The Rescue

Quietly, the dark clad man moved up to an old section of remaining wall, the cover of night masking his movements. Pressing the back of his right shoulder to the stones of the wall segment, he glances around for any movement of the guards. Not spotting any, he looks up at the square tower.

That’s where she’ll be held. I didn’t want her to know about who I used to be, but, it doesn’t seem like that is an option anymore. These assholes must have thought she was a part of the family she works for and hoped to ransom her back. It definitely isn’t because they know who I am and are looking for revenge. There’d be ten times as many guards if they did.

The sound of a boot on loose stones snaps the man out of his thought. He feels the tap of the flat of a sword on his shoulder.

“What exactly are you doing here, sir?”

The man lowers his head. “Shit,” he sighs, closing his eyes and slipping a blade from a strap on his thigh. Lucky bastard caught me not paying attention.

The man’s movements are sudden and fluid, standing up as he spins, his left arm swinging almost as if limp, catching the inside of the guard’s sword arm, knocking the blade away as the blade in his right hand shoots towards the guard’s neck.

“Nauche...” the guard attempts to scream, his voice turning to a gurgle as the man’s blade sinks into his throat. The man swears to himself as he wrenches the knife to one side, then kicks the guard to the ground.

If that one guard earlier hadn’t gotten that lucky stab across my left shoulder, I could have taken him out much quieter. I can only hope that was too quiet for the others to…

The man’s thought is once again interrupted. A lantern flies through the air, crashing to the ground near the wall segment, shattering and sending glass and lamp oil all around. Almost immediately, the destruction of the lamp is followed by the sudden ignition of the oil strewn about, causing a sudden, bright flash of light. The dark clad man shields his eyes, momentarily illuminated by the flash.

“There! Near the wall ruin,” a guard’s voice rings out from the dark. The man hears the sounds of armor creaking and clanking, boots falling on both tiled and loose stone.

Dammit! I’m too distracted. Focus, man, focus.

The dark clad man lunges forward, catching the nearest guard by the throat with his right hand, then spinning him around, pressing the guard’s back to his chest. He forces the guard into the doorway of the tower, the pair met by a guard inside, thrusting forward with a sword. The sword plunges into the captive guard’s chest, bursting through his back. The tip of the sword catches the man in the side, just between two ribs, cutting him open, deep. The man lets out an angered grunt, spinning the captive guard away, forcing the sword from the other guard’s grip. The man lunges forward, reaching down and grabbing his left hand as he does. He pulls his left hand up and drives the dagger lashed to his hand into the side of the guard’s neck. He kicks the guard away, the dagger wrenching free of the guard’s flesh. The man’s left arm falls limp to his side as he grips at his right side with his free hand. He closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath, wincing in sudden pain. He shakes his head.

Dammit. Things are starting to spin too soon. I have to make it up to the top.

The man lowers his head and takes a shallow breath, holding it for a moment. He lets out the breath and moves towards the stairs, stumbling slightly as he goes, catching himself against the wall. He finds the stairs leading up, placing one foot on the first step. He closes his eyes for a moment, listening.

Next floor up. Holding the stairs. No shielding of my own to speak of. Looks like I’ll have to take a risk.

The man smiles to himself.

Silly woman. Never would have taken this kind of risk until I met you.

The man opens his eyes then puts his right shoulder to the wall. He slowly starts up the stairs in a half crawl, his body sliding along the wall, leaving a smear of blood behind him as he does. He nears the first bend and stops, untying a pouch from his waist. He drops the pouch onto the small landing, just past the corner and waits. Nothing. He takes a quick breath, then dips his head past the corner for a split second before pulling it back. No one. He nods to himself and slides past the corner, grabbing the pouch as he passes. He slowly crawls his way up the second set of steps, stopping once more as he reaches the corner. He grips the pouch in his fingers then drops it past the corner. An arrow and a crossbow bolt embed themselves into the leather pouch, knocking it against the far wall. At least two. The man steels himself before dipping his head past the corner, pulling it back almost instantly. An arrow scrapes the wall at the corner before shattering against the far wall. Four. One bow, one crossbow. Dammit. Two I could have maybe taken with a rush. Looks like it’s a risk after all.

