Fury (Tranquility Book 3)

by Krista D. Ball

  Myra took the glass and observed. “I can't see their faces that well…wait…isn't King Arrago's symbol a purple lion on yellow?”

  “Yeah,” Jackson said. “Why?”

  “Because the group in front, the ones you’ve been talking about? I think they’re ours. One of them turned…yes! There! He is wearing a patch on his tabard. Purple on yellow.” She handed the glass over to Kia. “Your eyes are better than mine.”

  Kia took the glass and asked, “What am I looking for?”

  “The dark man in front, really short hair. He’s wearing a brown tabard or tunic or something, but on the chest—”

  “I see it! That’s a lion.” Kia looked at Bethany, breathless. “That’s the King’s Guard.”

  Bethany snapped her head back to stare at Kia, heart pounding. “You sure?”

  Kia nodded. “I recognize the man next to him. He’s…what’s his name? Greyfeather? Like the King’s friend…”

  “Sir Edmund,” Jonas supplied.

  “Right. That’s Sir Edmund’s cousin. I’d met him a few times, back at the Castle. I’m certain that’s him.”

  Bethany stared ahead at the mass of trees. She only saw the occasional flicker of moving colour in between the branches and bushes, but ahead was the King’s Guard. A scouting party. Maybe a forward picket. They meant some soldiers, at the very least, had crossed the straits already. They were here.

  And they were in danger.

  ****

  “Sir, there’s at least twenty men approaching us from all sides.”

  Sir James looked at Guard Matthews and nodded gravely. They kept walking with their heads low, as if they didn’t know they were being penned in like livestock. James wrapped his fingers around his sword’s grip, but didn’t draw the weapon. Matthews mimicked his behaviour.

  “When are Lord Kiner’s scouts supposed to arrive?” James asked.

  “I thought they’d be here by now.”

  James looked over his shoulder at his own men and shouted, “How’s everyone holding up?”

  “Good, sir!” came back the answers, all in hyper-jovial tones. They’d all spotted the stalkers, then.

  “Did you want to circle back?”

  James slowed his pace a fraction. “No easy way to do that. We can’t go out into the clearing; we’d be easy target for anyone with a bow.”

  “You think they have bows?”

  James snorted. “We have a couple archers, do we not?”

  “Fair point, Sir. Should we turn and fight?”

  “I’d rather wait for Kiner’s scouts. But failing that, well, I guess we’ll be at the center of the first skirmish, or whatever nonsensical word the elves will use.” He paused. “Do you hear that? Is that thunder?” James slowly turned to look over his shoulder and his heart sank. Several dozen horses were headed their way and they weren’t carrying the King’s colours.

  James unsheathed his sword, as did Matthew.

  The cavalry was charging toward the trees. They would have a difficult time, as there was no true path and it was muddy and overgrown, but horses were faster than men.

  An arrow skimmed by James’s face, hitting a nearby branch.

  Attackers rushed them on foot, but James’s men already knew they were surrounded; intuition and experience took over. James turned to face his attackers. He dodged an axe and managed to nick its owner. The man stumbled and James ran him through. Arrows rained down on them. Not huge amounts, but it didn’t take more than one well-placed arrow to kill a man. James slammed his shield against a man who was rushing him, and kept on running toward the archers. He could see two nearby, so he went for them.

  The cavalry was close. It was too close for a rescue now.

  ****

  Bethany leaned into her horse and galloped across the open field at the charging cavalry heading toward the outcropping of trees and brush. There were twenty or so of them. Sword held high, she slashed the first rider she barreled past, not bothering to stop. Most of the horses were not battle horses, hers no exception, but she knew how to ride.

  Her horse bolted ahead, but Bethany expected as much. She kept it under as much control as possible and cut a path through the attackers. Confusion followed in her wake. Jackson was the best rider of them all, so he had the best horse. Jackson was cutting circles through the now-panicking cavalry.

  She managed to tug her horse into a circling run and she cut two more men who’d fallen off their horses. Myra and Jonas had fallen off their shared horse and were using the trees as protection, pulling riders off their mounts and harassing flanks.

