Chapter 24

Aris kicked down the door, and, with blurring speed, jammed the filet knife into the throat of thug who’d been about to cleave the it open with his battle-axe. Aris then caught the falling axe, spun, and hurled the knife into the throat of the archer that’d climbed onto Wallace’s roof.

How had the general known he’d be there? Kestrel watched the man in awe.

“Now’s not the time to stop and watch kid!” Wallace, who had already dispatched the third of the attackers with a blow to the head that surely had fractured bone, shouted at Kestrel.

Wallace’s admonition shocked Kestrel into action and he danced away from an oncoming swing from a short sword. He caught the next blow mere inches away from his neck with the metalvine Aris had given him.

The moment Kestrel’s attacker felt resistance, he pulled the blade back for another attack from the opposite side. Kestrel dropped as the blade sliced through the air where his head had just been. He rolled to the side as the man brought the blade down with lightning speed stabbing at where he had just been. Now behind the mercenary, Kestrel swung the metalvine at the thug’s achilles tendon and collapsed the man. He followed with a heavy blow to the back of the neck. The loud snapping of vertebrae told him that his attacker wouldn’t be getting up.

Ever.

Kestrel barely had time to regain his footing before his battle-enhanced senses warned him of an attack coming from behind him. He twisted and the metalvine that been aimed at his spine pounded his shoulder. Something snapped. Kestrel’s left side erupted in pain.

He ignored it.

Giving into pain in a fight was a good way to get yourself killed.

Kestrel dodged the next blow and returned with a front kick that sent the man hurtling backwards, stumbling. Kestrel rushed forward and swung the metalvine in a vicious arc. It slammed into the man’s ear and sheared through it, cracking bone.

Kestrel turned to look at Wallace and Aris, who, between the two of them, were fighting off the remaining six attackers. They had their backs to the wall of Wallace’s hut, keeping them from being fully encircled by the attackers.

Kestrel rushed towards them, metalvine swinging in a blaze of fury.

In what seemed like seconds, bodies littered the space in front of Wallace’s shack. Kestrel had taken out one in the time it took for the older veterans to dispatch the remaining five.

“Are there any left alive?” Wallace turned to Aris, who in turn, glanced at Kestrel.

Kestrel nodded and went to the man who he’d downed with the blow to the ear. He was out, but breathing.

“Wake him up.” Aris commanded him.

Kestrel obeyed despite himself and tried to shake the man awake to no avail.

“Get out of the way Kestrel,” Wallace pushed him aside and went to a barrel, pulled out a bucket full of ice cold water from the nearby river and splashed it on the man. He sputtered awake, eyes full of bewilderment.

“How many did Dumas send?” Aris was in the man’s face, interrogating him.

How had he got there? Kestrel hadn’t noticed him moving at all.

The fallen man opened his mouth the make a retort before Wallace silenced him. “Before you answer, take a look around you. Three of us were able to take out ten of you in less time it takes a drunk to down a tankard of ale. So please answer truthfully.”

The lanky prisoner with slicked back blond hair gulped as he took in the scene. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Dumas wasn’t dumb enough to think that the first wave would kill you, so he sent a company of crossbowmen as well. They should…”

The tell-tale crack alerted Aris “Scatter!” He screamed.

The bolts seemed to fall is if the man’s words were a cue.

The sky was filled with the deadly darts and the trio dove for cover, barely making it away unscathed. The blond man didn’t fair as well. Five crossbow bolts had pincushioned his body. He was dead in seconds.

“They’re about to shoot a second volley. We’ll sit that one out, and then, as they’re loading the next round, we’re gonna make a break for it. You got it?” Wallace commanded Kestrel.

Kestrel nodded. He’d seen enough of memories of the old man’s battles that he knew listening to him was his only chance at making it out of the situation alive.

“What about Aris?” Kestrel asked.

“He knows what to do. Don’t worry about him.”

Before Wallace had finished his last sentence the second volley came just as the old man had said. A bolt bit through the wood the two of them were hiding behind and the tip of the small arrow cut into the forehead of Wallace who shrugged it off and pushed the board a little further forward.

