Chapter 29

29

BLOODMOOR KEEP, 1291

E llyn saw the crossbow come up from Rennwick's side. She heard the trigger click and the snap of the string releasing the eight-inch quarrel. At such close range, the bolt struck the guardsman on her right, stabbing through chain mail and bullhide armor like it was soft cheese. He was lifted off the ground with the force of the strike, almost taking Ellyn with him. The second guard lost his grip on her arm when he freed his hands to claw at the dagger protruding from his throat.

Ellyn unslung her bow and quickly nocked an arrow, cutting down a guard who was rushing toward her. More arrows were nocked and fired even as Renn's sword accounted for two more guardsmen, slashing one across the throat, gutting another with a violent thrust from his sword. The last guardsman saw his comrades fall in sprays of blood and ran like there were demons from hell snapping at his heels.

Luther de Vos's horse reared and spun at the smell of bloodshed. De Vos drew his sword but he was off balance and a quick slash of Rennwick's blade cut the reins out of his hands and brought him careening down out of the saddle. The shock stunned him for a moment before he could roll and push himself upright, hampered by the bulk of his plate armor. When he did, and when he reached for his fallen sword, a boot slammed down on the blade and the bloody point of Rennwick's sword pressed to the soft spot under de Vos's chin.

Murderous dark eyes glared upward.

"Go ahead. Do it. You accuse me of betraying your vaunted code of honor," de Vos snarled. "But what does that selfsame code say about killing an unarmed man who has surrendered to you?" He took his hand away from his sword and spread both wide in supplication. "Who would argue it makes you no better than me?"

"Do not listen to him," Ellyn said fiercely. "He is the king's assassin. He would kill you without a second thought."

The dark eyes turned to her. "All of this is for naught, dear girl. The king means you no harm."

"I would sooner trust a starving weevil not to eat a crumb of bread, than to trust anything you say."

"And yet, foolish chit, you put your faith in a man like Rennwick de Beauvoir."

"He is more of a man than you will ever be," she said and raised her bow.

"No," Renn shouted. "No, this bastard is mine to kill."

Renn lifted his blade away from de Vos's throat. He stepped back, taking his foot off the knight's weapon. De Vos grinned through teeth that were red with blood as he stood and bent to retrieve his sword. He adjusted a black glove and gripped the hilt, then glanced at Ellyn, who still had her bow raised and drawn .

"Is this your idea of honorable," de Vos asked. "Having the girl there to kill me if you fail?"

"Go back to the beach, Ellyn," Renn said calmly. "Wait for the others."

"But my lord—"

"For the love of Christ, woman, will you not do as I ask just this once?"

In two strides he was close enough to bring his blade slashing across through the string on Ellyn's bow. The arrow thwangg-ed harmlessly off into the grass and the tension was released in the bow, reducing the yew to not much more than a walking stick.

In the process, he took his eyes off de Vos for a split second and the king's man, under no compunction to follow any codes of chivalry, charged. He took a massive swing at Rennwick's back and it was only by a shouted warning from Ellyn that Renn was able to turn in time to block it. The sword struck his upper arm, breaking through the links of mail and biting into flesh.

Renn twisted away, but he was badly off balance and stumbled back to get his feet under him again. De Vos was there, pressing forward, slashing and hacking ferociously, his thrusts aimed high then low, keeping Renn on the defensive. Showers of sparks flew off their swords as the steel collided and skated together. De Vos found another opening and drew blood, sending dark stains running down Renn's thigh.

Rennwick roared and de Vos was driven back as his cheek was split open to the bone. It seemed to turn the tide in Renn's favor as the king's man fell back, but the reprieve was brief. He was not Longshank's champion for naught and pushed back into the fight, cutting, thrusting, slashing, pushing Renn back again and again .

Ellyn was still standing at the edge of the slope, helpless to do more than watch. She felt a splash of blood on her face but did not know whose it was; both blades were sending out droplets of blood as they swung.

Renn was gripping his sword in both hands now, the wound in his arm rapidly draining his strength along with his blood as he struggled to block the shockingly brutal blows raining down on him.

