Keeper of the Black Stones (45 page)

“Everyone knows a battle is brewing,” she said grimly when I asked. “Anyone with a sword or pitchfork–and those without them–have been called to battle. This is the war for England, after all. Everyone's going to be fighting.”

I nodded quietly. The war for England. The war for Doc's life. The war for the world's safety, though few of us knew that part. They were all wrapped up into one, now. Dresden's men had given up chasing us at this point; we'd watched them pass us earlier in the morning, hidden in a copse with handkerchiefs over our horse's noses to keep them quiet.

They, too, were on his way to the battle, to meet their lord. Dresden. The thought brought a renewed sense of dread.

This led quickly to another thought. Doc. Where was he? Why wasn't he being more careful? Had Reis, Paul, and Katherine found him yet? If not, where were they? Were they safe? Even if they'd found Doc, I didn't
think they'd be able to stop what was about to happen. They didn't have enough information.

Hours ticked away as we rode, and I watched the time carefully on the watch I now wore around my neck. Before long, we were down to only six hours, then four, and finally two. We were running out of time, and no matter how much I begged and pleaded, Michael insisted that the horses could only travel so far and so fast.

Then we stopped completely.

“What's wrong now?” I sputtered as Tatiana and I pulled our horses alongside Michael's. I was beyond patience or manners.

Michael and his scout stopped talking and turned in unison at my interruption.

“There are people up ahead,” Michael answered, his face creased in a frown.

“So what?” I demanded impatiently. We'd seen people on this trip, and it hadn't stopped us before.

Michael drew a deep breath and placed his right hand on the hilt of his sword. Then he closed his eyes and exhaled. “Boy, I have made a pledge to bring you to Bosworth, but if we encounter Dresden's soldiers or one of the hundred well-supported bands of thieves that roam these parts, you will be going nowhere but a shallow grave. We are not the only armed men in this area, and the closer we get to the battle, the more likely we are to meeting people better armed–and far more dangerous–than ourselves. Understand?”

“Jason,” Tatiana said, pulling alongside me, “he's right. And we both know what would happen if Dresden caught us again. Just sit tight for a moment.”

I nodded grudgingly. She was right, but it didn't make it any easier. Showing up a few minutes late on this occasion really would mean the difference between life and death.

“Did you see anyone else?” Michael asked the scout as the two men turned their attention away from me and back toward each other.

“No, no one else,” the scout replied.

“Long bows?” Michael asked.

“Not that I could see.”

“How confident are you that they are alone?”

The scout shrugged. “Fairly confident.”

Michael shook his head, looking back at Tatiana and me. “Only fools would travel these roads so close to evening unarmed,” he said slowly. Then he shook himself. “Very well, let's move. We do not have much time.”

We spurred our horses forward, anxious to continue. Our path led out of a heavily wooded area, and into a large clearing lush with tall, rolling grass and a large lake. It took us about ten minutes of riding to see the cart the scout had spoken of. Despite the distance of nearly 200 feet, I knew immediately who it was.

“PAUL!” I screamed, standing in my stirrups and waving. I put my heels to my horse and asked for more speed, intent on reaching my friends.

“Oh you idiot,” Tatiana mumbled behind me. After a moment, though, I heard her horse pounding after mine.

It took me about twelve seconds to reach their position. Paul and Katherine were ecstatic when I reached them, jumping up and down like children in the back of the cart. Reis was somewhat less enthusiastic, and had his assault rifle out, aimed at Michael and his men.

“It's okay, they're with me,” I muttered at him. I slid off my horse before she came to a full stop and raced toward my friends, a wide grin plastered across my face.

“Where in the hell have you been?” Paul asked, jumping off the cart and giving me a giant man hug.

“It's a long story,” I said, looking up at Katherine and Reis.

Tatiana came up beside us then and slid from her horse, laughing. Then she gasped. I glanced at her and followed her shocked gaze to look more closely at Katherine. I gasped as well.

“Are you wearing my clothes?” Tatiana asked.

Katherine looked down at her outfit and grinned. “Mine got dirty. I hope you don't mind,” she replied, looking up.

Tatiana frowned at the other girl, and I held my breath. Then she shrugged, one corner of her mouth turning up. “I suppose I'll survive.”

I laughed at that and turned awkwardly toward Reis. Despite my assurances, he still had his weapon trained on Michael, who had now pulled up alongside the wagon.

“It's a long story, Reis, but they're with me. You can trust them. They're leading us to Bosworth,” I repeated.

“And we're running out of time!” Tatiana added. This got Reis' attention. He glanced at her, and then turned to me for the first time.

“What does that mean?” he snapped.

“It's Doc, he's about to be murdered,” I said. I pulled the watch from my pocket and glanced at it. “In less than thirty minutes.”

Reis nodded without question and gathered the reins. “Where?”

“Outside his camp! He'll be riding alone, and three men will come after him. We've got to save him, or this will all be for nothing. If Doc dies, I'm afraid the entire plan dies with him. Henry will never win this battle without Doc's help.”

“Do you know the way?” Reis asked, looking from me to Michael and back again. The distrust of a few moments ago had disappeared, to be replaced with cold calculation and expectation.

