“Then let’s negotiate,” Will said, turning back to The Cutthroat Prince.
“Will, no!”
He ignored his friends.
“You’re not in much of a position to do that,” The Cutthroat Prince said, laughing. “You’re outnumbered and out armed.”
“But if you come at me, I’m going to fight, even if that means getting killed, before I’d let you near my friends,” Will countered. “So, let’s make a deal.”
He could see The Cutthroat Prince considering, even if he couldn’t see his face, and held his breath, waiting.
At last, The Cutthroat Prince nodded. “Let’s hear what you have to say then.”
“You let them go back to the castle, and I’ll go with you.” Will silently hoped his friends wouldn’t do anything stupid. He wished they could read his mind, that he could relay his thoughts to them without the Cutthroats noticing. “Let them go back to the castle and I’ll go with you, quiet as anything. I’ll even ride my own horse, have you lead him, that way we can move faster.”
The Cutthroat Prince paused and tilted his head once more, seeming to weigh Will’s words. “I have heard you play the hero… how can I be sure you’re not deciding to play at prankster now as well?”
“What the blazes am I going to do with a dagger against a sword?” Will asked, snorting. “You’re right: we’re outnumbered and underarmed. The best I can do for us now is get on my horse and cooperate with you so these two,” he said, jerking his head to gesture at Rowan and Colin. “Can live.”
The Cutthroat Prince paused a moment longer before nodding. “Very well. Draccart, stand down but draw your blade. You three, throw down your weapons and step away from them. Any tricks, anything at all, and the smart mouth will pay for it. Is that clear?”
Will’s fingers uncurled from his dagger, the joints protesting, his mind screaming at him to hold on to the weapon. He had to battle his own instinct to let it slip from his hands and fall to the soft earth with a muffled thud. A moment later he heard two more thuds as Rowan and Colin’s daggers hit the ground as well. He chanced another glance and could see Rowan’s face was murderous, but Colin met his eye with a faint frown. Will broke his gaze away again, heart pounding faster now. Colin knew he wasn’t giving up at the very least.
“There.” Will held up his open hands, wriggling his fingers at The Cutthroat Prince. “Happy now?”
“Actually, I’m quite happy,” The Cutthroat Prince chuckled. “That was much easier than I thought it would be. Now, step forward, away from the others.”
“Not until I see that my friends get to take their horses again,” Will snapped. “I can’t trust you’ll keep your word.”
The Cutthroat Prince snarled, and Will imagined the eyes beneath the hood rolling. “Fine.” He jerked his head again at the rider, Draccart. “Let them get their horses.”
“What are you doing, Will?” Colin whispered harshly behind him.
“No plotting,” The Cutthroat Prince snapped.
“We’re not plotting,” Will retorted sharply. He turned to Colin, fighting to keep his voice even and collected. “I’ll go with them. I’ll be fine, Strider and I both will be.”
He saw the flicker of understanding in the green eyes followed by the doubt, but there wasn’t time to say anything else. The Cutthroat Prince’s impatience was palpable, and Will knew it would be a matter of seconds before he ordered Will away from them.
“I can’t believe you right now,” Rowan snarled, moving to follow Colin toward the horses. “I’m not forgiving you if you get killed.”
“Mutual feelings here,” Will grumbled, turning back to The Cutthroat Prince. He could see the Cutthroats watching Rowan and Colin closely as they crossed to the horses. Will shoved a hand in his pocket, his fingers crossed as he saw Colin reach for Visra’s reins. “Right then.” Will raised his voice and the attention of the Cutthroats all shifted to him again. “What do you want me to do then? Get my horse or…”
“Not so quickly,” The Cutthroat Prince snapped. “Draccart, bind his hands behind his back.”
“What?” Will’s stomach tightened. This was something he hadn’t bargained on.
The rider who had born down on them nodded and swung from his saddle. Under the hood, Will saw a round, leering face and beady eyes glittering with contempt as he approached, reaching into the folds of his cloak.
“Hands at your back and turn,” Draccart grunted.
Will hesitated.
“Now!” Draccart barked, his face reddening under the hood.
