The Faithful Heart (45 page)

“No.” Jack shook his head, tightening his
grip on both swords.

“They’ll be here!” Toby shot forward to join
them. He had complete faith in his friend to come to their rescue.
He too scooped down and picked up a sword. “We just need to buy
them time,” he told them, resolve stronger than any he’d ever felt
filling him. “And I know how.” He marched towards the door, face
dark with determination.

“No!” Ethan grabbed him by the shirt and
pulled him back. “You can’t go out there. Connor is out there. He
will kill you! For cutting him up before if nothing else.”

Toby stared into Ethan’s eyes unblinking. “I
know,” he told him with a nod. “But he’ll want to do it personally.
He’ll stop them from attacking until he’s killed me. He’ll want
everyone to watch. He’ll think it’s fun.” The truth was as clear as
anything had ever been. “It will buy you time.”

“No!” Joanna rushed to him. She stopped in
her tracks when he glanced at her, eyes steely with courage.

“I can’t let you sacrifice yourself like
this!” Ethan grabbed him by the shoulders.

He shook his head, peace settling over him.
“You don’t understand, Ethan.” He was calm in the face of what he
had to do. “You don’t understand. ‘Greater love hath no man than
this’.” He took a step closer to his friend, his lord, his love,
reached a hand out to cradle the side of his face. He tilted his
head up to capture his mouth in one powerful, passionate kiss.
Ethan’s lips were as warm as he’d always imagined they would be. He
closed his eyes, savoring the taste of him, throat constricting. It
was the moment he had waited for his entire life. Now it was
over.

He let go and took a step back, lowering his
eyes so that he wouldn’t see Ethan’s face. He didn’t want to know
what his reaction had been. Instead he reached for the door,
pulling it open and stepping out into the clearing in front of the
storehouse.

“What?” Lydia snorted at the sight of him.
“That’s it? They sent you?”

“Yep.” He raised his eyes to meet Connor’s as
he strode out into the center of the clearing. He heard the door of
the storehouse shut behind him.

“This is stupid,” Lydia heaved a sigh. “Kill
him.”

Several of the surrounding mercenaries raised
their swords or crossbows but Connor hollered “Hold!” He laughed.
“I’ve got a score to settle with this one, my lady. He’s the mouse
who cut my face!” Connor cackled, showing off his scar to his
men.

It was just as Toby had predicted. He said a
prayer of thanks, a prayer for Ethan’s soul.

“We both know it’s me you really want,” he
bluffed, buying as much time as he could. He didn’t dare let his
eyes wander to the hillside where Tom and the army should appear.
Not yet. “Let’s settle this right now.”

“How long is this going to take?” Lydia
crossed her arms, tapping her foot.

“Not long at all, my lady, not long at all.”
Connor continued to laugh and as he did his men echoed him.

“Go ahead then.” Lydia waved them off and
went to find somewhere to sit down.

When Connor spun back to face Toby his eyes
were alight with malice. “Honestly? I didn’t think you had it in
you.”

Toby raised his sword. He closed his eyes for
a second and willed himself to remember all the fighting lessons
that Ethan had given him. He needed to hold out long enough to
allow Tom to get there. He didn’t need to win.

Connor’s men laughed at his gesture but
Connor himself only snarled and raised his sword. He lunged
forward, aiming the blade at Toby’s gut. Sucking in a breath, Toby
jumped into action. He parried the blow with all his strength,
going through the sword forms in his mind as he brought his blade
up and around to attempt an attack. Connor’s face twisted into an
amused grin as he slashed at Toby’s side. Toby barely caught the
blow in time, throwing it off with a grunt and stepping back to
recover. He dared to glance up at the hill now. The hillside was
empty.

With a quick breath he adjusted his grip and
charged. Connor dodged, slicing his blade along Toby’s arm as he
passed. Toby yelped in pain but forced himself to regain his
footing in time to make another attack. This time he sliced across
Connor’s chest instead of thrusting. Connor deflected the blow and
swung his own blade around to mirror the slice, ripping into Toby’s
torso and tearing a gash across his chest.

