by P. T. McHugh
“Those are Lord Stanley’s knights,” I answered quietly. “They stood on that hill and watched the battle.”
“And we’re hoping they do the same today,” he guessed, his voice matching mine in intensity. I glanced at him, impressed with this more mature version of Paul, and nodded.
“If William’s found his brother, Stanley will stay there, watching. If William hasn’t found his brother, and Stanley joins Dresden…”
“And what, we’re just counting on luck to be on our side?” he asked sharply. “Seems like a stupid plan, if you ask me.”
“Why do you think we’re up here, Paul?” Tatiana snapped, urging her horse forward to join the conversation. “This is the best vantage point. If–when something goes wrong, we move.”
I grinned at her, thinking the same thing, and was about to answer when a roar from the valley interrupted me. My eyes flew downward, and then across to Richard’s army, to see that the battlefield had erupted into motion. Richard’s army was charging down the hill toward the men in the valley, the knights and foot soldiers screaming at the top of their lungs. In the valley, Doc’s archers leaned forward as one, grabbed their first arrows, and loosed them into the charging army. Henry’s knights and foot soldiers bounded forward, yelling defiance at Richard’s men.
I gasped. The Battle of Bosworth had begun. My eyes flew to the ridge next to us, then, and I gasped again.
40
“Reis,” I muttered, pointing toward the hill, “Stanley’s men are forming up ranks. They’re going to do more than just watch.”
Reis’ eyes flew to the men in question, scanning the group quickly and drawing conclusions as they went. “Damn,” he muttered. “You’re right.”
“What’s going on?” Katherine asked sharply. “Who are those men? What do they mean to do?”
“If they’re forming ranks, they mean to charge,” Tatiana whispered in reply. “They mean to enter the battle, on Dresden’s side.”
Suddenly the stone at the battlefield was with me, churning through my brain and feeding me information. Telling me what I’d already suspected, and adding to it with details I could never have known. I pulled my horse abruptly toward Reis, intent on the action I knew we had to take.
“William Stanley never made it back to his brother,” I snapped. Reis looked at me, frowning, and I continued. “Reis, if he’d made it, Lord Stanley would be riding away from the battle! Instead, he’s getting ready to join Richard. What do you think that means?”
“Where’s William?” Tatiana asked, pulling up beside me. She was anxious for action, I saw, and ready to follow my lead. Regardless of where we were going.
“Dresden has him,” I replied curtly, sure of the knowledge the stone was giving me. “Just over that ridge, in his camp. We have to go get him, and before Stanley’s men charge. If we don’t–” I looked over at Reis, trying to gauge his reaction.
“What, just ride into Dresden’s camp, past his soldiers and canons and who knows what else, like it’s nothing?” Paul squeaked. “How do you even know he’s there?”
“Paul, weren’t you just saying that sitting around was a stupid idea?” I snapped. My horse pranced under me, sensing my need for action, and my voice grew stronger with conviction. “William is the key to everything. Without him, Doc loses, and the world ends. I’m going in after the man. Are you guys coming or not?”
“I’ll go with you,” Katherine said confidently. I glanced at her, taking in her bright eyes and flushed cheeks, and nodded. The stones had led me to her for a reason; perhaps she was going to be an ally now, when I needed it most.
I turned back toward Reis, hoping to find another ally there. Hoping I wouldn’t have to leave him behind. “Reis, we don’t have much time. We have to go now, or it’ll be too late. Once Stanley’s forces join Richard’s army, Tudor will be destroyed, and Doc will be killed.”
“Are you sure about this, kid?” Reis shouted, gathering his reins.
“Beyond sure,” I shouted back, trying to elevate my voice over the noise of the battle raging below us. “We’re living history here, Reis, and if Stanley joins Dresden, history changes. We lose Doc, and we could lose the world.” I paused, waiting for him to decide, then turned my horse back the way we’d come. Tatiana and Katherine followed suit, and I glanced back one last time. “Reis, make up your mind! We’re going with or without you, but I’d rather have you on my team here!”
