***
“Let their bones, charred by fire, warn those who rule above. We have waited, we have prepared, and we will rise to bring them down.”
The eerie chant sent a chill up Will’s spine. He opened his eyes slightly and looked around. Two forms were tied limply next to him. One was breathing, slowly and deeply, the other was unnaturally still. His vision cleared and both eyes shot opened. Fear knotted in his stomach as he gazed at Rowan.
“No,” gasped Will looking at Rowan’s unmoving body. Colin twitched and awoke at the sound of Will’s voice.
Turning to see what Will was looking at, Colin’s eyes filled with panic. “Rowan. Rowan! Get up! Please,” hissed Colin. Both boys had forgotten their surroundings, focusing instead on their friend.
They were forced to reality as a man walked over. His dark eyes were cold as he surveyed their distress. “Start the fire,” he ordered, his eyes locked on Will’s own. “Let them burn for the crimes of their Kings past.”
Will looked away and around the chamber as more people, with bales of hay and fire red cloaks gathered. As they cast down the hay around the place the three boys were tied, Will struggled to move, his heart thundering in his chest. He tried to kick his feet loose, writhe from his bindings, anything to escape and fight. White-hot hate was starting to replace his fear. If they had killed Rowan, he was going to make them pay for it.
A torch was flung onto the straw and the man barked out a laugh. The kindling lit at once and all those gathered stepped back, covering their mouths from the smoke. Pain seared up Will’s leg as a tongue of fire flared up around his boot, scorching his breeches leg.
“Will, what can we do? I think Rowan... Rowan might be…” Colin didn’t finish but Will shook his head, as much to stop Colin voicing his own fear as to clear his head.
“We need to cut the rope. I can’t reach my dagger. Can you reach yours?” Will grunted. He flinched again as flames licked further up his leg, through the top of his boot and the skin beneath. The terrible thought crossed his mind that if Rowan were dead, he would at least not have to suffer like he and Colin were about to.
“No, I can’t either,” snarled Colin trying to reach his belt.
Twisting and turning his arms, Will bit back a cry of pain as the smoke burned his lungs and made his eyes water. He refused to surrender to fate. He would die fighting, he was determined. He had not become a squire to give up and accept defeat. No!
A dull thud made Will freeze as an arrow hit the wood above his shoulder. A second arrow sliced along the rope binding his feet, slicing the charred boot. “What is going on, Colin?”
“Ross!” Colin shouted, struggling even harder against his bindings.
“What?”
Then Will saw them through the smoke. Six people had appeared, battling back the red-cloaked attackers. Sir Ross, Sir Rockwood, Novin, two that Will did not know and one that made his heart freeze in his chest. Black hair, defined jawline and cheekbones, and unmistakable with his aura of power. King Revlan himself was among his men, sword drawn, locked hilt to hilt with an attacker. He watched as the King raised a foot and kicked the opposing man in the chest.
One of the men that Will didn’t know broke away from the fighting and ran towards where the three boys were tied, pulling a dagger from his belt. Ignoring the flames that hungrily reached at his arm, he hacked at the ropes binding Will’s hands. Once he felt the rope give, Will yanked his hands forward, gripping his own dagger and spinning to cut Rowan loose as the knight moved to Colin.
“Pass me Rowan, he needs to get out of here now,” yelled the man as both Rowan and Colin were freed. Will and Colin both gripped Rowan and drug him and themselves from the flame and to the knight. He lifted Rowan powerfully over one shoulder and waved to the two to follow. “We have to get out of here. Now. They can only hold them off so long.”
The knight shouldered his way into the fray, striking out with his right arm at anyone that approached himself or the three squires. The noise was deafening in the enclosed cavern, the smoke filled the air, and Will struggled to keep his mind focused on escaping.
The King had fought his way to the knight supporting Rowan, striking another of the attackers down with the hilt of his sword in an almost lazy movement.
“Get the boys away from here, Miller,” he barked, black eyes flashing. “We will be right behind you.”
The knight, Sir Miller, nodded mutely and threw a broad shoulder into an approaching enemy. They had only taken a few more steps toward the entrance that the six had come from when they heard the strangled cry of pain.
Spinning around, Will saw the King stagger and collapse, gasping, a hand to his side and the other still clutching his sword. He made to move toward the King but someone shoved him aside. Sir Ross fell to his knees beside his leader, his face stricken.
One of the tunnel people made the mistake of moving in to kill the two men on the ground but Ross spun, not bothering to stand, his sword slicing through the air and felling the other man. The man lay on the ground, motionless, crimson blood darkening the red of his cloak.
“Stay back if you know what’s good for you,” he bellowed as another moved in to follow the footsteps of the first. The second man hesitated then retreated to fight against Rockwood, no doubt seeing the danger in the blue eyes.
“Sir Miller, they need us to help!” Colin yelled, spinning to the knight. “Give me your sword, you can’t use it while carrying Rowan and I can fight!”
“No!” said the knight, shaking his head.