Toby shouted in surprise at the pain before
wheeling around and trying yet another attack. He thrust at
Connor’s left side. Laughing, Connor deflected the blow like it was
nothing, catching Toby’s sword and yanking him off balance. As he
stumbled Connor curled his arm around and jabbed his blade into
Toby’s back. Toby’s eyes popped wide as he felt the blade
enter.

Pain radiated through his body, doubled when
Connor wrenched the blade out and kicked him. He panted and
stumbled, eyes wide with shock at just how much death hurt. He
glanced over his shoulder to the hillside. It was still empty. He
couldn’t die yet.

He sucked in a few breaths, turning and
forcing himself to raise his sword again, to make another pass at
Connor. This time his blow was so weak and badly aimed it bounced
off of Connor’s sword. Connor grinned and returned the attack by
thrusting his blade into Toby’s gut.

Toby grunted with the blinding pain and for a
moment he thought he would pass out. He could feel the metal
holding him upright, tearing him apart from the inside. The world
was beginning to go black. He blinked and looked to the hillside.
It was still empty.

Connor yanked his sword out of Toby’s gut,
expecting him to fall. When he didn’t, when he stood there reeling,
blinking off into the distance as the color drained from his face,
Connor lost his grin. “Come on, boy, this is embarrassing. Just die
already!”

He shook his head and mouthed the word “No.”
He wasn’t sure if he could breathe anymore. His eyes were fixed on
the hilltop. Sticky wetness ran down his body. They needed more
time, Ethan needed more time. He swallowed and raised his sword,
dragging his eyes from the hilltop to Connor. He could barely focus
on the man. With all the strength he could muster he slashed.
Connor easily avoided the blow.

Face darkening in fury, Connor buried his
sword in Toby’s chest. Toby gasped but his lungs had no room for
air. He dropped his sword, unable to feel his arms. Tears stung at
his eyes as they tried to roll back in his head. He couldn’t give
in, not yet. His mouth filled with the sharp, metallic taste of
blood and he felt it dribble down his chin.

It took every last bit of effort for him to
keep standing. He fought for his balance when he couldn’t fight for
breath. He turned his hot, streaming eyes towards the hilltop
again. They had to come. They had to be there. He had to buy them
enough time to be saved. All he wanted was for Ethan to be saved.
All he’d ever wanted. It couldn’t be in vain. His whole sad,
pathetic life, his desperate, thwarted love, couldn’t have been in
vain.

“Give up already, man!” Connor shouted at
him, stepping in close enough to push him over if he wanted to.

He shook his head, tears stinging, swaying on
the spot as blackness closed in around him, blackness mingled with
light. His eyes stayed fixed on the hilltop. He didn’t see Connor
raise his blade again and thrust it into his heart.

“No! Toby!” Ethan’s frantic cry cut through
the hush that had fallen on the watching men as the door to the
storehouse clattered open.

Toby didn’t think he’d heard right. He
struggled to keep his eyes from rolling back in his head, to keep
the darkness from taking him. He stared hard, watching the hilltop
even though the only thing keeping him upright was Connor’s blade
through his heart. He couldn’t let Ethan down. Ethan needed him.
One last time.

In that moment he saw a swarm of dark shapes,
sparkles of sunlight glittering off of raised weapons and polished
armor. They surged over the hilltop like angel’s wings. They had
come at last.

At last.

He closed his eyes with a smile of
relief.

He let go.

Jack rushed out into the clearing as Connor
jerked his blade out of Toby’s body, watching it crumple to the
ground. Moments later Ethan lunged at the man. The force of the
blow that pounded down on Connor was enough to send him reeling
backwards. Connor thought fast, baring his teeth in a snarl and
using Ethan’s momentum to trip him as he dodged out of the way.
Ethan sprawled to the ground, the wind knocked out of him, losing
his sword.

Jack lunged after Connor but stopped short at
the new, roaring cry that rose up from the hillside. He spun around
in time to see the shining army of soldiers on horseback pouring
down towards them from the hill.

Connor’s eyes snapped wide and he searched
for a way out. Ethan recovered and reclaimed his sword. He seized
on Connor’s hesitation, jumping to his feet and charging. He
slammed his sword into the bastard’s neck with so much fury that
Connor’s severed head flew to the side and his body dropped. Ethan
lost his sword and fell to his knees, hollow eyes staring at Toby’s
body.

