Chapter Nineteen #2
“Find a few men and wrap him up,” he said. “He goes with us.”
With that, he headed out of the livery with his knights around him.
Up the slope, they could see the Stafford soldiers gathered, as well as the small group of prisoners.
But he was feeling jumpy, apprehensive, and he kept looking at their surroundings as if expecting Rotri to pop up out of the ashes.
If the son’s body was in the stable, he couldn’t imagine that the father wouldn’t be nearby.
It just didn’t make sense.
“What’s wrong, Thor?” Darius asked what they were all thinking. “What are you looking around like that?”
Thor could only shake his head. “Something is not right,” he said. “We need to return to Stafford immediately. But we’re taking the prisoners with us.”
Darius and Clayne, who had served with Thor the longest, knew the man didn’t panic without reason, but he was currently exhibiting a good deal of anxiety.
Before Darius could ask him what his suspicions were, they all heard a high-pitched wail as it grew louder very quickly.
Knowing what the sound was, as all fighting men did, the knights threw themselves onto the ground as a crossbow bolt sailed overhead.
A second one came quickly on the heels of the first, slamming into the back of Truett’s thigh as he lay on the ground.
Under attack, the Stafford men began to scatter for cover.
More arrows were flying, but they were big bolts, not the small ones meant for men.
These were larger bolts, usually meant to take down horses or warriors with a good deal of protection.
Realizing they were vulnerable to whatever was flying overhead, Thor rolled over to Truett, who couldn’t sit up or move because the bolt had gone through the meaty part of his thigh and pinned him to the ground.
Exposing himself after two more bolts landed close to them, Thor sat up, ripped the bolt out of Truett’s leg, and pulled the man to his feet as they ran for cover.
Thor, Darius, and Truett made it back to the livery without being hit. Clayne went with the men, rushing into the smoking ruins for cover. That left the prisoners unguarded, and they began to scatter.
Thor watched them rush off into the darkness.
“Damn,” he muttered. “We’ve lost our opportunity to find out what we’re in the middle of.”
“An ambush,” Darius said. “This is clearly an ambush, Thor. Is it possible that the de Wylde son was going to warn us and they killed him for it? It looks as if he has been beaten to death.”
Thor looked at him, pondering that question, before shaking his head in confusion. “I suppose anything is possible at this point,” he said. “But I know who would know.”
“Who?”
“Whoever is firing those bolts at us.”
Darius nodded, understanding the implication. “Capture or kill?”
“I don’t see that we have a choice unless we want to be pinned in the livery forever.”
“How would you like to proceed?”
Thor could see the slope and the muddy area that formerly held the prisoners from one of the livery windows. “We need to draw them out,” he said. “Someone must act as the decoy, and then those of us who are safely sheltered will see where the bolts are coming from.”
“And then we move.”
“Exactly.”
“I’ll go,” Truett said, moving toward the livery entry with his bloodied thigh. “They already got me once. What is one more bolt?”
Thor grabbed his arm as he walked past. “Not you,” he said. “You cannot move fast with that leg.”
Truett pulled his arm out of Thor’s grasp. “Watch me.”
Thor rolled his eyes, grabbing at him again, but Truett was out of his reach.
Resigned that the man was going to try to get himself impaled again, Thor and Darius moved to various vantage points near the livery windows that faced the village, and when Truett stepped out and made himself a giant target, the bolts began to fly again.
Two zinged past Truett and, as he dashed back into the livery, the third one skimmed his left shoulder and tore his clothing.
“Good work, True,” Thor said, peering at the torn shoulder to see that it was barely a scrape. “You survived.”
“I told you I would.”
Thor cast him a long look. “The night is not over yet.”
As Truett agreed with a grin, Thor darted over to the north end of the livery, leaving Truett and Darius to follow. They had a fairly clear field of vision from this vantage point of the village, including a few stone outbuildings that hadn’t burned.
“There were three bolts,” Thor said, peering out into the darkness. “That means three men out there with crossbows. Remove your mail, your protection—anything that makes noise when you move or weighs you down. We have to find these men and move swiftly.”
They began to strip down, all of them, as Clayne suddenly rushed in through the entry, tripping and rolling and ending up back on his feet again.
