The Sword and the Sylph (Elemental Series) (6 page)

“I would gladly risk
my life to save your father, Portia-Maer, now let me assist him and let’s all be on our way.”

Braden helped the man out of the bed, holding him on one side while Portia tried her best to help guide him from the other. They managed to make it up the stairs and into the courtyard, only to be spotted by the countess who stormed across the bailey toward them.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She glared first at Portia and then at Braden.

“Otillia, my love,” said the earl, “they are helping at my request to be brought into the light
and fresh air.”

“You know what the healer said,” she blurted out. “You need to be kept away from everyone and under the earth in order to recover.”

“I do not believe that, my dear. And tho I am dying, I am still the ruler of Calila while I am still alive,” he said. “Now get out of my way, woman.”

The countess did not even have time to respond, as just then a shout was heard from the guard at the gate.

“We are surrounded,” he called. “A troop approaches from the north as well as from the south.”

Braden looked to the top of the mountain and realized the sun was in position for Lord Solomon’s men to attack. He had
been underground and not known this, so he had not done as promised by creating a distraction.

“Ready the archers. A
ll men-at-arms approach the front gate, quickly,” shouted the countess, rushing toward the gate and forgetting about them for the moment.

“Portia,” said Braden, “
’tis too late. It has started.”

“What ha
s started?” asked Lord Magnus, as Braden helped him to sit atop a bench. His body was weak and frail, and it took all his effort just to sit upright. “And who the hell is attacking us?”

Braden
looked at Portia and could see the sadness in her eyes. Now he felt like such a traitor, helping to bring the ailing man up from the cellar only to lead him into the midst of a battle.

“’Tis Lord So
lomon’s men from Banesmoor.” Portia relayed the information, the color slowly returning to her face at once again being in the fresh air.

“
Lord Solomon? I have no qualms with the man, so why would they be attacking us?” asked Lord Magnus.

Commotion ran rampant throughout the
courtyard, mothers clinging to their children, and vendors gathering up their belongings quickly. Shouts went out from the soldiers as they rushed forward, getting atop their horses, drawing their weapons in the process.

“How did we
not know about this?” the earl asked, bewildered.

“I knew,” announced Portia
softly. “But I said naught, at the request of Sir Braden.”

“What?” asked Lord Magnus, shaking his head in
disbelief. “Why would you do that? And why wouldn’t Sir Braden want us to know?”

Braden looked to Portia with pleading eyes, hoping she was not going to reveal his secret. However, he had no chance to find out. Just then, the stablemaster walked up with Braden’s horse at his side.

“Because he’s a traitor,” said the stablemaster. “And also the betrothed of Lord Solomon’s daughter, Lady Christabel, that’s why.”

“
Stablemaster, what are you saying?” asked the earl. Then he raised his pale face to look at Braden. “God’s eyes, is this true, Sir Braden?”

“Nay . . . not really,” answered
Braden looking to Portia for help, but getting none. Instead, she just made the situation worse.

“So you are now
denying you are betrothed to the lady of Banesmoor?” she asked him.

“I do not deny it,” he said, “but I
assure you I am not a traitor.”

“Guards!” called Lord Magnus
as loud as he could muster in his weak state. “Capture this traitor anon.”

“What?” Braden saw the guards rushing over with their swords drawn. He didn’t wait around to try
to explain things further. He grabbed the reins of his horse from the stablemaster and swung himself up into the saddle. He turned a full circle and looked down to Portia before he left.

“Mayhap that kiss we shared meant naught to you, Sylph, but it
meant something to me whether you believe it or not.”

Then he turned and sped across the bailey, making it across the drawbridge just as it was being raised. He pulled his sword and rode into the center of the battle, not really sure anymore for which side he fought.
But one thing he knew for certain – the fae girl who’d basically just revealed him as a traitor was far from who he thought she was. She no longer seemed to be the girl he’d lost his heart to that day in the stone circle. That is, the day she’d healed his wound with her magickal kiss.

Chapter 6

Portia watched Sir Braden ride away, her heart already breaking. She’d never meant to reveal him as working for Lord Solomon. But now, because of Vance the stablemaster’s words, the damage had been done that could mean the death of the knight.

Actually, she realized it was her fault
after all. In a fit of anger she’d told the man about Braden when she should have kept it to herself instead. Now he rode out into the midst of a battle and for all she knew, she’d never see him again.

“Why was that man even inside my castle walls?” asked her father. “No spy should ever live to tell about it. I would have him hunted down and executed for his betrayal.”

“Father, he helped you out of the underground chamber and was willing to give his life for you if need be.”

“I have no tolerance for spies, no matter how ill I am. I don’t want you to ever go near that man again, do you he
ar me? Spies are the lowest, vilest filth of the earth, and they don’t deserve to live.”

If only he knew, she thought. Her father would be furious a
s well as heartbroken if he ever found out she’d been using the elemental powers she’d inherited from her mother to spy inside the enemy’s walls.

Just then he started coughing and holding his side.
He had trouble breathing, and his face had turned as white as snow. The countess rushed across the courtyard with several of her men.

“Get him inside quickly,” she instructed. “Put him in the cellar room to protect him from the battle.”

“Nay,” he protested and continued coughing and holding his side. Then an arrow of fire shot over the wall, landing just next to Portia’s feet.

