Lord of the Blade (28 page)

There was Devon, slipping through the lists
and waving her arms wildly trying to get his attention. A lance
smashed into Corbett's sore shoulder setting him off balance, a
fall inevitable. With the screams of the ladies watching, Corbett
was forced to drop his lance as he grabbed for the tall saddle to
hang on. Settling himself back into place, he realized Devon’s
actions almost had placed her directly in Malcomn's bed.

A squire rushed out to retrieve the
abandoned lance and Corbett angrily threw his shield to the ground.
Yanking off his helm, he signaled for a respite. He quickly
dismounted and tossed his helm into the waiting arms of a squire
before storming over to meet Devon. The crowd shouted their
disappointment and Corbett's furious gaze locked upon the girl.

"What is it? Cannot you see I am in the
middle of a joust?"

"I need to talk to you, anon." Devon began
wondering if she had done the right thing. The look upon Corbett's
face told her she had not.

"Talk to me?" bellowed Corbett. "You needed
to talk to me, so you decided to saunter into the tilt yard as if
there were a picnic going on inside?" Corbett paced back and forth
as a release for his pent-up emotions.

Devon bit her lip and remained silent,
unable to get a word in edgewise between Corbett's foul oaths and
reprimanding her for what she had done.

"Dammit, woman. I have been trying to get
you to talk to me for weeks, but you couldn't seem to open your
mouth. And now, in the middle of a joust I am almost knocked from
my horse because you decide to distract me by wanting to talk."

Devon stared with disbelief as she noticed
Corbett's usually translucent blue eyes now clouding to a dull
gray. She had not meant to cause him trouble. She was only trying
to save his life. Another heated oath and Corbett pounded one metal
fist into the other. The King of Arms shouted that Corbett would
have to return immediately to the joust or forfeit to Malcomn.

"Don't you realize if I lose the joust you
will belong to Malcomn?"

Her eyes opened wide, aghast at what he was
saying. "How dare you bargain with my body as a prize when all I
was trying to do was save your life."

"It may be
your
life that needs
saving when I am through with you." Then he realized what she’d
said and grabbed her by the shoulders.

"What do you mean, save my life? What is it
you are trying to tell me?"

But before she could answer, they were
distracted by the noise of the crowd. In the jousting area they saw
a knight in armor sitting upon a large steed in front of Malcomn,
throwing down his gauntlet challenging him to the joust. On his
horse, shield, and surcoat, Corbett could see the masked knight's
crest. 'Twas the same red dragon upon a field of purple, only
divided into quarters, alternating blocks of white, with two sable
stripes.

Corbett didn't need to wait for the herald
to check the coat of arms with his list to know whose it was. It
was Boltoff who stepped in to challenge the baron's son. And with
the boy's pride at stake, he was sure Malcomn would not object.
Malcomn and Boltoff's horses circled each other, and the tension in
the crowd grew.

Silence thickly painted the air as Malcomn
turned his horse as if to leave. Halfway through the tilt yard, he
reared his steed and turned back toward Boltoff with a full
charge.

Boltoff stayed steady, but with lance
raised. Just before he approached, Malcomn tilted his lance
downward, spearing the dropped gauntlet and raising it high in the
air. Cheers went up from the stands and Devon turned to Corbett in
question.

"What's happening?" she shouted over the
cheering crowd. She stood on her toes trying to see over the
squires and knights that blocked her view.

"Malcomn has retrieved the gauntlet, thereby
accepting Boltoff's challenge.”

Devon glimpsed Malcomn through the crowd. He
rode around the tilt yard arrogantly with the gauntlet on the tip
of his spear. Finally approaching Boltoff, he returned the glove
before retreating to his starting point. Devon turned to talk to
Corbett, but found him halfway through the stands, quickly making
his way towards the gallery where Kenric, Cedric, and Gilda
anxiously watched the action below.

"Boltoff." Devon's heart thumped loudly
against her ribs. The plan was already in action. She ran to catch
up with Corbett, but was harshly pushed aside by the curious
onlookers that tried to get as close to the action as possible.

