Keeper of the Black Stones (28 page)

Four soldiers dressed in matching tattered uniforms–white with crude red crosses stitched into the front–came out of the corridor and strolled casually toward us.

“What do we do?” I asked under my breath.

“We've got to run for it!” Paul said, a little louder than I thought he should have.

“Don't move!” Reis said in a guttural whisper. His hand descended slowly onto Paul's head, pushing his face down into the dirt to keep him quiet.

The soldiers walked toward us, coming to a halt several feet from the woodpile. Tatiana, laying next to me, moved her hand onto my arm and tightened her grip. The solders in front of us ranged from an old man to a boy no older than I was. Two of them held pieces of meat, while one had a tankard of some sort of liquid. They settled themselves into comfortable stances and began to talk and laugh while they ate and drank.

“You've got to be kidding me,” Paul muttered. He'd freed himself from Reis' grip and was glaring at the soldiers through a hole in the woodpile. “They're having a picnic
now?
”

One of the soldiers glanced in our direction, frowning, and I almost choked. I turned slowly to stare at Paul, willing him with my eyes to stop breathing and do his best impersonation of a rock.

Then the soldier turned back to his friends and laughed at something
one of them had said, and I sighed in relief. I looked anxiously over at Reis, moving my head and eyes as slowly as I could. His eyes were racing across the courtyard toward the gate, his mouth drawn down in a frown. Suddenly his eyes met mine, and his frown deepened. He didn't have to say anything for me to know what he was thinking–we had to get to that gate, and fast, if we were going to escape. Instead, we were trapped here by the soldiers in front of us.

Suddenly he came to a decision and dropped to his knee beside me. The butt of his rifle came up against his shoulder, the nose peeking up over the firewood, and my fingers clenched involuntarily, digging into the ground beneath me.
That
was his plan? A gunshot would alert every soldier for miles to our presence, and get us captured for sure. I glanced from Reis to the soldiers and back, panicked at the thought. If we got caught now, Doc was as good as dead. When my eyes flew to the soldiers again, though, I almost laughed in relief.

There was a sudden lull in the conversation, and the four of them straightened as one. Chicken legs were dropped and the tankard cast to the side as the four began a sloppy march back into the hallway. Within moments, the courtyard was empty again, and we were free to go.

My eyes flew to Reis, who was strapping his rifle back into position on his back. He grabbed his duffel bag, glanced once in our direction, and sprinted for the cart beside the gate.

I was running before I even realized I'd given my legs the order to do so. I heard two sets of footsteps pounding along behind me, and prayed that they belonged to Paul and Tatiana rather than guards or giants. We slid to a stop at the wagon, and crouched down next to Reis.

“We'll have to make a run for it from here,” he hissed. He looked to his right and then to his left, motioned for us to be still, and sprinted across the open area toward the gate.

We stayed put, hiding behind the cart as well as we could, and keeping our eyes on the open space in front of us. Thirty seconds later, Reis was back. He dropped to his knees, taking in gulps of air and wiping the sweat from his eyes.

“Okay, there's a sentry just outside the gate on the right. But he's watching for people coming in, not people going out. I want the three of you to follow my lead, walk straight and confident, and act like you belong. Oh, and carry your bags and packs on your left shoulder, away from the guard,” he said. He turned away, then quickly turned back to address us again.

“One more thing. If he asks you a question, don't say a word. Just let me handle it, okay?”

“What if something happens?” Paul asked.

Reis' mouth grew firm. “Then you run like hell and wait for me on the southwest side of town. If I don't find you after thirty minutes, you stick to the plan. Head to Bosworth and find your grandfather, and forget about me. Understand?”

We nodded wordlessly, watching as he turned back toward the gate. He walked forward, slipping his assault rifle under his robe and leaving us to follow at our own pace.

19

R
eis crept along the path ahead of us, sticking to the wall as he approached the gate. Paul, Tatiana, and I followed, doing our level best not to be seen or heard. The gate towered above us, built from rough-hewn logs and iron spikes. More spikes lined the top to create a solid layer of razor-sharp metal, ensuring that people went through the gate rather than over it. We slid into the darkness below the wall and I gulped, the eerie silence of the shadow creeping slowly up my spine. The gate to the courtyard was where we'd find the most soldiers, I knew; it was a feature designed to keep intruders out, and was manned as such. But I had no doubt that it was just as effective at keeping prisoners in. And if we couldn't get out, if we were still here come day break…

We made it through the partially open gate and onto the path outside the castle before we were caught. I heard a sharp gasp behind me, followed by the sound of a struggle, and whirled around to look back the way we'd come. A tall, dirty soldier in a tattered red and white uniform stood behind Tatiana, his arm around her body and his hand across her mouth. He was at least a foot taller than the girl, and marked with the scars of many battles. A rusty, bent sword hung loosely at his side, but he held a sharp dagger in his hand, close to Tatiana's side.

“A lady shouldn't be out this late in the day,” he slurred, turning his mouth toward her ear and grinning. “I'll need to know exactly who you lot are, and what you're about.”

I sucked my breath in, glancing quickly from the dagger to the sword, then up to the soldier's face. I saw Reis to my left, moving his hand slowly toward the knife I knew he had in his boot, and heard Paul mumbling under
his breath. My gaze flew back to Tatiana's face, and I caught her wide eyes.

