Page 39 of Raven's Rise
This fight was no different.
Rafe stepped forward to engage the man just at the right moment to put the other off his timing. Rafe blocked several wild swings with small, precise shifts of his position. No need to waste energy. He kept his gaze locked on his opponent, already seeing patterns, guessing the man’s next moves.
His opportunity came a second later. His opponent hacked with his blade and overbalanced. Rafe grabbed the other’s arm, and swung his own sword upward in a deadly, controlled movement.
The tip of the sword hit just above the man’s breastplate, sinking into the exposed flesh. Rafe was in no mood to be merciful, so he twisted the blade, hard.
The man’s eyes widened and he gurgled something as his body jerked violently on the end of the sword. Rafe pulled his sword free, and the man crumpled to the ground.
Rafe whirled around, looking for the next fight.
The next fight was easy to find, since the whole scene was now swarming with assailants. Rafe jumped at the nearest one, dispatching him after only a few moments. It was not a fair fight. Rafe was just too skilled at hand-to-hand combat.
Rafe knocked the man’s dagger out of his hand, then kicked it away. “If you want to live, lie flat on your belly.” What Rafe desperately needed was information.
Instead of obeying, the man sprang like a cat toward Rafe, as if he intended to take him down. But Rafe was ready and slashed the man’s chest with his sword, going for a killing stroke.
The man fell in mid leap, crumpling into a pile of loose limbs and dirty clothing. Rafe leaned down to yank the man’s shoulder, turning him over slightly.
A blank-faced stare greeted him, with no hint of who or what this man was. A quick perusal of the corpse showed that he was dressed much like any common man in the area—sturdy but heavily patched hose, and a tunic in a faded green color, along with a newer capuchin with a darker green dye. The dagger was plain but well cared-for, the edge viciously sharp. Rafe leaned over to pick it up.
He glanced up again, taking in the skirmish. Simon and Laurence were fighting back to back as they confronted a group of assailants. They appeared to be doing well, in the sense that they were still alive, but Rafe didn’t wait any longer.
He charged toward the group, smashing into the ring of attackers and breaking their formation with a few well-chosen swings of his sword. One man clutched his bleeding arm, falling to his knees. Another fell dead.
“Everyone halt!” a new voice yelled. “Or I’ll spill this one’s blood all over the road.”
Rafe looked to the sound. A huge man held Bethany up. The petite woman was actually dangling in the air.
She whimpered, but was otherwise still.
“There’s treasure in one of these carts,” the big man went on. “And I want it. Show me where it is, or I’ll slit her throat.”
No one spoke for a moment. The attackers were waiting to hear where the chest was. The defenders were all staring at Rafe, waiting for him to make the fateful decision of whether to save Bethany’s life and give up the gold, or refuse the offer.
Why was this his choice? Rafe groaned inwardly. This was exactly why he avoided command. Fighting was one thing, but giving orders always led to a situation like this, where lives lay in his extremely fallible hands.
Rafe had a duty to protect both the money and Angelet. But allowing Bethany to die would be unconscionable.
He took a breath, prepared to order his men to stand down.
Then a clear voice broke the silence. “Let her go. I’ll show you where the chest is.”
Angelet stepped from the carriage, astonishing in her gown and the moonstone necklace and her silvery-blonde hair falling loose around her shoulders. How had she managed it? In that moment, she could have claimed fey ancestry and Rafe would have believed it.
The big man seemed to forget everything when he saw her, and unceremoniously dropped Bethany to the ground, where she lay groaning in pain.
“You’re the lady,” the big man said, as if he’d never seen a lady before.
“I’m Angelet d’Hiver, and I will give you the chest. But you must not harm anyone else.”
The big man glanced around the clearing, obviously judging his odds. Then he nodded. “Where’s the chest?”
Angelet pointed to the food wagon. “That cart. It’s hidden under the straw at the front. You’ll need two or three men to carry it.”
The big man grinned and ordered a few of his underlings to uncover the chest. He stayed near Angelet, his axe at the ready.
Rafe narrowed his eyes, sensing exactly what was going on in the other’s thoughts. The man wasn’t going to let Angelet go free. He would use her as a hostage as soon as he had the chest. Rafe started to shift his position, to be ready to rush over to Angelet. If only she’d stayed hidden!
