Ranger of Kings (William of Alamore Series Book 1)

by C. J. R. Isely

  Ahead of them, Will saw a snowball, thrown by Rowan, smack into Sir Ross’s back and had to bite back his laughter as the knight spun his horse and barked at Rowan to get back in line. Rockwood leaned over a grabbed a handful of snow himself, pelting his squire in the face.

  “Good to see that Rockwood and Rowan are so compatible,” Haru said, trotting to ride alongside his knight.

  Richard laughed. “You should have seen Rockwood when he got permission to take Rowan on as his squire, he was over the moon,” he faltered, looking to either side before twisting to look behind them. “Robin, kick that horse and catch up, won’t you?”

  Will turned as well. Robin was sitting tall in the saddle, his head turned to the thick forest on their left. His horse had stopped moving but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Robin,” Richard said, his voice a low warning.

  Robin didn’t seem to hear, lifting his reins to face the grey toward the forest. Richard and Will pulled up short, Colin and Haru halting a few paces ahead. Richard drew his sword and a thrill of panic tore through Will’s chest as he grappled for the dagger in his belt. “Robin?” Sir Richard called again, this time his voice was strained.

  At last, Robin turned to face them, shaking his head as if to clear it. He opened his mouth to call back, seeming to relax, just as the arrow broke free of the trees and planted itself deep into the packhorse’s side.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The grey screamed in pain and fear, his head twisting upwards, scarlet staining the snow as he stumbled and fell, Robin’s leg trapped beneath him for a moment before standing and bolting in the other direction. Robin lay in the snow, unmoving, and Will’s heart froze as he wondered if the blood only belonged to the horse.

  Sir Richard let out a roar of fury and dug his heels into his horse. The horse sprang forward into a gallop. Visra, ears flat to his neck, leapt after him, nearly unseating Will. He grappled with the reins, pressing himself into the black mane. He could hear others behind him, more yelling. Ahead, drawing ever closer, was the prone form of Robin on the ground. Will could see that he was struggling to his feet, a stunned look on his face. A second arrow flew from the trees, missing Robin by inches as he stumbled.

  Richard pulled his horse to a halt beside Robin and Visra, at last, stopped, his hooves sliding on the frozen earth beneath the snow. Will spun round to see that Rockwood and Ross were galloping toward the tree line, Ross raising his sword high in the air, Rockwood pressed nearly flat on his horse’s neck. Out of the trees, three dark forms appeared, a stark contrast on the white snow.

  “Robin, get over here,” Richard barked. Will looked down at the older squire. The young man’s face was pale, strained with pain, as he reached out for Richard’s saddle. Richard turned his horse so that its body shielded Robin from the direction that the arrows had flown. “Are you alright?” Richard demanded. “Can you ride?”

  Robin looked between them, wild-eyed, his clothing spattered with snow and blood. “I think so,” he gasped. “I’m not armed though! Ross won’t give me so much as a dagger. How can I fight?”

  Richard snorted. “You are not about to be armed if this is Thornten, boy,” Haru pulled his horse up short beside his knight, blocking Robin’s other side. “Haru, he rides with you,” Richard barked. “Get him and Will out of here, now.”

  “What about you?” Haru demanded.

  Richard was already turning his horse toward the tree line, where the first clash of steel on steel rose. “I’m helping the others. Get him out of here, now!” the knight didn’t give Haru the chance to protest, urging his horse into a run with a lion-like roar of fury.

  “You heard him, get up here,” Haru snapped at Robin.

  Robin hesitated, looking between Will and Haru. “I’ll make you a target.”

  “The archer isn’t as scary as an angry Sir Richard, I guarantee that,” Haru leaned down, gripping Robin’s arm and pulling him onto the roan horse. “I’ll take my chances,” the red-haired squire turned to Will, his jaw set. “Get toward the Kings, guard them,” Will nodded and loosened Visra’s reins. The horse, already on edge, reared up on his hind legs and spun toward where the other three squires stood; a barely armed wall of defense for two Kings.