  “Lady Bethany!”

  Bethany snapped her head to see a tall man with dark gold skin and braided hair. “Sir James, isn’t it?” She kicked an attacking soldier in the face. Her boot hit him square in the jaw and he fell backward with an inhuman bellow of pain. “I hope your Taftlin pride isn’t too wounded by a woman rescuing you.”

  He ducked a rider, whose hand Jackson kindly removed with one smooth movement of his sword. “My dear Lady Bethany, you can rescue me any time, and I won’t even be ashamed to tell people at court.”

  Bethany threw her head back and laughed. She brought her horse around. “What are you doing here?”

  “Forward picket, my lady,” he said, smiling. “Until fifteen minutes ago, I thought you were dead! I can’t wait to see the King’s face when he sees you.”

  She grinned at him. “Situation?”

  “We’re the forward advance, coming through the North to cut down any retreats. Lord Allric and the bulk of the army are crossing sometime tomorrow, if I recall.”

  “Castle Brook?” she asked.

  Sir James nodded. “Indeed.”

  “All right, let’s clean up this mess, shall we?”

  “Lady Bethany, just because you outrank me and just rescued my sorry human ass, it doesn’t mean you get to take over my mission.” Sir James forced a stern scowl.

  She bowed as best as she could. “Of course, my Lord. How may I serve you?”

  “Tell me how to set up an elven forward picket without dying?”

  She pulled the reins and turned her horse, laughing.

  Her laughter died abruptly. “Anyone hear that?”

  Jackson rode up alongside her. “I don’t…wait, I do. Which way is it coming from?”

  Sir James patted Jackson’s horse. “Lord Kiner was supposed to send scouts ahead to support us. That might be them.”

  Jackson pointed south. “Are they coming from the south?”

  “North,” Sir James said, shaking his head. “Cock.”

  “Indeed,” Bethany said. “You have any horses?”

  Sir James shook his head. “We came by foot.”

  Bethany looked at his men, and back at hers. “Some of us are doubled up as it is. Ok, Myra? Take a horse. Sir James, who’s your strongest rider?”

  “Marcus,” he said, pointing at a small, lean man.

  “Marcus, take one of our horses. Go with Myra. Ride to the camp. Let them know…” Bethany watched the fast-moving cavalry crest the horizon, “there’s a small army of cavalry coming. We can only slow them.”

  “We can’t stop that many!” Kia said.

  “Yes, we can,” Bethany snapped. “You two need to ride as fast as possible, do you understand? Marcus, report on your location, all of it. Myra, tell them I said I need at least three hundred horse here, now. Whiteriver, give Marcus your horse. Myra, take your horse.”

  Bethany pulled the reins of her horse and shouted, “Back into the trees! Move!”

  ****

  Arrago rode alongside a very annoyed Erem and took a childish glee in it. Jovan absolutely did not want Arrago anywhere near anything that remotely, somewhat, kinda, maybe resembled the field of battle. But Arrago was getting the hang of this “King” business and doing whatever he pleased was turning out to be a rather great perk.

  “I can’t believe Jovan let you come,” Erem sulked.

  They were in the front rank of the one-hundred
-or-so horse formation. Archers and pikemen escorted them, also on horse. The goal was to meet up with Sir James, scout out the area, clear any lingering resistance, and make camp. That would allow those still crossing and unpacking to move up and get settled.

  “I take orders well,” Arrago explained.

  Erem snorted.

  “Keep it up and I’ll tell Lendra.”

  “She knows,” Erem said and his face was transformed by a wicked grin.

  “Did you tell her?” Arrago asked, just loud enough to be heard over the horses, but hopefully not loud enough that the entire rank heard.

  Erem nodded, still grinning.

  “Well? What did she say?”

  “She said she liked me.” Erem waggled his eyebrows.

  “Lucky for Bethany she’s missing,” Arrago said, his smile fading.

  “If she’s here, we’ll find her.” Erem kept his voice steady. He pointed into the distance. “Riders coming in fast.” He held up his hand and the ranks came to a stop, with some protests from the horses.