“That could’ve been bad. Now run!”

Wallace burst from behind the cover and Kestrel followed closely behind. They ran in a tight formation behind Aris who’d picked up the dead man and used him as a shield from the oncoming volley of arrows. As they neared the spot where the three bowmen were, Aris hurled the body at the group who’d lined up at the mouth of the alley that dead-ended at Wallace’s shack, giving them enough time to break through their ranks and rush into the tiny alleys.

The world blurred to Kestrel as he tried to keep his pace with the two soldiers who sprinted ahead, outpacing him despite the fact that between the two of them they probably had sixty combined years on him.

No shots followed them. The bowmen must have broken ranks to reform elsewhere.

“I have to stop,” Kestrel eventually gasped. His legs were nearly giving out and spots danced in his vision. His body was in shock.

“Keep going,” Aris’ voice was hard.

“He can’t,” Wallace replied. “He was on the verge of death little more than two months ago. He had three broken ribs, a small fracture in his skull, and more. Not to mention the coma he was in.” Aris’s ears perked up at that last line. “It’s a miracle he’s even been able to walk in such a short time. Like it or not, we need to rest or this young man won’t make it.”

Aris scowled but relented. “Okay. We’ll rest. But not here. Follow me.”

Kestrel nodded as he gasped for breath and Wallace came by his side and shored him up.

Everything hurt. Even breathing was agonizing.

Kestrel limped alongside the older man and followed Aris as he led them down two more twisting alleyways before he found a low hanging roof that they hoisted Kestrel up onto.

The trio finally came to rest after scrambling from roof to roof for ten minutes. They holed up on the small veranda of an old building where they used some drying laundry as cover.

“It’s because crap like this always happens when you’re around that I haven’t seen you for years,” Wallace poked fun at Aris who grinned.

“So you’re saying you abandoned me, even after I offered you a senior position in my cabinet because you’re a tired, boring old man?”

The two shared a silent chuckle together, and Kestrel wondered if Aris caught the old man’s nearly inaudible whisper, “it’s because I swore to your brother that I wouldn’t interfere with you.”

“And who’s this? I was never properly introduced to your young ward whom you’d lied about,” Aris’s eyes turned to steel as he faced Kestrel.

Kestrel detected no hatred in them, but he felt naked as the General’s eyes picked him apart.

“My name’s Kestrel, and your friend Wallace here was gracious enough to take me in after two of YOUR men killed my young companion and almost did the same to me,” Kestrel glared at Aris.

“If that happened it was against my orders.”

Kestrel was surprised that the General even entertained the possibility. He’d expected a complete dismissal. People in power ALWAYS dismissed anybody like him.

“Well, it happened, and they were wearing YOUR uniforms,” Kestrel stated.

“Then it was against my orders. Did you happen to get the names of the guards?” Aris replied.

Kestrel tilted his head at the question. Had the General really just asked him that?.

“How do you think he got so injured? Do you really expect a sapling to be able to learn the names of the soldiers who’re trying to kill him?” Wallace interjected.

“I suppose not, but I can wish for something that would make an investigation easier, can’t I?” Aris Ravenscroft chuckled.

Aris’ laughing reply caught Kestrel off guard.

He had hated the man just minutes ago. Those under his command had killed Cillia. He had to have been evil.

But he had just saved Kestrel’s life. He had even offered him an olive branch.

Could Kestrel actually trust the General?

“I, uhmm…” Kestrel started to say before Wallace’s meaty palm slammed onto his mouth, silencing him. “What’re you!” he tried to hiss from behind the old soldier’s hand, but stopped when he noticed Wallace’s tenseness.

Something was about to happen.

“They’ve found us,” Aris whispered. “They’re going to be flanking us now.”

Wallace nodded. “So what’s the plan? Run or fight?”

