Dark Deceptions: A Regency and Medieval Collection of Dark Romances(190)

And the women were right in the middle of it.





Chapter Eighteen





Keller realized early in the fight that the Welsh were aiming for him. As soon as he shoved Chrystobel and Izlyn back into the church for a second time, he was overrun with attackers. He could hear Chrystobel scream and his broadsword came out, flashing wickedly in the dim light and slashing at the nearest man as he made his way to his wife and her sister. But the doors to the church were open and the Welsh were pouring in, creating a deadly situation in an instant.

At least a dozen Welshmen had followed him into the sanctuary and the mighty de Poyer broadsword was in full swing. The Welsh weren’t particularly skilled fighters but there were many of them, so Keller backed the women into an alcove lit with dozens of candles and blocked them in with his big body in order to protect them. Men were coming at him from all sides, some with short blades, others with clubs. He lashed out a big boot to kick one man with a club right in the groin, sending the man to the ground as his colleagues tripped over his groaning form.

There were three men to his left who were slashing at him with smaller swords, fat-bladed, and ones that were easily made by Welsh smithies. Keller kicked out again, hitting another man in the gut and sending him to the ground while he used his broadsword to fend off the others. He’d managed to seriously gash one man and stab another, and the Welsh body count in the sanctuary was growing. But more were flooding in and he knew, with sickening certainly, that it would only be a matter of time until he was overwhelmed by sheer numbers if he didn’t get help soon. His men knew he was in the sanctuary and he expected help to come at any moment, so he continued doing battle against men that were determined to kill him.

He was fighting off a man on his left and one directly in front of him when another man, this one with a spear, came at him from his right. Keller saw the man moving towards him and he fell back slightly to give himself the opportunity to turn and fight him off, but as he turned, the strangest thing happened. He heard a female grunt, a yell really, and suddenly a big iron bank of candles went crashing into the man with the spear. Hot wax and fire sprayed everywhere and the man screamed as his clothes ignited.

Shocked, Keller turned to see Chrystobel on the other end of the iron candle sconce. She was wielding it like a weapon, swinging it again when another Welshman got too close. When she turned to look at Keller, all he could see was terror and determination in her eyes. Courage in the face of fear was not a quality everyone possessed, but Chrystobel evidently did. The sweet, bright woman who had been abused her entire life was finally learning to fight back.

That brave gesture from her bolstered Keller’s courage more than God himself could have. He gave her a half-grin, one of great approval, as he continued to fight off a swarm of Welsh. He managed to dispatch two more attackers when some of his men, led by Rhys, burst in through the church entry.

Rhys’ double swords were flying furiously, killing or maiming anything they came into contact with. The man plowed into the collection of Welsh holding Keller and the women hostage and, with Keller’s substantial help, managed to clear out the group. Still, it was a brutal battle until the end. Those who weren’t injured finally ran off, leaving the dead and wounded littering the cold-packed floor of the church.

“Are you well?” Rhys asked both Keller and the women. “Is anyone hurt?”

Keller shook his head, turning to his wife, who was still standing there with the iron sconce in her hands. She looked terrified. He went to her and gently unpeeled her fingers from the iron, letting it fall to the ground. Cupping her head with one big hand, he forced her to look at him.

“All is well,” he told her softly. “You were very brave, my lady. I owe you much.”

Chrystobel was trembling, white with fear and rage. “They… God’s Bones, they were trying to kill you,” she breathed. “I could not let them do it.”

Keller put a big arm around her shoulders, kissing her forehead. “With you as my defender, they do not stand a chance,” he said. He kissed her again before focusing his attention on Rhys. “How is it outside?”

Rhys sheathed one of his swords, keeping the other in his hand. “Still fighting for the most part,” he said. “Mayhap we should see if the priests have somewhere to lock the ladies up safely so we can return and clean up the dregs.”

Keller shook his head. “I cannot be entirely sure the priests were not the ones who helped set up this ambush,” he said. “The ladies stay with me.”

Rhys didn’t argue with him, mostly because he agreed with the logic. The priests had been strangely absent throughout the battle. “Where are the priests?” he asked, glancing at the big empty church behind him. “Have you even seen them?”

Keller looked around the dark, dank sanctuary. “I have not,” he said. “Mayhap you should find them and bring them to me. I want to hear what they know of this attack.”

Rhys went off into the darkness, taking several soldiers with him. As he headed off, Izlyn came around to Keller’s opposite side and slipped her hand around his big arm, holding on to him. Keller glanced down at the girl, winking at her when they made eye contact.

“I suppose you were going to jump into the fight, too?” he asked her, teasing her softly. “Those fools had better run if they know what’s good for them.”