  The two riders charged for the centre of the formation, and after a moment he could identify Myra and a man named Marcus or Mark, or something like that. They pulled alongside, their horses frothing and breathing hard.

  “Miss Myra!” Arrago exclaimed. “It’s good to see you alive.”

  “You as well, Majesty!”

  “No time,” Marcus chided her. “Majesty, there are about two hundred horse at least approaching from the south. Sir James and Lady Bethany…”

  Arrago’s brain hiccupped. He tried to form the words to ask for clarification. He was certain he had heard…

  Myra smiled. “She’s alive, Majesty. She’s here.”

  Arrago looked at Erem, who was paler than ever and gulped audibly. Erem stuttered through a few attempts before ordering them to lead the way.

  “It’s about ten minutes,” Myra said. “You have excellent timing.”

  “Thank you, Apexia,” Arrago whispered. “Just hold on, Bethany. I’m coming for you.”

  CHAPTER 19

  The advancing enemy formation was well-ordered and Bethany estimated they had seventy-five horse minimum. Sir James said he was expecting about a hundred to come with Kiner’s scouts. She had no idea when they’d arrive, however.

  The formation trotted past them at a steady pace. Either they were heading north and didn’t know what they were encountering, or they were hoping to cause trouble. From the looks of their armour and various weaponry, she was pretty sure it was the latter.

  “Have your men fan out more,” Bethany whispered to Sir James. “It wouldn’t surprise me if they have scouts coming through the woods.”

  James motioned to the man next to him, who nodded and moved off to speak to the others. “Done,” he said to Bethany. “What makes you think they’ll do that?”

  “I’d do it.”

  “I’ll remember that if we ever meet on opposite sides.”

  She glanced at him. “If we’re ever on opposite sides, I recommend you surrender the moment you see me. It will be the only time you’d be accorded mercy.”

  “And people say you’re less scary once they get to know you.”

  Bethany smiled and continued looking through her spyglass. One of the riders outside of the formation had his own glass and Bethany said, “Everyone down.”

  The rider trotted to the edge of the trees and gave the woods a good scan.

  Bethany lay flat on the ground, hoping her white tunic wasn’t visible. Sir James had the crest of the monarchy embroidered on his jacket, which he kept his hand over.

  “He sees us,” Bethany whispered. “Shit.”

  Bethany collapsed the glass and put it back into its belt case. “Get to the horses. Let’s try to lose them further back in the trees. How far does this wooded path go?”

  Sir James shrugged. “Quite a ways, I think.”

  “Okay, the goal hasn’t changed. Head north until we meet up with Kiner’s scouts, or the damned army itself.”

  James nodded. “Should we split up?”

  They rushed towards their horses, crouching as best as they could. “No point at this stage. Let’s just try to buy ourselves some time.”

  Jonas held the reins to Bethany’s horse and she vaulted up in one swift movement. Jackson did the same near her, though his face winced from pain.

  The rest mounted their horses and Bethany said, “Let’s try to move as quickly as we can. Sir James, are your archers crack shots?”

  “Higgins there is.”

  Bethany looked at the child in front of her. He couldn’t have been more than eleven or twelve. Fourteen at the very most, assuming he’d been malnourished his entire life and hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet. “Higgins, keep your wits about you. If you see anyone slinking in here that isn’t one of ours, shoot them.”

  “How do I know they’re one of ours?”

  Sir James chuckled. “You’ll know.”

  “What’s your plan?” Jackson asked, as Sir James took Jonas’s horse and brought it alongside them.

  “I plan to circle around, come up in the rear, and kill them,” Bethany said matter-of-factly.

  “That’s your plan?” Jackson asked. “I’ve shat out better things after a night of drinking than that.”

  Bethany winked at him and said, “Sir James, join me. Jonas, I’m putting you in charge of getting everyone on foot to the main camp. If you see an opportunity, however, to assist us, take it. Kia will be your second.”

  Jonas nodded. “Understood, Lady Bethany. What kind of help can we give you, though?”