“We’re not too far from my estate, I made sure to lead us towards it. No matter how badly Dumas wants me dead, he’s not dumb enough to break into the house of a general. Right now, this is his only shot at taking my head,” Aris replied. “The problem is they’re blocking our way. And with our injured young companion, I don’t see any way of sneaking around them without being detected. So we’re gonna have to break through them and make a dash for it. I hope you’re ready young man.”

Kestrel nodded. He trusted Wallace, and the old soldier trusted the General. He’d follow them. His body ached and his breathing still came in painful gasps but he was a survivor. He would survive even if it killed him.

“Give Wallace your metalvine,” Aris commanded Kestrel, who hadn’t realized that the weapon was still in his hands.

He had trouble opening up his hand to return the weapon. He had gripped it so tightly it took a conscious effort to let go.

“I’m gonna go ahead and take out the two they’ll have on the roofs. These types like to work staggered, they’ll keep those two for cover and the rest will work to box us in with short swords and metalvines,” Wallace said. “They’ll probably have a few more bowmen, but we’ll just have to take our chances.”

He got up and padded his way over the rooftops. The old man moved like a cat.

“Follow me,” Aris told Kestrel who picked himself up with a wince and crept along behind the general with as much stealth as he could muster.

They lowered themselves to ground level.

Soon the were silently sneaking along a cramped, colorful, alleyway. Each step brought them closer to the small group of mercenaries.

Kestrel heard a gasp and the scraping that Kestrel imagined went with strangulation coming from a nearby roof. He prayed it wasn’t Wallace who had let out that quickly silenced cry. Aris dragged Kestrel to his feet.

“That was it, let’s run.”

They charged at the group of mercenaries.

“Now!” Aris screamed loudly.

Wallace released a crossbow bolt into the eye of another rooftop archer. His body tumbled into the midst of the mercenaries, opening a channel that Aris and Kestrel burst through.

Kestrel was startled, but didn't lose step when Wallace dropped from a nearby rooftop with a wince and landed in stride with them, urging the small band forwards towards the safety of Aris’ estate.

The soldier glanced back. One of the assassins had raised his crossbow again.

“Watch out!” Wallace screamed and shoved Kestrel to the side, taking the crossbow bolt meant for the orphan in his shoulder. Wallace cried in pain but kept pushing forward in his mad dash.

Kestrel nearly shouted in relief when he saw the company of armed guards suddenly appear on either side of them and unload expertly placed arrows into the small band of mercenaries behind them. They were cut down so quickly they hadn’t had time to cry out.

Their passing from the world had been eerily silent. Only the soft thump of their falling bodies proclaimed their deaths.

What had just happened?

Where had the guards appeared from?

“Our lookout saw you and thought you might need help sir,” the leader of the guards, a man in his mid-thirties with a shock of bright red hair said as Aris pulled to a stop with Wallace and Kestrel in tow.

Aris nodded his thanks.

“He needs help,” Kestrel shouted as he caught Wallace’s collapsing body.

Aris nodded to the Captain. The red haired man took Wallace opposite of Kestrel and led him to the barrack’s infirmary.

“I’m not going to be stopped by something so small,” Wallace gasped.

Kestrel let out a strained grin.

“It looks like you need help yourself,” the red haired soldier noted as he assessed Kestrel after laying Wallace on the cot facedown and sending another man to fetch a healer for the old man.

“Maybe later. First I have some questions for general Ravenscroft. Where can I find him?”

“Behind you,” Aris replied, startling Kestrel, who in his worried state hadn’t noticed him following them into the barracks. “And I’ll gladly oblige you, but first I want to make sure Wallace is okay. Then secondly, I need to talk to my wife and family and explain what just happened. Feel free to follow me if you think these are excuses.”

Kestrel nodded. The look in his eyes told Aris the young man would indeed take him up on the offer, still, he had been tricked by looks before.

“What can we do in the meantime Roderick?” Aris asked the redheaded Captain.

“Nothing sir. The surgeon should arrive soon. We just need to wait. But I’d advise your young friend here to wait for the healer himself. I can tell from just a glance that his shoulder is out of place from your recent plight and his body is peppered with bruises, young and old, that need checked out.”

