“Come on, you beast,” He snarled, frustrated as Visra pulled his head back around at the slightest slack in the reins.
“What are you doing?” the Ranger had returned, pulling his mare to a stop beside him.
“It’s my horse,” Will grunted. “He won’t bloody turn back to the path he keeps looking at the-”
“Pay attention to your horse, always. They are a fair bit smarter than most,” snapped the Ranger, cutting him off. His eyes were fixed on the drawbridge, now some distance away. “Get the others, I am heading back. Be fast,” He ordered, then pushed his mare past, back through their tracks, into a run.
This time, when Will pulled, he pushed Visra, hard, kicking him into a gallop before he had a chance to fight again. He soon was passing the three centered squires, eyes fixed on Sir Miller’s dappled grey.
“Easy, Will, you’re supposed to be in the rear. Haven’t you figured how to control that horse yet?” Sir Miller asked, laughingly.
Will reined Visra in, the horse planted in front of the knight. “The Ranger thinks there’s something going on at the castle. He’s already heading back but told me to tell you to turn around.”
Sir Miller’s jaw tensed and he glanced toward the squires behind him. “If the Ranger feels that we need to be at the castle, then that’s where we need to be.”
With that, he swung the grey horse around, waving the others to follow as he yelled at the stallion to gallop, back over the broken snow, Will and the other squires on his heels.
They had nearly reached the drawbridge when Will was certain that the Ranger had been right. Yells of men and the screams of horses shattered the sense of peace the snow seemed to emulate before. Two horses, with no halters or bridles, bolted over the drawbridge, tails in the air and eyes wide in panic as they slowed their own mounts.
“Will, Novin, push those two back into the courtyard. Leaf, Colin, Rowan, with me. Now!” Sir Miller barked.
The squires didn’t argue. Will moved toward the nearer of the two horses, keeping Visra at a walk despite his own thundering nerves. “Easy, boy, easy,” he crooned to the colt, a red sorrel with large white socks and a white blaze. The horse stared at him and Visra, white ringing its eyes, before stepping nearer.
“Will, keep moving like you are but see if he will just follow you. Without halters, we can’t do a whole lot,” Novin recommended. Will could hear that Novin, like himself, was struggling to keep his tones level and calm. The second escaped horse had latched itself to the side of Novin’s calm roan.
Nodding, Will followed Novin over the bridge, listening as the hooves of the two horses followed. Once in the courtyard, his stomach clenched with dread. The doors to the barn were thrown wide. Inside was pandemonium; a fight between a few of the knights and what seemed to be a desperate group of red-robed figures.
“Damn it! They are getting out of the tunnel!” Novin snarled, kicking his horse forward into the barn. Will followed, his mind spinning as he crashed Visra into the nearest red-clad figure. The man fell backwards, against the wall of the barn and dropped the spear he had been raising.
Will squinted his eyes, momentarily blind in the darkness of the barn after the bright light outdoors, and felt pain cross his side as something struck him. Leaning into the black mane of his horse, he pushed forward as he saw another glimpse of red. If the tunnel was open, there was no telling how many more were coming.
“William,” he turned his head toward the voice and looked down to see Sir Ross, grabbing Visra’s reins. “You need to get out of here. Just make sure none get out the door. We are going to try to push them back in this entrance. You and this beast will get in the way if you aren’t going to ride right.”
Without thinking, Will slid to the ground, pressing his back against the side of his horse. “Take him!” he had to yell to be heard. “Take Visra and push them from horseback!”
Sir Ross hesitated for only a moment before swinging into the saddle and looking down at him. “Get out, get to where you’re out of the way. Don’t die an idiot mistaking yourself for a hero.”
Will watched as, under the expert guidance of the knight, his horse moved into the throng and beside the Ranger’s own horse. Then Will was knocked by another loose animal, falling to his knees. Sir Ross was right. He had to get out before he was killed.
Coughing against choking smells of sweat and blood, Will pulled himself upright and reached his hands for the nearest wall. He could see the shapes of people fighting; friend or foe he didn’t know. Twice more he was buffeted aside, once feeling his head smack against the side of the stall walls. Ahead, what seemed to be miles away, was the light of the double doors.
A sharp pain made him cry out, his hand flying to his left side. He looked down at the blood rising there before looking up into the sneering face of the red-robed man he had knocked down before with Visra. The man smiled, revealing a row of blood coated teeth, a few broken from his fall, and hefted his spear again, this time for a precise attack. It had only sliced superficially along Will’s side, but the man clearly did not plan to make the same mistake twice.
Will pulled his dagger, noticing his own heaving breaths, the flecks of green in his attacker’s cold grey eyes. It was as if the rest of the battle had vanished and it was only him and this man, laughing at the squire with his short-bladed dagger.
“This is too easy, boy,” hissed the man, pulling back his arm to strike.
The man fell, dead before he had the chance to move forward. Haru, red hair stained darker with blood, planted a foot in the man’s back before pulling his own dagger from the back of the man’s neck, his sword clutched in his other hand.
“Thank you,” Will gasped, shaking his head.
