Page 40 of One Knight in the Forest

Chapter Fourteen

Hot, sharp, excruciating pain spread through Cyn’s torso. As the roar died in his throat, he staggered back. Northcliff brought the dagger plunging down again, narrowly missing Cyn’s arm. Recoiling, Cyn retreated several more steps, his right boot knocking against a chair leg.

Ah, God, but his head reeled with the pain in his shoulder. The interior of the tavern spun before his eyes, making him want to drop to his knees and retch.

Never would he yield. He had to save Redmond and Magdalen, to ensure that justice triumphed. Never would he fail to fulfill his duty.

Oh, God, Magdalen. He’d finally found a reason to start living again. If anything happened to her…

A woman’s cry carried over the noise of vicious fighting. Magdalen had seen his wound.

The devastation in her voice tore at him, but he didn’t dare wrest his gaze from Northcliff, who was stalking him, his knife raised, waiting for an advantageous moment to attack. Pain and rage coiled within Cyn, for this fight would end. Now. If Northcliff was prepared to stab a sheriff, he might harm a lady, and Cyn would die before he let anyone harm Magdalen.

As he held Northcliff’s challenging stare, Cyn heard William shouting. He was issuing orders. However, his words were indistinct over the crashes, yells, and grunts from squabbling drunkards and his men battling traitors. Was William ordering his guards to subdue the traitors, or was he telling them to overpower Cyn?

Northcliff dropped to a crouch. Spurred by a surge of fury, Cyn lunged, careening into the lout and sending him backward into the vertical wooden post. As they collided, agony jarred through Cyn. He ground his teeth, smothered a pained yell. Northcliff’s head knocked against the post, briefly stunning him, and Cyn grabbed the dagger from the younger lord’s hand and tossed it onto the floor, where it skidded under a table.

“Bastard,” Northcliff choked out. He clawed at the front of Cyn’s cloak, trying to sink his fingers into Cyn’s wound.

Cyn slammed his fist into Northcliff’s jaw, causing the lout’s head to hit the post a second time. Groaning, his eyes rolling, Northcliff slowly slid down to the floor.

As Cyn straightened, grimacing at his discomfort, he saw William intercept two men trying to reach Redmond, who had retreated halfway up the stairs. Cyn’s heart kicked hard in his chest, for William was defending the London official. Relief rippled through him, along with intense gratitude.

Metal clashed, drawing his gaze to Redmond’s guard who had returned from the upper level and was protecting not only the London official, but his fellow guard, bleeding and crumpled on the bottom stair.

And Magdalen…

Cyn’s frantic gaze swept the room of fighters that included William’s men-at-arms, who were preventing anyone inside from leaving. A wise strategy. Magdalen wasn’t in the front part of the room, though.

Dread settling like a stone in his gut, Cyn wiped sweat from his eyes and continued to search for her. Had she found a safe place to hide until the brawling was over? Mayhap she’d gone behind the bar, where the proprietor and serving wenches were huddled, only their heads visible. He couldn’t see her there, but—

Two men crashed into a table, and as they fell, he spied her. Her hood had fallen away from her head, and her cloak had become unpinned, baring her left shoulder. Her long braid swayed at her back as she limped to the hearth.

What in hellfire was she doing?

He hurried toward her. “Magdalen,” he bellowed, hoping she’d hear him over the cacophony. By some miracle, she did. Turning, she held up her left hand, clasping a small, wrapped object: the vial of poison.

She was going to destroy it—

Northcliff shoved past, pushing Cyn sideways into a vacant chair. Cursing, Cyn tried to break his fall. He caught hold of the chair and steadied himself against the sturdy oak table, while his blood dripped onto the furniture. Willing his pain and dizziness to abate, he staggered after Northcliff.

Eyes widening, Magdalen hobbled for the fire. No doubt she was moving as fast as she could, but her injury was slowing her down.

“Hurry, Magdalen!” Cyn cried.

Coming up behind Northcliff, Cyn grabbed the back of the lord’s tunic and yanked, but Northcliff fought, punching Cyn’s wound. In acute agony, Cyn reeled back. Vomit scalded the back of his mouth.

Just steps from the hearth, Northcliff grabbed hold of Magdalen’s braid. She shrieked and lashed out with the knife Cyn had given her, but Northcliff knocked it from her hand. It fell to the hearth tiles, out of her reach.

Swallowing what was in his mouth, Cyn plowed forward. He had to save Magdalen. Her head pulled back at an awkward angle, she struggled in Northcliff’s grip.

“Give me the vial,” the young lord shouted.

“Nay!” She gasped.

Cyn clamped his right arm around the young lord’s neck. He squeezed hard. Choking, Northcliff clawed at Cyn’s arm, but Cyn held tight.

The lord’s face reddened, but he refused to let go of Magdalen’s hair; he twisted it around his hand, tightening his imprisoning grip even more. Increasing the pressure of his arm, Cyn forced Northcliff to turn sideways, in hopes of easing Magdalen’s torment. Her head still twisted at an odd angle, she was fumbling with the bag at her hip, while keeping the vial out of Northcliff’s reach.