Sir Bentley and Holbrook Court (24 page)

HOLBROOK
FORAY

“No, Eirwyn…no!”

Blood flowed from the back of Eirwyn's head, and her chest was as still as the marble she lay upon.

Avarick's laughter continued to echo off the walls of the grand chamber, and each chortle transformed Bentley's deepest pain into unstoppable fury. He looked up at Avarick's evil form and grasped his sword.

“Come, knave.” Avarick leaned over to antagonize Bentley further. “Come see how I will utterly destroy all of Holbrook… even its weak and crippled children!”

He turned and ran to the castle yard. Bentley's anger drove him up the stairs in pursuit. The thought of Avarick's wicked hands reaching Anya forced him onward, and his rage to avenge Eirwyn would not easily be quenched.

He ran past the four dead guards of the great hall and burst into the courtyard to behold a world of woe. The front gates of the castle gaped wide open, but it mattered not, for there was no safe haven without or
within. Kingsley's guards and knights were battling both Lucrums and Shadow Warriors, but mostly for their own survival. This left the unarmed citizens completely vulnerable to the whims of evil men.

Bentley ran to the garden and beneath the tree where he had left Anya, but she was gone. He called and searched frantically for her, but she was not to be found. Bentley nearly collapsed of an utterly broken spirit.

“Bentley!” a voice called out. He looked toward the prison block to see Walsch waving for him through a barred window.

Bentley ran to open the gates to the prison yard. He found the keys to the cells hanging within the guard room and opened the cell door.

“There is no safer place for Luanne and her family than in here,” he said quickly.

“We want to help,” Walsch said, as Luanne's father appeared at the door.

Bentley could hardly bring himself to think of anything that would help this horrible place, for he was still reeling from seeing Eirwyn die and then losing Anya. He found it nearly impossible to care, but the screams of innocent victims continued to call to him.

“Take swords from the dead guards and try to get some of the people into the prison yard. Perhaps we can save some. I'm going after Avarick.”

Walsch nodded, and Bentley left to continue his search. In the courtyard and beyond, the people didn't know whether to run into the castle or away from it. The hopelessness of it all was overwhelming. Bentley's sword flew powerfully and swiftly against the howling, painted Lucrums as he defended hundreds of people. His anger waxed great whenever he thought of his lost love—and this was every minute, for the image of her death was forever etched in his mind. Twice he engaged Shadow Warriors and was victorious, for the power of the Prince was with him. But the castle guards and knights were quickly losing the fight.

When all seemed lost, Bentley heard the sound of another army approaching, and he turned to see a marvelous sight. Sir Demus charged
through the castle gates, leading hundreds of Knights of the Prince into battle against the Lucrums. Amongst their forces were dozens of mighty men like the one he had encountered earlier that day. Bentley had heard much of the King's Silent Warriors, but he had never actually encountered one. Now he watched with awe as they took their battle immediately to Avarick's Shadow Warriors.

Both Shadow Warriors and Lucrums alike were surprised to see their massacre of Holbrook turned into a war of matching forces. The people found respite from the attack, since their enemies were now completely occupied with the fight. Still terrified, they scurried to hide from the flying blades.

Bentley fought his way toward Demus. “You've come, old friend!” “Yes,” Demus said between clashes, “as soon as we heard.” “What of the villagers beyond the walls?” “We divided our forces so we could protect them as well.” The two men were forced apart by the fierce battle. As the fighting raged on, it slowly became evident that the Knights of the Prince and the Silent Warriors were gaining the advantage over the Lucrums and the Shadow Warriors. Bentley saw numerous Shadow Warriors begin to retreat toward the rear gate.

He grabbed a stray horse—Silverwood was nowhere to be found—and rode that direction. Then he spotted Avarick; he was mounted and also near the back gate, issuing final commands to the Ashen Knight and his raiders. Fearing he would escape, Bentley rode hard after him, wielding his sword freely upon any enemy who dared stand in his way.

“Avarick!” Bentley shouted just as the Shadow Warrior wheeled his mount toward the gate. Avarick spoke to the Ashen Knight and pointed toward Bentley with his sword, then turned and galloped out of the castle with three other Shadow Warriors.

The Ashen Knight charged toward Bentley, and the two men collided in a fray of steel and armor. The Ashen Knight ignored the castlewide
retreat and fought Bentley as though there were no other battle than theirs. Time after time their swords met with a thunderous crash, and Bentley was amazed at the Vincero Knights skill and strength.

At one point, Bentley risked an opening to execute a diagonal cut, but the Ashen Knight thwarted it and quickly countered with a thrust that pierced Bentley's side. Bentley screamed but used the moment to counterthrust. His blade penetrated the lower edge of the Ashen Knight's helmet. He dropped his sword and reached for his neck as he fell from his horse. A moment later the Ashen Knight lay still on the ground, and the few remaining Lucrums made their retreat.

Bentley sat breathing heavily, clutching his side. The wound was not serious, but it made his plan to pursue Avarick impossible. He rode to the front gate and dismounted. Demus ordered knights to pursue and purge the village and surrounding region of all remaining Lucrums. The reign of Avarick was over, but the effects of his terror would last for a very long time.

When the surge of battle subsided, the castle courtyard became crowded with the injured and those trying to help them. Bentley leaned up against the wall of the castle and sank to the ground. Demus came to him, leading Silverwood by the reins.

