by Shea,Lisa
He glanced guiltily at Jack, his eyes moving down to the medallion at Jack’s chest. “You undoubtedly saw the result of that beating, and the images will be forever seared into my mind. All three lay there without moving. We thought they were all dead, that she had truly given her life for Zoe’s escape. But somehow, fantastically, we found she had breath in her, slight though it was. We rigged up a sling and between us we got her back to the village.”
Nicholas looked between the two men. “To protect Zoe, Catherine worded the public story so that it was Shadow having a fight with known bandits. Zoe was merely caught in the crossfire. That way Zoe’s injuries could be explained without further discussion.”
Jack nodded to Nicholas. “Is Zoe … healed?” he asked with concern.
Nicholas took a drink of his ale. “It is due to Catherine that she is. I saw the two of them together, during the days she stayed with us, talking long into the night. Catherine showed Zoe something on her arm, and I know they spoke of being survivors, that they had the strength to face any obstacle. It meant a great deal to Zoe, that she had a sister, of sorts, in Catherine now.”
He sighed deeply. “I know Zoe was hurt, and that nothing will erase that. Still, she seems … stronger now, in a way. She is more determined to do what she feels is right, and less concerned about what others might think.”
He looked at Jack then, holding his gaze. “Catherine saved Zoe’s life, and she saved her soul as well. If I can do anything – anything at all – to help Catherine, then I shall do it.”
A stableboy ran into the crowded room, threading his way over to Jack’s table. “The horses are ready, sir,” he called out in a high voice.
Jack needed no further encouragement. He stood at once, and in a moment there was scraping and thumping as the men in the room saw his movement and joined in. Peter quickly paid the bill, and in a few minutes the troop was back on the road, riding strongly toward their destination.
The hours passed in steady riding. Afternoon darkened into evening, with golden colors spreading across the sky. Jack pushed the group even harder, thundering across the roads with fierce determination. They could not ride heavily at night without danger of a broken leg or worse. If they did not make it by full darkness ... but Jack promised himself that they would. The sun slipped down below the horizon, its last reddish haze fading from the sky.
Yet the sky was not dark. There was still a rosy, orange glow ahead of them, flickering on the horizon. Nicholas pulled up alongside Jack as they half cantered, half galloped down the forested road. “That is Wilstead,” he called out, making sure he was heard over the hoofbeats and heavy breathing of the horses.
Jack’s gaze was intense. “It is on fire.”
Chapter 23
Jack’s group now numbered thirty or so men, and they needed no exhortation to ride at the limits of their steeds’ abilities. The flames were plain to see and grew brighter as they rode closer. It seemed only minutes before they pulled up on a hill overlooking the small village.
Every structure in view was fully involved in flames. Orange and red streamers danced from small homes, barns, a mill, and a granary. A scattering of horses fled wild-eyed from the heat and smoke. Jack could see dark shapes moving about in the village, but these appeared to be soldiers, not villagers. The figures made no attempt to put out the fire or seek shelter - instead, they methodically moved from structure to structure, searching.
A shout came from their left, and a group of archers came out of the woods toward them, cheering in relief. A lean man strode up to Jack’s group.
“Nicholas! Thank the Lord. How did you make it here already? We only sent word an hour or two ago!” He shook his head in surprise. “We have already lost three of our group trying to stop the raiders who are burning the village. It is no use; we cannot pierce their armor with our bows, and they come up to attack us whenever we start our volley.”
Jack took in a few deep breaths, his heart still pounding from the long ride, then dismounted from his weary steed. “We have just come from London. What is happening?”
The archer looked baffled at the reference to London, but pressed on without question. “A small party came flying through town early this afternoon; I imagine they were coming from Bedford. There was a force in pursuit - but a larger force was waiting for them here, in this town. I do not know if that larger group was here for other reasons or specifically to catch that party.”
He glanced down at the flames, his voice becoming hoarse. “In any case, the fighting broke out immediately. It was like oil and water to see the two. I was cutting wood up here when it began. The townsfolk all raced into the stone church - you can just see it there, to the right side of the green. That is where they have been holed up ever since. The attackers put a torch to everything else and are trying to smoke them out.”
The archer looked back to the newcomers. “We tried a few times to run interference for them, but when it was clear it was hopeless, we sent for help. We thought the soldiers would not get here until morning, though. I was amazed you had arrived so quickly.”
Jack glanced at Peter. “I do not know for sure if Catherine is down there, but it seems likely.” He turned to call out orders to the gathered men. “Half of you stay with me, and we will approach the church from this side. You others, circle with Peter around carefully to the north. Only come down when you see us move. If nothing else, we should have surprise and darkness on our side.”
He turned back to speak down to the archers. “Please give us whatever support you can when we launch our assault. I know your arrows might not be ideal, but every bit will help.”
The archer nodded his head. “Good luck. ” He and his friends slipped back into the cover of the forest.