Corbett met the threesome who were in the
lists, now standing just behind the wooden rail. Kenric's glance
met Corbett's as he stepped from Gilda's side to speak to him
privately.

"What do you think?" asked Corbett. "Shall I
send my men in now, and have them haul Boltoff far from here?"

"I say we wait." Corbett was surprised at
the calmness of Kenric's voice. "Mayhap we should give him the
benefit of the doubt," continued the baron. "Besides, this is a big
moment for Malcomn to prove himself."

"You are ever so trusting, my lord." Corbett
tried to convince the man gently that he was wrong. "But I have
seen Boltoff's armory and clans of mercenaries. If we wait, it may
just cost us our lives."

"Call your men to attention, then. But do
not have them rush in until I give the command. I want to see just
what tempts Boltoff to be so bold."

"Aye," acknowledged Corbett, hurrying off to
warn his men.

"Lord Corbett!" Devon pushed her way towards
him, begging him to listen.

"Not now, Devon." He hurried right past her.
"Whatever it is can wait. I have something important to do."

"But I must warn you - "

"Go to the kitchen and wait until I come for
you."

"But I would speak to you of - "

"For once, do as I say and get out of here!
Go to the kitchen and stay by Heartha where you’ll be safe." He
turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"But I need to talk . . . "

She was too late. She was unable to warn
Corbett, and now he would die.

Chapter 21

Trapped in the crowd and unable to get to
Corbett, Devon watched the knights charge each other for the third
time. Malcomn had managed to score several points, but still
Boltoff sat high in the saddle, having broken two of the three
lances that were allowed. As the thundering of their horses' hooves
echoed through the tilt yard, they raced toward each other, and the
crowd cheered on.

Malcomn came in with another good blow that
almost threw Boltoff off balance. Both men's lances were shattered,
and the splintered wood sailed through the air. Quickly dismounting
their steeds, they continued the duel with swords.

"What's happening?" Devon asked, pushing
against the people, trying to see over the tall bodies blocking her
view of the field.

"They’re using blunted swords, no need to
worry,” a peasant laughed while providing her with the information.
But then he squinted his eyes and looked closer, his mouth opening
in surprise. “I can’t believe it, but Lord Boltoff’s just revealed
his double-edged sword. That’s not allowed. This’ll be good!”

Devon despised the excitement in the man’s
voice, as well as the thrills from the blood-thirsty crowd. Didn’t
they realize a battle was about to take place? If only she could do
something to stop it.

Devon ducked through a pair of legs and
crawled to the front of the lists where she could get a clear view
of the field. She gasped to see the blood flowing from Malcomn’s
arm. He removed his helm, signifying he wanted to stop, but Boltoff
didn’t heed the rules. Devon wondered why no one stopped this
madness. Then she saw Thorpe moving across the field on his horse,
moving closer to Malcomn. Corbett charged his destrier across the
field, and a dozen of his men followed on foot.

"No!" shouted Devon, getting to her feet,
holding on to the lists so as not to be pushed over by the crowd.
She spied Leahla, making her way toward her. The girl had tears in
her eyes and a look of horror upon her face.

"Malcomn is bleeding," Leahla screamed, and
ducked under the list and rushed onto the battlefield before Devon
could stop her.

"Leahla, come back!" She shouted at the top
of her lungs, but knew the girl could not hear her. With the
clashing of metal against metal, Devon saw men falling left and
right. Boltoff's men attacked with battle axes and maces, gaining
advantage from the high backs of their steeds. The crowd finally
realized this was not part of the tournament, and in a frenzied
panic, they pushed and shoved trying to get far away.

Devon hung on to the railing in order not to
be swept away. She frantically searched the field for Leahla,
keeping an eye on Corbett as well. Corbett fought like a madman,
charging after Boltoff's men on his horse. With little effort he
took down several men but was headed off by a huge warrior upon a
large steed. She worked her way down the lists and moved closer
toward Corbett, now able to hear them.

"So we meet again, Lord Corbett." The
warrior removed his helm to reveal his face.

Devon spied an angered look upon Corbett's
unprotected face, as he recognized the man mounted across from
him.

