The Robber Knight's Secret

52. Heavy Duty

"Nng!"

"Arr!"

Thud! Clang!

Ayla couldn't stand it anymore. The bloody racket from outside was pure torture. Every cry could be Reuben, every death rattle his last breath.

"The first chance," she muttered, pacing up and down the narrow space. "The very first chance I get, I'm getting out of this rat hole! Do you hear me, you stubborn red-armored fool? No, of course you don't hear me because you're too busy turning people into mince meant! Well, wait until I get my hands on you, and what you're doing will sound like child's play!"

"Um... Lady Ayla?"

"Yes?" With a hiss, she rounded on the young squire, who did his best to vanish into the stone wall behind him. In her heart she knew that it wasn't fair to take her malicious mood out on an innocent young man. But right now, Ayla didn't really feel like listening to her heart. Her fists seemed much better advisers.

"Err... do you really mean to go out there if the door opens?"

"Yes!"

The squire opened his mouth.

Ayla's hand shot up, one finger extended. "And don't even think about trying to stop me!"

The squire closed his mouth again, swallowed, and nodded.

Outside, the noise of battle raged on. Ayla continued to march up and down, unable to stand still, or, God forbid, sit down for a single second. When, finally, the racket quieted down a bit and footsteps approached the tower, she was beside the door in a second, clutching a surgical knife in her hand.

"Reuben? Is that you?"

"Yes. The crossbows have had quite an effect. Things have quieted down a bit, so I'm coming in. If you've got a knife, don't stab me."

"Don't count on it!"

He had the audacity to chuckle, and Ayla's grip on the knife tightened. Why shouldn't she stab him? He deserved it! And there were plenty of places where a stab wound wouldn't do too much harm.

But, curse him, he wouldn't even feel it! So what was the point?

From outside, she heard a rustling, probably coming from a ring of keys. Then the scrape of the key being shoved into the lock.

"Is Theoderich there?" Reuben asked.

"Yes! Why? Do you think that alone I will not be able to stand the awesomeness of your presence?"

"Something along those lines, yes."

"Go to hell!"

The door swung open, and Ayla rushed forward—only bump into something hard, and heavy, and hairy. Her fingers slid over armor made from leather, not metal, and an impressive belly. This wasn't Reuben! What the heck...!

"Ng!" Grasping him under the arms, Ayla did her best to keep the stumbling man upright, but by the Apostles, was he heavy—and smelly! "Help! Theoderich, help me!"

The squire rushed forward. With his help, Ayla managed to steady the man—one of the castle guards, she saw—and lead him to a cot in the corner, Reuben stood, leaning against the doorframe and looking immensely satisfied with himself. Ayla glanced from him to the soldier's leg, which was bleeding badly, and back again.

"Would you like to come outside?" Reuben asked, fake curtesy in every syllable. Bowing to her, he gestured out onto the wall, where guards were busy dragging limp bodies out of the way.

"I've got to stop this bleeding right away, or he'll die," Ayla managed to get out between clenched teeth. Shoving her hand into the open chest, she grabbed a role of bandages, cloth, and a bottle of clean water.