Jack, Nicholas, and their group picked their way quietly down through the trees, attempting to stay hidden for as long as possible. The forces working below seemed to pay little attention to the woods, and it was quite easy to draw relatively close to the church without being noticed. Jack saw that a group of fifteen or so well-armed soldiers were camped on the green in front of the church, watching the closed doors with careful attention. Another ten men roamed the village area with torches, making sure the homes were fully aflame and that there were no survivors hiding anywhere.
A large, burly man wearing a long, textured cape and fine sword at his hip was standing at the edge of the green, conferring with a bandit with a long mane of white-streaked hair. Jack recognized the latter at once.
Conrad.
Glancing through the other faces present, Jack felt that he could pick out other members of that same crew.
He looked back to the green. As he watched, the two men nodded to each other. The caped man stepped forward into the light of the many torches his men had placed around the church’s entrance.
“Catherine!” he called out. “I want to talk. Come out to the stairs and I swear you will not be harmed. Let us find a resolution to this.”
There was a long pause, then Jack’s heart caught in his throat as the door slowly creaked open. Two figures stepped out through the doorway into the light. One was a middle-aged man with coarse brown hair falling to his shoulders. A deep scar traced its way down one cheek. Jack recognized him instantly. This was Lord Xavier, the man whom Catherine had gone to negotiate with.
Catherine came out right behind him, her face weary, but her eyes flashing fire. Jack saw with anger that her right shoulder was stained crimson with blood, and that there were blood stains on other parts of her clothing as well. Things had not gone easily for the pair. He was tempted to ride in immediately, but if a truce was forming, he wanted to give her the opportunity to end things peacefully.
* * *
Fury welled up in Catherine as she gazed across the dark green at her cousin. When she had first spotted him outside the church, she had the fleeting hope that he had come in a rescue effort. It had quickly become all too clear that he was the mastermind behind the current inferno.
Her mouth curled in disdain. “Dear Cousin Raymond,” she snarled with cold hatred, “There is no oath you could swear that I could believe in. As I recall, you made a promise many years ago to defend the Bowyer people from all harm. Surely that was betrayed a hundred times over when you put every man, woman, and child to the sword.”
She shook her head, still not fully believing what he had done. “What sort of power could you possibly hope to gain? If you wanted to rule in my stead, and my exile was not enough for you, why not just kill me and have it done with?” Her voice broke on the last question, but she tossed back her head in defiant challenge.
Raymond’s ringing laughter rolled across the valley. “Oh, dear Catherine, do you still not understand what is going on? Of course I am going to kill you. Your noble sacrifice ...”
He chuckled to himself with mirth. “Oh my, you were always the one to try to do the honorable thing and save others.”
Catherine held Raymond’s gaze and tossed out her offer. “You wish my death? Then come forward and meet me in battle. Let us see once and for all who is the better fighter. Leave the rest of these innocents in peace.”
Lord Xavier put his hand on Catherine’s arm to restrain her, but she shook it off, taking a step forward.
To her chagrin, Raymond only laughed with glee. “Me, fight you? Oh my girl, that is not my style at all. I prefer a more supervisory role. It is my mercenaries who will cut you down. You will have the ignominious task of fighting - and falling to - the swords of hired hands.”
His eyes swept the landscape. “As for your villager friends, why they will all die, of course. I was simply offering to make the deaths quick, if you would come out quietly. If you wish, we are quite happy to burn you out and do this the hard way.”
Catherine shook her head in disbelief. “Why are you doing this?”
Raymond grin was a wolf’s smirk of delight. “Oh yes, I could reveal for you my motives - why your friends had to die, why your mother was slain while I watched. I could even tell you my end game; what all of this means.”
His smile became toothy. “However, I rather enjoy the thought of you dying in complete ignorance. Your last thought will be that you understand nothing at all. That sounds perfectly delightful to me.”
Raymond turned to the man at his side. “Conrad, you might be amused to learn that this woman in front of you is no other than Shadow, the lone wolf who has thwarted you several times in the past.”
Conrad’s eyes flashed, going over Catherine’s figure in a long, smooth look. “Well, look at that,” he commented with a low whistle. “First I was robbed a commission by her feigned death, and then she shows up in disguise to cause yet more problems.”
Raymond nodded in sympathy. “I do apologize about her assassination. The previous one had gone so smoothly that I had not expected any problems when we got down to her. Still, that is all behind us now.”
Conrad’s eyes sharpened, and he gave a knowing grin. “So you were the client on that one. I thought as much. Well then, what is the plan here?”
Raymond waved his hand. “She is all yours. I have been waiting for this for many years, and it will be sweet to watch as the last of the family is snuffed out. Kill her, please.”
Conrad gave a gleaming smile in response. “My pleasure,” he called out, then turned to face the pair standing on the church steps.
“Catherine, or Shadow, whatever name you wish to have on your stone, you have been a thorn in my side for far too long.” He drew his sword in salute, and touched it to his forehead. He held the gesture with a grin.
Catherine had been watching this exchange with forced detachment, willing herself to remain calm and focused. It did not matter now what list of crimes Raymond was responsible for. All that mattered was surviving this fight and protecting the innocent people who huddled in the church. If Raymond was going to allow her to face Conrad one on one, she would count her blessings in having that opportunity. One step at a time.