Ellyn threw the useless longbow aside and looked around, frantic for something, anything to help. She saw a glint of metal in the grass and recognized the crossbow Renn had been carrying. She ran to retrieve it, but took several precious seconds to scratch through the grass for another quarrel. Not finding one, she ran back to the dead guard and, with her stomach in her throat, pulled and wrenched and twisted the barbed bolt free. It came away with a horrible sucking sound, leaving scraps of bloody tissue hanging off the curved barbs. She shook them off and because the winding lever was still in Renn's belt, she used the quarrel, along with all of her strength, to draw the string back and arm the weapon.

As soon as she heard the string connect with the trigger bolt, she fit the quarrel into the slot and lifted the cumbersome weapon. The balance was awkward, the crossbow was wood and metal, heavier by far than a longbow, but she dashed the sweat from her eyes and aimed it at the two fighting knights, hoping for a clear shot at Luther de Vos.

He was clearly relishing the combat; Renn's arm was soaked red and he could smell victory along with the iron-sweet scent of blood. The end came when Rennwick tripped over a protruding rock and sent down hard, sprawling onto his back. De Vos stood over him and raised his sword, roaring in triumph. He saw Renn claw for his longsword, and he stepped on the outstretched arm, pinning it to the ground. Blood from his torn cheek dripped off the hanging flap of flesh. He touched a gloved finger to the bared bone and snarled when he realized the extent of the damage to his face.

"I should kill you slowly for this. Starting with the hand you will never need to use again."

He raised his sword to hack across Renn's wrist.

Ellyn pulled the trigger on the crossbow, releasing the eight-inch quarrel. It streaked across the gap, and despite her panic and the awkward weight of the unfamiliar weapon, the bolt struck de Vos—not between the eyes where she had aimed, but in the centre of his chest. Fired from ten feet away, it punched through his armor, through the muscle and the bone, nearly bowling him off his feet from the power of the strike. The sword fell out of his hand and spun away in the grass. He gaped down in disbelief at the quarrel protruding from his chest, then over to where Ellyn was standing with the spent bow in her hands.

Even in the dim light, with his face a mask of blood, she could see the murderous rage in his eyes. She looked frantically around and picked up one of the dead guard's swords… but she no sooner had it gripped in both hands and raised when de Vos's knees buckled and he pitched forward, landing face-down on the ground. He landed heavily on the end of the bolt, driving it clear through his black heart.

Stunned, Ellyn dropped the sword. She heard sounds coming from below the embankment and recognized the voices of Roger, Terrowin, Baldor…!

She ran to the top of the slope and waved her arms frantically. "Help! Help us! Renn has been hurt!"

Roger was first up the embankment. He saw Rennwick lying on the grass and he saw Luther de Vos's body lying a few feet away.

Ellyn ran over to where Rennwick was struggling to sit upright. His left arm was awash with blood, hanging and useless. He draped his uninjured arm around her shoulders and let her help lift him to his feet.

"That was… not how I planned it," he gasped. "I only told him I would bring you here. I did not intend for you to actually be here with me."

"You planned this? You deliberately arranged to meet him here?"

"I was not about to get on a ship and sail to France without killing the bastard first." He squinted through the blood flowing from a cut on his brow and scanned the grassy knoll. "I saw you shoot. Is he dead?"

"Yes, he is dead. But one of the guards got away."

He cursed and spoke through clenched teeth. "I told you to stay back. By God's rood, you are going to have to learn to… have to learn to…"

He never finished the sentence. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he started crumpling sideways into her arms, unconscious.

Baldor was there to catch him up before Renn and Ellyn both fell to the ground.

"Have a care," she cried. "He is cut badly on his arm and thigh."

Roger was still inspecting the carnage, glanced at Ellyn. "How badly?"

"I cannot tell through the bulk of his clothing," she said. "But there is so much blood it cannot be good."

"Nevertheless, we will have to move him, so do what you can. We cannot stay here. As soon as that guard reaches their camp, Falconard will have his whole army out here searching for us."

"We will have to go back," Terrowin said reluctantly.

"And carry him up the cliff? He would be dead before we reach the top."

"You will be dead now unless you drop your weapons," came a low, harsh voice from the shadows.

Terrowin and Roger spun around and drew their swords. Baldor rose from his crouch and growled at the ring of dark figures closing in around them, crossbows raised and armed.