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“See here, sire,” Benjamin said as he held the arrow up. The black goo did not drip as I would have thought but had congealed at the tip of the arrow. He held it over the fire, and the tip immediately burst into flame. I jumped back, startled from the flash. The man grinned, and his obvious jocularity at my reaction might have ended his life on another day, but the importance of the flaming arrow caught my attention instead.
It did not burn out right away, nor did the flame creep up the rest of the wooden shaft. Instead, it flamed only at the tip for a good minute before he drew back his bow and let the arrow fly at a straw target in the field. The bale went up in flames almost immediately.
“What do you call it?” I asked.
“Pitch, my king,” Lord William replied. The way he addressed me did not escape my notice. As a resident of Wynton, Lord William’s king was Edgar, not me.
“And Edgar knows nothing of this?”
“If he does, it is not because anyone from Wynton has told him,” Lord William assured me. His hand went to my shoulder. “We are loyal to Silverhelm, my king. That never changed in the people’s hearts.”
“I hope what little help I could get to you was useful,” I said. When Edgar starved those who did not readily accept his rule, Alexandra had convinced me to send food and other aid to the people of Wynton. Sir Rylan and Seacrest had also provided supplies, and Lord William knew this.
“Many more would have perished without it.” Lord William nodded.
“How much of this...pitch do you have?” I asked the blacksmith.
Young Benjamin’s grin was accompanied by waggling eyebrows.
“Plenty.”
*****
This was it.
We crested the hillside that marked the edge of Edgar’s lands. Over a handful of rolling hills, the castle walls could be seen. There was a small group of farms and shacks in the outlying areas, but we passed them by. No one was in the fields, and no one came out to either stop us or join us. I would not kill innocents, but anyone who stood up for Hadebrand would not live to see another day.
Less than an hour later, we could see movement near the castle walls as a large group of soldiers, most of them wearing the red armor of Hadebrand, moved into place to stop us. They obviously knew of our coming, but not far enough in advance to truly prepare. I could see the castle gates close and the archers line up on the walls as we approached.
I did not hear them in time, but I saw swift movement in the sky. I yelled at the men to raise shields, but they did not move fast enough. As arrows fell all around us, many of the serfs near the front line were pierced and fell to the ground. Shields went up all around, but it was not enough to protect them all.
“Advance!” I called out. The slower they moved, the more likely they were to be hit. I spurred Romero on, and he whinnied as he increased his speed. “Keep up!”
The foot soldiers began to march forward, protecting some of the peasants and serfs with their shields as they moved. The archers from Silverhelm and from Wynton were not close enough to start picking off the bowmen on the walls and in the towers—the angle was still too great at this distance. Those with crossbows, which included Rylan, began to fire from the front rows—aiming for the knights on horseback. The thick bolts drove home with enough force to pierce through their armor, and they fell noisily from their mounts.
The rest of the archers stayed behind the cavalry of Sawyer and Silverhelm. They were prepared with traditional arrows to use at first, but once they were within range, they would rain down fire over the walls of Hadebrand’s castle. I could still hear the rumbling of wheels on the road as the siege weaponry followed behind the rest of us.
We did not slow our pace, and as we re
ached the field outside the gates of Hadebrand’s castle, Edgar’s army moved forward. I raised my sword up high, cried out to the cavalry, and led the charge as we rushed to close the remaining distance.
With my eyes focused on the men in red before me, I was in my element. I rode without thought into the middle of the grouping, and my sword drew blood every time I swung my arm. Romero snorted and pawed at the ground, but he also knew his place in battle and did not rear up or spook. In the eyes of each man I encountered, I saw Edgar. I saw the one who tried—and had succeeded in many ways—to hurt her. I saw the man who was now holding her captive and endangering our child.
Though she was in the back of my mind and pushing me forward in my attack, I still dared not think of her openly. I growled with hatred as I stabbed into the eye-slit of one soldier’s helm before I turned Romero in a wide circle and ducked to avoid a lance that was aimed at my throat.
From the ground, three men approached me at once—each holding a mace. They were not in the red armor of Hadebrand but in plain, unmarked armor instead. As the first approached, I spun Romero around and pulled back—causing him to rear up and lash out with his hooves at the first man. The fighter was hit square in the forehead and dropped to the ground. The other two moved to either side—flanking me and leaving me at a disadvantage. I backed up my mount and watched them carefully as they drew near.
They both rushed me at the same time, and I managed to swing my sword at one as I kicked at the other. It was not enough though the one who met with my blade was injured. I felt the mace hit me in the back, and with a gasp, I fell from Romero and landed heavily on my side. I rolled and pushed myself up on my knees just as my attacker rushed around and came at me. His arm swung in a full arc, bringing the head of his mace toward my shoulder. I parried to the side and knocked at his weapon with the blade of my sword. He came at me again, and my eyes met with his as his mace flew through the air at me once more. I jumped forward and reached for his arm just to slow the swipe, and my sword came around and bashed him in the side of the head.
He stumbled and fell, which gave me time to get back to my feet and meet his next attack without the disadvantage. Our weapons clashed over and over as we fought, neither of us gaining the advantage over the other.
I felt my anger grow. This man—this mercenary—helped Edgar in his plot to take Alexandra from me. He may have even been there when she was abducted. It was his type who had no loyalty or sense of honor but instead fought for nothing more than the pleasure of carrying gold in his pockets. He sickened me. They all sickened me.
I grabbed at his arm and linked it with my own elbow, holding the rough fighter close to me as I tried to get my sword around and in position to cut through his studded armor. He growled and bared his teeth at me as he brought his forearm up quickly, knocking me to one side. I spun around and swung my sword at his head, clipping his ear and drawing a thin line of blood from his neck.
He parried my next blow, moving back a few feet—back on the defensive as blood began to flow freely from the wound. His next attack went wild and threw him off balance, giving me a chance to step in behind him and knock him to the ground. My blade came to rest between his shoulder blades, and I turned quickly to call for Romero.
I did not get the chance, for when I turned around, I was met with a familiar face.
