He groaned softly. “Of course you don’t. I’ll meet you in the forest to the south.”
“I’ll see you then,” I said. I tugged his coil of rope away from him and looped it around my shoulder. Then I turned my attention to the men, who were now all waiting for further instructions. “Go with Baron,” I told them. “He’ll get you out safely.” I then hurried to the opposite side of the dining hall before they could raise any objections.
I only hoped I could make enough noise and chaos that every guard in this wretched place would be too busy scrambling to notice a mass jailbreak happening right beneath their noses. Baron and the others needed time. I was going to give it to them, no matter what.
I sprinted across the castle’s far side, slipping between shadowed archways and ducking behind stone buttresses whenever a guard’s footsteps grew too close.
The narrow stairwell spiraled upward toward the tallest turret. My boots thudded softly against the stone as I climbed, two steps at a time, snatching a lit torch from its sconce without breaking stride. At the final rung, I shoved at the trapdoor overhead.
A guard stood there, squinting down at my cowled head.
“I’m your relief,” I muttered, keeping my head bowed and my voice gruffer than usual as I pushed the trapdoor fully open.
“What? But?—”
He didn’t get to finish. I surged upward, grabbing the front of his tunic and yanking him forward. One twist, one sweep of my leg, and he toppled hard. A single sharp strike to the bridge of his nose sent his eyes rolling back. He slumped unconscious at my feet.
I let out a snort of disgust. I’d almost hoped he’d put up a better fight. I needed something to release the nerves coiled tight in my stomach.
I dragged him aside and slammed the trapdoor shut again. It locked with a satisfyingclack. At least now, no one would come barreling up behind me and I had a solidly defensible position. Below me, there was an entire castle to torment.
A grin tugged at my lips. “Time to start a little mayhem.”
I unslung the bow Baron had thoughtfully stolen from his father for me and tore the hem from my tunic, tearing the fabric into strips. Despite my slight trembling, my hands movedquickly as I soaked the pieces with lantern oil from a hanging pot. I knotted the slick bits of fabric around arrowheads, one after another, until I’d used all the strips of fabric.
I took a deep breath. There was no more time to prepare. Baron, my father, Little John…they were all waiting on me. Theyneededme.
I nocked the first arrow and pivoted so the arrowhead touched the torch I’d wedged into a battlement bracket. It hissed as its soaked cloth caught flame. I drew back, aimed for the dead tree in the center of the courtyard, and loosed.
The arrow arced through the night, a streak of fire in the darkness. It thudded into the dry bark and the tree went up like tinder. Shouts rose immediately.
The second target was the drawbridge. The tar they’d treated the wood with earlier in the day was flammable until it dried. Fortunately for me and unfortunately for them, it was still wet. I fired twice in quick succession, my bow hand searing from the heat of each flaming arrow. Tar-treated wood erupted in oily flames.
Below, men began sprinting in a glorious mass of confusion. Those shouting about the burning tree collided with those running for the engulfed drawbridge or rushing about to find water and douse the fires before they grew. They scrambled about like the ants of a giant anthill that had been stepped on.
I lit three more arrows and sent them into anything remotely flammable: a hay cart, a pile of scaffolding, even the roof of a storage hut. Panic crackled through the courtyard like a living thing and the shouts grew louder.
Finally someone screamed, “On the turret! The archer’s up there!”
A volley of arrows hissed upward. I ducked behind a stone merlon just in time, heart punching against my ribs. Chips of limestone exploded beside my cheek, and bits struck me acrossthe face as they flew past. I drew a steadying breath but coughed as the smoke from the burning tree wafted up and choked my lungs. I pulled my cloak’s cowl over to cover my mouth and drew a few breaths before I inhaled deeply, dropped the cloth, and nocked a regular arrow.
I leaned out, fired and ducked back, then repeated the action a few seconds later. I couldn’t move in a pattern; they would anticipate my movements and retaliate. I was only able to get in a few more shots, and couldn’t even pause long enough after firing to see if my arrows had found their marks.
The next time I ducked out to let fly another arrow, a sharp sting sliced across my cheek and ear as a returning arrow was fired back. I dropped back down immediately and touched the spot. Blood trickled from my cheek and the arrow had cut clean through part of my ear. If I’d been an inch or two in the wrong direction, the arrow would’ve found my eye or neck. The thought sent a shudder running through my body.
Had I given Baron and the others enough time? How long did I have before a returning arrow plunged into my heart? I scanned the darkness, desperate for any flicker of movement, any hint of their escape. But the southern forest swallowed everything in smothering black. Good. It meant they were far beyond eyesight. Or it meant they hadn’t made it. I refused to consider the second possibility.
Running footsteps came from the stairs beneath the trapdoor. Fists slammed against the locked trapdoor beneath my feet, hard enough to rattle the stone. Splinters were already beginning to pop. I figured I had a minute at best…but probably less. I had no more time to give. Everything I’d already done had to be enough.
I tied the rope around the merlon, hands shaking from urgency mingled with fear, and tossed it over the battlements, still crouched low for cover. As I swung over the wall, an arrowpierced my left shoulder. I cried out and gave an involuntary jerk that made me accidentally kick the torch from its bracket. It tumbled down and landed directly in the coil of rope tied to the merlon.
Another arrow zipped past my face. I didn’t have time to stop the rope burning. I turned and slid down the rope, wondering how long I had before the fire consumed the rope and sent me plummeting down.
I went as fast as I could, keeping the rope locked between my boots to slow my descent, and clenched my teeth against the agony of the arrow piercing my shoulder. My left arm screamed in pain any time I tried to move it, and the palm on my right hand developed a rope burn as I fought to keep myself balanced.
A few feet from the ground, the fire must have finished consuming the rope because it snapped, sending me tumbling to a short, grassy span of land between the castle’s outer wall and the moat. My legs buckled under me and I fell onto my backside, twisting so the arrow protruding from my shoulder didn’t get snapped in half. Above me, there was a colossal crash and heads started appearing above the merlon’s upper edge.
“There he is! Shoot him!”
