Bow and Sparrow

CH 28

"Did you honestly think it would be that easy?"

A familiar voice cut through the shadows as Polished Buttons stepped forward.He held no weapon in his hands and his red coat was gone. In its place was a loose tunic although the red armband was still tied upon his bicep. Rylan pushed me behind him, drawing his sword in one fluid motion as a dozen soldiers emerged and formed a tight circle around both of us.

"Are you really going to turn traitor for a spy?" Polished Buttons sighed, rolling up his shirt sleeves.

"We both know she's not." Rylan gritted through clenched teeth, his hazel eyes darting around us. I glanced at the soldiers surrounding us and was surprised to have recognized most of them. There was hesitation in more than a few faces but none of them made eye contact. Instead, they waited for orders from their superior.

"We don't know anything. Yet." Polished Button's vile green eyes slithered over to me. The circle of soldiers closed in and I stepped closer to Rylan's back but his sword never wavered.

"It's twelve against one, Fields. Are you really going to fight all of us?"

Rylan didn't respond but his lips curved up into a smile that was as sharp as his blade as he beckoned with his free hand. He was surely going to try.
Two soldiers broke off from the circle. One was the cook, Westley and the other I didn't know his name but I recognized his face well enough. Westley stepped forward although his eyes darted between Rylan and Polished Buttons who met his stare with hard eyes.

Rylan sidestepped him, keeping me shielded just behind him. He twirled his sword so that the blade pointed backwards and the hilt faced forwards as Westley approached.

Westley was clumsy and slow. He swung a kitchen knife, a larger version of the one I held in my hand, in wide, careless arcs and I wondered if he was actually trying. I've seen the way the cook talked to Rylan, in a voice measured with respect and esteem. It was true I had never seen Westley fight but I had to believe he was trained better than this.

Rylan winced as he brought the butt of his sword down, smacking against Westley's temple. He went down hard, knife knocked from his hand. Though his eyes were closed, I noticed his chest still rose and fell rapidly, but he made no move to get up.

Another soldier took his place, brandishing a long dagger that had a wicked curve at the end. Rylan dodged the blow easily, twisting under the soldier's arm and driving his elbow into the other's ribcage. The soldier recovered quickly, catching his breath with a large gulp of air. He turned on his heel, slicing through the air that Rylan had been standing in only a second before.

Rylan narrowly missed the blade, swinging his own sword in a wide arc and blocking the dagger with a loud clash. Rylan pushed forward, too close for the blades to be of use as they fought close range.

A hand wrapped around my elbow while I was immersed in the fight, and I was jerked backwards. Instinct. I didn't even think as I plunged my knife into the arm latched onto me. The seated edge slashed along my attacker's arm, leaving a nasty gash that spurted blood. His fingers released my arm, and his other hand clamped over his wound.

"You bitch," he swore, clutching his bleeding arm to his chest.

I lost track of Rylan after that as I fought my own battles, but when I kept tripping over unconscious bodies that weren't his, I knew he was still fighting.

I barely held the two soldiers opposite me at bay with my blood-stained knife and when they came close, I swiped at them. Their faces turned annoyed at this ploy. I didn't know how to fight and I prayed Rylan would hurry up.

"Drop the knife." A voice whispered in my ear at the same moment an arm snaked around my chest, pulling my back against someone's chest. I saw a flash of a red armband and tightened the grip on my knife, twisting it behind me. Before it could make contact, the knife was wrenched from my hands.

The fighting stopped when Rylan caught sight of the blade against my throat. He turned towards us slowly, weighing his odds. I noticed the sword in his hand was still gleaming, although if given the chance, I knew there was one person that he would use it against. In his eyes, held a silent promise.

"Enough of that now, Fields." I couldn't see Polished Buttons face but his arms tensed around me, the knife pressing harder against my throat. I felt a trickle of blood drip down my neck. "Drop the sword."

Despite the rage burning on Rylan's face, the darkness swallowing his usual bright eyes, he sheathed his sword and tore the scabbard from his belt, throwing it on the ground between us. As soon as the weapon left his hands, Rylan's arms were seized by two soldiers behind him. He didn't struggle in their grasp.

Satisfied that Rylan wouldn't try anything, the knife was removed from my throat but the arm remained, holding me firmly in place. Rylan's eyes found mine, and I knew that look. He wouldn't risk my well-being.

"Jacobs, fetch the cuffs. Looks like we'll be needing them after all." One of the blue armbands saluted and ran off in the direction of the stables.

"What about him, Commander?" Rylan twisted in the grasp of the soldiers that held him.

"We'll take him with us. I'm sure his father will have something to say about his little stunt here."

Jacobs returned, two pairs of iron shackles in hand. He handed one off for Rylan and strolled towards me with the other. A wave of terror washed over me at the sight of the shackles - I couldn't, I couldn't- and I pushed back, heels digging into the earth, but the body behind me wouldn't let me go far. I kicked out, the toe of my boot colliding into Jacobs's shin. He muttered a curse and drove his clenched fist into my gut.

All the breath left my lungs. I barely heard Rylan shout over the roaring in my ears. If it weren't for the arm across my chest, I would've doubled over. My forearms were jerked forward in a grip that would surely leave bruises. The cold iron wrapped around my wrists, and I let my hands drop with the weight of the shackles.

We were loaded into a waiting carriage, although the word carriage was too generous considering there was only enough room for Rylan and I. There was only one door and no windows. I could barely see Rylan's outline across from me.

Rylan's shoulders brushed the walls of the carriage and his leg wouldn't stop bouncing up and down. I curled my legs up on the small seat and wrapped my cuffed wrists around them, chin resting atop my knees. I sighed, staring at the dark floor and imagined the ground racing below us.

"Where are they taking us?"

"The capital, I suspect."

It was a death sentence. Once we made it there, all hope would be lost. If only I had told Rylan the truth earlier, if only I had tried leaving earlier, none of this would be happening.

"What did the commander say to you? In your cabin?"

Rylan froze, his leg pausing mid-bounce. If it wasn't so dark in here, I would've thought his face had paled. "It was nothing."

"It doesn't seem like nothing." I narrowed my eyes at him but he wouldn't meet my gaze. "Was it bad?"

The silhouette of his head nodded. The next question lingered on my tongue but I was afraid of the answer. If Rylan didn't want to tell me, it could only mean one thing. "Was it about me?"

Another nod.

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. Luck had never been on my side, especially recently, and it still seemed far from reach. I pushed the morbid thoughts from my mind. It would do no good to dwell on that now.

"At least, we're riding in style." I nudged Rylan's foot with my toe, causing him to look up at me. I could just barely make out his raised eyebrows in the dark and I wished I could see his full face. I bounced once in my seat. "Cushions."