Reis growled deep in his throat, and legged his horse forward. Behind him, Paul fell into place. “Well if we’re going to die, we may as well do it saving the world. Do you know how to get there?”
I couldn’t help but grin at the question. The stone had told me exactly how to get there, and I was aching to go. “Better than that. I know a short cut that will take us around the battle and up behind their camp. We’ll be there in no time. It might just be quick enough. Let’s go!”
I spurred my horse forward, leading us eastward, away from Doc and the relative safety of his soldiers, and into the heart of Dresden’s camp, praying that we would get there and back before Stanley made his move.
The Earl held his sword aloft, listening intently to the dull roar on the battlefield. It was time. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, readying his body for battle, and he wondered if he’d ever felt so alive. This was what it was like, then. A major battle, history riding the brink of change…
History. The future. The joy vanished from his face, to be replaced by a mask of grim murder and determination. This wasn’t a battle he or the world could afford to lose.
He scanned the hill above him, looking for the familiar figure. There. Just to Richard’s right, and dressed in his standard uniform of dark blue. Dresden. The man who was trying to change history. The man he’d come to stop.
The Earl of Oxford screamed with fury, declaring his intentions to the world, and dropped his sword. Around him, his men surged forward to battle.
I took the lead, feeling just as comfortable on the horse now as I did on my bike back home. We flew forward, bounding over the slopes of the ridge at an alarming rate of speed, racing toward the small path that would take us toward Dresden’s camp. And William. I just hoped he was still alive. If he wasn’t, we were going to have a big problem.
Below us, the battle raged, complete with the sounds of clashing iron, canon fire, and arrow flight. Men screamed in defiance and pain, coloring the air with their voices, and the horses matched them. The mass of life moved back and forth across the valley floor, marked by the pendants and flags of the lords and barons, like the tide rolling and crashing on the shore. I tried desperately to find Doc’s banner, but gave it up for impossible when our own path turned and took us away from the valley.
Our mounts raced through the woods for several minutes, their bellies low to the ground with their speed. Then we were free of the tree line, and less than 50 feet from the river’s edge. This was where we would cross, the stone told me–there was a turn here where the river was both shallow and narrow, offering easy passage. My horse trotted into the water, reading my thoughts, and made quick work of the crossing.
Within moments we were on the other side, and racing toward Dresden’s camp. Our horses crested the shallow ridgeline that bordered the river, and we pulled to a sudden stop. Before us lay the tents, wagons, and flags of King Richard’s camp.
“What’s the plan?” Reis snapped, pulling abreast of me.
“You’re the Navy SEAL here, Reis,” I said, grinning. “Isn’t infiltration and kidnapping more your line of work? And let’s make it quick. We don’t have a lot of time.”
Reis grunted in response, but nodded. “Well I don’t expect much in the way of guards or soldiers within the camp,” he mused. “Most of them should be at the battle. Then again, Richard or Dresden–or both–may have held a group of soldiers in reserve. We won’t know until we get in there. I’ll go first. Jason, follow me as closely as you can and give me directions when you have them. Everyone else, stick close. Keep
your eyes open and mouths shut.” He looked around, and nodded at everyone’s silence. “Once we grab the hostage, Jason takes point and I bring up the rear to make sure that no one follows us. Got it?”
Everyone nodded, intensely silent and ready for action. Without a word, Reis whirled and took off, straight toward the war camp before us.
41
Luck was on our side, at first. The people we came across weren’t soldiers at all, but children playing a game that appeared to be a hybrid of tag and hide-and-seek. Several of the kids stopped to look at us, but within seconds they’d decided that we were uninteresting, and turned their attention back to the game at hand.
“Try to look as though you belong,” Reis said, just loudly enough for all of us to hear. “Jason, where the hell are we going?”
