Fletcher (A Prydain novel Book 3)

by AJ Adams

  She looked at me in amazement. “Don’t go? Are you crazy?”

  “It’s dangerous.”

  Her smile made her eyes sparkle. “Yeah, but we’ve got a killer plan.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed me briefly on the cheek. “See you in the tower.”

  Before I could say another word, she slipped into the moat and swam swiftly to the wall. She rose out of the water, touched the wall and then she was moving up, her fingers and toes finding invisible ridges in the smooth shining stone.

  That tower was like glass, rising up and punching the rapidly darkening sky. It was massive, seemingly impenetrable, and as I gazed at it, it seemed to grow higher. My girl was halfway up, clawing her way to the top.

  The breath stuck in my throat. I’d been insane to ask her to do this. It was impossible. She’d fall.

  At that point she slipped, sliding down a few inches. I couldn’t move. I was nailed in place, my breath punching out of my chest. My heart tried to beat its way out through my ribs, and then it leaped into my mouth. I have never been so scared in my entire life.

  Lind leaned out and then casually reached up and pulled herself rapidly over the last few feet. A wriggle that lifted her body parallel to the wall, fifty feet above the moat, had me almost faint with horror. Then she was sliding through the narrow window.

  She’d made it.

  My knees were weak, and I almost fell. But then Lind’s face appeared. She was grinning with triumph.

  She began winding the thin woollen woven line that we’d attached to the rope. I held it up, feeding it up quickly and making sure it didn’t touch the water. It was a thin rope but even so, it strained the wool. My heart was in my mouth the whole way but it held.

  With Lind having done all the difficult work, I climbed up easily. It took just a few minutes before I was hitting the floor.

  “Everyone’s downstairs having dinner,” Lind was peering out of the other window, a narrow one overlooking the bailey and the gate. “I see the woodpile, the barracks and the stables. I can’t see Kennard, but the woodpile is smoking.” She leaned out. “Yes, they’re running around with buckets of water. The guards at the gate are just watching. Nobody suspects it’s the start of an attack.”

  “Good.” I checked my quiver, my rapier and my knife. I was ready. “Lind, you go back now. Wait with Wolf.”

  “Okay.” She gave me a swift hug. “Be careful.”

  “Always.”

  I watched her slip out the window. With my girl safely out of it, I went down to find Ranulf.

  As I’d expected, I found him on the floor below, playing with his treasures. He felt so safe in his keep that he hadn’t even locked the door.

  The room was innocent of windows, but oil lamps dotted all over gave it a beautiful glow. Cupboards holding treasures lined the walls.

  Ranulf was hunched over a little gold statue of Freyja, an exquisite piece of work. Her eyes were emeralds, shining green in the light. At the sight of it, I knew where it had come from. It also confirmed my suspicions.

  I must have made a sound because Ranulf looked up, his black eyes narrowing. “You,” he snarled. “Ware Esyllt from Llanfaes! Come to get your arrow, fletcher?”

  There was no talking. He tossed the statue at me, distracting me while he reached for his sword. He fought well, slashing at me with even swift incisive strokes. He was using a broadsword, a heavy bladed weapon with a basket hilt protecting his hand. My thin rapier looked like a toy, but its lightness gave me an edge.

  Also, he was over-confident. “A fletcher with a sword?” he sneered. “I’ll cut you to pieces!”

  “You can try. You won’t succeed.”

  His blade swept down, missing me by inches. He was too angry to fight efficiently. His eye was off. “I sent my men to steal Apollo’s Arrow. Imagine my joy when they told me they’d destroyed Esyllt farm, too. Now you have nothing. Just like me!”

  He knew me. This was personal. It had all been my fault.

  As the knowledge hit me, my sword wavered. Ranulf was laughing. “And now I’ll kill you, fletcher!”

  That pulled me back together. I watched him closely, my blade crossing his time and time again. I tried to slide underneath his guard but a kick to the knee forced me back. Ranulf didn’t fence fair.

  My knee was liquid fire, the entire leg useless to me. I backed up and talked, hoping he’d give me time to recover. “Why, Ranulf? What do you have against me?”