“If you’re tying my hands up, how the blazes am I going to ride?” Will demanded, turning to The Cutthroat Prince.
“You’ll be fine and if you fall, I’m sure Draccart doesn’t mind dragging you along.” The Prince shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t mind that option either. You’re becoming somewhat annoying.”
Will clenched his jaw and turned. He winced as his hands were yanked behind his back and pain shot up through his shoulders. Rough rope bit into his wrist, burning across his skin and he inhaled sharply, stumbling a step. Draccart swore, shoving him and Will managed to stagger a step to the side. He could see Rowan and Colin from his new stance. Rowan was in Naja’s saddle, but Colin was still on the ground next to Visra, seemingly inspecting the girth with a confused expression. Will saw him give the smallest of nods before he was turned forcibly around again, his hands immobile behind him.
The Cutthroat Prince inhaled, turning his face upwards to the trees above them. “Are you quite done yet? I want to get ground covered before it’s dark.”
Will blinked, looking skywards. He hadn’t realized that the blue overhead was now streaked with purples and reds. Light was fading fast, and the forest shadows were closing in around them for nightfall.
“He’s set. Just need the horse,” Draccart grumbled, shoving Will in the back so he tripped several steps forward. Losing his footing, Will crashed onto his knees and gasped at the throb of pain that ran through his legs.
“Well, then get it, won’t you? And carry him for all I care, just hurry up.” The Cutthroat Prince snapped. “Anyway you, squire, why are you taking so long to get in that saddle?”
Will tensed, eyes flitting back to Colin.
Colin turned with a convincing look of puzzled innocents. “Something’s wrong with the saddle and I can’t quite place it.”
“For the walls of Thornten,” The Cutthroat Prince snarled. “Resben, go get that one in his saddle and get them out of here before I change my mind on killing them.”
A second rider dismounted. Will was struck again by how none of the Cutthroats seemed much older than himself. This one was thin and lanky, but still not much taller than Colin as he came to stand next to the golden-haired squire.
“What is the matter with it? It looks just fine!”
“It just seems off.” Colin shook his head then clapped his hand to his forehead. “I know what it is!”
“What’s that?”
“Well, this isn’t my saddle.”
There wasn’t a chance for the other boy to respond as Colin loosed Visra’s reins.
The horse struck with the speed of a snake and a scream of agony split the clearing, drowning the rush of water, the whisper of wind. Visra was drawing back, teeth bared, ready to sink them again into the Cutthroat.
The last horseman yelled, launching himself toward his companion, one hand diving for his sword but was nearly unseated as Rowan and Naja collided into him. Deprived of a dagger, Rowan was using the slack in his reins to attack, bringing the thick leather cracking down over the hooded rider’s head. Colin scrambled away from the flailing hooves and toward Strider. Will tried to climb to his feet, to rush forward and help, but felt a hand shove him forward.
Before he could try to rise again, a weight dropped onto his spine and he gasped again, the air knocked painfully from his lungs. “Nice try,” Draccart snarled. “You’re not getting away that fast.”
“Draccart, hold him, don’t mo
ve!” The Cutthroat Prince’s scream was almost indiscernible above the cries of his riders. Will saw him running toward them, reaching for the sword on his side. He hadn’t gone more than a few feet when he was blocked from sight by the red body of a warhorse. Colin and Strider had joined the fray now.
Through watering eyes, Will could see that the Cutthroat that Visra had attacked was crawling away, his arm bleeding and clutched to his chest, while his bay horse battled against the unfamiliar horse of the last mounted Cutthroat. Rowan had turned his attention to chasing away the two other horses, waving his arms and bellowing, urging the animals back into the forest.
The pain in his back intensified and Will twisted, trying to free himself from Draccart’s hold. Snarling through gritted teeth, he writhed, hoping to off balance the larger boy.
“Won’t mean a damn thing to me if you die, scum,” Draccart panted, leaning forward so Will could hear over the mayhem surrounding them. “I’m with Tollien on this, I don’t see why The Cutthroat Prince or Marl is bothering with you.”
Will didn’t answer, panting in pain and trying to slip his hands free of the rope. It was too tight, and Rowan and Colin were preoccupied. Neither had seen that he was on the ground now. They didn’t know what he was fighting against.
