Having left the roof of the other building, his two comrades ran up the steps. "What happened?" MacGirk asked.
"He broke my arm!"
Cyrus grunted. What a lie. "Climb back up and I'll break the other one, you traitor!" he yelled down.
Reeves nocked an arrow and shot upward. Cyrus dodged back. If he could get the knave to shoot a few more times, he would be out of arrows.
Cyrus waved his sword over the ladder. "Come on up, lads. The view is grand from here."
After cutting off a piece of his plaid, he wrapped it around the tip of his blade and pushed it gradually over the ladder. Another arrow whizzed by and landed on the roof.
"Not a very good shot, are you?" Cyrus taunted, peering over the side.
"Release, you imbecile!" MacGirk ordered.
Another arrow flew skyward, then landed behind him.
"I'm growing bored waiting for you to come up here and get me!" Cyrus told them.
"We'll wait for you to come down," MacGirk said. "We can wait all day."
"Nay! My arm," MacGuire moaned. "Take me to a healer."
"I'll set it myself if you'll just shut your gob for a minute, you sniveling bairn!" MacGirk snapped.
"Nay!"
Cyrus peered over the edge to see what the three idiots were doing.
The younger man with the broken arm saw him first. "Shoot at him!"
Reeves aimed and let fly another arrow. Cyrus ducked back, then looked over the edge again. The archer reached over his shoulder for another arrow but found the quiver empty.
"Shoot!" MacGirk yelled.
"I'm out of arrows. You'll have to take him out with your sword."
Cyrus sent a malicious grin down at them, nocked one of their arrows into his bow and aimed at MacGirk.
"He's got a bow!" Both men flattened themselves against the side of the building.
Ha. Cyrus loved surprising his enemies. He could just make out the lower leg and foot of one guard—Reeves—as they hid beneath an overhang. Angling his body for a better shot, Cyrus released the arrow. It pinned the man's foot to the wooden landing. He screeched.
MacGirk bolted down the stairs, once again abandoning his comrades. They yelled after him.
When MacGirk reached the bottom staircase, Cyrus aimed between the wooden steps and let the arrow fly. It embedded into the MacGirk's shoulder.
"You bastard!" he roared but kept on running.
Knowing the knave would ride as fast as he could to that rat Henry, Cyrus moved to the side of the building near the street. MacGirk sprinted toward his horse. Cyrus aimed another one of their arrows at the man's arse and released it. The point struck MacGirk's thigh, and he sprawled to the ground, yelling curses. When he returned to the other side of the roof, the two guards on the stairs sounded much the same.
"I'm coming down, lads," Cyrus told them. "If you're still lying there whining when I get there, you'll regret it."
Reeves broke the arrow's shaft and yanked his foot off it, screaming the entire time. He tried to leap over MacGuire, who rose up at the same time, tripping him. Reeves flipped through the air and down the stairs, squawking like a giant bird as he tumbled.
Cyrus snorted. He hadn't seen such entertainment in a long while.
MacGuire was knocked back to the floor, landing on his broken arm again. He shouted.