She looked at me for a moment, raised one eyebrow, and then winked.

“Oh no,” I breathed, my voice catching in my throat.

Before anyone else could move, Tatiana threw her hand over her shoulder and grabbed the man's wrist, crouching down and spinning in the same movement. The soldier flew over her folded body, hitting the ground on the other side with a sickening, bone-crunching thud. He shouted and jumped to his feet, snarling in surprise and anger. Tatiana pressed her lips together in displeasure and circled her opponent, looking for another opening. When she saw him pause, she dove in and grabbed his dangling left arm, shoving it up toward his shoulder. The shoulder popped loudly as it dislocated, and the man screamed. She drove her foot into the soldier's knee, bringing him to the ground, and finished him off with a solid blow to the head with her other foot. The solder fell on his back, out cold.

Tatiana looked down at the man, her mouth quirked to the side. “The name's Tatiana, mister,” she said clearly. “I'm no lady, and I stay out as late as I want.”

“What the–” Paul cut his statement short as another soldier came rushing from the wall next to us, armed with a 6-foot lance. Reis swore under his breath and stepped quickly between Tatiana and the second soldier. He sidestepped the soldier's strike, planted his right foot in the dirt, and swung his left leg up toward the man's face. His foot connected with the soldier's temple and sent the man crumbling to the ground, the lance falling harmlessly at his side.

For a moment, no one moved. Then we whirled as one toward the wall, waiting breathlessly for a third attack. Reis kicked the lance away from the unconscious soldier, swung his rifle from his back to his chest, and aimed the weapon at the half-open gate in anticipation. Tatiana remained in a fighting stance, both hands held up in front of her and legs slightly bent. I bent down and picked up two likely looking rocks, trying to remember anything I'd ever learned about throwing. Beside me, Paul stood slack jawed and staring.

No one else emerged from the gate, though, and I wondered how long they would take to notice their missing comrades.

“Let's not stick around to find out,” Reis mumbled, echoing my thoughts. “Run.”

We broke and ran like startled deer, racing toward the town in the distance and the shelter it offered. No one looked back.

We didn't stop running until we were in the center of town, and as hidden from the castle as we could hope to be. The dirt beneath our feet gave way to smooth cobblestones, and we found ourselves in the middle of a vacant street in Doncaster.

“Wow,” Paul breathed, looking around.

I had to agree with him. Dozens of stone homes rose up as high as three stories on either side of the street, crowding each other and blocking out what little sun remained. They were roofed with everything from stone and wood to some sort of dull gray material, and featured large wooden doors perched atop wide stone steps. Windows were lined with colorful curtains and decorative trim.

“Definitely the rich side of town,” Tatiana murmured.

To our left, a massive stone cathedral crested the skyline. Wooden scaffolding surrounded it and ran up its four towers; evidently the local church was still under construction.

“Rich enough to build quite a nice church,” Paul agreed, gazing up at the buttresses.

Suddenly Reis' hands came down on our shoulders, bringing us back to reality. “Move!” he snapped. “We don't have time to take in the sights!” I looked to my left and noticed several people milling about outside their homes. They'd taken an interest in us, and were starting to point. Reis was right–we had to move.

Seconds later we were running again, racing through streets and back alleys in a mad dash to get out of the town. As we moved away from the center of the city, the homes became noticeably smaller, two stories in lieu of three, and less impressive in their construction. Wood replaced stone, the doors became less elaborate, and the windows changed in nature; holes in the walls, with barely any covering. The streets became rougher, filled with garbage and potholes, the cobblestones slick with unnamed substances.

We were racing around a corner the first time Paul fell. He put his foot into a deep pot hole right in front of me and went down like a sack of potatoes, grunting at the impact.

“Damn it,” I muttered, skidding to a stop and bending down to help him up. “Are you alright?”

He nodded, dazed, and tried to stand. “I think I twisted my ankle, but I'll be okay.”

“What the hell are you two doing, playing in the mud?” Reis shouted from the street ahead of us. “Get up, get
moving!
”

I broke into a sprint again, Paul hobbling along next to me, and glanced at the buildings around us, looking for possible enemies. On either side of the street, large wooden signs protruded from the doorways to identify the occupant's trade. An arm wrapped in a bandage depicted a doctor's office, a bushel on a pole with a pint of ale no doubt marked the location of a tavern, a large pig identified a butcher, a dress for a tailor, and so on. The shops, of course, were closed for the night, but it wasn't hard to imagine how busy and full of life this part of town became during the daylight hours. No one was around at the moment, though, and I thought that we were probably safe.

A loud explosion sounded suddenly behind me, disabusing me of that notion. I stumbled at the concussion, and Paul fell to the ground again. This time, Reis raced back to help us.

“Canon fire,” he snapped.

“They're shooting at us?” I gasped. “With canons?”

“No, it's a warning. They're letting everyone in town know that we're here. This way!”

He threw Paul's arm over his shoulder and darted forward, half dragging my friend into the closest alley. We raced toward the opening at the end, where we could see fields and trees. If we could get out of the town, I thought, we'd be safer.