  He paused, sword upheld, rage taking over his common sense. “You bastard! You burned down the Guild House!”

  “So?”

  “I was in charge of that quarter!”

  “That’s war for you.”

  “The steward fired me! I lost everything!”

  “My duke was unhappy, too. Ironic, isn’t it?”

  It infuriated Ranulf. “I’ll kill you!”

  The broadsword came sweeping down, but I had my breath back. I also had a plan.

  “Fucker! Bastard whoreson!”

  I let him talk, concentrating my effort at luring him into thinking I had a weakness. As we battled, lunging, cutting, parrying and thrusting, I made sure that all my sword work favoured my right, leading him to think my left side was weak. I saw his eyes narrow as he worked it out.

  “This is too easy,” he laughed.

  He raised his sword and then brought the weapon sweeping down in a fierce arc on my right. I blocked the blade, barely, and then it was swinging past me, back up high and coming down again.

  Fighting is as much in the head as it is the body, so I panted a little and pretended to waver. The damn fool took the bait. He lunged, aiming at my left flank. I parried, slid my rapier along his blade and sank the tip into his heart.

  He stood stock still, staring down in disbelief. “But how?” And then he crumpled. Ranulf was dead before he hit the floor.

  I stood and looked at him. It was over. I had my revenge. It felt hollow.

  “Fire!” Voices from downstairs were drifting up. “It’s spreading to the stables!”

  Time for the rest of it; I’d promised Eward I’d destroy Raven’s Keep. First, though, Apollo’s Arrow. I picked up the little Freyja and looked around. There were cases of gold cups and jewelled daggers, but there was only one arrow.

  I stared at it in disbelief. It was made of oak, with a gold tip and yellow feathers. The black shaft glittered. It was a Thunderclap.

  “Fire!” A voice called. “Ranulf! We’re being attacked! Caern men! A dozen of them! Maybe more!”

  I ran out and down another flight to a window. The stables being next to the woodpile, the fire had spread. Someone had released the horses and someone else had lowered the gate, possibly to let them out or to get more water.

  It had been a possibility that wouldn’t harm my plan but instead of waiting, that idiot Kennard had ordered his men to attack. Where they should have been sitting safely outside, taking down bandits as they exited with a hail of arrows, Kennard was standing in the gateway, fighting hand to hand against dozens of the enemy.

  I took out my bow and began firing. I took out five men, which evened the odds only slightly, and then ran back for Ranulf’s oil lamps. Lighting my Flamethrowers, I quickly set fire to the guardhouse, provision rooms and some carts set in a corner by the gate. To ensure the bandits couldn’t shut themselves in, I set fire to the gate, too.

  However, I could see several of Kennard’s men were down. The rest were inside the castle courtyard, cornered and fighting for their lives. I kept firing, but having just one quiver full, I was running out. I couldn’t leave them; I’d have to go down there.

  Most annoyingly, my position had been revealed, too.

  “Up there! The poxy fletcher is in the tower!”

  Bowmen are long-range fighters, and I found myself battling down the stairs, using my rapier. It wasn’t easy, but fighting downwards does give you a certain advantage. I killed two, kicked three down the stairs and ended up in the hall. From there, it was a short step into the cou
rtyard.

  It was chaos. There was smoke and flame everywhere, but Kennard and four of his men were cornered. They were facing just half a dozen men, but they were exhausted. I ran in and just the sight of me gave Kennard courage. “Well fought, Master Fletcher!”

  The moron.

  Combined, we beat off the last of Ranulf’s men.

  “Raid the keep!” Kennard yelled.

  “Get out, you damned fool!”

  “There’s gold in there!”

  “It’s not worth dying for!”

  Flames were billowing, but Kennard was blinded with greed. Apollo knows what might have happened, but at that moment there was a tremendous neighing. I looked around, and to my horror a dozen men were riding through the gate. One of Ranulf’s raiding parties was back and at the worst possible time.

  “What the—?” The leader, a tall fellow with a blond beard, pulled out his sword. “Get them!”