  A grunt behind him made Will glanced over his shoulder as the horse ran. He saw Haru doubled forward in his saddle, , Robin struggling to keep the red-haired squire from falling off of Haru’s galloping roan.. Visra slowed as he reached the others, not waiting for Will’s cue before sidestepping in beside Colin’s solid red horse.

  Haru was gripping the front of his right shoulder as he slowed, his teeth gritted, blood rapidly darkening the front of his tunic.

  “Haru!” the King made to slide from his horse but the red-haired squire shook his head.

  “Stay there,” he ordered, grimacing. “It’s nothing deep, just sliced across the front,” he removed his hand from the wound, looking down at it. Will could see the sliced fabric and, beneath it, neatly torn flesh. “We’re lucky we weren’t going faster or he’d have done more serious damage.”

  A shout caught all their attention. Turning toward the knights, they saw two riders break loose from Ross, Richard, Dannix, and Rockwood. They were riding, hard, toward their group while still more appeared from the forest.

  Will heard the hiss of steel as the King drew his sword. “Squires, stand down, that’s an order,” he said, his voice cool. “Focus on self-defense,” he threw King Giltor a grim smile. “I guess you are going to get a first taste of fighting with Thornten.”

  The other King let out a bark of laughter. “It’s about time I see how sharp this blade is,”

  Will gripped his dagger tighter, noticing that Colin and Rowan were doing likewise as Haru struggled to straighten himself, hand resting on the hilt of his own sword. Treck, pale-faced and shaking slightly, gripped a short sword in a white-knuckled hand.

  The first man to reach them ran straight for the King of Alamore. The King blocked and parried gracefully, Talloe dancing in a tight circle, biting and striking at the opposing horse. Giltor charged at the second man before he had a chance to reach them, driving unexpected and heavy blows against the man’s sword. Will pulled Visra closer to the others, watching the approach of more Thornten riders. They were outnumbered and too scattered; the knights too far away to be of help and the two Kings locked in their own combat.

  “This is ridiculous,” Rowan snarled, eyes flashing dangerously.

  “Rowan,” Colin warned, “we were ordered to stand down.”

  ““Forget the orders!” and, with that, Rowan grabbed the end of his reins and brought it across Naja’s neck, slapping him in the flank. The horse bolted toward the oncoming riders in surprise.

  “The moron!” Haru roared, slapping his horse to follow while Robin grappled to grab the back of the saddle for support.

  “ROWAN!” Visra and Strider launched after them together, the sound of Treck’s whoop on their heels.

  The riders were taken by surprise as Rowan and his horse crashed into the first one, Rowan bringing his reins around to slap the man’s horse. The Thornten rider’s horse startled sideways, off seating the man into the snow. Surprise, was wearing off quickly as the others reached them. Will had to turn Visra hard to avoid a man reaching for his reins. He plunged his dagger into the man’s arm, trying to ignore the scream of pain. Hot red blood splattered across him and Visra for a moment before the man was drawing away, Will’s dagger still in his arm.

  Unarmed, Will resorted to driving Visra at others. The large bay didn’t hesitate, striking and biting at horses and riders alike. Will himself ducked, twisted, punched and grabbed as he fought to stay alive in the saddle. They were too outnumbered.

  He heard a cry and saw Haru hit the snow, a black-haired rider bearing down on him, sword raised to plummet into Haru’s chest. The world around him seemed to stand still as he saw the man’s face, and recognized the cold eyes and snarling fury of Marl.

  “HARU!” Will
dug both heels into Visra and the horse struggled to push harder, the distance between he and Haru too great, blocked by too many other riders. He wasn’t even sure that his voice could be heard, if he was screaming aloud or in his head until Marl hesitated, turning toward him. The man pulled the reins of his arch necked black horse and a cold smile turned his lips upwards.

