To the devil with Hugh.
Draven pulled himself up carefully into his saddle. His back throbbed in protest, but he had fought with worse wounds than this.
Indeed, his father had once broken his arm apurpose then forced him to use the broken arm to sword fight.
Setting his heels to the flanks of his horse, Draven led his men to Falswyth.
When they reached the small village, the carnage made him ill. Most of the homes and buildings were burning while bodies laid scattered about. He heard a woman screaming. Draven leapt from his horse and kicked open the door to one of the few building still intact.
The woman had been tossed onto the table and was being held by four men as a fifth lifted her skirt to rape her.
Unsheathing his sword, he set upon her attackers with a vengeance. As he killed the last of them a shadow fell over him. He turned, sword raised, to find Hugh behind him.
Hugh nodded in approval, then turned about and left.
Draven lowered his sword and took a moment to make sure the woman was still intact.
“Thank you, milord.” She sobbed uncontrollably.
He said nothing, then went to join the men fighting outside. It was then he saw Hugh facing a man wearing a surcoat that bore a striking resemblance to his own. But worse than the fact that someone dared impersonate him was the fact that the imposter was about to kill Emily’s father.
Hugh fought hard, but he was not match for the younger, more agile knight.
Draven ran toward them, his sword raised. He reached them just in time to deflect a blow that would have surely separated Hugh’s head from his shoulders.
Hugh stumbled back as Draven engaged the knight. The man was strong, but even so if Draven had been well, he would have been no match for him.
As it was now though, Draven felt himself weakening with every blow. He could feel the wounds of his back opening up and blood oozing down his back.
His attacker caught him an upward blow that caused him to stagger back. Before he could recover, another blow sent him reeling to the ground.
Draven landed hard on his back. He gasped as pain exploded throughout his entire being. He could scarce draw a breath, let alone move his limbs.
His opponent lifted his sword straight up. Draven prepared himself for the death blow, but just as the knight plunged the sword down, Hugh caught him about his waist and knocked him away.
Awkwardly, painfully, Draven rolled to his side then and forced himself to stand. Yet it was hard. Every part of him ached.
He staggered toward his horse where he grabbed onto his saddle to keep himself upright.
He glanced back to where Hugh still fought the imposter and saw the second attacker moving for Hugh’s back.
Without thought, Draven grabbed his dagger from his girdle and hurled it with fatal precision into the attacker’s back. Hugh saw the man fall, then with renewed strength he finished off the man he fought.
His strength gone, Draven tried to pull himself back into his saddle. It was no use.
He sank to his knees.
“Ravenswood?”
He heard Hugh’s voice as if it came from a great distance. Someone removed his helm, but Draven couldn’t be sure who it was. The pain was too great.
He looked up into Hugh’s face as it swam above him.
“Boy, don’t you die out here. You hear me?”
Draven couldn’t respond. Closing his eyes, he let the darkness take him.
Emily ran to the steps as soon as she heard the men returning. Her sister Joanne joined her by her side.
