alone in the woods with only a single knight for company. She’d wake up to find the whole group alive and well.