Aris looked over to Kestrel who was glaring at him.

“I don’t think rest is an option for him,” he replied to the Captain of the guard before turning to address Kestrel. “At least let us pop your shoulder back into place before we decide on anything else, okay?”

Kestrel nodded. He was about to brace himself for the oncoming shot of pain when Aris grabbed his arm and gave it a massive yank outward and upward, returning the joint to its rightful place.

“You could at least warn me!” Kestrel cried in pain. “You really are a monster!”

Aris laughed at the young man.

*****

The healer arrived about ten minutes later, and after a perfunctory nod to Aris, turned to examine Wallace’s shoulder.

It took him nearly two hours two finish operating on Wallace.

“You have no idea how lucky your friend is,” the man addressed Aris as he washed his blood covered hands, then poured some spirits over the stitches. “The bolt took him above the collarbone and only pierced muscle. If it were any lower, he would almost assuredly be dead. As it is, and at his age, his healing is going to take a while and using this arm is out of the question. He also may have chipped some bone, but I don’t have the expertise, nor resources to deal with that. Regardless, he’ll heal, and may even have the miracle of regaining near full usage of his arm if he takes proper care of it. But he MUST rest.”

“He’ll be glad to hear that. Though I’m not sure if he’ll stay that way after hearing the mandatory rest part,” Aris replied. examining the now resting body of his old commander who had been given a foul smelling concoction to help him sleep through the surgery.

Aris was once again surprised by the old mans toughness. The crossbow bolt wasn’t the worst wound he’d seen Wallace take in their years of fighting together, but seeing his old commander so pale had been frightening.

“And as for your friend here…” the doctor turned to Kestrel whom he demanded to strip. “What happened to you? You must’ve been through hell recently. It looks like you were nearly beat to death, and whatever caused your flight re-dislocated a rib that’d seen a particular amount of trauma. The fact that your wounds didn’t kill you and you’re still standing is no small miracle. You need to rest immediately and let yourself heal.”

Kestrel shook his head ‘no.’ The surgeon opened his mouth to retort about how foolish he was being, but when he caught sight of the ice in Kestrel’s eyes he was silenced.

“He’s not going to listen to me, am I right?” the healer said, turning to Aris.

“Over the few hours that I’ve known him, I’ve learned one thing. This young man is tenacious. He’s not going to rest until he gets answers. So pop his rib back and I’ll give him what he wants so he can finally rest,” Aris responded.

The doctor let out a sigh and nodded. He then laid Kestrel down, and after some chiropractic manipulations, Kestrel’s dislocated rib returned to its rightful place and he released the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

The old surgeon then cleaned the rest of the wounds and applied a cool menthol poultice that felt like the freezing water of the Trout River. Kestrel sucked in a breath of shock but stayed silent.

“There’s not much more I can do for now, but whoever it was that patched this young man up should be congratulated. Though it was messy, he saved his life,” the healer said as he took the remaining linens and wrapped them tightly around Kestrel abdomen and shoulder, securing the injured areas and assuring a speedier recovery.

“It was Wallace,” Kestrel uttered.

“Maybe I should take him as an apprentice,” the surgeon said, sounding as if he was seriously considering the option.

“Now it’s time to let my wife know what’s going on,” Aris said after the healer gave his men a poultice and supply of fresh linens, explaining to them how to properly use them to aid in healing to the two injured men.

“Yes, and I’m coming along,” Kestrel stood up with a grimace.

He faltered but caught himself. His body radiated pain, but he wouldn’t let that stop him.

Aris nodded. “I was afraid you were going to say that,” he sighed. “Oh well. Come along then. It looks like along with an explanation, my wife will get an introduction too.”

Kestrel, who was deliriously tired by then, but too stubborn to lay down, trod silently behind the General to the door of his home, where he was greeted by his wife and twin daughters who all had worried looks in their eyes.

Sephira followed a few steps behind. She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Kestrel.

“What are you doing HERE?!” they asked in unison.