Michael nodded. “We're close.” He turned and looked at his men. “Two
of you leave your mounts and take the cart. I'll meet you in Bosworth.” Without a word of protest, two of his men climbed off their horses.

Michael looked over at Reis, who hadn't moved. “What are you waiting for? You three, grab the horses. My men will follow us in your cart. If we hurry, we can make it.”

Reis swung suddenly into action, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and grabbing Paul's bag from the cart. He jumped out, followed quickly by Paul and Katherine. The girl walked toward one of the war horses and swung herself up, gesturing for Paul to ride behind her. He didn't hesitate either, climbing awkwardly up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist.

I glanced at Reis to see that he too was mounted, and turned back to Michael.

Then we were off, galloping toward the camp in a cloud of dust. I ducked low over my horse's neck, praying for both speed and accuracy. Katherine and Paul's horse raced alongside my own, and I looked over at Paul. He had his arms wrapped tightly around Katherine's waist, but he was looking toward the road, shouting warnings about rocks and trees. Certainly not the same Paul I'd left behind. On the other side of them, Tatiana crouched over her horse, her hair flying behind her in a dark curtain. She felt my eyes on her and turned slightly, meeting my gaze. Her mouth quirked into a cocky grin and she winked at me–we were going to make it. We would save Doc.

I looked back to the road ahead of us and prayed that she was right.

After what I guessed to be fifteen minutes, Michael began to pull up. The road we had ridden appeared to widen here, and traffic was starting to increase. We were getting close.

“There!” Michael shouted, pointing up the road. About a mile away, we saw tents numbering well over a hundred dotting the horizon, along with countless flags and pendants in a rainbow of colors. At first glance, it looked like the circus had come to town, with people and horses crowding against each other in the free space. Then the weapons came into view. Hundreds of swords, bows, spears, and shields were stacked up in the camp. Several
canons surrounded them, and more lined the road beside the tents. This wasn't the circus. These men had come to kill.

Michael slowed his horse even further and looked to the sky, indecisive. I followed his glance just as a loud crack of thunder crash over our heads. It hadn't begun to rain yet, but there was a storm coming. The sun had disappeared behind a formidable bank of clouds, turning late afternoon into evening. Mist was beginning to rise from the ground.

We had found Henry Tudor's camp, but we weren't out of the woods yet. I glanced at the watch in my hand again, and a deep feeling of dread came over me. We were going to be too late. A crack of thunder broke over our heads, and my horse jumped forward. I looked down at her, and then back toward the camp, more determined. This wasn't over yet, her actions told me. We still had five minutes, at least.

“What in the hell are you waiting for!?” I shouted, more to myself than anyone else. I sunk my teeth into my lower lip and kicked my horse in the ribs, forcing her back into action. I retreated inward, trying to pass my energy and tension down to the horse, and raced to where I knew Doc would be.

I'm not sure when my fear subsided and pure exhilaration took its place. Perhaps it was the sheer beauty of seeing so many campsites decorating the hillside. It could have been the caravan of supply wagons that stretched over and beyond the hill to the east, or it may have been the site of thousands upon thousands of soldiers and horses, riding freely and unencumbered between the campsites. To be truthful, though, I don't believe it was any of those things. I believe it was the feeling of having a high-powered war horse running full gate right underneath me, nearly flying over the ground, in an effort to save the man who held the fate of the world in his hands. Knowing that in some small way, I mattered. And feeling the stones there with me, pushing me onward as though they were on my side. For that moment, I believed without any doubt that we would make it.

To our left I saw several horsemen form up ranks and break hard in our direction. Shouts of warnings rang out from soldiers on horseback as they ran to intercept us.

“Follow me!” I screamed, breaking right toward the forest. This was
where we would find Doc. And I knew exactly where to look. He was just over the ridge, and he was running out of time.

The Earl of Oxford nudged his mare to the left, asking her to move forward, around two maple trees, and into the shallow stream. He didn't hear the three men behind him, didn't see one of them raise his bow and notch his arrow.

The Earl's thoughts were not on himself, but the battle that was about to take place. His mind was playing out the upcoming battle, trying to decide how they should handle the danger Dresden and his men presented. He had pushed his own army hard to arrive here before Dresden had a chance to escape, and they would force Dresden and Richard into a battle now. Before they reached the iron works of London, and Dresden's store of firearms.

But would it be enough to win the day? Would his personal knowledge of the battle–and Dresden himself–outweigh Richard's larger force? He still wasn't certain, though he knew that his presence was the only thing that gave Henry a fighting chance. Without him–

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a twig snapping and he turned, frowning. He saw no one, though, and had taken pains to leave his guards behind at the camp. He was alone, now, with time to think and plan.

Turning, he urged his mare slowly toward the clearing ahead of them, his thoughts going back to the battle tomorrow and the idea that had occurred to him earlier in the day.

“Stop!” several people screamed in warning. I refused to listen. Our horses raced between foot soldiers and mounted men alike as we made our way through the outskirts of the campsite and toward the tree line just beyond the crest of the small hill.

I had a problem, though. My horse was starting to lose her power underneath me and I was starting to panic. I had pushed her to the limit, though I hoped she could keep going for just a little longer.