Thornbear (Book 1) (32 page)

He walked slowly along the corridor, his mind on dark thoughts.

He was halfway there when he remembered the silence of the birds. Cold fear ran down his spine.
What if the raid on Arundel was merely a distraction, to keep our attention elsewhere?
It was well timed, with all the older Illeniels being absent. Few enemies could hope to threaten Arundel seriously, not while Walter Prathion and his children lived there.

Gram changed directions and broke into a run. He heard the screaming before he got there.

One of the door guards at the Illeniel’s door was down already, his blood pooling around him. The other was nowhere to be seen. Gram ducked through the outer door and beheld a scene straight from some terrible nightmare.

The second guard was still alive, barely, his body half wedged in the inner door that led to the Illeniel’s secret home. He was clinging to the doorframe with all his strength, trying to prevent the men inside from shutting the door. Once it was closed, no one left inside the castle would be able to reach them. The only ones still at Cameron with the ability to do so were already inside, Lilly Tucker and the two children.

A black clad figure within drew back the door, only to slam it again, crushing the guard’s arm and leg. He started to pull it inward again, preparing to slam it once more when Gram crashed into it, using his body like a battering ram.

The door flew open momentarily and Gram bounced sideways, falling into a coat tree and narrowly avoiding a spear thrust. Five men stood within, one with the spear and the others wielding black wooden truncheons and dark steel daggers. Lilly and the children were nowhere to be seen, but he could hear the sound of screams further within the house.

Gram’s mind went blank as he fell, disappearing into the void. Grabbing the coat tree as he fell, he rolled with it, using his momentum to get clear of the spearman. A sharp pain along his ribs told him that he might already be wounded, but he had no time to spare for that.

Lying on the floor was not the ideal position from which to start a fight with five armed opponents.

Trusting his comrades to deal with the intruder, the spearman turned and used his spear to push the wounded guard back through the door before slamming it shut. Meanwhile, two of the men with truncheons moved to dispatch Gram. The remaining two scuttled to the sides, ready to assist if necessary; the entry hall made it difficult for them all to reach him at the same time.

The coat tree caught one of them in the legs, knocking him from his feet, though the second man managed to leap over it. His only weapon tangled up in the first man’s legs, Gram abandoned it and leapt to his feet before the other recovered from his evasive maneuver. One of those that had held back advanced on his rear, swinging his truncheon at Gram’s undefended skull.

With uncanny awareness Gram stepped backward, letting the club swing past in front of his face as he caught the man’s arm in his, twisting and flinging his assailant into the other that was coming at him from the front.

Moving sideways, he narrowly avoided a thrust from the spearman that had been aimed at his kidney. Snatching up a small side table he brought it up just in time to stop a swing from one of the truncheons, bending at the waist simultaneously to avoid the dagger thrust that followed it from a low angle.

Taking the table by two legs he swung sideways, flooring the spearman before he could recover and using the momentum of the strike to bring it back into line for the third enemy’s truncheon swing. It shattered in his hands under the force of the blow, leaving him with two table legs and a bit of loose tabletop dangling from one of them.

Gram smiled fiercely, advancing with the two wooden posts in his hands.

Their faces were hidden by black cloth, but the invader’s eyes widened as he came on, whipping the two table legs about with deadly precision. The spearman never had a chance to rise as one of the heavy pieces of wood connected, making a sickening thud against his skull.

The ensuing battle was short and ugly. Wielding his two makeshift clubs Gram blocked their attacks, moving forward and then to the right to unbalance their defensive position. Before the man on the left could flank him he had brought the one on the right down and he forced the center man to wheel, to keep him in his line of sight.

Feinting, Gram sent one man’s attacks too far to the left, and he rewarded him with a double strike to the arm and ribs before dropping down to avoid the third’s swing at his head. From below he took out that one’s legs, finishing him as he fell.

