Defender of Hearts by Tanya Bird

Chapter 39

‘Stay close,’ Astin told Presley as he helped the girls onto one of the horses. ‘We need to get to the merchant gate as quickly as possible.’

Presley nodded and tucked Rose against her chest before gathering the reins. The moment Astin landed in the saddle they were off, riding through the paddocks in order to avoid the roads where the fighting was underway. When they reached the gate, they found a crowd gathered there, women and children pressed against the portcullis, begging to be let through. The defender Astin had spoken to earlier stood on the other side, hand resting on the hilt of his sword and feet shuffling in the dirt.

‘Why is he not opening the gate?’ Presley asked as she pulled up their horses.

That was a very good question. Dismounting, Astin pushed through the crowd until he reached the gate. ‘Raise the portcullis,’ he instructed the defender.

The guard shook his head. ‘There are English soldiers in the borough. The gate remains in place.’

‘You can’t leave women and children trapped in a war zone.’ Astin punched the wood. ‘Raise it!’

The defender still appeared conflicted until the warden’s voice sounded from atop the wall.

‘Get that gate up!’

Astin let out a relieved breath as the portcullis finally went up. He returned to his sister and niece, shoulders clipping shoulders as people moved in the opposite direction to safety.

‘Astin!’ Presley called. Rose was still in her arms, clinging to her neck.

He made his way over to them. ‘Stay inside until the borough’s secure. Understand?’

‘Where are you going?’ she asked, eyes searching his.

‘East wall.’

She blinked and swallowed. ‘You’ll come back?’

‘Lower the gate!’ the warden shouted.

Astin pushed his sister in the direction of the portcullis. ‘Go before it shuts.’

‘You’ll come back?’ she asked again, walking backwards as she waited for his reply.

He nodded, then watched her turn and pass beneath the archway just in time.

‘Move back!’ shouted the defender on the other side.

And just like that the girls were gone from his sight.

Astin looked up, thankful to find the warden leaning on the embrasure, looking out over the borough. He moved closer, positioning himself beneath the man. ‘Cooper Brooke is the man you’re looking for. He let the English in via an unknown door on the east wall. Let me find it, sir.’

Shapur’s gaze fell to him, but before he could respond, the sound of approaching horses had everyone looking to the road. Twenty mounted defenders rode into view, coming to a stop in front of the warden.

‘Half of you will travel to the east with Fletcher,’ Shapur instructed. ‘The rest of you will head north.’

The commander on the ground turned to his men. ‘You heard him. Let’s move out!’

Astin looked up at Shapur as he mounted his horse. ‘Cooper Brooke’s tied to a tree at the farm. I suggest you send someone to collect him.’

The warden nodded.

Astin dug his heels into his horse’s sides and rode off, the other defenders following behind. They galloped through paddocks, jumping fences they did not have time to navigate. Wind whistled in Astin’s ears, carrying the sound of weapons and dying men. Up the hill slope they rode, only slowing when they caught sight of merchants up ahead. There were around a hundred of them, fighting trained soldiers as though they had been secretly preparing for this moment their whole life. Even in their famished state, their hearts continued to beat as strong as ever.

Astin looked past them to the wall, where archers watched them down their arrows. The enemy was out of shooting range. ‘We’ll approach from the west, see if we can push them closer to the wall.’

He nudged his horse forwards, the collective sound of ten weapons being drawn the most comforting noise he had heard all day. They picked up speed, Astin swinging his weapon once, twice, before descending on their enemy. Merchants leapt out of the way of the horses, panting and bloodied from their efforts. The tiring soldiers could not stand their ground against fresh defenders. They were driven back by force and fear.

Astin slid from his horse as he hit the fight, drawing his dagger in the same breath and throwing it at the soldier closest to him. It struck the man’s neck, stopping him in his tracks. Another was upon him a beat later, sword swinging at Astin’s head. He blocked it, steel screeching, then kicked him hard in the stomach, sending him flying backwards into the mud. Astin pushed forwards, slicing and stabbing and punching, The English worked to maintain the ground they had won—and failed.

Behind their enemy, arrows protruded from the ground, clearly marking the shooting range of the archers waiting atop the wall. Astin swooped down, plucking a sword from the hand of a dying soldier. Two weapons would hurry the process along.

The soldiers began tripping over the arrows in the ground, then over each other. They seemed to lose their rhythm and confidence all at once. More arrows came, whistling through the air and sinking into the backs of their enemy, who could no longer retreat from them. Their fight was lost.

‘Hold!’ Astin called, not wanting his own men to be struck down in the process.

The defenders stood their ground, fighting, until every English soldier lay dead or too injured to fight.

For a moment, they were triumphant.

For a moment, it felt like a win.

But then the arrows stopped falling from the sky, and when Astin looked to the wall, he saw the archers vanish from the embrasures, their bows swinging in the other direction.

‘Shit,’ said the defender beside him.

Astin’s gaze fell to the base of the wall, where English soldiers now spilled into the borough. At least that answered his question as to where the door was located. Whatever the archers were doing to stop them on the other side, it was not enough. Astin knew he had to get to that door, but he stood no chance with only ten men.

He looked back at the merchants defiantly gripping their weapons with bony hands. The sight might have warmed him if it were not for the fact that they were all about to die fighting a war they should never have been a part of.

Movement behind the merchants caught Astin’s attention. His body went rigid, and his hand tightened around his weapon, believing for a moment that they had been surrounded by their enemy. But it was Harlan who appeared on the horizon, behind him an army of defenders. The merchants separated, and the two men locked eyes.

‘Need a hand?’ Harlan asked.

The corner of Astin’s mouth tugged up. ‘Several.’

‘Merchants to the back!’ Harlan shouted. ‘Archers to the front!’

Astin looked to the men with him. ‘Fall back.’