Fabius shook his head. “Nay,” he said. “I will have men disable the carriage so it cannot be used to escape.”
With that, he sank back into a group of soldiers who had been following them, whispering orders about the carriage. As some of the men moved forward, climbing under the chassis to disable what they could, the rear door to the carriage opened up and a young man in the woolen robes of a priest suddenly emerged.
It was a move they’d not expected, and most of them sank back into the recesses to watch. There was a single light inside the carriage, illuminating the inside somewhat, as the man jumped from the carriage to the street level. He yawned and looked up at the sky, scratching his head, completely unaware that he was being watched. It seemed he was heading for the inn where The Marshal knights were, but the moment he spied some legs underneath the carriage, he jumped with surprise.
That was all the de Shera men needed to swarm on him, coming at him from beneath the carriage and from the otherside of it. Before they could grab him, however, he shouted, something that turned into a strangled cry when one of the soldiers dragged his blade across the young man’s throat. They shoved him to the ground and kicked him under the carriage as he bled to death from a slit throat.
After that, everyone flew into action.
As Nesta ran across the street to her archers, hiding over near the big barn, the arrows began to fly towards the barn itself as the soldiers inside were alerted by the cry of the dying man. Meanwhile, Atilius, Fabius, and their group of elite soldiers began to move swiftly down the darkened alley in between two homes, with sounds of women cooking evening meals and fathers yelling at their children filling the evening air. They rushed around the rear of the structures and right into the kitchen yard of the inn just as The Marshal knights, with a woman between them, were about halfway to the stable.
After that, the swords were flying.
*
Kress heard therunning footsteps before he ever saw the bodies, but once they rounded the corner into the darkened kitchen yard, his sword was already unsheathed and striking out at the first man who came at him. It was a blind strike because he’d only seen the body, not the face, and when he heard a roar of pain, he looked to see that he’d caught Fabius de Shera right across the base of his neck and along his right shoulder.
It was a deep, nasty cut and Fabius fell to his knees, sliced up by Kress’ razor-sharp weapon. Kress had Cadelyn in one hand and she was his priority, so he didn’t go in for the kill, but Bric did. Bric was on top of Fabius before the man could lift his sword to defend himself, and he gored him right through the neck,plunging his weapon straight down so it went into Fabius’ chest cavity.
The man fell aside, instantly dead.
But that wasn’t the last of it. Men were pouring in from all directions and Kress hustled Cadelyn over to Samson, who was pawing at the ground, eager to enter the battle. It occurred to Kress that it would be a very rough ride for Cadelyn astride a horse that was built for battle, because the horse would fight rather than flee, but he had no choice. He had to leave that yard before they were captured, or worse, so he tossed her onto Samson and prepared to mount the horse behind her.
As he moved, however, he heard a shout from behind, Achilles’ panicked voice, and he swung around to see Atilius nearly on top of him. Slapping Samson on the rump, the horse took off, with Cadelyn screaming as the big animal bolted away. It was the safest place for her, however, providing she could stay mounted on the beast, as he was a difficult animal to ride. As he caught a last glimpse of her, the big, gray dog suddenly took off behind the horse, which gave him an odd amount of comfort. With Goliath around, he felt as if no harm could come to Cadelyn. That old mutt was worth his weight in gold. As Samson cleared the yard with his silver tail flying, Kress found himself in a fight for his life.
Atilius was a skilled warrior. Even as he attacked Kress with surprising power, he was screaming at his men to go after the woman. Kress used Atilius’ distraction to his advantage and came on hard, thrusting and chopping at the man in a skilled fashion and driving him right back into the yard. He was being aggressive, purposely driving Atilius towards the boiling cauldron of water in the center of the yard.
Unfortunately for him, there were far more de Shera men, and he quickly found himself fighting on all sides. He didn’t have one opponent; he had several, each man trying to gore him,but Kress’ years as a knight and his experience fighting in The Levant served him well. He was able to keep from being impaled, but he knew, eventually, he would tire. One couldn’t hold off a gang of men and not suffer for it at some point. But he fought gallantly, not even looking to see that some Castle Rising men had managed to make it over from the barn across the street, and now more of them were filtering into the yard.