The last man ran, seeking to escape, or perhaps warn the others. Gram threw one of his wooden legs, and felt a sense of satisfaction when it caught the escaping enemy in the back, throwing him off balance. He launched the second club at the man’s legs, leaping up to follow it.

That one knocked the man down, and before he could rise, Gram was on him. The man had lost his truncheon in the fall, but he still held the dagger and the two of them wrestled for control of it. The ending was a foregone conclusion. He outweighed the assassin by more than fifty pounds, and as the men on the training field knew, Gram’s strength was something to be feared.

Using his weight, Gram slowly forced the knife hand downward, until he felt it reach the man’s chest. A final push and it was in, sliding in with sickening ease. His opponent’s desperate yell for help became a gurgling cough.

Wasting no time, Gram untangled himself and stood, claiming the man’s truncheon for his own. He hefted it carefully before bringing it down brutally, rendering his enemy unconscious, if not killing him instantly. He strode back down the corridor and made sure the others wouldn’t get back up before he let himself relax.

The immediate danger past, his thoughts returned and he stared at the carnage in the hallway. Blood, brains, and even bits of bone littered the hall and spattered the walls. Five men were dead.
Not wounded, dead,
he thought.
I did that.
His mind replayed the scene and he saw himself again, smashing the heads of those who had been rendered helpless.

Gram’s stomach grew tight, and he felt his insides begin to heave.
What have I done?

A cry from deeper within the house brought him back to his senses. There was more yet to be done.

Chapter 30

The sound wrenched him back to the present and Gram straightened up. Casting about, he found another of the men’s truncheons and with one in each hand he moved on. With the men at the door dead, there was a chance that the others in the house might not know he was there.

The scream had come from the kitchen, and as he got closer he could hear the sounds of a scuffle within. Not daring to wait he flung the door open and entered.

His eyes found Carissa first; she was standing beside Conall, the two of them backed into a corner by the stove. Four men were in the room, while two more were in the connected dining room, dragging Irene’s lifeless body between them.

One of the four was struggling with Lilly Tucker, blood was running from her scalp, but she showed no sign of surrendering yet. The second stood back, laughing as he enjoyed the spectacle while the other two were slowly approaching the children, being careful not to give them a chance to run past and escape.

“Don’t kill the woman, we can enjoy her on the trip back,” said the one watching.

Another voice yelled from the other room, a woman’s voice, “Leave her, we’re here for the children!”

Carissa’s eyes found Gram’s, and he could see hope blossom in them. Before the intruders realized he was there he had cracked one’s head with a truncheon. The other two turned to face him and the battle grew serious. Lilly began to struggle even harder against the third attacker who was holding her down.

The two that faced him knew their business; they circled the small table that occupied the center of the kitchen, flanking him from either side. It took everything he had just to keep them at bay. A terrible shrieking cry came from Lilly and the third man stood back up, a bloody dagger in his hand. Laughing, he threw it at Gram.

Dodging to one side to avoid the dagger, he was forced into the line of one of the men’s truncheon blows and the heavy weighted club glanced across the top of his head. The pain blinded him for a moment and Gram reeled, trying to maintain his equilibrium. Falling in the other direction he stumbled into the other man.

He knew the next blow would take him from behind.

Clutching the man he had fallen into, he twisted and used his momentum to turn his opponent into a human shield. It was a ploy that worked better than he expected, the man in his arms went limp as his comrade’s club rendered him unconscious.

Still staggered, Gram thrust the limp body away and then stepped into something slippery. His leg went out from under him and he fell. He rolled as he hit the floor, using the table as cover. A hasty swipe from one of them caught the back of his shoulder but he kept rolling, taking him from that one’s reach and knocking the feet out from under the one that had stabbed Lilly.

The man fell, grappling with Gram as he came down, but Gram was ready for him. Dropping the truncheon he struck the invader with a heavy throat punch. He knew
that
fight was already won, but he struggled to free himself as the man clutched at his clothing. His other opponent was coming at him, weapon in hand. He tried to flip over, to interpose the body of the one holding onto him, but he didn’t have the leverage.