I gulped; Richard’s camp was a mirror image of Henry’s, and just as confusing. Every tent and alley looked exactly the same, making it impossible to tell which way was forward and which was back. I panicked, thinking that we’d come to the wrong place, but settled when I felt the hum of the stone in my head. It knew where William was, and it wasn’t thrown off by the confusing layout of the camp.
I listened closely, then pointed to two tents on the other side of a very large clearing. “The large one on the right, with the deep blue pendent, is Dresden’s. That’s where we’ll find William,” I said quietly. Hopefully alive and capable of traveling, I added silently. I hadn’t said anything to the others, but the stone hadn’t told me whether he was alive or not, and it was making me distinctly nervous. We needed him alert and ready to go if we were going to get to his brother in time.
We might already be too late, a voice whispered in my ear. I thrust it down, unwilling to consider the possibility, and moved forward after Reis.
The Earl felt like he’d been fighting for hours, though he’d yet to see any heavy action. He looked up from the man he’d just run through to see that the body of Richard’s army had reached the base of the hill. Their numbers must have been cut significantly by the Earl’s archers, but there would still be thousands of them. Far more men than the Earl had provided. Some of them would be armed with guns, though they would be able to fire only once. Still, with the number of extra men he had gathered on the road here, the Earl thought that Henry’s army would hold them off for the time being. And he had a better working knowledge of the battle than anyone else. That, too, would be an advantage.
He turned at the sound of hoof beats to his left, and saw the French nobleman Philibert de Chandee, head of the French mercenaries, racing his way. Hopefully bringing good news, the Earl thought grimly; the battle was progressing as it should, for now, but he wasn’t counting it a victory just yet. There were still too many things that could go wrong.
“Have you heard from our friends to the east?” de Chandee asked, nodding toward the hill on their right.
Stanley’s army, the Earl thought. They hadn’t heard from them yet, though Stanley hadn’t joined the fray, either. Perhaps Jason had been right on that score, and William Stanley had made it to his brother’s camp in time.
Remembering the man next to him, he shook his head once. “Nothing,” he said curtly. “Perhaps they mean to simply watch the battle, then join the victors.” Please God, he added silently.
De Chandee’s mouth turned down at the idea of this unsportsmanlike behavior, and he shook his head as well. “I suppose we shall know soon enough, for the battle is moving quickly. It appears that you were right–Richard became impatient and charged, opening his left and right flanks. We’ve moved in to harry him on both sides, and leave the front to you and your men. We await your orders for anything further.”
The Earl grimaced. Richard had been a fool, and no mistake. As long as Stanley stayed out of it… “Shore up the eastern flank,” he barked, spurring his horse forward toward his knights. “And watch Stanley. I do not trust him, and we cannot afford his interference. Movement from him–on Richard’s behalf–would turn the tide, and mean defeat.”
He did not wait to hear de Chandee’s response. His men needed him, and they could not afford to lose the front line of their battle.
We trotted toward the tent in question, taking care not to move too fast–or too slow–to appear casual. There were more people in this part of the camp, and several soldiers racing in and out of the area, but no one seemed to notice us. The camp was, in fact, relatively quiet. Eerily so. Our path was clear, but I couldn’t help glancing over my shoulder from time to time, wondering if we were walking straight into a trap.
When we reached the tent, a soldier appeared out of nowhere and grabbed Reis’ reins. “Who the hell are you lot?” he growled, moving his hand to the grip of his sword. “And what are you doing here?”
Reis looked down at the soldier, who was both shorter and broader than he, and grimaced with distaste. A moment later, he’d slid to the ground, brought his knee up into the soldier’s groin, and wrapped both hands around his neck, pulling him down until the bridge of his nose met his other knee. He pulled the now-unconscious guard to the side of the tent, gesturing violently for us to move, and whispered for Katherine to stay put and watch the horses.
The rest of us ducked through the tent’s opening and glanced swiftly around, searching for William. A large table, much like Doc’s, occupied the center of the tent, along with several bulky chairs, a small bed in the rear, and one large chest that lay beside the bed. No William.
“Where is he?” Paul asked nervously.