“Come to think of it,” Draccart said, and Will could hear the muted laughter in his voice. “This might be the best way to ensure our protection.”
Will saw the flash of steel from the corner of his eye and tried to pull back. A razor edge pressed against his neck and he froze, breathing hard.
“Call off your friends, or we’ll see what color royals bleed.”
“Like you’d hold to your word anyway,” Will grunted. His ribs ached; his lungs felt about to burst.
“Have it your way!”
The dagger pressed tighter to his throat and Will braced himself, heart slamming in his ribs. He felt the skin break and a thin line of hot blood rise to meet it. This was it then. Whether he tried to stop Rowan and Colin or not, he knew that Draccart was going to kill him, with his hands tied behind his back, unable to help himself. He closed his eyes, silently begging Rowan and Colin to run.
A horrible, straggled cry rose from above him and Will felt the dagger drop away from his throat as the weight was lifted from his back. Eyes shooting open, he rolled onto his back, his shoulder protesting as his arms were caught beneath his weight. He struggled to sit up, to see where Draccart had gone. Another scream made him turn. Draccart was scrambling to his feet, reaching for his sword, and rushing backwards toward the river while Visra struck with hooves and teeth, ears flat to his neck. To Will’s disappointment, he couldn’t see any visible signs that Visra’s attack had injured Draccart. He was still standing, hurrying away from the horse while not taking his eyes off the animal.
“Will!”
The cry snapped him back to his surroundings and his eyes darted to the fray. Colin was standing in his stirrups and turning wildly, looking for him. With all of his strength, Will struggled to sit up.
“Here! Over here!”
He wasn’t sure Colin heard him, but he had seen him. A moment later the golden-haired squire was riding toward Will, reaching down.
“Can you ride?” Colin shouted over the sound of Visra’s screams, Rowan’s wild war whoops, and Draccart’s bellows.
“My hands!” Will jerked his head to gesture behind his back. “I’m tied up.”
“If your stupid plan gets us killed,” Colin threatened. He swung from the saddle, snatched up Draccart’s fallen knife and a moment later Will felt the rope fall away. Scrambling to his feet, rubbing his wrist, Will turned to see Visra was pacing the water’s edge, reluctant to dive into the river, but watching Draccart who had waded out of his reach.
“We’ve got to get Visra!”
“He’s a horse, Will, he’ll follow! He knows how to get back to the castle!” Colin barked. “We don’t have time for this! Come on!”
There wasn’t a chance to argue as Colin half pushed, half lifted Will over the front of the saddle. A moment later he’d swung up behind Will and was turning Strider round. Will grappled to cling to the front of the saddle, sure for a moment he was about to plunge off the horse.
“Rowan, leave him! We’re getting out of here!” Colin ordered. Will twisted to see Rowan backing Naja away from where he’d pushed The Cutthroat Prince almost up a tree in his effort to escape Rowan’s reins crashing down on him. Will wasn’t sure where the last rider had vanished to and nor was he certain he cared much.
“You’re dead,” Draccart shouted. “You’re dead, you beast!”
Whipping round the other way again, Will saw Draccart had drawn his sword and was trying to get to shore. Visra still blocked his path, head low, striking the ground aggressively each time Draccart took a step near him. With a roar of exasperation, Draccart lunged.
“Visra!” Will’s scream made Colin turn as well. A moment later they were cantering toward the bay horse and Draccart. To Will’s relief the sword blade was clean. It hadn’t struck Visra. Still, the horse was watching Draccart closely. “Visra! Enough!”
Colin brought Strider nearer to the bay horse. “Grab him, Will! Grab him and let’s get out of here!”
Will leaned across from Strider’s saddle to snatch the reins. It was too late to do anything as he realized the mistake he’d made. He saw the idea flash across Draccart’s face just as his fingers were closing onto Visra’s reins.
Draccart sprang forward again, sword-free hand outstretched, reaching to pull Will from the saddle. Colin yelled and grabbed the back of Will’s tunic to keep him from falling. Strider sprang sideways, and Visra struck again. His teeth sank into Draccart’s left arm and the Cutthroat screamed, twisting to strike out. Will didn’t see what happened next. Colin swore, pulling him upright in the saddle and urging Strider into a run. Rowan was on their heels a moment later and they were galloping toward the narrow trail.