  We’d been fighting tremendous odds, and the raiding party were fresh and on horseback. I’m not making excuses. I did my best, but it was no good. I engaged the beard, managed to cut his arm even, and then someone bashed me from behind.

  As the world went dark, the last thing that went through my mind was that Lind was out there alone. It killed me.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Lind

  I was out the window and making my way back when it occurred to me that something was wrong. The way the plan went, Ware should’ve been firing the armoury, the barracks and everything else before following me out of the window. In fact, he could’ve done all of that while I was there, but he hadn’t.

  I thought back. He’d opened the door and looked down. He’d also told Kennard explicitly to wait and be patient. That’s when it hit me: the bloody fool was going to challenge Ranulf.

  Tyr knows why I didn’t realise it before. Ware had pretended that Ranulf would be driven out with his men, but we’d heard how the rogue knight spent all of his time in his treasure room. Now I understood that Ware had planned this confrontation all along.

  The damn fool would get himself killed.

  I was making up my mind on what to do when I spotted the gate open. Smoke drifted out from the courtyard within, and then a bunch of horses came running out, led by Ranulf’s men. Instead of following and quietly shooting them in the woods, that fool Kennard took them out right in front of the gate. That alerted the castle guards, and they came rushing out. Kennard killed them, but then the fat-gut was running inside shouting, “Follow me, men!”

  The idiot! He went storming in and was promptly surrounded. That’s when I spotted Ware at a window half way down the tower. He was miles away, but I swear I heard him curse. Then he took out his bow.

  At first relief surged through me. I told myself that I should have remembered that Ware may be noble and a total pain in the arse when it comes to rules, but he’s also a mad bastard from Llanfaes. Clearly he’d found Ranulf and creamed the fucker.

  If we’d all done as we were told, we would’ve been celebrating victory because Ware’s plan was working beautifully. There was smoke coming from the keep and from the courtyard. Ranulf’s men were running around, horses were spilling out of the gate, and it was utter chaos.

  Kennard should’ve been outside, taking out fleeing men from a position of safety, but having disobeyed orders, he was inside, dying.

  “To me, men! To me!” The sergeant was fighting like a madman, but he was outnumbered five to one.

  Ware tried to rescue him. Arrows rained down, but after a dozen men were taken out in as many seconds, they got smart and pushed Kennard and his remaining men into a corner with lots of cover so they could fight without being targeted from above.

  Ware disappeared from the window, and I knew in my gut that he was on the way down. The noble fool would try to rescue the men, even if they’d brought their doom upon themselves. He’d need a weapon to even the odds. I ran for Wolf.

  I’d parked the cart in a little bunch of bushes well off the track, and the bugger of it was that I’d done such a good job that it took me ten minutes to find it. I was reaching for Wolf’s bridle when a thunder of hooves on the path told me more trouble was on the way. I remembered the raiding parties Ranulf sent out. One of them must be on the way back.

  “Tyr’s flaming spear and balls!” I told Wolf. “The fat’s really in the fire now, boy!”

  I was shit scared that he wouldn’t let me ride, him but the horse totally got the message that this was an emergency. He stood stock still as I got a foot in the stirrup and he waited till I climbed on before he took off.

  I fell off five paces later. “Freyja’s purse!” I yelled in sheer frustration. I got back on and almost fell straight off again, but Wolf kind of danced sideways and kept me up there. Then he waited while I wrapped my arms around his neck. At my, “Go, boy!” Wolf went for it.

  Man, that horse is fast! Before I could catch my breath, he was flashing across the burning gate. There were flames all around us, the heat searing my hair and his mane. I was too scared to be of any help, but Wolf headed straight for a knot of men. I spotted a crumpled heap with a bow on the back. Ware. He was down, unmoving, and there was blood all over his face.

  My heart stopped, but I forced myself to action. I slid to the ground, and then the horse was up, hooves ripping into Ranulf’s men. It was complete mayhem, with smoke and flames billowing in the air and bodies all over the courtyard. For extra fun, the keep’s glazed walls were beginning to shatter. Bits of rock were falling down, burning like shooting stars.

  I made straight for Ware. He was unconscious, bleeding from a cut on his head, and there was a massive bump on the back of his head, but he was alive. I breathed again.