I closed my eyes, reaching for the stone, and asked the same question. The answer was there before I’d finished my request, and my eyes flew open.
“In the chest,” I muttered, darting forward. Throwing the lid up, I found Sir William Stanley on his back, gagged, with his legs and hands bound in front of him. His eyes were open and alert, I saw, but held a note of warning I hadn’t seen there before.
“Help me!” I shouted in a whisper, leaning over to remove the rag stuffed in his mouth. As I pulled it free, William took a deep, gasping breath.
“Thank Heaven, you’ve rescued me again,” he said, his voice hoarse. “We must flee, and quickly.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” I answered, pulling the man from the chest and cutting his ties with my pocket knife. “We need to get you to your brother. He’s about to join Richard and destroy what’s left of Tudor’s army.”
“My brother would never be so foolish as to side with Dresden and Richard, no matter my position,” William said. Then the color washed from his face, the joy replaced by a look of utter betrayal and shock. I didn’t have to turn around to know that we were trapped.
“Your brother,” a cold, familiar voice said smoothly, “will do exactly as he is told.”
A chill ran down my spine as my brain supplied the name of the speaker, and I turned slowly. Reis stood at the ready with his assault rifle raised, but I could already see that it would do little good. Eight large, fully armed men filled the entrance of the tent, led by one of the last people I’d wanted to see again.
“Brother,” Tatiana murmured, glaring at the dark-haired boy in front of us.
He shot her a quick look, indicating that he still didn’t believe that particular story, and grinned nastily. “My father told me to expect your arrival. I must admit, though, that I did not believe him. I told him that you’d be mad to come into this camp, no matter who we held prisoner. And yet here you are, ready to die.”
“You’ll go first,” Reis replied in a confident, lethal voice. He flipped the safety off his rifle and adjusted the weapon on his shoulder.
“Perhaps, but all of you will perish in turn,” Sloan replied apathetically. Only then did I notice that five of the soldiers had already drawn their bowstrings, each pointing an arrow at one of us. For some reason, two of the soldiers had been assigned to me. I knew Reis was good, but there was no way he could gun them all down, not before they shot us. My thoughts flew back to an earlier situation, and I kicked myself again for the la
ck of armor. Of all the stupid, unprepared moves, and with the fate of the world hanging in the balance, no less.
“We appear to be at an impasse,” Reis said quietly. “How are your negotiation skills?”
Sloan’s grin widened. “Drop your weapon.”
“That’s not much of a negotiation,” Reis replied.
“I give you my word that you shall live. But that is the only thing I shall grant you,” Sloan replied. “And my word only stands if you drop your weapon. Now.”
“Still sounds like an unfair deal to me,” Reis grunted. He tightened his grip on the stock of his rifle, hunching down into a shooting stance.
“So be it,” Sloan snarled, throwing himself to the ground at our feet. “Kill them all!”
A shot sounded out from Reis’s rifle, and Paul screamed. The archers released their grips on the strings of their bows, loosing their arrows in our direction with sharp twangs. Sloan looked up, his face anxious, his eyes full of something I couldn’t identify.
With my last thought, I reached out for the stone, asking–begging–for it to stop the arrows, the bullet, the deaths. Asking it to stop time itself.
Suddenly, and quite to my surprise, it did.
42
The Earl looked to the right, now, where the Earl of Norfolk would strike with his army. Henry wouldn’t have known of that attack, but the Earl did, and they were ready. He had sent Phillibert de Chandee and his men to that flank, reinforcing it by twofold, and they would withstand the attack. In order to do this, of course, he had all but stripped his left flank, relying fully on the men there to maintain their position.
As long as no one else entered the battle, this would mean their victory. Richard was sending his last surprise weapon forward, and the Earl already had his answer prepared.
He stood up in his stirrups just in time to see the two forces come together. They met with the impact of thousands of horrific car crashes. Screams of terror, pride, and battle lust erupted simultaneously, filling the air with raw emotion. Soon the horses were screaming as well.