“God’s Bones!” he exclaimed. “Whoever is firing is doing it with skill!”
Thor had his mail off, his helm off, and was going to work on repositioning his broadsword around his waist. “Indeed they are,” he said. “And they have us trapped, so True and Darius and I are going to go after them, but we need your help.”
“What?” Clayne asked, coming over to assist Truett with his broadsword strap. “What can I do?”
“Create a diversion,” Thor said. “Distract them so they do not see us leave the livery. Have some of the soldiers scatter and create moving targets. It is dark enough that it will be difficult to hit them, so try to keep them safe as they move. But we need that diversion.”
Clayne nodded, but he was watching Truett struggle with his injured leg. The man had had a bolt pierce his entire left thigh but pretended as if it didn’t matter.
Clayne pointed at him.
“You are going to take True?” he said. “Look at him, Thor. He is injured. He cannot move swiftly. I’ll go.”
Truett ignored him as he tried to find a comfortable position for his left leg. “If you say another word about my capabilities, I’m going to load you into a crossbow and fire you,” he said. “I’m perfectly capable, Bully. Go and do as Thor has asked.”
Clayne looked at Thor beseechingly, but Thor simply shook his head. “You heard him,” he said. “He will fire you into a tree if you persist. Besides, I need you with the men. Go, now. Do as I say.”
Annoyed that he wasn’t going to have the opportunity to take down one of the enemy crossbowmen, Clayne shot a nasty look at Truett, who caught it in his periphery and lashed out a fist, catching him in the chest. With the wind knocked out of him, and rubbing his sternum, Clayne headed over to the door that opened up to the slope and, beyond that, where the Stafford men were hiding.
As he dashed out, the arrows began to fly.
Thor, Darius, and Truett made their move.
Thor was focused on the outbuilding that was about twenty yards in front of him.
The building next to it had burned down, but the structure he had seen the bolts emerge from was stone.
It was some kind of smithy shack, as those were usually built with stone because of the intense heat from the forges, so he crouched low to the ground as he moved, staying behind the burned-out shells of cottages, inching his way toward the stone building.
At one point, Clayne and the Stafford men began moving around because two more bolts flew out of the stone building, right at the group.
That made Thor move more swiftly because he wanted to surprise the attacker and could only do that if the man was distracted.
Reaching the stone building, he pressed himself flush against the wall, hearing someone moving inside.
The door was closed from what he could see, so as Clayne created more of a diversion, Thor came away from the wall, braced himself, and kicked the door as hard as he could.
The panel collapsed and Thor charged in.
Because it was such a small building, he didn’t unsheathe his broadsword because he risked hurting himself in close quarters, so he produced a dagger that could easily slit a throat.
The shack was very dark and he was aware of a body in front of him as he crashed into it, grabbing for a head so he could slit the throat.
But his opponent was skilled.
The moment he grabbed for the body, the person inside the shack used the crossbow and cracked it right across Thor’s forehead.
The force of the blow was enough to stun him, but he kept his footing even as he could feel the blood running down his face.
He dug his fingers into the man’s hair—and he knew it was a man by this point—with the intent of dragging him out of the shack so he could have room to fight.
He didn’t want to fight in such a tight space because things could go wrong quickly.
Heaving and yanking, he managed to pull the man to the door.
That was when the man began to seriously fight back.
Somehow, the dagger in Thor’s grip was knocked away and it became a fistfight.
Thor was big, and powerful, with hammer-like fists—hence the El Martillo moniker—and he put those knuckles to good use as he pounded the man who had been trying to kill him.
He still had his broadsword strapped to his right thigh but didn’t want to bring it out until he could get the man completely clear of the shack.
The man wasn’t going easily, however, and used his big feet to kick Thor in the right knee, bending it awkwardly.
Grunting in pain, but furious at the blow, Thor didn’t hold back.
The fists were flying.
They cleared the shack and began to beat each other soundly.
Thor had the advantage of height and strength, and he used it.
He also began to use his feet, sweeping the man’s legs out from under him and them pouncing on him.
But the man grabbed a fistful of dirt and smashed it into Thor’s face, momentarily blinding him, and they both lost their balance.
Together, they rolled down a slight incline onto a pathway below.