  “Go! Go! Go!” Kennard was backing over the gate, three men at his side. “Come on, men! To me!”

  “Hey! Ware’s alive!” I know Kennard heard me. I saw him look right at me. Then he turned and ran. “You cowardly fuck!”

  The keep was now burning up. The heat was searing. I had to get us out.

  “Wolf!” He was at my side, sweating and snorting as he nosed at Ware’s unconscious body. Seeing him lie so still scared me witless, but when I slid a hand down his tunic, I was relieved to hear him gasp. “Come on, Ware. Up you get.”

  His eyes fluttered. “Lind. Run.”

  “That’s the plan. Come on, Ware. On your feet.”

  “Save yourself.”

  “Don’t be so goddamn noble. Up!”

  I was dead scared, so much so that it made me strong enough to haul Ware to his feet. Wolf sidled up and whickered encouragingly. I swear, if that horse could, he would have given Ware a hoof up.

  “You witch! Did you do this?” One of Ranulf’s men appeared out of the smoke. He was dressed like a noble, complete with battle armour. As I shoved Ware behind me, protecting him, the rogue knight grabbed me. He was loud, strong and vicious. The hand on my shoulder was a claw, and his breath was foul. “I’ll make you pay!”

  Instantly my mind went back to Jarvis. This beast was the same, and he was going to hurt me. My knife was in my hand and I was aiming for his gut before conscious thought got itself together. Luckily for me, he was underestimating me, so he wasn’t prepared for an attack. Unluckily for me, he wore a thick leather vest reinforced with steel plates. My knife skidded off harmlessly.

  “You evil she-wolf!”

  He backhanded me. I went flying and landed splat against a wall. Ware was on his knees, and Wolf was standing over him, fighting three men at once, dodging a whip and a sword. I was on my own.

  “I’ll slap you down, wench!”

  I let him get close, and when he raised his arm again, I used the knife again. I got him right in the armpit.

  “You whore! Filthy bitch!”

  He was trying to pull out my knife, and I knew he’d go for me again so I kneed him in the balls. Fortunately he’d been riding so he wasn’t wearing any protection there. He went down like a drunken whore. I kicked him for good measure and then again to make
sure he’d stay there. He got the message because he was still.

  “That she-wolf killed Karl!”

  “Get her!”

  I was facing two now, both dressed in fighting gear, definitely from the raiding party, and these men weren’t underestimating me. “Wolf!” I shrieked. “Help!”

  “Lind.” It was Ware, on his feet, blood pouring down his face. A dead rogue knight lay at his feet and another was reeling away. The fletcher was back. “Out of the way.” He raised his sword, swaying on his feet, practically falling over from loss of blood, but determined to fight.

  The effort was stopped before it started. A rumble was followed by a shower of stone. One bashed Ware on the back of the head. “Run,” he whispered. “Save yourself.” Then he fell to his knees again.

  The raiders who’d been after me turned around and went for him. At least, they tried. As I jumped one, putting one arm across his throat and grabbing his sword arm with the other, Wolf appeared out of the smoke, striking the other efficiently in the face.

  My man was trying to get me off him. I rolled around, biting, head-butting and kicking like a wild thing. I felt his sword graze my arm, and there was a searing slice of heat in my ribs, but I kept going.

  “You little—” He didn’t have time for anything else because he backed up to the wall. His mistake! I got some leverage, and then I was heaving him up and over my head, just as if we were tumbling. He went smack into the cobbled ground and lay still. He was dead, his neck broken.

  I blacked out a little, I think. Just for a few seconds. I snapped back because Wolf was sticking his nose in my face, looking awfully concerned. The smoke was so thick that I could barely see. My eyes were streaming, and it was hard to breathe. The heat was all around us. I could feel my hair frizz. A rattle told me the keep was disintegrating.

  Wolf whickered. “Yes,” I said. “I’ll stop lying around. Let’s get out of here.”

  Ware was half conscious, moving a little, but not with it in any meaningful way. The back of his head was bleeding steadily, but it was more bloody than anything else. I couldn’t see brains. It was a huge relief.