“The orchard!” Lydia jumped up from her
resting place in a panic and shouted to the men who still carried
torches. She yanked one out of a goon’s hand and thrust it at the
rows of trees herself. “Burn the orchard!”

Jack heard the order and watched the men
surge into action, horror mingling with hatred like nothing he had
ever known. His orchard. Within seconds the first tree was alight.
Rage filled him. They had burned his house, destroyed his village,
killed his friends, but this was where it ended.

“Oy! You will not burn my orchard!”

“I’ll kill her!” Madeline’s shout at his side
shocked him so much he stumbled before he could charge after Lydia.
Madeline was one step ahead of him. She had grabbed a sword and
tore into the orchard with a battle cry that would have brought
down the stoutest men.

It was funny for half a second. His heart
dropped into his stomach and he ran after her.

Tom shouted as loud as any of the experienced
soldiers as they charged down the hillside and pounded into the
flaming heart of Kedleridge, swords drawn. He intended to press on
to the crush of men further down the hill, to the spot where he had
seen Toby killed. But his heart failed him when he reached the
chaos of the village. He pulled his horse to a stop, letting the
thundering flash of horses and armored men surge past him and on to
clash with Lydia’s men.

He dismounted as soon as the crush of horses
was past, stumbling when his feet hit the ground and careening
backwards, tripping over a body. He spun around in horror at the
thick heat of the fires all around him and the broken and bleeding
bodies of villagers on every side.

The concentration of men and steel and blood
that had surrounded Kedleridge when he rode over the hill was
spreading out. The villagers now clamored to put out the fires.
From horseback the soldiers easily drove the mercenaries to
scatter, swinging their swords and taking clear shots at them as
they ran. Even the crossbow bolts that zipped through the air now
and then did no more than bounce off of the guards’ armor or sink
into arms or legs for minimal damage.

Tom caught the flash of Jack’s ginger hair as
he ran into the orchard after Madeline. He jumped into action,
hurrying through the chaos towards the storehouse, intending to
follow his brother. As he drew closer the heat of the fire at the
end of the orchard blasted him. Half of the near corner of the
orchard was ablaze, the sickly sweet smell of baking apples filling
the air along with the scent of soot and ash and blood. Villagers
rushed towards it with buckets of water and blankets, fighting to
contain the blaze.

When Tom rounded the corner at the front of
the storehouse he stopped short at the sight that waited for him.
Ethan, his face smeared with dirt and ash, his tunic singed and
torn, knelt on the ground, his arms around the pale and bloody form
of Toby. His face was contorted in grief and he rocked back and
forth. Tom’s heart broke at the sight. Blood completely soaked the
front of Toby’s otherwise pristine tunic.

He couldn’t stand to see his friends lying in
the road surrounded by death and fire. He rushed forward, dropping
to his knees and scooping Toby’s lifeless form out of Ethan’s arms.
A moan of anguish escaped from Ethan. Tom stood, carrying Toby with
him, looking for shelter. Ethan didn’t seem capable of moving from
his spot slumped in the dirt. Tom sent him a useless, pitying
glance before heading towards the storehouse.

He was not prepared for what met him. Aubrey
lay on the ground, her back propped against a basket of fruit,
howling in pain. Her nightgown was hitched well up over her hips
and Crispin crouched between her legs, face pale and eyes wide with
panic. He thought he could see the hint of a dark round head making
its way into the world. He looked away only to see Joanna hunched
over Simon’s body as he lay pale and crumpled on his side. He
rushed to lay Toby on the floor beside Simon, throat constricting
in misery.

“Joanna,” he spoke softly to her.

“No!” She sobbed. “I don’t want to look. I
can’t look. He can’t be gone. He can’t!”

Tom didn’t know what else to do but whisper,
“I’m sorry.”

“He’s all I have. He can’t be dead. I won’t
believe it. Simon needs my help!” An eerie glaze of purpose made
her wild eyes bright as she focused on freeing the crossbow bolts
from Simon’s back.

“You have to stop, Joanna.”

She shook her head, eyes red with tears.
“Toby is fine. It’s Simon that needs help. I can’t get them out,”
Joanna sobbed. Her hands were slick with bright red blood as she
gripped the bolt that protruded from Simon’s lower back. “I can’t
get them out. I can’t … I can’t….”