Haru grimaced. “Thank me when we get out of here,” He thrust the dagger back in his belt, moving forward to support Will’s weight. Will felt as if the world was beginning to spin, the adrenalin of a moment before had left him exhausted. “Come on, up,” Haru snapped and Will realized he had collapsed against the other squire. “Up. We are getting out of here. Now.”
They made it to the entrance with another three loose horses, who cantered in frantic circles in the courtyard, unable to escape since Novin had returned on his horse, blocking the bridge.
“Is Will alright?” Novin called, his voice alarmed.
The world was so bright. Will found himself sinking into the snow. Everything was perfect; peaceful. His eyelids were heavy. He could hear Haru replying to Novin. A conversation. But, somehow, it didn’t matter now. What mattered was that the freezing air wasn’t too cold, the sky unmoving, as everything else began to blur. The wound isn’t that deep, Will thought, his exhaustion deepening, so I shouldn’t need help yet. Just sleep. I just need to…and the whole world blinked out into blackness.
CHAPTER EIGHT
No one escapes…
“What do you mean no one escapes?”
“You asked what it says, I’m telling you what it says.”
“That’s fine now tell us what it means.”
“How would he know, Laster? If you hadn’t noticed, he was fighting for us. Or have you already forgotten that you can thank him for the fact you are alive.”
The first voice was snarling, annoyed, angry, panicked. The last voice was cool and even. Will wondered why as his heavy eyelids opened for a moment then dropped once more. He felt warm and comfortable like his mother had tucked him in bed and he was a child.
But the voices weren’t his mother. It was Airagon, Sir Laster, and the King. How interesting that they were here, talking so close. Maybe they’d come to visit him after he’d been injured.
Injured. The thought sent a stab of pain along Will’s side as if the wound were being open again, finally waking him. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up, gasping in agony and gripping his side.
“Easy there, Will, you’ll get yourself into more trouble,” Sir Ross growled from the chair to Will’s right. They were in the healing chambers, several of the beds occ
upied, though Ross himself looked unharmed.
The King and Airagon were seated across the room, beside a bed where Sir Laster had pulled himself upright. Laster’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Will. “About time you decided to wake,” He snapped.
“Laster,” the King warned. “Focus on what’s at hand.”
Sir Laster snorted angrily. “Very well. Tunnel boy, what does the note mean?”
Will saw Airagon’s face darken and noticed him ball his fist, crumpling the parchment he held. “I am not tunnel anything,” he growled. Airagon then relaxed his grip, straightening the page out again. “It’s a threat,” he said, “it’s the same words that were used to banish the people to the tunnels. No one escapes; except this time, they mean in the castle.”
Will shivered, even as Laster let out a bark of laughter. “Let them threaten all they like. It means nothing. The exits from the tunnel that led outside the castle were all sealed, all of them were collapsed.”
“Bold words,” the King said coolly. “Airagon, there’s more on your mind, isn’t there,” It wasn’t a question.
Airagon nodded slowly. “I wasn’t ever allowed to sit in on any councils when I was in the tunnels. But, with this, I don’t think that they were discussing the scrimmage in the barn. That was to get our attention and deliver a message. If they are threatening to kill everyone inside the walls, I think they might have help from outside of them.”
Will felt his blood run cold and could see the King’s jaw tense. “Come with me, Airagon. I have had suspicions of this and I’ve got a few other things you can translate for me. Sir Laster, you best heal fast. I’ll need you on the battlefield, I don’t doubt.”
“Naturally so,” Laster said, nodding his chin toward Will. “You hear that, squire? We best get on our feet sooner rather than later.”
The King turned his attention to Will as well, leveling him with a calm stare. “How are you feeling?”
“A little sheepish,” Will admitted, pulling himself further upright and running a hand along the bandages over his ribs. “Did…did I faint?”
Behind the King, Sir Laster was smirking, but the King shook his head. “No, not at all. Your wound is superficial, you’ll be able to stay in your own bed tonight. The blade of the spear that struck you was coated in some poison. It made you pass out, once in your bloodstream. You’ve been out for two hours now. It appears they coat most their weapons in it, it’s what made me collapse in the tunnels.”
The King stood, sighing. “But, since you’re in here and were listening, I’m guessing you’ve heard enough to be curious but not enough to be educated. It seems our guards at the tunnel entrance were bribed and Laster found them as they were opening the tunnel. If he hadn’t, we might have suffered serious losses. As it is, Sir Laster will be here a bit longer than you, as his shoulder is injured. When he was fighting, someone stabbed him in the back of the shoulder with a knife. They were aiming for his heart but he moved and Ross killed the attacker. The note that Airagon has translated for us was tied to the hilt of that knife. But what it means, what Airagon will help us prepare for, shouldn’t concern you now. What should concern you is rejoining the other squires and letting them know that you’re not dead.” He gave Will a thin-lipped smile and strode toward the door, Airagon silently at his heels.
“I cannot stand someone who can trade sides in a battle to suit themselves,” Laster growled, as the door closed behind the two.