  “Slings, daggers, rocks, tripping hazards, I don’t know,” she said. “If you see a way to help, help. But don’t charge out there unless you’re all holding a pike and shield, okay? That’s suicide.”

  “Um, you rushing out there is pretty much suicide, too, ya know,” Jackson said. She gave him an annoyed look, which made him raise his hands. “I know, I know.”

  “Here they come,” Kia whispered, even though none of them had been whispering all that much throughout the exchange.

  Bethany turned to see a dozen horse cresting through the trees, coming in their direction. “You have your orders. Horses with me!”

  “Foot with me!” Jonas shouted, which made Bethany quirk a smile.

  Bethany adjusted the small shield that was on her left forearm and held the reins. With her right, she gripped her stolen sword and charged ahead at the attackers. There was a blur of bodies and steel, as Bethany charged through them all. Arrows whizzed by, as Higgins pinged off shots that only a talented archer could pull off.

  One of the riders had an axe with a glowing blade—dark, hot red—and Bethany cut her way to him. She didn’t have a Blessed Blade and she didn’t have a clue how to control her own Power, let alone this borrowed crap, but she rushed him all the same.

  He swung and she blocked his attack with her shield. It shattered into pieces and a hot pain hit her as several splinters pierced her many layers and pierced the small holes in the mail. He swung again and she awkwardly slashed at him; she couldn’t control the horse because her hand was numb from the blow.

  Focus on what you want to accomplish.

  Bethany dodged the axe and stuck the man with her sword. He howled from pain and rage, but she hadn’t done any damage.

  Focus the Power, Bethany. Just focus.

  She nearly lost her hand from the distraction of the voice inside her head. She kept fighting, the feeling coming back to her fingertips, her nerves screaming in protest as they began to work once more. She slashed and hacked at the man, but with only one good hand, she struggled.

  A stray though filled her mind: I’d like to blast him with wind, like they have done to me.

  When she swung her sword, it was accompanied by a pathetic little gust of wind. It surprised her more than her attacker, whose head turned to the side like he’d been slapped.

  She understood the voice. It was Apexia—of course it was; if anyone was goi
ng to interfere at the worst possible time ever, it would be her, telling her how to use the Power.

  “Suffer in oblivion!” Bethany shouted and swung her sword at the attack, pushing rage and purpose into the action.

  Fire, not wind, shot from her mundane sword and sliced through the man’s armour. His scream lasted only a second before he fell from his horse, the smell of burning fat and meat turning Bethany’s stomach. She stared in shock at the cauterized wound on the corpse, and back at her sword, once again looking mundane and normal.

  She shook off the surprise—she could ponder it all later—and turned her horse to assist in the skirmish. Except, there was no fighting around her. All of the attackers had dropped their swords and outstretched their arms in surrender.

  Bethany looked at them. Several had those disappearing amulets Myra had. Others had thrown aside enchanted weapons.

  She looked back to the moving formation of cavalry that was now past their position and heading north. These captured fellows here could easily trigger their amulets and escape. They could have more in their pockets. There could be other tricks she didn’t know about.

  She narrowed her eyes. Higgins had three arrows lined up in his hand, ready for the shot. Two others had their bows pulled and ready. One held a small crossbow, primed to fire. Sir James held his sword to one’s throat. The attackers were surrounded.

  Jackson cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Bethany. She replied with the barest of nods. “Kill them.”

  Protests were cut short as the men died from blades and bolts. Bethany watched the carnage; she wasn’t the sort to turn away from the dirty work because she was squeamish. It took less than a minute for the final breath to be drawn, with Jonas pushing an arrow through the throat of a dying man who clung to life.

  She nodded to them. “Let’s go.”

  ****

  “Protect the King!” someone bellowed near Arrago, and a flock of mounted soldiers carrying flags surrounded him as he rode into the rushing Magi. The retinue around him reduced the amount of fighting available to him, but he cut forward with Erem.

  Weapons, horses, and men all blurred across his vision in a whirlwind of frantic motion. He struck a couple of riders, and a couple struck back at him, but mostly his guards protected him. Flags billowed around him and across the open field as riders fanned out.