  Hot hatred filled Will’s chest. “Come on, Vis,” he pleaded the horse. Visra obeyed, leaping forward so his chest knocked into the hips of a horse that had been moving toward Rowan. He was nearly to Marl. He had to keep him distracted or, better yet, find a way to kill him. An image flashed into Will’s head; Marl lying, motionless, blank-eyed, and staring on the snow because of him. His body froze up as if in protest to the idea. Marl had nearly reached him, he was raising his sword, and Will’s hands had stopped working, he couldn’t steer Visra, couldn’t maneuver to save himself.

  “So nice of you to visit me again,” Marl laughed, his voice dripping with venom. “I wish you could stay longer, but,” and he struck, snake fast, his blade aiming straight for Will’s chest.

  “NO!” someone yelled and a figure on a red roan horse crashed into Marl and his grey. Marl turned to fight his attacker but the slighter man had forced his sword hand up and was twisting his wrist backward, pushing into Marl with all of his strength in a mad attempt to unseat him.

  “You damn traitor!” Marl snarled, bringing his foot out of his stirrup and up to kick Robin in the stomach. Robin gasped, reflexively releasing the more powerful man. Marl collected his reins from his horse’s neck, turning the animal at Robin, baring his teeth in a snarl.

  “Will, get out of here!” Robin ordered, his eyes never leaving those of the man before him.

  The words sent a jolt through Will, sending his hair on end and freeing his muscles. Robin, unarmed, was steering Haru’s horse in a tight spin to avoid a strike from Marl’s sword meant to kill the animal. Visra, ears flat, nostrils pulled back in fury, didn’t hesitate when Will gave him his head.

  The bay struck, hard and fast, his teeth sinking into Marl’s right thigh. Marl screamed and turned to strike at Visra but Will had pulled the reins again, too hard this time, and Visra was rising up on his hind legs, striking out with his front legs.

  A bellowing horn broke through the sound of fighting. The deep sound resonated in Will’s chest but he didn’t take his eyes off of Marl, mere strides ahead of him. Marl’s black eyes flitted between Will and Robin, his face twisted in hatred and pain as he clutched his bleeding leg with his sword free left hand.

  “I will end this, Will,” he snarled, “I promise that. I will end this with your blood on my sword,” he slid the blade back into its sheath. “FALL BACK!” he roared and kicked the grey. Neither Robin nor Will moved to stop him as he galloped back toward the woods. His men followed, along with two rider-less horses, their heads high and eyes rolled back in fear.

  Another horn blow made Will turn. A smaller band of riders was cantering across the red expanse of snow. Green pennants with a gold horse head fluttered above them. “Finnwick,” Robin said, gasping. “Will, get over here and have my back, we need to check on Haru.”

  Will turned, heart filling his throat. How had he already forgotten that he had been trying to save Haru?

  “No need,” he felt his face flood with relief as the red-haired squire limped toward them, resting a hand on the roan’s side. “but give me back my damn horse.”

  Robin laughed, swinging down and thumping Haru on the back. “You need to work on your balance.”

  “You need to work on keeping your horse,” Haru grumbled. Robin had to hold the stirrup steady for Haru to swing on, his leg was trembling so badly. “I nearly got trampled.”

  “You three alright?” Colin was trotting toward them, Rowan and Treck at his sides.

  “Good enough,” Robin said darkly. Will noticed his eyes were on the forest, where the last of the riders was vanishing, Rockwood and Dannix in close pursuit.

  “Alamore riders, I take it?” a deep voice called to them.

  The group of squires turned toward the approaching party. The man in the lead was smiling grimly down at them, his black hair, streaked with grey, windswept back and his matching beard flecked with snow. “I would have sent a patrol to meet you, had I had word you would be coming.”

  “Kenta,” The King was cantering toward them, Talloe’s sides heaving with exhaustion. “I guess we are lucky you were riding through.”

  “Lucky?” Kenta let out a bark of laughter. “I am not sure I’d describe being attacked as luck myself, Revlan, but you have always had a better perspective on these matters than I have.”

  The King beamed. “Attack is inevitable in my line of trade.”

