Medieval Master Swordsmen(468)

Derica hovered back out of the way, watching the men work the rope and praying she hadn’t, in her zeal, attracted unwanted attention. It had been stupid in hindsight; she knew that. But she was so thrilled to see her husband that her excitement had gotten the better of her.

Quietly, she wandered to the edge of the wall walk again, peering over the side and seeing Garren and Fergus at much closer range. They were both sopping, scrambling up the embankment that led to the tower. Thrilled, Derica clapped a hand over her mouth so she wouldn’t make any noise. She began jumping up and down, hand over her mouth, as far below, Garren reached for the rope. He was so close she could almost taste him and her desperation to touch him, feel him, was palpable.

But horror struck as a high-pitched wail suddenly filled the early morning air. Derica saw Garren duck, realizing that someone had launched an arrow at him. Everyone on the wall walk shifted their focus to the south side to see that several dozen de Rosa men were scaling the slopes of the western wall, making their way from the south side of the castle, and they were heading straight for Garren and Fergus.

Keller was suddenly next to Derica, his dark eyes riveted to the incoming men.

“Damn,” he hissed, turning to the men on the wall who held the rope. “Get le Mon up here. He will not survive long down there. Move!”

“My God,” Derica was watching her father’s men approach, the tears in her eyes now spilling over. “I did not mean to alert them. I did not mean to do it!”

Keller heard her. He grabbed the tail end of the rope, anchoring it with his big body. “You did not,” he replied calmly. “The arrow assault over the southern wall drove them men to seek shelter. I would surmise they scattered to the west side to hide, saw what we were doing, and decided to investigate. I… I should have considered that possibility. It is my fault.”

Derica’s hand was at her mouth in fear as her gaze lingered on Keller a moment before returning her focus to the incoming de Rosa men. Then she looked to Garren, who had by this time grabbed the rope. She could see that he was waving at Fergus to join him, but Fergus refused. Garren then held out the rope to Fergus, indicating for the man to go first. Derica could see what was happening and her terror mounted. The de Rosa men were coming closer and more arrows were flying.

Before Keller could stop her, Derica screamed again at the top of her lungs. She just couldn’t stand there any longer and watch the indecision that had her own life hanging in the balance. He had to hurry.

“Garren! Take the rope!”



***



Garren heard the scream. It startled the hell out of him. His body jerked as if he had been struck and his shocked gaze moved to the wall. Though there was twenty feet of rock and dozens of men in his field of vision, all he could see was a vision in violet.

After that, he remembered very little except an overwhelming need to get to her. He grabbed the rope, yanking Fergus by the neck to follow him.

“Come on,” he roared. “Grab the rope!”

But Fergus still begged off. “The weight will be too much,” he insisted, shoving Garren at the rope and waving to the men high on the wall. “If I latch on, chances are neither of us will survive. You must go. Your wife is waiting.”

Garren could see de Rosa’s men rushing at them from the south. They weren’t firing off as many arrows as they had initially but they were closer now, swords flashing in the early morning light.

He knew Fergus was correct; God help him, he knew it. He heard his wife scream again and a grunt of frustration escaped his lips, turning to her panicked face before looking to Fergus again.

“Fergus,” he rasped, feeling the rope lift even as he held on to it. “I simply cannot leave you to your death.”

Fergus’ blue eyes glittered. “And so you are not,” he assured him, motioning to the men high atop the wall to hurry up the rope. “I shall be here when you reach the top of the wall. There will be opportunity still.”

Garren knew it wasn’t the truth and his anguish tore at him. His gaze met with Fergus’ bright blue, a million words of thanks and friendship passing between them. This was where they parted and they both knew it. The time for heroics was over.

“Get back in the water, then,” he hissed. “Swim as fast as you can and get out of here.”

The rope was pulling Garren up, out of arm’s reach. Fergus gazed up at him, eyeing the de Rosa men that were far closer now.

“I believe that would be wise,” Fergus agreed, darting back down the slope towards the river.

Garren was several feet above even the tallest man’s arm reach. The soldiers on the wall were heaving him upward, upward still as the de Rosa men swarmed below him. As he watched, several took off after Fergus, who had reached the water. Just as Fergus dove into the cold, muddy river, two men dove in after him. As Fergus came up for air, one man surged atop him and plunged his head under the water.