Royce faced Hadrian, saying softly, “Happy?”
Hadrian smiled back and nodded.
Tom looked concerned, his wife terrified.
“Relax,” Hadrian told them. “He just said that so they won’t think you’re helping us.”
“Go ahead,” the knight replied. “I don’t care-but the longer you make me wait in the rain, the worse it will be for you.”
Royce noticed the surprise on the face of the farmer’s wife. “I would have said the same thing,” he assured her, but the woman did not appear comforted.
“Give yourself up,” the knight shouted. “Trust to Novron!”
“This guy is hilarious,” Royce said, and sat back at the table. If they were going to make a suicidal charge, he wanted to rest first.
Hadrian pulled the chain mail over his head. He struggled for a bit before pulling it back off. “Too small. You want it?”
Royce shook his head. “I can barely hold up my own weight.”
“Might deflect an arrow.”
“I’ll dodge them better without it.”
“You can dodge arrows?”
“Sometimes.”
“You are full of surprises.”
“I don’t make a living doing it.”
Hadrian slipped his spadone onto his back and picked up the two swords again, feeling their weight. “I miss my own. These are awful. You about ready?”
“Wait,” Tom said, and pried himself out of his family’s grasp. He disappeared into the back rooms, then reemerged holding a huge shield and a bow as tall as he was. “I used to be an archer in the service of Lord Marbury. I fought beside him. He granted me this farm. His Lordship is a great man, but just yesterday the seret arrested him on the charge of treason-aiding fugitives from the church’s justice. You two I imagine. If Lord Marbury felt you were worth standing up for, I won’t dishonor his good name by doing any less. Besides, you just heard how concerned the church is for the safety of my family.”
“My pa is the best shot in the county,” the boy said.
“Tom the Feather.” Hadrian nodded.
Tom held out the kite shield to Hadrian. “It’s designed to stop arrows, covers the body fairly well.” Over his shoulder, the farmer wore a full quiver.
“What are you going to do with those?” Royce asked.
“Zephyr and I are going to provide some assistance-going to fight for His Lordship one last time.”
Royce closed his eyes and dropped his head into his hand. “I just convinced them you’re not helping us. We’re going out there so they don’t burn your house and kill you. If you start shooting, they’ll know different.”
“If I shoot, you might survive.”
“You’re that good?” Hadrian asked Tom.
“With Zephyr, I can hit a rabbit at two hundred yards and release six arrows a minute. And she’s made of fine northern yew-if I pull her deep, she can punch an arrow through plate armor.”
“And if we don’t kill all nine, you will be executed,” Royce said. “This is the first and last generous thing I will ever do. Don’t spoil it.”
“He’s right,” Hadrian said. “We’re just…” He looked at Royce. “We’re just a pair of no-account thieves. Think of your son.”
The old man looked down at the boy still gathered in his mother’s arms. “I am.”
“Let him do as he wants,” Royce said. “I’m in pain, and if I’m going to die anyway, I don’t see the point in suffering. Let’s get this over with.” He moved to the door and peered out. “Four right outside and the knight’s still on his horse. No idea where the archers are. Frontal assaults aren’t my specialty. Any ideas?”
Hadrian slipped the shield over his left arm. “Pull the brace and let me out first. Stay close behind. When we meet resistance, I’ll push left, you move right. Don’t fight the footmen unless you have to. Go for the horse. If you can, cut the stirrup and pull. The knight’s own weight will drop him. Then grab the horse, stay low, and let me do the rest.”
“That will leave you to kill five men, not including the archers.”
“You’re in no condition to fight. Besides, if you get that knight off his horse, you won’t need to worry about the others. Once I clear the field, we’ll hop on the horse and run for it. I just hope the archers can’t hit a moving target. Ready?”
Royce stared at Hadrian, at his eyes. It was high summer on Herald Street, and the windows in that home were wide open.
“You realize we’re about to die,” Royce said, then sighed. “It’s a real shame. I’m just starting to like you.”
The door to the farmhouse flew open and they pushed out into the rain. The chickens were gone, but the puddles were still there, and so was the drumming roar of falling water. It was like jumping in the river again.
Hadrian rushed forward and got the first swing before any of them reacted, before the first arrow flew. They had caught the patrol by surprise. And even when the men in the barnyard reacted, they failed to see the threat. Soldiers spread out as if Royce and Hadrian were pigs bolting from a sty. One didn’t even draw his sword but held his hands out as if to tackle them. This left an open path to the one destination none of them could have expected a small wounded man with only a dagger would take.
The moment Hadrian swung, Royce clenched his teeth and sprinted for the knight.
Stabs of pain jolted through his body and brought back a wave of nausea and dizziness, but fear kept him running. He splashed through the puddles that threw brown water up to defy the gray water coming down. Something whizzed by Royce’s head, sounding like a bee with a purpose. He really could dodge arrows, if there was only one and he saw it coming, but in the rain he had only luck. Maybe the downpour caused just as much havoc with their aim as with his sight.
He didn’t have far to travel. The whole barnyard was only a few yards across and the knight was in the middle sitting majestically on his white horse. He loomed above everything, all metal down to his shoes. Water rang off his plates and his horse puffed clouds, adding to the haze-a beast of the gray. He sat well above the muck, safe and aloof. Royce wondered if this was why he was the last to react.
Whatever Hadrian was doing caught his attention. The knight’s visor was up, shielding his eyes from the rain-eyes that were not focused on Royce until he was only a few steps away. When he moved to draw his sword and spur his horse, the knight was still not looking at Royce.
Royce had to time it right. He needed to shift his momentum, catch the knight’s leg, while avoiding being chopped in half or slipping in the mud. As it turned out, falling was unavoidable.
The pain ripping through him was so intense he could have been hit by several arrows and not notice the difference. The dizziness was gaining strength. He could hear a ringing that was beginning to overtake the roar of the rain and that darkness was closing in again. He caught the knight’s foot. The move was inelegant-less an action of assault as one of trying to keep from falling. With his other hand he sliced the stirrup’s strap. He caught some of the horse in the effort and it jumped. Royce was amazed that a three-quarter-ton animal could jump so nimbly. That’s when he slipped. Royce was holding on to Sir Holvin’s foot as the horse jerked, and the mud was no help. He was still hanging on even as he fell, intent on pulling the knight to the ground, but he was too low. He didn’t have the angle. Using Alverstone the way he used his hand-claws, Royce gouged his way up the knight’s side, punching holes in the metal-by Mar, how he loved that dagger. Sir Holvin had no trouble noticing him then. Too close for the knight to swing, he hammered at Royce with the pommel of his sword. Holvin struck Royce in the head, and again in the face, but Royce refused to let go. He knew all he need do was hold on. The knight was right-handed and Royce was on his left. Sir Holvin was trusting to his stirrup for support-but it wasn’t there. All that metal, that vast tower of iron defense, lost its foundation and toppled. They were all falling. Not just the knight, not just Royce, but the horse as well. It had jerked twice more after Royce thought he heard more bees, and soon he had fifteen hundred pounds of horse and a metal giant crashing down on him.