But they were still outnumbered.
Kress knew they were in a bad way. The de Shera men outnumbered them more than four to one, so even though the kitchen yard was flooding with Castle Rising and de Shera men, the fight was still badly uneven. Because of that, Kress began to realize that this wasn’t a fight he could win, so he needed to get to a horse and get out of there before someone drove a sword into his back. But the de Shera men must have been thinking the same thing because there was a fairly large wall of men between him and the stable. His path was very nearly blocked.
Therefore, he had to change his plans. He didn’t even know where Achilles or Alexander or Bric, or even Susanna, were. They were somewhere around him, fighting for their lives, but he couldn’t stop to see where they were. At this point, he thought that if he could gain control of Atilius somehow, he could force the de Shera men to stand down. That was his only hope. Atilius was an excellent swordsman, however, and he had no intention of letting Kress get the better of him. He and his men were ganging up on Kress, who was increasingly having to watch himself from all sides.
At one point, Kress unsheathed a fairly large dagger so he could at least fend off weapons with his right hand while he used his broadsword with his left. Given that most men used their right hand, Kress had learned to adapt over the years with swifter movements and different angles than most when in a sword fight. Right-handed men came at him and he would fendthem off differently than most, so in a fight like this, it was essential he have weapons in both hands so he could defend himself from all sides.
But it wasn’t without peril.
Someone managed to gouge him fairly deeply in his right hip, an odd spot for a wound, but it was a painful one. The man who inflicted it had received a slash to the face with Kress’ right-handed dagger, and even as that man fell away, there was someone to take his place. But that didn’t lessen Kress’ determination that he should get to Atilius, who was too arrogant to allow his men to do his fighting for him, or even protect him. He was in the forefront of the fighting, now furious because his brother had been killed right in front of him. There was great anger in Atilius’ movements.
“My men shall catch the lady and all of this will have been for naught,” he snarled. “I will string you up by the neck for what you did to my brother, you bastard. I want you alive!”
Kress stabbed one of Atilius’ men right in front of him as he came too close and tried to gore him. As the man fell away, mortally wounded, Kress smiled thinly at Atilius.
“You would have had the lady on the morrow had you not been so stupid and greedy,” he said. “Your brother deserved what he received. As shall you.”
Atilius slashed at him, shouting at his men to back away because he wanted the pleasure of subduing Kress personally. But he made a tactical error; in order to give the command, he’d let his guard down slightly, and his attention was briefly divided, and Kress took the opportunity to throw his shoulder into Atilius’ chest, sending the man flying backwards. He crashed into the rear door of the inn, which had been locked by Jude and her father when the fighting started. They didn’t want the battle to spill inside, which was wise, and Kress didn’t blame them. But Atilius falling backwards into the door jarred his sword from hishand, and as the weapon fell to the ground, Kress threw a punch with his enormous fist, catching Atilius in the jaw with it. Very quickly, the sword fight became a fist fight, and a brutal one at that.
Kress and Atilius wrestled against the door, throwing punches and trying to knock each other down. Kress had the size and strength advantage, and he headed-butted Atilius so badly that it split the man’s nose and lower lip. Blood streamed. He was just wrapping his hands around Atilius’ neck with the intention of squeezing the life from him when something surprising happened.
The back door suddenly opened and out of Kress’ peripheral vision, he caught sight of a hand with a dagger. A particular dagger with an elaborate gold hilt; he caught the flash of gold quickly. Suddenly, the dagger was in Atilius’ torso, not once but at least three times that Kress could count, and Atilius groaned and sank to his knees as the same hand drove the dagger in at least three more times before stopping. Stunned, Kress watched as Atilius fell forward, planting himself face-first in the mud of the kitchen yard.
He was as still as stone.
Shocked, and puzzled, Kress looked up to see Tatius standing in the doorway with the elaborate de Shera dagger in his hand, covered in blood. Before Kress could say a word, Tatius charged out into the kitchen yard and began screaming at the de Shera soldiers.
“Cease!” he bellowed as loud as he could. “Stop your fighting! I command it! As your liege, I command that you stop your battle against these men and return to your horses. Return now!”
