Chapter Eighteen
Estevan recognized his mother’s carriage.
In fact, he recognized his father’s men, all of them bearing the dun Tarh sash.
It was a strip of red-and-yellow cloth that they wore somewhere on their body, usually across the chest. Additionally, the red-and-yellow bull standards of the Earl of Torridon were flying from the carriage.
How his parents were here, at this time, was a complete mystery to him, but he also caught sight of Kaladin’s black-and-white horse, so he knew his brother had somehow fetched his father.
It was a miracle.
Or, more than likely, it was because his father got homesick when he and Kaladin had departed for the Hydra.
Estevan knew his father well and knew the man always longed for his home in the Highlands of Scotland, so when he saw his sons departing early, he wanted to go as well.
It had happened before. Mabel, unable to put up a fight, simply went along with it.
And that was exactly why he had been so paranoid about going to The Butcher’s.
He grinned when that thought popped into his head.
He had been paranoid for a reason, as it turned out, because his parents were not more than a few days behind him.
If the whole situation with St. Margaret’s hadn’t come up, his mother could have very well found him and Kaladin and the rest of them at The Butcher’s and there would have been the devil to pay.
Perhaps finding Leonore on the banks of the River Nith had been a gift from God, ensuring that none of them would get into trouble with Mabel the Masher.
A terrible nickname, but one that made sense when one was on the receiving end of one of her punishments.
Estevan thanked God for watching out for him in avoiding his mother’s flying hand.
With fond thoughts of Mabel on his mind, Estevan estimated that the carriage was about quarter of a mile out.
They could see it approaching in the fog, which was starting to lift now that the sun was rising.
It wasn’t nearly as thick as it had been.
There were just patches of it, mostly, but everything was still quite wet.
Alexandra had followed him up to the wall and now stood a few feet away, watching the carriage approach along with him.
All of them were watching Zora, his youngest sister, ride down the column and ending up at the carriage.
As Estevan watched, he could see Zora waving her hands around, clearly conversing with somebody inside the carriage, which Estevan knew to be his mother.
But that brought about another issue.
Now his mother and sister were arriving at an abbey that was under the threat of an attack.
He was certain that Kaladin had told his father what was happening, so they knew the danger going in.
However, since they were heading home from Ashkirk Castle, Mabel and Zora were naturally going to be with them.
Everyone was heading home. The only saving grace was the fact that it was a large escort, at least two hundred or more men, and they would provide ample protection.
Estevan felt better just looking at them, and he was finally beginning to feel some relief.
When they reached the gatehouse and the guards began the process of opening the wooden gates, he turned for the stairs leading down to the bailey.
He was looking forward to greeting his brothers and parents.
And possibly Zora, too.
Unfortunately, he didn’t get very far. He heard a noise behind him and turned to see the forest bordering both sides of the road come alive with men. Men with clubs and weapons, all of them charging for the dun Tarh party.
It was a shocking moment.
The danger they’d been waiting for had finally begun.
*
For Kaladin, a brief moment of surprise gave way to his training.
The thrill of battle filled his veins, his nostrils, and everything about him.
Projectiles started to fly from the trees on either side of the carriage and men rushed out of the foliage, bellowing and waving clubs and swords.
The first thing Kaladin drew was his own weapon to face the charge.
“Papa!” he boomed. “Stay inside the carriage!”
Realizing they were under attack, Mabel screamed to him. “Zora!” she cried. “Protect your sister!”
Kaladin knew that. God help him, he knew that, but he also knew that she was with Caelus, who was a tremendous fighter. No one would get the better of him.
“Caelus has her, Mama,” he said steadily. “She will be fine. He’ll not let her come tae harm.”
“A horse!” Lares shouted, already trying to open the carriage door. “Bring me my horse, Kal! Now!”
“No time,” Kaladin said. “Stay in the carriage, Papa!”
He was already charging toward the incoming wave of men. At the rear of the column, Lucan gave the order to engage, and suddenly, over two hundred men were rushing out to meet the onslaught.
It was chaos.
Fortunately, Kaladin was wearing his usual battle protection. Anyone participating in an escort always wore full battle dress for moments just like this—unexpected attacks. Therefore, he charged into the fray with complete confidence, swinging his sword, kicking men who got too close.