She
jumped, and looked up to the sky. Arrows of fire rained down around them, catching a wagon of hay, sending it up in flames. Women screamed and ran with their children for shelter. Pigs and goats scattered across the cobblestones trying to get away from the burning cart.

“They’v
e broken through the barbican and have already made their way to the drawbridge,” shouted a soldier, running over to relay the message.

“I need to fight,” said Portia’s father trying to get to his feet.

“Nay!” cried the countess, trying to hold him back.

“We need to do something quickly,” called another soldier joining them. “There are too many of them a
nd they are about to break through our protective walls.”

Just then another arrow of fire shot over the wall, this time embedding itself into her father’s chest. He
gasped and clutched at his heart, the fire burning close to his face.

“Nay!
” screamed Portia, running to his side. Then with one swipe of her hand, she brought forth a breeze to put out the fire of the arrow. “Father,” she cried, “don’t die, I beg you.”

“Get him inside the earth chamber,” instructed the countess.

The guards picked him up and moved him toward the door.

“Nay, not under the ground. Leave him here with me,” she said.

“Portia,” said her father, barely able to speak. “Protect the castle . . . use your . . . powers.” That was the last he said before he closed his eyes and slipped into an unconscious slumber.

“They won’t get away with this!
” Portia cried out and angrily got to her feet. “I would stop this anon.” She picked up her skirts, quickly running to the stone steps leading up to the battlements. She heard the countess calling from behind her, but she ignored her and continued on with her father’s orders.

Dodging another arrow of fire, she moved to the side just in time to avoid bein
g hit by one of her father’s knights tumbling down the steps with an arrow sticking out of his back.

“Stop!” she cried, getting to the top of the battlements and looking over the edge. It was most disturbing to see the melee below. Knights on horseback as well as footsoldiers all fought one another in a senseless battle. Bloo
d flowed freely and lives were being lost senselessly all around her.

Then she saw Sir Braden, and to h
er surprise, he was not fighting her father’s men but rather warding off anyone who came near without taking them down completely. He was outnumbered and she knew it would not be long before he fell with the rest of them to his death, since he seemed like he was purposely not trying to kill anyone.

“I command the element of the
air to come to my aid,” she called out. She raised her arms above her head and looked up to the sky. She’d regained the strength she’d lost down in the cellar and now used all her powers to stop this raging senseless battle before any more lives were lost.

Braden fought bravely, trying his best to ward off any attacker no matter what side they were on. He felt loyal to Lord Solomon and the Lady Christabel and had sworn his allegiance to his new lord. But then, after seeing Portia’s ailing father and the sadness in the fae’s eyes, he knew he had to help them as well. He wanted naught more than to leave this bloodied battlefield and go back to Manterra where at least he knew where his loyalties lie. Now he was so confused, he felt as if he wanted to protect both sides instead of killing anyone at all.

The wind picked up around him, and the sky rolled in turmoil above.
Thunder boomed loudly as lightning flashed continuously across the darkened sky. Black clouds now covered the sun and rain pelted down around them, making the ground slippery and the fighting more dangerous than before.

His horse
slipped and fell from under him causing him to fall to the ground. Then at the shout of a soldier, his attention was aimed upward.

“’Tis a cyclone!” called out a man. “Run for cover.”

If he thought this day couldn’t get any worse, then he was sadly mistaken. Sure enough, the clouds split open and a whirlwind of energy shot forth from the sky, scaring the men and sending them riding away at breakneck speed. Horses as well as men were picked up into the swirling air, circling around above his head. He felt himself being lifted as well, and clung to a nearby stump in order to secure his fate.

Then, once the cyclone passed, he reached for the nearest horse, mounted and rode like th
e devil back to Banesmoor and as far away from this cursed place as he possibly could.

Portia never felt more alive, using the power of the wind and rain. She’d managed to clear the battlefield of the men, and was relieved to see Sir Braden speeding away unharmed.

She
lowered her arms and with them, the wind slowly subsided. The men and animals that were caught up in her cyclone were gently placed back down on the ground unharmed. Then, when she was sure the fighting was over, she raced from the top of the battlements to find her father.

He had never ma
de it to safety. His body lie atop the cold, wet stone of the courtyard, nobody paying him any attention as they all ran around aimlessly in a panic, trying to seek shelter or escape the castle’s walls altogether. Women ran toward the front gate trying to find their beloved men, and pages and servants scurried around rounding up the loose chickens and horses.

“Father?” She approached him slowly, not paying any attention to the chaos all around her. “Father, ple
ase don’t die!”

She sidestepped
several people, making her way to their fallen ruler. No one bothered to stay with him through the raid. A man they once respected and would protect with their lives now lie with an arrow in his chest atop the rubble from the storm, discarded like yesterday’s trash.

She fell to her knees and cradled his head in her arms. She cried softly and rocked back and forth, feeling as if she’d jus
t lost the rest of her family. The breeze kissed her on the cheek trying to comfort her, while the rain still trickled down trying to wash away her grief. And then she noticed his eyes open slightly, and she knew he was not yet dead.

“Father, stay with me, please do not die.”

“Kiss,” he whispered and she had to lean forward in order to hear him.

“Wha
t?” she asked, straining her ears to decipher what may be his last words. “Use . . . your . . . kiss.”

With these words she was filled with a newfound strength. Mayhap what Sir Braden has said was true.
Did she possibly still have her power of healing with just a kiss? Still, she didn’t know if she could do it. But all she knew was that she had to try.