Behind The Wooden Door (9 page)

Cormac stopped abruptly and peered around the side of the rounded tower. He pulled back quickly and flattened himself against the wall. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply as if thinking what his next move should be. Straightening himself, he signaled to the soldier behind me.

He was one of the youngest soldiers in the army; he carried a crudely-made bow and arrow that looked as if he had made it himself. His brown hair was flecked with golden blonde, and his grey-blue eyes reminded me of the ocean he had sailed over to be here.

“Guards. Maybe two hundred yards from here. Where there’s guards, there’s usually a way in,” Cormac whispered. “You’ll have to get closer, but I need you to take them out.”

The boy didn’t speak a word as he readied his bow. His hands shook violently. I could only imagine his fear. He knew just as well as we did if he didn’t kill the guards instantly, Artair’s men would hear the turmoil. An early notification was the last thing we needed. I would have been shaking too.

With a single nod from Cormac, he disappeared around the castle’s tower. I held my breath and grasped tightly to the sword in my hands.  This war was more real than I had ever imagined it to be. I had heard war stories from my grandfather before he passed away, but they never sounded how this felt. His stories were of victories and nameless soldiers. This war was fear and the death of brothers. My grandfather had never once told me of the young archers who may have never told war stories of their own.

A heavy thud sounded through the air followed by a hoarse yell and another thud. No one dared to move as we waited for the boy to come back. A soft whistle floated with the wind toward us, and Cormac let out a sigh of relief. He nodded to the soldiers, and we followed him around the tower.

The boy stood by his kill with his bow loosely in his hand.

“Good job, Barden,” Cormac said, but the boy could only give a faint smile in return.

Barden looked tired of fighting and killing, but here it was kill or be killed, and if he was from a peasant village like most, it would be the same way at his home. There was no escaping the horrors of death for most of the soldiers. It was the same for them everywhere.

His sad eyes met mine, and I wondered if his reason for being here was a bit like his leader’s.  The yearning to die but the will to live constantly battling in his head as it did in Cormac’s.

“Alright men, this is it. This could be the turning point of this war. They have our brothers, and I don’t need to tell you what to do to get them back,” Cormac called out. “This will be chaos, but don’t hesitate. Revern zaunt!”

“Revern zaush!” the men called back in unison.

I tried to hide my smile, but it was pointless. I now knew why Tristan had so much pride in his men. Where was Tristan now? For all any of us knew, he could have already been in the castle rescuing Tommy and Hawk, or he could be lying on the floor of Norric covered in blood. If Cornelia’s prediction was right, he would never make it back home. I shook the idea from my head instantly because I knew she was wrong. He was Tristan Aissur, and he was invincible.

Cormac stared through the archway in front of us and walked into his enemy’s home. I stayed only a step behind him as the beige walls engulfed us. None of us knew where we were going as we stole through my cousin’s castle, but we followed faithfully.

We rounded the corner of the corridor and came face to face with the enemy. There were only three soldiers, but that’s all they needed to alert the castle of our presence.  Two of the men in blue advanced toward us even though they knew they were facing death, but as long as one got to the others in the castle, they would not die in vain.

With a swift move of Cormac’s sword, a fountain of blood sprayed from one of the men’s throats. Before he had even fallen to the ground, his comrade was dead. I had never seen death this closely. Never seen the light leave the eyes of men. I wanted to turn and run away from the men I trusted. Run from the fresh blood leaking onto the floor. And run from the bitter cold that consumed my body. This war was nothing at all like the stories.

Cormac ran down the corridor, but I couldn’t move. My eyes locked on the dead men. I could see the soldiers blurring past me as if in slow motion, but I didn’t move.

Long fingers wrapped around my arm and pulled me along with them. Grey-blue eyes met mine, and I ran after the soldiers with the archer. I held back the tears that fought to escape down my cheeks. This was war and there was no time for tears. I had to be strong like Tristan and be ready to fight to the death because none of us knew how many men were awaiting us within the depths of the castle.

I didn’t know what I’d do when the soldiers in blue caught up to us, but I hoped the sword in my hand would not fail me as it did the soldier who used to wield it.

I heard the sounds of agony ahead before I could see the carnage. Barden gave me a fleeting look and a nod before he pulled his sword from its sheath and ran through the arched door ahead.

This was it. I had to be brave and defend not only my kingdom, but the men who had accepted me, even if their acceptance was only because of Tristan. I had no choice. I refused to run from this, and I refused to stay in the hall while the men fought.

The sword grew heavier as I moved toward the door Barden had just disappeared behind. With my left hand, I pushed the door open.

The smell of blood flooded my nostrils as soon as the wood swung away from me. And I faltered.

I could see the top of Cormac’s head through the swarm of fighting men. He was surrounded by soldiers, but he didn’t seem to notice how many there were. He took two men down instantly with one hit of his sword and made quick work of the others in mere seconds.

Men from both sides lie dead on the hard stone flooring. Blood seeped from gashes deep within their skin. Stampeding hooves and horse whinnies sounded from somewhere in the castle. Everything was chaos.

A blue flash ran toward me. The soldier wasn’t very large, but the sword in his hand made up for the lack of intimidation in his looks. He was much older than any of the men in Tristan’s army, but Norric had always had a strong army. An undefeated army.

Wide eyed and terrified, I lifted the sword with both hands and prepared to fight back, but I didn’t have to.

An arrowhead jutted through the man’s forehead as he fell roughly to the floor. I said a quiet thanks to Barden.

But Barden’s arrows wouldn’t last forever, and I’d have to defend myself.

With a breath that I prayed would not be my last, I lifted the sword and ran into the heart of the battle. One of Cormac’s men had fallen, but he still tried to fight. I knew he would not last long whilst on the ground, so I did the only thing I could.