"Rock!" he exclaimed. "I should have killed
you when I had the chance."

"I guess you should have," sneered Rock,
"for now I will take your life instead."

Corbett held his sword steady. "What makes
you think you'll succeed? After all, the little episode in the
woods was a failure. You lost several fingers to my blade then and
will lose much more than that now."

"Not if I kill you first. And I will."

Devon winced as Rock swung a spiked iron
ball connected to a chain above his head. Corbett raised his shield
just as Rock attacked. The force of the spiked ball severely dented
the shield before knocking it to the ground. Corbett raised his
sword and charged his horse toward his attacker.

Rock's next swing entangled around Corbett's
sword, pulling it from his hand and leaving him without a weapon.
Corbett daringly flung his body at Rock, knocking them both from
their horses to the well-bloodied ground. Devon screamed as the two
men struggled, only to divert her attention to a girl screaming
from the midst of the battle.

"Leahla!" Devon’s throat tightened as her
voice faded into the wind. The petrified girl stood in the middle
of the tilt yard with her eyes closed as battle raged all around
her. Devon knew even if Leahla managed to avoid the weapons, she
would surely be trampled by the horses in a matter of minutes.
Without a thought for her own safety, Devon ducked under the rail
and ran through the midst of the battle to try to save her
friend.

"Leahla, stop your screaming, and open your
eyes," cried Devon. "We've got to get out of here before we're
killed."

Grabbing the blond girl's arm, she yanked
her forward and pulled her toward the protection of the galleries.
By some miracle they managed to make it to the outskirts of the
stands without being harmed. But when a horse came too close, Devon
flung Leahla ahead of herself to safety and dived out of the way of
the deadly hooves. A thundering hoof smashed down right next to her
face.

"Devon!"

She looked up to see Corbett not far away,
pulling his sword out of Rock. Then a rough hand grabbed her from
behind and hauled her to her feet. She felt the unmistakable sharp
edge of a sword pressed against her throat.

"Call off your men, Corbett, or the girl
dies," came Boltoff’s demand from behind her.

"Let her go, Boltoff," Corbett commanded,
still gripping his bloodied sword. "She is only an innocent
maidservant and holds no value to you."

"Oh, but you are so wrong," Boltoff laughed.
"She holds much value, as I can see in your eyes how much she
really means to you. Now I can get a ransom for not only Malcomn,
but your lover as well."

"Please, Corbett," begged Devon, "do as he
says. Enough innocent men have already died, and I don't want to
see you join them."

Corbett’s nightmare had come true. Devon’s
eyes called out to him for help, the fear within them not unlike
that of his reoccurring dream.

"All right," agreed Corbett, if only to
stall and think of a counterattack. "I'll call off my men if you
promise not to hurt her."

Boltoff laughed heartily. "Well now, I don't
believe you're in any position to be bargaining, so I guess you'll
just have to trust me, won't you?"

"I'd sell my soul to the devil before I'd
ever trust you, Boltoff.”

Boltoff brought the sword a little closer to
Devon's throat. She whimpered and Corbett’s heart ached for her
safety. One small twist of Boltoff’s wrist and Corbett could lose
his angel forever.

Fearing for Devon’s safety, Corbett signaled
his men to retreat. Boltoff's mercenaries gathered at the far end
of the field, what little survived. The dead from both sides were
scattered generously about the ground. Squires rushed out to help
the wounded make their ways to the stables, and the last remaining
stragglers of onlookers slipped from view.

"Corbett, watch out!" Devon's warning was
heard in time as Corbett turned with sword raised to meet a
staggering Rock with a sword above his head.

"How many times do I have to kill you?"
asked Corbett. He slashed at the man's arm, causing him to drop his
sword. His gauntlet fell off to expose his semi-fingerless
hand.

“This is for the men I lost on the hunt,” he
spat, thrusting the final blow that took his life. Pivoting on his
heel, sword still raised, Corbett found Boltoff already across the
tilt yard and mounted upon his horse with Devon. His mercenaries
quickly followed him out the gate, with not only Malcomn, but Gilda
in tow. He was too late to help Devon, but hopefully not too late
to save her life.