“Found him wandering in the prison yard. Thought you'd want him.” His mentor began inspecting the wound on Bentley's side. “We've got to take care of that wound.”

Bentley looked blankly into Demus's eyes. Since Eirwyn's death, there hadn't been a single moment to mourn, but now his feelings began to crash down upon him. Besides this, he had searched everywhere for Anya, but she was nowhere to be found. He could only assume the worst. He didn't even want to know how many villagers and farmers had been killed—the thought was simply too much for him to bear.

“Too costly.” He hung his head. “These people would have been better off if I had never come.”

Demus grabbed Bentley's forearm. “Do you really think this wouldn't have happened eventually? If you had not been here, no one would have survived!”

“He's right, Sir Bentley” said one of the Knights of the Prince who had just returned from defending the villagers. “I've seen Lucius's devastation before—and this is nothing compared to what it could have been. Many here live today because you cared enough to come to this place and make a stand.”

Bentley looked at the veteran knight and then closed his eyes, unwilling to accept consolation, for his wounds were much deeper than his flesh. They had pierced his very heart.

“It would have been much worse had it not been for…”

Bentley opened his eyes and looked at the knight. “For what?”

“The Mercy Maiden.” A villager stepped forward, clutching a bandaged arm.

Bentley looked at the man numbly. “What are you talking about?”

“The Mercy Maiden helped us. No one knew she could fight with a sword like that.” He smiled and shook his head. “She rallied us near the river. Got the men to fight off the Lucrums and saved hundreds of families.”

“But”—Bentley hesitated—“she's dead.” He shook his head, utterly confused by the man's report.

“Nay, sir. I just saw 'er.” The man wagged his head toward the castle gate. “She's treatin’ wounds as we speak.”

Bentley was certain either he or the villager was mad. He tried to stand but stumbled because of the pain of his side.

Demus reached and steadied him. “Slowly.”

Just then a mounted woman galloped in through the gates, and Bentley's heart nearly stopped once more. Eirwyn pulled her steed to a
halt and dismounted. Bentley's mouth dropped open, and he dared not believe his own eyes. She looked at him with a sweat-soaked countenance framed by dirt and beauty. She ran to him and they embraced.

Bentley put his hands to her face. “Eirwyn, is it really you?” He felt his heart beat once more, believing but not yet understanding the miracle of his love standing before him.

She nodded, but her eyes were full of tears.

“I was told that my father…” She could not finish.

Bentley's surge of joy was interrupted as he realized she had just heard of her father's death. He looked toward the great hall. Eirwyn followed his gaze and broke from his embrace to run that direction. Bentley followed her and caught her arm before she entered.

“Eirwyn, I don't understand. I thought you had been killed as well. I-I saw…”

Eirwyn's eyes spilled tears of great sorrow. “I must see.” She continued into the hall.

Bentley followed her as she ran down the staircase. She collapsed near the body of the woman Bentley had thought was Eirwyn. Eirwyn wept softly as she touched the still form. Bentley knelt down beside her and gazed with wonder at the painted face… the same face as Eirwyn's. There was only one explanation.

“She's your twin sister,” Bentley said softly.

Eirwyn nodded. “Oh, Gwylin.”

“I'm so sorry, Eirwyn. I tried to save her.” Bentley put his arms around her and drew her close. She leaned against his chest.

“Since I was a little girl, I refused to participate in the pomp of the court,” she whispered, “but Gwylin loved it. She chose the court and its riches, but I chose the garden, the horses, and the servants.” Eirwyn seemed lost in memories of the past. “Father was angry at first, then embarrassed.” She looked at the far end of the hall and fought more tears. “I know he loved me, though.”

A few moments later, Eirwyn knelt beside her father, and Bentley tried to comfort her once again. He couldn't begin to imagine how deep her sorrow was for having lost a sister and a father in the same tragic day.

Bentley heard the echo of boots running down an empty hallway and spotted Braith at the top of the staircase. He clutched the banister.

“Eirwyn!” His voice was full of fury, and his eyes looked wild.

Eirwyn gazed up sadly at her brother. “Braith,” she called as he ran down the stairs. He knelt briefly near Gwylin and then ran across the great hall. He came to Kingsley's body and fell to his knees. Eirwyn put a hand on his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“You brought this to us!” He jumped to his feet, sword in hand, and shouted at Bentley. “You killed my father!”

Braith swung the sword wildly, slicing toward Bentley's chest. Bentley jumped backward, narrowly escaping the deadly blade.

“Braith!” Eirwyn screamed.

“Avarick killed your father—and your sister,” Bentley said and drew his sword for defense, wincing from the pain in his side.

“Liar!” Braith launched a volley of cuts and slices toward Bentley. “He said you would betray us, and I believe him!”

Bentley defended without making any offensive counters.

“Braith! Stop!” Eirwyn stepped in front of Bentley just as another wide slice ripped through the air toward him. Mad with rage, Braith made no effort to divert nor slow his cut, and a moment of terror once again filled Bentley's heart. He grabbed Eirwyn's arm and whisked her back as he raised his sword to meet Braith's blade. The swords collided a fraction of a second before the sharp edge of Braith's sword would have torn into Eirwyn.

Bentley wasted no time advancing on Braith this time, for he would not lose Eirwyn again. The pain in his side was forgotten in the rush of battle. Braith retreated as Bentley brought two quick slices at him followed by an upward diagonal cut that blasted Braith's sword from his hands.

Bentley held his sword at Braith's chest.