My sword sunk deep into the blue shirt of one of Norric’s soldiers. I could feel the skin being severed by the blade in my hand. My hands shook as I heard the man scream out and crumple to the floor. I ripped my sword out of the man’s back. The blade felt heavier than before as if the blood of my enemy had seeped into its metal body and grown stronger.

Tristan’s soldier nodded his thanks as he jumped to his feet and rejoined in the bloodshed.

“Princess! Behind you!”  Barden’s voice echoed in my ears as if his voice were the only noise in the world.

I turned instantly and blocked the blade of another man’s sword from amputating my arm. The metal vibrated in my hands as I continued to block the man’s blows. My palms grew sore with every hit my sword took.

He lifted his sword to strike again, but I did not give him the chance. I rammed my sword as hard as I could into the man’s stomach. His sword fell to the ground only seconds before his body followed suit.

I looked back to Barden, but he had fallen. The sword fell from my hand as I stared at his limp body lying motionless. His ocean blue eyes looked straight ahead at absolutely nothing.

The war became more and more real with every second that passed.

The horses grew louder. 

From the corner of my eye, I could see another soldier coming toward me, and there wasn’t enough time to pick up my sword.

“What the hell are you doing!?” the soldier yelled and grabbed my arm.

As soon as I saw his face, I burst into tears and hugged the man I had once been terrified of. If he was alive, Tristan had to be too.

“Get off of me! You’re going to get us both killed! Here!” Hawk shouted.

He shoved the hilt of another sword into my hand before pulling a thin knife from his belt. With a quick flick of his wrist, the knife flew through the madness around us and landed square into the back of Cormac’s attacker’s head.

With a flood of relief, I saw Tristan and Tommy as they fought back to back on the balcony and sliced down Artair’s men. It was like a weight had been lifted from my soul. Everything felt as if it would be okay in that moment.

But Tommy was too close to the stone railing. One of the Artair’s soldiers pushed him roughly. Tommy tripped over the body of a dead man and fell from the balcony.

His body seemed to descend in slow motion before he crashed to the floor.

Tristan’s scream was louder and more monstrous than anything I had ever heard in my entire life. Tristan hacked into the men ruthlessly. He seemed more animal than man. The blood of Artair’s men sprayed the air. Not even that would avenge Tommy’s death in Tristan’s eyes.

But Tommy wasn’t dead.

He tried to push himself up from the floor but fell back again. Hawk ran through the fighting soldiers to Tommy. He grabbed Tommy by the forearm and heaved him up. Hawk’s laugh was inaudible as he shook his head at his non-blood brother.

But his smile faded when he saw the terror in Tommy’s eyes.

The stampede had finally made its way to us.

Four large white horses charged toward the two of them. There wasn’t enough time for them to move.

Hawk shoved Tommy as hard as he could. The younger boy stumbled out of the way as the horses trampled Hawk’s body.

The stallions never slowed as they tore through the castle.

I waited for Hawk to stand. For him to pull another knife from his belt.

But he didn’t move.

Tommy crawled over the floor to his fallen friend and felt for a pulse. The yell that escaped his lips made the hair on my arms stand. The sound of his torment echoed over the battle.

Hawk was dead.

CHAPTER 13

The battle continued to rage around me. Tristan found me and commanded I stay with Tommy, away from the forefront of the battle, hidden behind a flight of stairs. Tommy kept his blade ready in case any soldiers slipped past his brother and toward us and Hawk’s body.

Tiredness begged to overcome me. The bloodshed didn’t send chills through me anymore. It didn’t make me want to run.  The death around me just seemed like a dream. I was sure the next day I would wake to find myself once again in Tristan’s tent. Hawk would send a snide comment my way, and Tommy would merely smile at me and say good morning. None of this would be real.

Overhead, people ran across the balcony. Tristan’s men fell over and over again. They were so outnumbered.

Tristan knew it too. He sliced a man’s neck and rammed the hilt of his sword into the head of another before he came to Tommy and me.

“You two get out of here! I’ll find Cormac and tell him to help you get out,” Tristan said. “We won’t be far behind.”

“I’m not leaving Hawk,” Tommy’s voice was barely a whisper above the sounds of clashing steel and cries of anguish.

Tristan didn’t seem to hear his brother though. He gave us one last glance before he became the head soldier again and rejoining his men in the battle. Tommy let out an angry growl and braced himself against the stone wall. He was frustrated at himself for being injured and not fighting. No doubt in his mind, he had failed. But he wasn’t stupid enough to rejoin the carnage and be ripped to pieces by the enemy’s sword.

Cormac fought his way through the men to where we were sheltered. He stared at the body of his friend with a stony face before lifting the corpse in his arms.

“Go first,” he said to Tommy. “I can’t fight and carry him at the same time.”

Tommy nodded. His sword wasn’t necessary though. Artair’s men weren’t concerned about the three silhouettes slipping through the exit. They were just trying to stay alive.

We slipped through the castle corridors like ghosts oblivious to the world. One foot in front of the other. It was more than the October air whistling through the windows that made me cold.

The halls were silent. No one stirred around the castle of Norric. They hid in the safest place they could, afraid of the man I so cherished. I sent a silent prayer for Tristan. A prayer that Cornelia was wrong.

The men Barden killed still laid outside the arched doorway. Their blank eyes reflected the stars.

None of us said a word all the way back to camp. No words could ever express how any of us felt in that moment.

Cormac closed Hawk’s eyes. He could have looked as if he w
ere sleeping, but the hoof marks on his black clothes told us differently. Tommy helped place the body of his friend on a bed of hay then placed two coins over Hawk’s closed eyes.