The Robber Knight's Love (The Robber Knight Saga #2)(75)

Isenbard's movements were getting slower, his strokes less certain, his movement less agile. He was being overwhelmed. Where were the soldiers? Why wasn't anyone coming to help?

She spotted the two gate-guards at the foot of the tower, fumbling around at the door.

“What are you waiting for?” she shouted. “Open it, get up there, and help them.”

“We can't, Milady!” One of them yelled back, the desperation obvious in his voice. “They must have jammed the door from the inside! They want to assemble a large force on the wall before they confront us!”

On top of the wall, Isenbard was being surrounded by dozens of enemies. He fought valiantly, but even Ayla, inexperienced in sword fighting as she was, could tell he was hard beset. Then, a moment later, the mass of enemies had swallowed him, and he was out of her sight.

“Isenbard!” she called in desperation.

There was no answer.

Instead, footsteps came up from behind her. The guards, finally? She whirled around. No, it wasn't the guards. It was something far better. Never in her life had Ayla been so glad to see an angry face.

“Ayla, what the hell were you thinking! You could have been—”

“Reuben!”

She clutched his hand, cutting him off, and then pointing up to the wall.

“Isenbard is up there.”

He didn't waste any time with unnecessary questions. He just asked the one that was essential.

“Then why is the door to that damn tower still locked?”

“It's jammed,” she cried in desperation, and the guards nodded to confirm her words. He shook off her arm and took a deep breath.

“Not for much longer. Stand back.”

“What do you intend to d—”

“Stand back, I say!”

For once, she did as he asked without protest. The guards were already twenty yards away. Reuben threw her a last look, a look full of determination, fervor, and…love?

Then he began to run.

Hurtling down the courtyard, he gathered speed and momentum with every leap. Ayla stared at him in surprise. Did he just want to get to the door quickly? If so, he was overdoing it. The way he was running, like a mountain ram gathering speed for a duel with an opponent, he wasn't just going to get to the tower door, he was going to crash right into—

And then she realized what he wanted to do.

“No!” she cried. “Reuben, don't! You'll smash every bone in your—”

With an almighty crash, Reuben collided with the oak door. It was ripped from its hinges, and he disappeared into the darkness. There was another crash and the sound of something splintering. Ayla fervently hoped that it was a piece of wood, not Reuben’s bones.

The two guards cautiously approached the open doorway. Ayla was not far behind.

“Well?” she shouted at them as they peered into the dark interior of the tower.

One of them turned and shook his head.

“He's not there anymore, Milady. He’s gone.”

That meant he must be on his way up already. Ayla could hardly imagine the force it must have taken to rip that door out of its hinges, the pain that must have caused. Well, pain it might have caused to anyone but Reuben.

Reuben was something…special.

A new, sudden bout of fear shot through her.

What am I doing? How could I have sent him up there? He’s completely alone! There is no aid in sight, nobody else who could help defend the wall! I’m a fool! An infernal fool!

Hesitatingly, she looked up at the threatening edifice of stone above her. Should she go herself? But deep in her heart, Ayla knew she would not be able to help.

Well, not by brute force, maybe. But perhaps she could stop panicking and start using her brain!

“You!” She nodded to the two guards. “Go to the tower west,” she pointed towards the west, “and east of here. Go up there on the wall and check that nobody else is trying to climb up there. If you find something, a rope, a ladder, anything—cut it or smash it to bits. Keep patrolling the wall all around until I say otherwise!”

The two guards bowed.

“Yes, Milady!”

They were off without another word. Ayla retreated a few steps and anxiously stared up at the wall. From inside the tower, she could hear thundering footsteps that were even audible over the wild clamor of the fight.

Ayla waited with bated breath. Did that mean what she hoped it meant?

Her agony of waiting lasted a few seconds longer. Then the upper door of the tower burst into splinters, and Reuben broke out onto the walkway.

He was no whirlwind, like Isenbard. He was a thunderstorm. He did not weave through the enemy. He cut them to pieces.

When his great sword connected with an enemy, whether with the edge or the flat of the blade, it meant death. Those who were not cut in half were thrown off the wall right and left, like so many autumn leaves blown away by an approaching tempest.

With a thunderous crash, the first enemy slammed into the ground beside her. Ayla twitched and staggered back, fearing that the man might rise again—but he just lay there, twisted into an unnatural tangle of limbs.

From above her, she heard an inhuman growl and quickly looked up again to see Reuben, his face contorted into the most fearsome mask of devilry she had ever seen, rapidly plowing his way through his enemies towards the ladders.