He was dead if he couldn’t move.

Desperate, he shoved the one holding him, driving his head into the hard iron stove, but he knew it was too late. A high pitched scream behind him cut the air.

Carissa had retrieved the dagger that had been used to kill Lilly and she stood behind the last man. As he screamed he turned and battered the small girl aside, his truncheon hitting her solidly in the chest. Carissa fell back, crashing into one of the cabinets.

The man in black was still screaming, clawing at his back, trying to withdraw the dagger that she had plunged into his kidney. It was a mortal wound, but he wasn’t dead yet. Furious he raised his club to finish the girl that had slain him.

Gram caught his arm, wrenching it back, around and then up, pushing until the shoulder joint popped. Then he removed the dagger and drove it in again, higher up, between the shoulder blades. Not content to let him fall, he slammed his foe into the stone floor.

Carissa threw her arms around him and Conall stood beside them, holding an iron pot. The boy’s arms were shaking and his eyes were wide.

Gram stroked Carissa’s hair for a moment, “Are you alright?”

She looked at him, tears of anger and pain in her eyes, “I told Momma I would take care of you.”

The words brought a brief smile to his lips, “You certainly did.” It reminded him of something his mother had once said, while talking about his father,
No sane person threatens those a Thornbear protects.

“They killed Rennie and Lilly,” said Conall, his eyes dark and empty. He wasn’t crying but Gram suspected he was going into shock.

He took the boy by the hand, shaking him to get his attention, “You have to get Carissa out of here, back to the castle. It isn’t safe here. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Conall’s eyes focused on him, and then he nodded.

“Can you walk?” he asked, looking at Carissa. A strong smell of wood smoke was coming from somewhere.

“Something’s broken,” she told him, “but my legs work fine.”

“Go then,” he said, rising and urging them toward the door. He checked the hall again before they entered.

“There are dead men by the door to the castle, ignore them and go get help. I have to get Rennie and then I’ll follow you.”

The two children nodded and ran for the door. Gram returned to the kitchen and picked up one of the truncheons. The dining area was empty, but two black clad forms were in the main room beyond it. One was lifting Irene’s limp body, casting it over a broad shoulder before going down the stairs that led to the lower level. The smaller one turned to face him.

“Leave the girl and I will let you live,” Gram warned.

The small assassin ignored him, advancing lightly while holding two short wooden rods, one in either hand. She wove them in and out, in a pattern that kept them sometimes parallel and at other times crossing.

It’s a woman,
he realized then. The dark clothing had hidden the fact from him at first.

Pushing that thought aside, he moved into range; Irene came before any qualms he had about fighting women.

He deflected several of her attacks but the weighted truncheon was slower than the light rods and she wielded them with blinding speed. Within moments he found himself on the defensive, giving ground and forced to maneuver around the furniture to keep her at bay. Her movements were so fast that he was unable to stop them all and he took several sharp raps to his arms and legs, reserving his defense for the more serious thrusts at his sternum and throat.

She kicked out, sending a chair flying backward and blocking his retreat. Shifting his stance, he was forced to advance and he took several hard strikes to one arm before she realized her mistake. Ignoring what was likely to be a hard blow to the side of his head he drove the truncheon forward in a stop-thrust maneuver. He knew already that she wasn’t likely to hit hard enough to do more than daze him and the strike to her sternum would take her out of the fight.

What happened next shocked him.

She altered her flow and instead of taking the easy shot at his head, she bent her legs and arched her back, springing into a back flip that took her across the room and out of his range. She had anticipated his ploy and given herself space with a startling display of gymnastics.

How did she know?
The fact that she had seen through his sacrificial maneuver surprised him more than the flip had.
If Cyhan were a woman, this is what he would be like,
he thought silently. His confidence slipped for a moment.
One mistake and she’ll kill me.