Chapter Twelve
Beth could barely keep her eyes open. She blinked the blood away, looking up and sighing with relief as she saw the scaffolding of the keep in front of her. They had made it. She had no idea how.
In front of her, Andrew was moving again but only just. She had somehow managed to keep him on the horse as they’d made their frantic dash for the castle. She was glad the horse knew the way home, even with a gash in its side. All she’d had to do was hold on.
“What happened?” a voice was asking and she had to stare hard to be able to focus, her vision blurring as she slid from the horse and fell to the ground. She pushed herself upright, blinking again and seeing Derek’s worried face peering back at her. “What happened?” he asked again.
“We were attacked,” she replied. “You must get him to the infirmary. He needs help.”
A bell was already ringing somewhere. Wiping her face, Beth felt nausea wash over her. A flash of screaming faces ran through her mind. She was back by the lake again. There were six of them and from her vantage point she saw far more than she ever wanted to of the ensuing battle. So much blood.
“What happened?” another voice asked.
“James,” Derek said, grabbing the other man by the arm. “Andrew’s been hurt. Help me get him into the infirmary. Tell the blacksmith the horse needs looking at too. Beth, can you walk?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice coming from far away. The bells faded and her eyes closed again.
She was back in the clearing by the lake. Everything happening so slowly. She wanted to cry out but she couldn’t say anything as she relived the attack.
Andrew grabbed his sword and was swinging it at the men. They tried to encircle him but he had his back to the pool and they had no idea how deep it was. With a slash of the blade, he caught one on the arm as he advanced, sending him stumbling away. Two more plunged forward, jabbing and slicing him open at the shoulder and on the thigh.
She couldn’t stay hidden. She ran out, picking up a rock as she went and hurling it at the attacking group. It caught one of them completely off guard, blood spraying from his nose as he fell back.
The others came on but Andrew was ready for them. The sound of swords clashing made her ears ring. She picked up another stone and threw it past Andrew at the last attacker.
He was proving hardest to defeat. The others were laid on the ground moaning, none of them in a fit state to carry on fighting. Andrew had fallen back into the water, visibly tiring, blood pouring down his face from a gash to the forehead.
Beth sprinted forward, picking up a sword as she went. She had no idea what she intended to do. She could barely lift the thing and as she swung it blindly toward the attacker, he twisted, catching her on the top of the head with his own blade. She ducked just in time but blood poured into her eyes nonetheless, making it impossible to see.
As she wiped it away she saw in freeze frame what was happening. Her failed attack had distracted the aggressor and Andrew had been able to hurl the tip of his sword forward, catching his opponent in the chest. The sword ran deep as the man’s legs buckled.
He fell but as he did so, he turned and looked right at Beth, his eyes wide. “You’re next,” he said, his voice echoing around the valley. Suddenly he was standing over her, his sword high over his head, Andrew nowhere to be seen.
She sat bolt upright in bed, her eyes wild, looking about her for the sword. It took several seconds for her to realize where she was. The attacker hadn’t risen from the dead. He hadn’t spoken to her. It was a dream.
She was in the infirmary. The place was lit by candles and she could see only shadows moving beyond the glow. People were talking in low voices but they were too far away for her to make out what they were saying.
“Where is he?” she called out. “Where’s Andrew?”
“Shush,” a voice said and then James and Derek were at her side. “Try and rest.”
“Oh God, he’s dead isn’t he?”
“No, lass,” James said, lifting a horn cup to her lips. “He’ll live. Here, drink this.”
“What is it?”
“It’s to calm your nerves. Crushed yarrow.”
She took a sip and winced. “It tastes awful.”
“Does you good though. Helps stop the bleeding too.”
“Only when applied to the skin,” said a new voice. “Don’t you know anything, James?”
Beth turned to the source of the voice. It came from a figure standing in the doorway behind the other two men. “Andrew!” she shouted. “You’re alive.”
“Aye, thanks to you.” He limped over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling?”
