Keeper of the Black Stones (54 page)

“Jay … Jason, can you hear me?”

I heard the voice and felt the jolts of pain as my body jerked back and forth to the rhythm of the horse running full tilt underneath us. Forcing my eyes open, I glanced behind me to see Reis, his hands wrapped around my waist to hold me in place in the saddle.

“Are you with us?” he shouted, squeezing me tighter in concern.

The cloud in my head began to lift then, and I remembered where we were and–more importantly–the trouble we were in. I glanced behind my body guard, and then quickly turned back toward the front. We had been trying to deliver Sir William in time to prevent his brother's attack on Henry Tudor and my grandfather. Now it seemed that we were also trying to outrun several of Dresden's soldiers. Reis and I were bringing up the rear, as we had the best weapons. In front of us, William clung to Tatiana's waist as she led the way for Paul, Reis, and I.

“How far out are we?” I cried, loud enough for Reis to hear.

Reis ignored my question. “Can you take the reins?” he asked instead.

I reached out and grabbed them, leaning over the horse's neck for better
balance and protection. Whatever Reis was about to do, it would be easier for him if I was out of the way. He shifted his body to reach behind his back, and had the rifle in front of him a moment later, up and ready to fire.

Our horse leapt over a log that sat in the center of our path at that point, nearly knocking us both off its back, and I clutched at the reins for dear life. Reis grunted and worked to recover his balance, then turned in one quick movement so that his back was pressed against mine, the rifle pointed back toward the men chasing us. Without warning, he pulled the trigger.

Several loud shots ripped through the valley and rung in my ears as Reis tried desperately to slow our pursuers. I took a moment to look back, and saw that not one but two soldiers had toppled from their mounts, their lifeless bodies strewn across the ground.

Several more had taken their place.

I counted nine of them before I turned my attention forward again to concentrate on the path in front of us. I wasn't worried about guiding the horse; the animal was running full-out toward the battlefield, terrified of the gunshots and men behind us. Tatiana raced along in front of us, choosing the smoothest path and protecting William as best she could. Paul rode beside her, clutching the reins of the two extra horses, and glancing back at me now and then.

Something about that struck me as odd, and I frowned, racking my brain for the source. Now wasn't the time to worry about extra horses, but why–

Suddenly I realized why it was bothering me. As soon as I did, I was shocked that I hadn't noticed it before. Paul, Tatiana, and William rode with us. Katherine did not.

“Where's Katherine?” I asked desperately, turning in every direction in search of her.

“She's gone!” Reis shouted back, turning his head to be heard over the wind rushing past us.

“What?” I shouted, shocked. “Where is she? Is she dead?” The thought burned a hole right through my heart, and I thought suddenly of the way
her eyes had lit up when we'd decided to bring her. Surely we hadn't brought her all this way–saved her from those men in the stable–to lose her to Dresden's soldiers?

Reis turned at that, reached around me, and grabbed the reins back. He leaned forward and spurred our horse harder, so that we leapt forward into the river.

“I don't think so, but–”

“But what!?” I screamed.

“I didn't know she wasn't with us until a moment ago, Jason. We rushed out of that tent when you passed out, and didn't look back. She must not have been with the horses, or she'd be with us now. And we don't have time to go back and get her!” He screamed his answer and held me steady while our horse found its footing on the shore and drove up the hill toward the small ridge, carrying us finally into the woods. I gasped, trying to think through the situation and understand it. She must have been frozen, like the others, and without me to wake her … We'd left her standing, vulnerable and alone and terribly deserted, for Sloan to find. My gut clenched at the thought and I was about to speak again when we broke free of the trees.

Below us, the battle was still raging, with Henry's rear line about 100 feet in front of us. Our pursuers broke off and raced for their leader, and I breathed a quick sigh. Safe for the moment, then, and amongst friends.

Then I saw Stanley's army. They had formed ranks and were on the march, headed straight for the center of Doc's right flank. They were close, though, not 30 paces from us, and we would reach them in moments, with William in hand. This was is it, then. Either our plan was going to work, and we would stop Stanley from attacking, or the battle for the crown would favor Richard, and ensure Dresden's victory. And if that happened…

Tatiana threw me one quick glance, then galloped forward toward Stanley's flag bearers.

43

L
ord Dresden had felt fear before, but not like this. The clash of horses, men, and steel, mixed with the screams of death, overwhelmed him, the noise threatening his hold on his temper. And things were not going well. Richard had been a fool, jumping the gun with his sudden need to charge, and had opened up their army to wave after wave of attacks from Evans' men. They were weakening quickly, with Norfolk's men doing little good, thanks to Evans' advance knowledge of the battle. Stanley's men were going to have to make their move quickly, or all would be lost.

Dresden scanned the horizon, wondering desperately where the men in question were, and noticed several unexpected horses racing in his direction. His son, he realized, riding at a frantic pace and wearing a mask of worry and failure.

“What?” Dresden roared, assaulting his son before the horse had come to a complete stop. Sloan's face fell, then turned quickly to stone. A defensive measure, Dresden thought, against the news he was about to deliver.

“They have escaped,” the boy answered quickly, keeping his eyes and voice steady. “But we have another prisoner.”

