“First blood,” called a voice with a Balcovian accent.
The wounded soldier was immediately replaced by a fresh combatant.
“These narrow embrasure windows are for shooting arrows, not throwing daggers,” Graham said apologetically. “In open air, Kuni doesn’t miss. She’s aiming to scare, not to kill.”
“She’s doing an excellent job. Look, they’re retreating!”
Reddington and his soldiers backed up several yards until they were out of range of the flying blades.
“Maybe not retreating,” Stephen allowed. “More like reevaluating.”
Another loudthwacksounded in the forest. This time, followed by a thundering boom. A tall elm crashed forward from the line of trees.
Axes in hand, a half-dozen soldiers swarmed the fallen tree, hacking its branches free until they were left with nothing more than a long, thick trunk.
“A battering ram,” Stephen breathed. “The men weren’t retreating. They were changing tactics.”
“Contingency number sixteen,” Graham said with a grimace.
Precisely eight men hefted the heavy trunk and aimed it toward the castle.
The spectators wisely arranged their blankets near the safety of the forest, watching the skirmish with rapt expressions and eager shouts.
Stephen gripped the stone windowsill. “Here they come…”
Daggers sailed through the castle loopholes as the men approached. Fat, wet, red splotches appeared on their uniforms.
Graham blinked. “Did Kuni just—”
“It’s Marjorie,” Stephen said in delight. “I made a slight modification to her and Adrian’s machine before placing it before the upstairs windows. We may not have bullets, but we have plenty of red paint.”
In the confusion, Reddington replaced his paint-splattered men with fresh soldiers.
The men visibly gritted their teeth against the onslaught of daggers and paint, charging forward with their battering ram until—
Boom.
“It didn’t work!” Graham crowed.
“Not yet,” Stephen agreed. “It can take a few hits to break down a door. What happened to the ladies’ daggers? This is the perfect time to attack, whilst they’re readjusting for the next strike.”
“Shite.” Graham glanced around the turret, then started stuffing the daggers confiscated from Reddington’s men into an empty leather satchel. “Our side is running out of supplies.”
Boom.
The walls of the castle vibrated with the impact. Stephen dropped the satchel to race around the turret, righting his displaced equipment.
Gaining confidence, the soldiers backed up to give the battering ram one last running start.
Boom.
This time, a sickening crack accompanied the boom, followed by the dull thud of a gigantic, heavy wooden door falling flat against a stone floor.
Stephen grappled for his telescopes and pulleys. “They’re in?”
“Not yet.”
He rushed over in time to see the two warrioresses spring out from the new hole.