“Visra! Visra!” Will craned to see behind them.
“He’s coming!” Rowan shouted from behind them. “He’ll catch up. Just focus ahead! Ride, Colin!”
Will jolted, nearly falling off the back of the saddle and grabbing the saddle tighter. They crashed back through the overgrown path, the twigs tearing at their faces. Will had to bow his head forward, squinting his eyes to keep anything from striking them. Behind him, he heard Rowan swearing, Colin urging Strider to keep moving.
Dusk was closing in fast now. The shadows of the trees blotted the last of the setting sun and Will’s stomach swooped each time Strider moved to avoid an unseen obstacle or leapt felled trees. He heard Rowan yelp behind him and twisted to look back. He saw a horse and his rider. At least Rowan had managed to stay on. His heart leapt as he caught sight of movement behind Rowan, rushing to keep pace with them. Visra! The horse was a dark shadow in the gathering night, but Will recognized the broad white blaze.
Turning to face forward again, he felt another thrill of excitement. Ahead, across the valley, lights burned bright as stars in the windows of the castle. He could see a yellow shadow of torch light falling over the still open drawbridge like a beacon leading them back. They were going to get away, they were going to be fine.
The sun had gone, only the grey ghost of its light illuminating the faint outline of the track that rushed under Strider’s hooves. It wasn’t until they were nearly to the drawbridge that Colin began to rein in the sweating animal, slowing to a trot and giving Rowan and Visra time to catch up.
“I hate you, Will!” Rowan announced, reining Naja in beside them. “You nearly got yourself killed! Colin, I hate you too! How did you two think that was a good plan?”
“We didn’t die though,” Will pointed out, failing to swallow his grin.
“Well, night’s not over and I might still murder you, you prat!” Rowan snapped.
Colin burst into laughter, shaking his head and running a hand over his face. “We just used your horse as our own army after all, Will. If Rowan had been hu
ngry, we would have been unstoppable!”
Unable to help it, Will started laughing as well. The giddy relief of survival, of adrenaline, all washed over him. They had escaped, escaped something that had seemed impossible.
“You two need your heads checked,” Rowan said, when he’d finally caught his breath. “And, coming from me, that’s saying something.”
“I mean, I took a pretty good knock to mine,” Colin confessed, stifling a grin. “It’s going to be nice and bruised.”
Visra trotted to their side at last, his head on the ground, breathing hard. Will reached to pat his horse’s neck from Strider’s back, laughing shakily now. “Thank Alamore for the monster that got us through this.”
He could feel sweat soaking the horse’s coat in the darkness and felt a pang of affection and guilt. Visra had saved his life, attacking with the training of a full-fledged and seasoned warhorse and now he was exhausted, swaying slightly. Will stiffened. Swaying? He squinted through the dark, pulling his hand from Visra’s coat and staring at the horse.
“Will? Everything alright?” Rowan asked, concernedly.
Will turned to answer, his hand still resting on Visra’s neck, but the words caught in his throat as he turned his palm upwards. The distant silver of the moon showed dark over his palm, glistening darkness that clung to his fingers, staining his skin.
Visra staggered sideways, out of his reach and Will could only stare, frozen in horrified disbelief. “Vis?”
The horse’s knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, slowly falling to his side. Before Will realized what he was doing, his boots hit the solid earth and he was grabbing at Visra’s neck, trying to stop the horse as he made to lie flat across the ground. A new panic was surging through him as Visra’s weight started to bring him to the ground as well.
“Visra!” Will knew he was shouting, could feel it in his hoarse throat, but it sounded distant to his own ears. A moment later he felt Rowan and Colin on his either side, both grabbing onto handfuls of Visra’s mane as well, trying to keep him from sprawling flat.
The horse was breathing hard, foam dripping from the corner of his mouth. Will pushed harder against the broad neck. His boots slid over the ground, his body sinking lower.
The Cutthroat Prince (William of Alamore Series Book 2) Page 7