  “Extraordinarily true,” Kenta’s eyes moved between each rider as Ross, Richard, and Giltor reached their group, Rockwood and Dannix not far behind. “I have a feeling that this is an attack closely related to why you’ve come to pay me a visit.”

  “Unfortunately so,” said the King.

  “Very well,” Kenta tightened the reins on his chestnut horse. “I prefer to discuss these matters away from prying eyes and ears,” his eyes settled on Robin, standing between Will and Haru. “It must have been your horse that galloped through our patrol this morning then.”

  Robin nodded. “Must have been.”

  “It’s a bit far to walk in this weather,” Kenta’s grey eyes settled on Will, “Can he ride with you?”

  Will nodded without hesitation. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Thanks, Will,” Robin lifted himself onto Visra’s back behind the saddle. The bay’s ears pinned flat for a moment before he sighed, seeming to resign himself to his fate.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Will had no idea how they had gotten off as luckily as they had. Robin’s horse, captured and already at Finnwick, was the most injured among the party. The puncture, had he not started to move when he had, would have been through his heart. Nevertheless, the deep hole in his shoulder would need tending to for some weeks and Earl Kenta had told them he would not allow them to move the grey.

  As they entered the courtyard to the small castle and dismounted, they could see that a stable hand was already tending the horse, pressing a rag filled with snow against the open wound. Without a word, Robin made toward his mount. Will stepped forward to take the reins of the King’s horse.

  King Giltor gave him a distrusting look as King Revlan thanked Will. Then Giltor snorted, holding out his own reins. “Take mine as well, boy.”

  Will nodded, refusing to meet the man’s eyes. His stomach was twisting in knots, his side ached as the adrenaline was ebbing, and he was sure there was nothing he wanted to do less than be scrutinized by this King.

  “I can take Visra,” Rowan offered, taking the reins to the bay horse. “He gets along well enough with Rockwood’s and mine.”

  “Kenta,” Ross called to the Earl, sliding onto the ground. “Do you, perhaps, have someone who can show the squires where our horses will rest?”

  “Of course,” Kenta said in his deep calming tone. “My squire, Frell, was about to bring in my horse. I imagine that he would be able to bring the horses in and show the squires around while we discuss matters inside,” he nodded toward pointed-faced, black-haired boy holding his horse’s reins.

  The boy, a few years older than Will, he guessed, nodded curtly at Kenta’s words. “Naturally, Sir,” he smiled politely to the Alamore squires and Robin, who had taken the stable hand’s position of holding snow to his horse’s shoulder. “We can get them groomed down some, there are heated basins in the wash stalls and plenty of blankets for them to dry off with,” he clucked to the two horses he held. Both animals moved obediently forward after him.

  Will pulled on his two charges, neither of which moved with the same enthusiasm as Frell’s horses. Frell led them into a bright barn. Skylight windows had been opened to allow fresh air in, large iron bellied stoves were spaced throughout. The barn, though smaller than the o
ne in Alamore, made Will’s jaw drop. The light wood was polished to a shine. Each horse wore a rich green blanket, their manes braided, their coats shining. Four large stalls were open on one side, with the heated water basins Frell had mentioned. He waved his arm for Will to tie his two horses in the first two wash stalls, calling for Colin to bring Ross’s paint and Haru to bring forward his roan next.

  “We only have the four wash stalls,” Frell said, apologetically, “but we will make it work. These ones seem to have the most blood on them, plus this white horse and the paint will stain before the darker,” he hesitated, looking at Will with a furrowed brow. “I’m sorry, I completely didn’t get anyone’s names.”

  “Will,” Will held out his hand and Frell moved both sets of reins to one hand to shake it.

  “Great, Will. There are rags on that shelf above each basin, as well as soft brushes. Buckets are at the back of the stall. I’d start with that white horse; he’s going to need cleaned more. Once I have these two put on the crossties, I can wash down the blue roan. And you are?” he raised his eyebrows at Colin.