Colin snarled uncharacteristically and grabbed the hilt that hung at the knight’s side, pulling loose the blade and plunging forward to aid his knight. Sir Miller swore loudly, but with Rowan across his shoulders, he couldn’t move fast enough to stop the golden-haired squire.
Will moved to follow Colin, mind racing, when a heavy grip on his shoulder stopped him. Spinning, he found himself face to face with the other unknown knight that had entered the fight. The man glanced down at him before turning his gaze to Sir Miller.
“Miller, where is Colin? He was down here. Where is he? They need to get out of here so we can help Ross protect the King!” the knight barked, releasing Will long enough to wipe sweat-soaked blonde hair, out of his eyes.
“That was the plan, Don, but he has gone to help the King himself,” snapped Miller pointing at the shape of Colin, who stood back to back with Sir Ross.
“Damn it. Get Rowan out of here. If they want to fight, fine, but otherwise they need to get out from underfoot,” said Don before he too ran to help the King of Alamore.
“I want to fight. Give me a sword or an axe or anything,” said Will. The sight of Colin battling to defend the King and Ross made him giddy, determined to help. He wanted to fight, he needed to fight.
Sir Miller let out an irritated snort. “I don’t carry a surplus of weapons,” He hoisted Rowan more securely onto his back. “Use your dagger, get up there as fast as possible and get a weapon off the ground or from Ross. I need to get Rowan out of here before we both get bloody murdered.”
Will nodded and dove forward, shouldering his way against a smaller built man’s back in the way he had seen Sir Miller shove others. He was surprised by the amount of pain it caused himself but he stayed on his feet as his unsuspecting victim sprawled and gave him a clear path to run forward to Colin’s side. Stooping, Will grabbed the weapon out of the hand of the man that Ross had killed, refusing to look at the dead man’s face or acknowledge the stranger’s blood that he could feel drying on his own palm.
CHAPTER FIVE
Will swung the sword at a man who was heading for the battle against the King. The weapon was too large and the blow glanced, the flat of the blade striking the man. The man let out a cry and crumpled, gripping his side where his ribs had broken against the blow.
Looking round wildly, Will realized that he had strayed away from Colin again and panic overtook him. One thought resounded over and over in his mind. The King mustn’t die,
the King mustn’t die. Colin saw Will but kept fighting. The two boys soon got back to back, defending Ross and the King as Ross tried to lift the King without causing more damage.
Will had been distracted too long, he realized, when a force knocked him sideways and sent him onto his back on the dirt floor, the air ripped from his lungs. Novin’s sword took the blow that had been meant for Will. Novin threw out his sword arm to steady himself from knocking Will down then dove forward. He dispatched the attacker with another quick movement, a clean strike that did not even give the foe a chance to yell. Novin then reached down with his left hand and pulled Will to his feet.
“Tha-thank you,” stuttered Will shocked at how close to death he had come. Novin did not reply but sprang away, into the fight again.
“The King!” shouted Colin.
Will turned and the air left his body again as he saw that Ross had been forced away from the King by an onslaught of attackers. Though he fought more violently than Will had ever seen a man do, he knew it was too late. He and Colin had drifted too far to save the King from the young man raising his sword to strike down into the King’s chest.
The man faltered at Colin’s cry and looked up; his hesitation written on his features for a moment. In the seconds of his pause, another smaller body broke loose of the surrounding mayhem and, with a cry, struck into him.
Rowan, face contorted with rage, was picking himself up again from where he had rolled past the man. “You will not take the King of Alamore like this, you coward.”
The man was climbing back to his feet as well, sword still in hand and his attention now on Rowan. He moved forward to strike, venom in his eyes and Rowan moved toward him as well.
“No! Rowan watch out!” yelled Will, fighting his way toward Rowan. He was too far! He wouldn’t make a difference. Colin, to Will’s right, was pushing his way through the sheer numbers as well, yelling inaudibly.
The man swung down as Rowan kicked out. The sword missed by inches as Rowan’s heel hit the man in the stomach. He bent double and Rowan struck again, this time gripping the man’s sword hand with his left hand as his right sank into his enemy’s stomach again.
Yanking the blade away from the young man, Rowan brought the hilt against the man’s head and he crumpled.
“Take that you, dumb idiot! Never try to hurt our King again,” yelled Rowan, aiming another kick at the man. Will could almost laugh with relief. Finally breaking free of the now retreating mass of red cloaks, he ran over to where Rowan stood. “You coward! Get up now.” yelled Rowan, kicking dust onto the man. The man turned over and moaned.
Will felt his mouth fall open. The man wasn’t a man at all but a boy, who wasn’t much older than they were, sixteen at most, his over grown dark brown hair and the stubble darkening his jaw making him look far older.
“What? Are you a knight? How did you get in this fight?” asked Will looking at the boy’s face. The boy shook his head and fainted. “Let’s get him out of here. Otherwise, he’ll get trampled,” said Will looking at the boy.
“He’d deserve it,” spat Rowan. But he bent and picked up one arm and flung it over his neck. Will did the same, searching through the chaos for the knights. Colin, reaching them, moved to the King’s side, sword ready to strike down anyone who approached.