Conrad patiently waited for her move. Catherine drew smoothly and returned the salute, her eyes dark. At that, Conrad swung his sword to his right, finishing the salute. Then he gave his sword a spin and then called out to his men, “Attack at will, but the girl is mine!” A hearty cry went up, and the band stormed toward the church’s door.
To Catherine’s surprise, an echoing yell surrounded them from all sides. A voice sounding eerily like Jack’s rose above it.
“Defend the church!”
In an instant there was thundering of hoofbeats descending from both sides of the green. Most of the mercenaries wheeled, completely taken off guard by this double-fronted attack. Conrad, however, did not hesitate a moment in his drive. He had set his target and was driving toward Catherine. A wiry blond at his side zeroed in on Lord Xavier, and in a second the swords clanged as the pair of combatants locked in deadly combat.
Catherine fought with every ounce of her strength. There was no holding anything in reserve now. She was exhausted from a hard day of riding and from the fighting that had come and gone during the day. With the village in flames and the attack finally launched, it was time to either take down the mercenaries or die trying.
She had held out hope that her cousin could be reasoned with, but whatever his plan, it apparently involved the death of everyone here. She had to do her best to stay alive to protect them.
She feinted left, then drove hard right. The throbbing in her shoulder sent waves of pain throughout her body from where Raymond had caught her unawares earlier. It seemed like a lifetime ago.
She shook her head and blocked a twisting swing from Conrad, stumbling back a step. She had to focus.
Catherine desperately wanted to help defend Lord Xavier from this blond assailant, but Conrad was a skilled soldier and she had her hands more than full keeping his sword from her flesh. He was taking great care in his attacks, not underestimating her in any way. She glanced up at his eyes. They were dancing with delight - he was enjoying himself. He answered her look with an amused smile.
“If I had known before that you were Shadow, I would have spent much more time with you,” he laughed with a grin, flashing the sword in a deadly combination that nearly took out her eye. “It will be a shame to see you dead. If I had my way, I might keep you as a pet for a while.”
“I am not dead yet,” gritted out Catherine, making a quick stab to his left, which he avoided easily. The fight moved back and forth across the stairs, caught up in feints and quick movements. Conrad was quite her equal, and she felt it in every exchange. She was running out of tricks, and her strength was quickly fading.
It was time to gamble. Feigning a stumble, she went down hard on one knee. The move almost took the wind out of her, and she hoped against hope that he would come in quickly against her.
He did, moving hard, driving his blade home for the sure kill. She rolled easily out of the way, and came up with her dagger straight into his stomach.
He cried out in surprise, his momentum carrying him sailing past her. The motion ripped her dagger out of her hand. He landed on the bottom stair, looking up into the sky in shock. Then the light faded from his eyes, and he was dead.
Barely hesitating, Catherine spun to run up alongside Xavier. His opponent was Marc, the second in command of the mercenary group. Marc had already been wounded several times in the exchange, and as she reached the top step, Xavier gave a final blow to his neck. Marc dropped like a stone, and lay still.
Xavier looked up at her approach and clapped her on her good shoulder in pleasure. “You are all right, thank God,” he breathed gratefully.
The two turned to put their back to the door again, surveying the scene. The horsemen who had ridden in were circling through the village, engaging the mercenaries. Then, through the smoke and fire, Catherine spotted a spiral medallion with a deep blue center. A sweeping sense of relief gave her fresh strength.
Jack had come for her.
She wat
ched as he fought with a mercenary, flinging himself down off his horse to topple the man over. He rolled twice and then came up with a sharp slash that opened the man up across his chest. The mercenary dropped back, dead. Jack surged to his feet, his eyes turning toward the church.
Looking up, his eyes met with hers. For a long, powerful moment, their connection spanned the green, the world around them quieted, and it was as if her breath suspended. Jack’s face glistened with sweat and determination as the fires raged behind him and the smoke welled up toward the sky in thick billows. She knew from his eyes that there had never been any question of his coming to her rescue.
With a shout, he raced across the green toward her at a hard run.
She called out in anguish as a man stepped between Jack and her, causing him to pull up short. Exhausted as she was, she started forward at a sprint, only to be restrained by Lord Xavier’s strong arm around her waist. The new combatant was her cousin Raymond, untouched by any wound, barely involved in the fighting. He was fresh, well fed, well rested, and he eyed the medallion at Jack’s chest with unabashed interest.
“Well, well, now. What have we here?” crooned Raymond with bright curiosity. “I have not seen a blue medallion in, what, fifteen years. Not since dear Catherine’s father passed away. Tragic, that. Is not that right, my sweet cousin?”
He looked over his shoulder at Catherine, who had fallen to her knees in exhaustion and frustration. Xavier still held her on the steps by one arm. “Ah yes, I see now that yours is golden. How silly of me not to have noticed it before. I am afraid I had other things on my mind. Your death, the destruction of the village ...”
* * *