He noticed quickly, however, that Caelus was at the gatehouse of the abbey, demanding that they take Zora.
When he wasn’t shouting at them, he was fighting off attackers, with Zora screaming because she was vulnerable and terrified.
That brought Kaladin, pushing through clumps of fighting until he reached Caelus and Zora.
“Estevan!” he bellowed. “Open the gates!”
Estevan was on the gatehouse overhead, looking down at them as women on either side of him launched crossbows into the fighting.
There were bolts flying overhead, their sickening song filling the air.
But Estevan didn’t answer—instead, he lay on his belly, reaching over the side of the wall walk and extending the end of a rope.
“Grab the rope!” he shouted. “They willna open the bloody gates and chance letting the enemy inside, so grab the rope. I’ll pull her up!”
Truthfully, Kaladin and Caelus understood why the gates had to remain shut.
It was their fear for Zora that was making unreasonable demands.
With Kaladin and a few other soldiers shoving back any attackers, Caelus managed to right Zora on the saddle and help her stand up.
The rope was dangling overhead, almost out of her reach, and she was terrified she was going to fall even with Caelus steadying her legs.
Estevan lowered the rope as much as he could, but it wasn’t quite enough.
Zora began to weep.
“I canna reach it!” she cried.
Estevan could see that. He was sick to his stomach with what was going on, desperate to help his family, but this was the best he could do because Mother Michael refused to open the gatehouse to them.
He understood that from a defensive standpoint, but as the brother who was watching his family being attacked, he was struggling.
There was coiled rope near the gatehouse’s second floor, used to repair the rope that raised and lowered the portcullis, so he grabbed a length of it with the intention of pulling Zora to safety. But it simply wasn’t long enough.
He had to think of something else.
Suddenly, Anaxandra was next to him.
“Lower me down,” she said, grabbing the rope from him and proceeding to tie it around her waist. “Lower me down and I’ll take hold of her. But you’ll need help pulling us up.”
Estevan didn’t argue with her. He didn’t have time.
She already had the rope around her waist and was ready to descend.
He shouted at Titan, who had just emerged from the stairwell onto the wall walk, and the man nearly killed himself running over to help.
Rodion was down in the bailey, watching the postern gate, so it was just the two of them, but they easily lowered Anaxandra.
With a battle going on around them, she grabbed Zora by the hands.
With a little more effort, Estevan and Titan managed to pull both Anaxandra and Zora back to the wall.
Weeping loudly, Zora threw her arms around Estevan, who hugged her briefly before peeling her off him and turning her for the stairwell.
“Get off the wall,” he told her, trying to protect her from the bolts that, having been launched at the enemy, were now starting to fly back at them. “Come, lass. Hurry!”
He half pushed, half pulled Zora to the tower. He then helped her down the stairs and into the bailey, where Estevan pointed at the sanctuary, all the way across the ward.
“See those doors?” he said.
Zora was sniffling, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “Aye.”
“Go there,” he said. “Run. Bang on the doors and tell Matty tae admit ye. He’s inside.”
For once in the entirety of her life, Zora did exactly as she was told.
Estevan watched her run, her red hair blowing behind her like a banner, until she reached the doors and began pounding.
He could hear her shouting to Mateo, and the door abruptly flew open with Mateo on the other side.
He looked at Zora in surprise, but when he saw the chaos of the bailey, he pulled her in as he came out.
The door slammed behind him as he ran in Estevan’s direction.
“Where do you need me?” he demanded.
Estevan frowned. Mateo still wasn’t well, but at least he wasn’t feverish any longer. He’d tried to keep him in the sanctuary, but it was clear the man wasn’t going to stay put with a battle going on.
Not that he blamed him.
“Do ye fell well enough, Matty?” he asked.
Mateo had his sword on his hip. “Tell me where you need me to go.”
That was his way of saying nothing short of death would keep him from aiding in this attack. That was the determination of a knight. Estevan’s frown turned into a smile, though it was a wry one. Wry because he understood Mateo’s attitude perfectly.
He would have done the same thing.