“Is it William Stanley?” Dresden snapped, hardly daring to hope. He couldn't understand how his fool of a son had let Jason Evans and his friends escape, but if he'd managed to retain William Stanley–

“No, sir, another,” Sloan replied, dashing Dresden's hopes.

Dresden roared in frustration and turned his horse sharply toward the hill to the east. To his surprise, Stanley's men were standing ready, on the
brink of their attack. He smiled, his eyes running from Stanley down to where Evans fought with his men.

“Well well,” he murmured. “Perhaps the brother's life was not as important as I had thought.” The moment of truth was upon them, if that was true, and it was finally time to end Evans' life and take the next steps in his plan.

“Stop!” I screamed, dismissing Katherine from my mind as best I could. I saw William waving his arms frantically as Tatiana urged their horse toward the center of Stanley's formation. There, between a dozen mounted knights, a white pendent with a blue stripe marked Thomas Stanley's position. The man we'd come to see.

I glanced to my right to see Paul's horse pull up beside us, and we pushed forward behind Tatiana and William. She'd been stopped by several knights, who were busy questioning her closely, their eyes and voices rough, and their actions rougher. One had his sword out, the tip pressed to her chest.

“These men switch their alliance as easily as the wind changes direction,” I remembered Doc saying. “Blood doesn't always prevail when land, money, and power are on the line.” I gulped at the thought, and hoped desperately that we'd guessed right. An awful lot was riding on Stanley doing the right thing–including Doc's life–but William being free might not alter his brother's move against Henry Tudor. Not if Dresden had offered him enough.

“Thomas, it is I, your brother! Let us through!” William shouted, leaning past Tatiana and trying to stand up in the stirrups, to be both seen and heard. He knew the risks of failure here, and it colored is voice.

Instead of responding, though, the knights around the pendant closed ranks to form an even tighter knot of men, to better protect their leader. They turned toward us, bristling with swords, lances, and arrows.

“Stop, you bloody fools, it is I, William!”

I looked past the knights in front of Tatiana, and the two other knights who flanked our position, and felt a knot of ice form in the pit of my stomach. Beyond them, an army every bit as large as Henry's stood at the ready, waiting to march forward and end Henry Tudor's chances. And William was getting no response from his brother's guard. It wasn't working.

“Robert, raise your weapon and let us through!” William demanded, his voice ragged with tension.

Finally, the man in front of him raised his visor, running his eyes down over William's face and body, and then back up again. He stared for several seconds, while the army behind him began to march forward, and I held my breath.
Please, please,
I begged silently, praying to whoever would listen for this man to believe William and take him to his brother. The guard–with Sir Stanley at its center–was beginning to move, and soon it would be far too late. After a moment, though, whoever I'd been praying to heard me, and the knight's face broke into a broad, joyous grin.

He shouted something unintelligible and the group of knights behind him paused, then broke apart. A knight I hadn't seen yet emerged, arrayed in shining armor and an intricately designed helmet, and moved forward. He held one hand up, and the army bearing down on us stopped sharply.

Only then did the new knight raise his visor, to expose an older, more worn version of William's face. “By God in heaven, you're alive!” Lord Thomas Stanley muttered, his face displaying shock, dismay, and then relief in equal measures. “How on earth have you broken free?”

He dropped off his horse and strode forward, dragging William from behind Tatiana and hugging him fiercely. “We thought you dead, or worse, and had all but given up hope,” he continued, his voice hoarse with emotion.

William returned his embrace, but then pulled back. “I was nearly dead when this boy and his friend found me,” he replied quickly. “The grandson of the Earl of Oxford, Thomas, and I owe him a debt of gratitude and honor. Now please, in God's name, stop this madness, for I cannot allow you to join Richard, and his devil Lord Dresden!”

Thomas Stanley paused, considering his brother's words, and I held my
breath. We had brought him his brother, and freed him from Dresden's hold, but would it be enough? Would he pull his men back? Or would he move forward anyhow, and kill our hope of victory?

“Brother, you do not know what you ask,” he murmured. “Dresden is far more powerful than I would have anticipated, and if we stand against him and he wins this battle–”

“He
won't
win, brother,” William interrupted. “I am assured of it, by men from the Earl of Oxford's camp. He has … incredible power at his fingertips. Divine guidance in his bid for victory. Besides, I have never known you to bow to another man's wishes. Why should Dresden be any different?” He glared into his brother's eyes, and I willed the older man to accept both the vague statement and the challenge.

Lord Stanley frowned at this, but finally nodded, grinning fondly at his brother. “Your will be done then, brother,” he shouted, clapping William on the shoulder. “For you are right–I do not believe in Dresden's war, and had no wish to fight for him. Your life alone secured my cooperation. Now that you are free, I think this Dresden needs no more of my help. In fact, I believe that our mother may have more need of us than anyone on this battlefield.”

Laughing, the two men turned away, leaving the rest of us blinking at this fairly anticlimactic finish to our mission. I could hardly believe that it was over, and so quickly. All of our planning, all of the racing around, hiding, kidnapping … and this was it? We'd won, this easily? Suddenly, though, a buzzing filled my ears, followed by a voice.