Sir Don appeared with Novin, pushing the majority of their attackers away from Ross and toward another narrow branch of the tunnel. From the other direction, Rockwood and Miller were moving their way, having sent their own foes into a full retreat.
When Sir Miller reached them, he bent, this time lifting the King to his feet. The King’s eyelids opened slightly and he groaned, leaning heavily against his knight. “Easy does, King.” Miller murmured, bracing himself.
“Rockwood, get his other side. We have to get out of here fast, before they regroup.”
Neither knight made a comment about the boy propped between the two squires, only gesturing at them to start down the passage the knights had entered from. They did, the feet of the boy dragging in the dirt as they did so. Colin led the way, his stolen weapon lifted to defend them from any ambushes that might be waiting ahead. Footsteps behind them made Will look around.
The other knights had joined their retreat, backing down the tunnel, still clashing against those enemies brave enough to approach Sir Ross’s obvious rage.
When they reached the end of the passage, passing through the door, Sir Don slammed it shut, throwing the outside bolt across it. “Get up the passage, fast,” he ordered, shoving his shoulder against the door as a dull thud told of the first of the tunnel people reaching it.
The rope the boys had used was gone, replaced with a rope and wood ladder. Sir Rockwood went up first, half carrying the King as Sir Miller supported him from below. Then it was Colin’s turn, then Will and Rowan made their awkward way up the ladder with the boy between them. A shout made Will look down the passage as Novin scrambled up the ladder, Sir Don on his heels. A moment later, Miller sprawled onto the floor of the stone room in the barn, with Ross lifting himself through and yanking up the ladder right after him. A loud crash signaled the demise of the door.
“Cover it up!” Ross barked, scrambling to his feet. “Get the damn thing covered up!”
Colin and Will sprang forward to oblige, joined by Miller, and the stone fell, heavy, into its place. Below, muffled screams of fury made Will shiver, dropping onto the floor.
“Why exactly,” Colin asked, doing likewise, “did we bring that?” he gestured toward the boy.
“Will was worried that he would get trampled,” explained Rowan, glowering at the form. “Would have served the knucklehead right.”
“I don’t agree with Will bringing him here, but I don’t think he should have been left to be stomped on,” Colin said, glancing at the door that the knights were leaving through. “So, I don’t know what to say or do; however, Sir Ross might. And we better get out of here.”
They stood, grabbing the boy and stepping into the barn. Another knight stood by the stalls, his eyes immediately going to the limp form between them.
Something about the knight made Will feel nervous. The man—handsome, tall, and muscled—had narrowed his eyes in a moment of confusion. Dawning realization brought a furrow to his brow and he ran a hand over the brown stubble darkening his jaw.
“Please do not tell me, boys,” he said in a dangerously calm voice, “that you brought back an enemy as a pet.” His eyes flashed as they took in each of the squires in turn, hesitating a moment longer on Will’s unfamiliar face.
“Sir Laster, leave them be. He looks like he’s young enough to be a page or just old enough to be a squire,” Rockwood was making his way back toward the squires. Though his tone was calm, Will had the feeling that he was sizing up the other knight.
The other knight, Sir Laster, laughed coldly. “Sir Rockwood,” he said, his voice condescending, “I am merely expressing my concern that you can’t train a squire to do his job, even when the opportunity is right at hand.”
“I will train my squire as I like, Laster,” Rockwood’s voice had a definite warning edge now. “Any disagreement you have with me can be taken up on the practice field, with a sword, again.”
Sir Laster’s sneer turned to a look of fury and he spat at the other knight’s boots before spinning away from them.
Anger shadowed Rockwood’s friendly face for a moment but was gone as he refocused his attention on the squires.
“Are you three okay? Come on you boys better get to the castle. There is some dinner being made and it can be brought to the healing chambers. You all need to get treated for those burns. I’ll be taking our little friend here, now. He might be an enemy right now, but we, unlike those people, aren’t savages,” said Rockwood, hoisting the boy into his arms like a small child.
“Rockwood, who were those people?” Will asked, wincing, as they all made their way toward the outside world. All the places the fire had burned him, not to mention the bruising and cuts from
the fight, were regaining feeling as the adrenaline died from his veins.
Rockwood shook his head. “That is not a story for you three right now. We will be having a talk about not going on adventures in crypts with bloodthirsty people, but that is also not right now. What you need is a healer and food. Get to the healer’s quarters and I’ll have meals sent up, okay?”
Will grudgingly nodded and they all stepped into the freezing evening air of the courtyard.
“Snow is coming, I can tell,” said Rowan, smiling slightly and raising his head to stare at the sky.
“Yes, I see why you say that,” laughed Colin. “It’s already started.”
Colin was right, large flakes of fluffy snow fell softly from the swirl of clouds overhead. Soon there was a thin sheet of snow covering the ground and it eased the pain in Will’s feet.
Ranger of Kings (William of Alamore Series Book 1) Page 7