Will looked at him, raising his eyebrows. “Airagon?”
“He’s a good enough example, if not the main reason,” said Laster. “You know, you don’t have to stay here and wallow in self-pity. The King said you’re good to go.”
Will nodded. He didn’t want to be in the same room as Laster any longer than he had to be. The man wasn’t pleasant to be around. Will pulled himself stiffly from the bed, picked up his dagger from the side table, slid on his boots, and was almost to the door when he heard a grunt of pain. He turned to see Sir Laster, clutching his left shoulder as he tried to sit up further. “What are you doing?” Will demanded, annoyed.
“Not wallowing in misery when I could be getting ready to be of use.”
A flare of anger went through Will and he braced himself in the doorway, eyes narrowing. “Sir, excuse me for saying so, but you’re not a lot of use if you’re injured. You’ll get someone killed if they have to defend you. Just stay here.”
Then he turned and left, not waiting to hear what argument the knight would have. He didn’t understand! Sir Laster seemed to be a trusted advisor to the King but, at the same time, an unstable part of the knights of Alamore. His temper, the hatred of the Ranger, and his personality all spoke against him. Still, the King trusted him. Even the other knights seemed to trust him, all be it grudgingly.
“Will!” he started at the sound of his own name and almost fell off the bottom stair as Rowan tackled him around the stomach, picking him up. “I found Will!”
Pain shot through his side and he gasped, prompting Rowan to drop him in surprise. Will crashed onto the hard floor, his foot colliding with Rowan’s shin and sending him to the ground as well. Both lay, groaning, as Colin stared down at them, eyebrows raised. “That was elegant,” He said, laughing. “Rowan, he just got stabbed in the ribs, don’t throw him around. Will, Rowan doesn’t need to knock any more brains from his head, please don’t assist with that.”
Rowan aimed a kick at Colin from the ground, which Colin easily evaded.
“Where were you two?” Will asked. He pulled himself to his feet, grunting with the effort.
“We had to help get the mayhem in the barn under control and stack hay bales on top of the tunnel entrance. The King had it fitted with a lock before but that clearly didn’t work well enough. We’d just finished and were coming to see you,” Colin informed him as he helped Rowan to his feet.
Rowan nodded. “That and then getting food. I’m not sure about you, but I am starving.”
Will looked at his two best friends, guilt roiling inside his stomach. For the entire day he had been holding back what he had found out about the Ranger knowing his father and now he was holding back what he had heard from the King. The note that Airagon had found, Sir Laster’s disdain. “Yeah…let’s get food. Then I think we need to talk.”
“Is something the matter?” asked Colin, brow furrowed.
“It’s not as urgent as food right now,” said Will.
“I like the way you think,” Rowan announced, throwing his arm over Will’s shoulder and causing him to flinch. “Oh, sorry. I keep forgetting that you got hurt.”
The three boys entered the dining hall, where the conversations were subdued with exhaustion of a long day. When they joined the squire table, a few squires patted Will on the back, including Haru.
“Glad to see you’re already walking. You scared the Thornten out of Novin and me,” the redhead said, grinning.
“I’m sorry about that. I guess the blade was poisoned,” Will said, embarrassed still that he had failed to maintain consciousness.
Haru flopped into the seat across from Will. “The Ranger explained. He actually was the first person to treat you. He’s got a fair bit of knowledge in terms of healing, probably since he’s never at the castle long. Has to take care of himself.”
Will agreed and was relieved when the conversation changed away from himself and the Ranger, the other squires eager to discuss the battle with the few that had been present. This gave him a chance to start eating, keeping his mouth always full enough to excuse him from speaking. He wasn’t in the mood to relive that battle yet. Something about the tunnel people, the way that they didn’t seem to care if they died, was disconcerting. He knew that, as a knight, he would see death, but these people just rushed into it. They were so vengeful against the castle that they didn’t seem to notice or even care if they were slaughtered.
Something caught the corner of his eye and he turned his head in time to see a dark shadow slip through one of the doors that lined t
he dining hall. The Ranger. Without thinking, he rose. “I’ll be right back,” he hissed to Rowan and Colin.
“Ow, you said you had to tell us something,” Rowan said.
“I’ll tell you in a bit. Finish eating and I will fill you two in,” he didn’t wait for an answer, slipping into the shadows on the edge of the hall and following the Ranger, away from the sound of people and silverware.
The room he entered was pitch black as he softly closed the door. He held his breath, suddenly terrified where the Ranger might be in the darkness. There was no noise, only his heart beating in his own ears. If it was as loud to the room as it was to himself, the Ranger had to know he was there. After what seemed to be an eternity, he stepped forward.
A hand clamped over his mouth and something sharp was pressed against his throat. “You do have a knack, boy,” hissed a voice furiously in his ear, “for being where you ought not to be,” The hand was removed from his mouth and shoved him roughly in the back. Stumbling forward, he fell, groping for the dagger in his belt as a flash of sparks lit a torch, illuminating the Ranger and the dark hallway where they stood, alone.
Ranger of Kings (William of Alamore Series Book 1) Page 11