Page 16 of The Guardian's Witch

“The men salvaged anything they could.” Robby righted a fallen barrel, as if straightening the barn would matter.

“Good thinking.” Alex forced himself to relax his fist. The metal fell to the ground. He walked with his men to their horses. “We’ll leave the horses here with two men. The rest will come with me.” He shouldered his bow. “We’ll pick up their trail,” he said with quiet firmness. “Gareth said the tracks from the farm led to the stream. We’ll start there.”

They traveled to the stream. Their eyes scoured every inch of the trail.

“Here,” called out Alex, his voice filled with command. “They entered the stream here.” The footprints at the water’s edge were still clear. He scanned the far side of the riverbank. “They didn’t come out the other side. At least not there.” He motioned across the stream.

“Gareth searched downstream but he couldn’t pick up the trail,” said Robby.

From his vantage point Alex noticed a small clearing a few yards upriver. “Stay here.” He carefully waded across the rushing water. He searched the far riverbank as he sloshed on and made his way to the upstream clearing. “Here, bring the men. They’ve headed west across the hills.”

The soldiers waded across. The sound of the rushing river faded and was replaced with tranquil bird calls and the rustling of bushes the deeper they pushed into the forest. Each man stayed on high alert. The muddy tracks they followed showed signs of drying but were not hardened. A sure sign they were fresh. He hunted the intruders like the animals they were. He drove his men on, eager to bring this to a close. He tamed the fury that boiled just below the surface. No one attacked his land or his people.

The soft loam gave way to hard dry ground. Robby, on point, entered a small clearing and found the remnants of a camp. There was no fire. The men must be moving quickly. The soldiers fanned out through the area and inspected everything. They combed the perimeter for any indication which direction the men took. The forest didn’t give up any clues. Alex’s eyes swept the area. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. One direction tugged at him. “This way.” He led them northwest. He knew they were close.

He scouted ahead of his men, led by his intuition. The flat forest floor gave way to a sharp incline. The crest was not far ahead. He slowed and raised his hand behind him. His men stopped and waited.

A familiar sensation crept up his spine. Action. Answers. A wry smile settled on his face.

Alex moved his men up the steep grade and signaled them to remain low and out of sight. As he gained the crest he heard voices of men arguing. Silently he and his men scrambled over the edge and took up a position behind a fallen log. Beyond the makeshift barrier a dozen raiders rested on rocky outcroppings in the distance. One man, the leader he supposed, looked like he was giving instructions. Several others tossed a small bag of grain, his grain, between them like boys.

“Here, gimme that before you burst the sack and there’ll be nothing left.” The leader grabbed it from the men.

The men got up and started toward the other side of the outcropping. Alex glanced in the direction they were going and froze. The trail narrowed through the small pass and led to one place—Ravencroft. They were heading toward the Mitchell farms. A quick study of the field of attack and he came up with a strategy based on the elements of surprise and the contours of the terrain. For his plan to work he needed soldiers who were quiet and quick. He had only a few men but those with him were well trained.

He spoke in a whisper and pointed to the narrow passage between the rocks. “Take your position there but stay on the slope. I’ll remain here and drive them toward you.” The men started to leave. “And Robby.” His captain turned to face him. “I want one left alive.” Robby nodded. Each man backed down the hill and with stealth took his position.

He could easily pick off the attackers with a silent flight of arrows if he had additional archers. Nothing would please him more. But he quashed his desire for revenge. He needed to interrogate these men.

He waited until Robby signaled they were in place. Alex took his own position behind a tree, placed the tip of his weapon at his instep, and skillfully strung his bow. His men did the same from their vantage points. He rested his back against the tree and concentrated. Instinct told him when to move.

Alex rolled from his back around the tree until he stood next to it. His eyes focused on the leader. He drew the fetching across his lips to wet the feathers while he calculated his shot. He brought his bow alongside the trunk, nocked his arrow, and drew the feather to his ear. Steady. He took aim. The leaves rustled in the trees. He waited a moment for the errant breeze to die down. His aim on target, his fingers splayed out as he released his hold. The bowstring sang. The arrow flew straight and true. It hit its mark squarely in the thigh. His second arrow was already nocked and the feather at this cheek when his men let loose their bolts.

Chaos and screams erupted in the raider’s camp. Without one bow, they rushed for cover.

Alex, ready to let the next arrow fly, waited. He cast out his mind. Gareth and his men were close. With his next heartbeat the volley took flight. His arrow arched high in the air. The angle just right, the bolt honed in on its target. Curses exploded from the raiders as another sheet of arrows rained down on them.

Riders on horseback galloped through the pass. They routed Alex’s men. He quickly looked for a way to pull his men back but was caught by a wave of relief when he made out Bryce and Ramon at the head of a column.

He shouldered his bow, took out his sword, and advanced ready to join Bryce. He left the safety of the tree and gaped in startled confusion. A horseman bore down on him. It was one of Bryce’s men. How did the man not recognize him? The rider kept coming. Alex dropped the bow, planted his feet, and readied himself to deflect the man.

The horseman raised his sword, ready to strike. At the last moment Alex stepped in close. The rider tried to change his tactic. Instead the horse reared and threw the man to the ground. The horseless rider got up and ran at Alex. Curses fell from Alex’s mouth. Didn’t this man recognize him? In the distance Alex heard the war cry of his men. Gareth and his troop swept down the hill still some distance away.

He focused on the man in front of him. The soldier lunged at Alex and the deadly dance began. Their swords flashed in the sunlight.

“Fight,” the man shouted.

“It’s me—Lord Stelton. Hold up, man.” Alex fought defensively, but if the man didn’t stop soon he’d be forced to take action against him. The soldier pressed forward. Alex parried and backed away until the soldier drew first blood, slicing Alex’s forearm.

Enough. Alex advanced. He rained down blow after blow and punished the man with swift-targeted strikes. Alex kept his focus on the man’s eyes and knew the moment the assailant realized he was in trouble. Alex didn’t stop until his feet caught in his bow lying forgotten on the ground. He stumbled back and fell.

The soldier closed in ready with a killing blow but stopped—his sword arm raised. The man’s eyes were fixed on the engraved stone that hung around Alex’s neck. It had worked free from under Alex’s shirt.

Alex took advantage of the diversion and rolled out of danger. As Bryce rode by, he clobbered his man on the head with the flat of his sword. The soldier hit the ground hard, a dazed look on his face. Alex, his sword still in his hand, watched Bryce ride off.

Alex’s men regrouped around him. They reviewed the field. The fray had ended. Ramon and his men held the four remaining raiders. Separated from the others, the leader, Alex’s arrow still lodged in his thigh, stood alone with Bryce. The two were in a heated argument. Alex looked on from a distance. He recognized his friend’s cool detachment from the set of his shoulders and tilt of his head. He knew that look. It did not bode well for the raider. But Bryce was a good interrogator. At last, they would have answers.

With a smooth lightning fast swing Bryce brought his sword across the man’s neck. The raider’s headless body, his fisted arm still outstretched, stood for several moments as his life drained out, then collapsed in a heap. The moment lay heavy with silence.

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