The man pulls open a second pouch, pulling out a small, metal ball, a piece of twine sticking out one end. He looks down the steps he climbed, then at the twine, pulling out a knife and touching it to one spot on the twine. He looks back to the steps once more, then back to the twine, adjusting the position of the knife before cutting a large section of the twine free. He sets the knife on the stone step then takes up the metal ball. He puts his back against the wall, his shoulder just at the corner’s edge, taking a series of small breathes, his body wincing to the right with each one. He takes a final breath, then reaches up with the metal ball, touching the end of the twine to the torch above him. He closes his eyes then swings his arm up and to the side, hurling the metal ball up the stairs. The sounds of an arrow and bolt shattering against the stone ring out, followed by metal against stone and a flurry of swearing. A sudden pop sounds out, as if a small thunderclap concentrated at the landing above, then silence. The man waits for a few moments, listening. Nothing. Thankfully the fuse wasn’t fast. The man shifts then peeks his head around the corner. No one moving. He starts to slide forward, his shoulder slipping off the corner. He falls forward, landing heavy on his right shoulder. He groans, rolling onto his stomach, his forehead pressed hard to the stone, eyes blinking. No. I’ve come too far to pass out now. I just need to make it to the top of these stairs. Come on.

The man blinks against the slight spinning, concentrating to keep the black edges of his vision from shrinking. Finally, the man puts his right hand to the stone floor and pushes up. He lets out a cry of pain as he pushes himself to his knees. Just stand up and get to the top, make sure it’s clear. The man shifts, lifting one knee, his foot landing hard on the stone, catching himself. He grits his teeth, pushing up with his leg, his knee screaming in pain as he slowly gets to his feet once more. He moves over to the stops, putting one foot on the first step up from the landing. He leans forward, putting his right hand on a higher step, his right shoulder and side pressing against the wall. He starts his slow crawl up the steps, his left hand bouncing limp against the steps as he climbs. He stops at each landing, checking each corner. No one. Was that all they had watching the tower? He makes his way to the next landing, checking the corner. No one. They had no idea who was coming. Finally, the man makes it to the landing at the top. He stumbles to the reinforced wooden door, grabbing the latch and pulling it free. The man pulls the door open, squinting at the sudden light from inside. He steps through the doorway, finding himself standing in a well lit room, a large, four post bed in the corner, a woman laying on the bed, crying. He stumbles into the room, the woman looking up at the sound.

“Who...”

Her voice catches as she spots the man, dirt and blood covering dark clothes, left arm hanging limp, a dagger tied to the palm.

“What did...”

The man shakes his head, wanting to tell the woman they would be alright, that they were safe now. That would just be a lie. My left arm is covered in red from my shoulder. The wound in my ribs has opened further. I can feel the blood running down my side to my hip and down to my inner thigh. No, I won’t be making it back with her. This was just to clear a path so she could escape, run away and be safe.

The woman stands up and starts to step closer to the man. He holds up his hand and shakes his head.

“You were never supposed to see this part of me, a part of me I had locked away in the past. But, now you have. The way down and to safety is clear. Get away from here and don’t look back.”

The woman shakes her head and takes another step towards the man.

“What about you? We have to get you to...”

The man shakes his head again, stepping to the far side of the room, stopping at the thin doors leading to the small balcony beyond. He leans his side against the door, looking back at the woman.

“All that matters is that you are safe. Run and get back to town. Tell them about the men here, there still might be some alive. Forget me.”

The woman shakes her head furiously.

“No! I could never...”

The man’s ears never hear the end of her exclamation, his hand finding the latch of the door, pulling it open, his body weight forcing it open. He stumbles sideways, everything suddenly spinning as the thing he was bracing against suddenly gives way. His hip hits the railing of the small balcony hard, the pain shooting through him like a lightning bolt. He hears the woman scream, the sound fading, replaced by the air suddenly whipping past his head, He closes his eyes, whispering an unheard apology for involving the woman in anything involving him. He opens his eyes to see the woman leaning over the railing, her arm outstretched towards him. He feels the wind suddenly stop, pain erupting upwards throughout his body, then…. nothing