The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(41)

What the heck was Reuben doing? Was he…no, that couldn’t be. It looked like he was trying to drive the mercenary back up the spiral staircase, onto the wall. But he couldn't be that reckless, could he?

I want them to see this. I want them to remember what happens to anybody who dares to enter this castle uninvited.

Yes. He could.

The idiot! Was he possessed by little demons who had sucked the last bit of brain out of his head via the ears? Apart from the fact that the fighter on higher ground always had the advantage, there was also the problem that castle towers were designed in such a way that the party fighting from above always was in a better position, because they could more freely move their sword arm. Even Ayla, who had as much military experience as a bumblebee, knew that much. Who did Reuben think he was, to think he’d be able to drive an enemy with a superior weapon up an entire castle tower in the dark?

Five minutes later, Reuben appeared on top of the wall, driving back the mercenary along the allure with deadly ferocity. From what Ayla could see from down in the courtyard, he wasn't even sweating. He drove his grim, but still determined, enemy back from the tower to a section of the wall clearly visible from both the courtyard and the valley outside. His blows increased in intensity and speed until he seemed to be not so much a man as a living sword, to which the knight was a mere appendix. Finally, he caught his enemy's weapon behind the guard[9] and ripped it out of his grip.

The sword clattered to the ground—but that didn't mean the fight was over. The mercenary was still holding on to the flaming torch he had taken from the wall in the keep. Switching it to his right hand, he took a defensive stance and once again spat at Reuben.

“You'll not best me, you brat!”

“Still not afraid?” asked Reuben mildly, as if he were talking about the weather.

“Of you? Never!”

Reuben smiled. “We’ll see.”

And then, Reuben did something unbelievable. Something unimaginable. Something Ayla would never have believed if she hadn’t seen it.

He dropped his sword.





Firehand

Nobody, not even Ayla, could have been more surprised by this than Reuben's enemy. The beefy mercenary gaped open-mouthed at the unarmed knight in front of him and didn't even take advantage of the perfect opening to launch an attack. His wide-eyed gaze went from Reuben, to the sword on the ground, and back to Reuben. It took him a while to comprehend what had happened. But then, a slow, evil grin spread across his face.

“I knew you were a wimp! Can't even hold your sword anymore, can you?” he scoffed, advancing on Reuben, torch in hand.

“No,” said Reuben, shaking his head.

Ayla let out a little moan of despair and wanted to rush forward, up the wall, but her guards noticed just in time. Captain Linhart sprang forward and grabbed her.

“Ha! I knew it!” the mercenary growled.

“No, that was not the reason for dropping my sword,” continued Reuben, his gray eyes shining like tempered steel. “I dropped my sword because it was of no use to me anymore. A sword might kill you with one blow. That would be far too quick an end for a bastard like you. You will be frightened to death ere death comes and takes you!”

“Me? Frightened of you?”

With a bark of laughter, the mercenary lunged, striking at Reuben with the torch.

Reuben's hand snapped up and caught it at the burning end, engulfing his hand in flame.

Ayla stopped struggling, her eyes going wide. Her guards let go of her, staring up, just as she did, at the unearthly spectacle high above them.

“You,” Reuben said in a low hiss of a voice that could nevertheless be heard all over the courtyard, “will be frightened when the gates of hell open for you right here on earth.”

He took a step forward, pushing his enemy back, still holding the burning end of the torch. Tongues of fire licked around his fingers. He didn’t scream, didn’t let go. His face showed not a trace of pain—only wrath.

“How…how…?” The mercenary's face had gone as white as a corpse.

“You have a question?” Reuben asked softy. “Why are you being so shy? Come, come, out with it.”

“How…?” the mercenary seemed incapable of uttering any word other than this one. His eyes remained fixed on Reuben's unflinching, flaming hand.

“How am I doing this, you mean?” Reuben gestured leisurely to the torch with his free hand. “It isn't hard. Want to try it?”

The mercenary shrieked and tried to let go of the torch, tried to back away. But suddenly, Reuben's other hand closed like a vice around his throat and slammed him into the wall.

“Let me show you,” he breathed.

Slowly, very slowly, he moved the burning end of the torch towards the man's face. Ayla watched, horror-struck, but also overtaken by a terrible sense of fascination. She knew she was seeing something not quite of this world. She also knew that there was nothing she or anybody could do to stop it.

“Here?” asked Reuben, pausing the torch in front of the man's face. All he got in response was a whimper. Even from down where she stood, Ayla could see that the eyes of the man were tightly shut. But he had to feel what was coming, had to feel the heat of the flames on his skin.

“Open your eyes.”

Nothing happened in response to Reuben's command.