The two knights’ swords met with a glitter of sparks. But before Reuben could lock their blades, Luca whirled to the side, evading the full power of his opponent.
Ayla thought a very bad word she would never have uttered aloud. No! She had hoped Luca would be foolish enough to meet Reuben head-on, and the Red Knight could bring his far superior strength to bear. Apparently, this was not going to happen. Instead, Luca attacked Reuben from the side and, when the Robber Knight's huge sword came swinging around, ducked out of the way.
Even Ayla could see after only moments that Luca was no novice at sword-fighting. He didn't have Reuben's strength, but he was sneaky and clever and was going to make the most of that advantage. With a few quick steps, he retreated towards one of the towers of the gatehouse, always just out of reach of Reuben’s sword, and took up a position next to one of the two doors.
“Coward!” Reuben growled, advancing towards him. “Stand and fight!”
Reuben had barely reached the other knight when Luca grabbed the doorknob beside him. Ayla, guessing what dastardly trick he was planning, opened her mouth—but it was too late. Luca had already flung upon the door, directly into Reuben's face.
“Boo!”
“Bastard!”
Protesting shouts went up from the watching crowd. The heavy oak rushed towards Reuben with enough force to knock a man senseless. But before it could hit home, Reuben's fist came up and smashed into it, reversing its course and slamming it shut with an almighty boom. Through the slit of his visor, he regarded Luca with blazing gray eyes.
“I think you have yet to learn something about me, Sir Luca,” he growled.
“Oh yes? And that is?”
“These tricks of yours, dirty tricks that would catch any ordinary, fair-fighting knight off his guard easily…”
Luca feinted to the left, then whirled around and struck at Reuben's other shoulder. Reuben's sword was already there, blocking the strike.
“…they won't work on me!”
Reuben whirled his blade around in a masterly move, tugging on Luca's blade so strongly it made the knight scream. The bad news: it wasn’t strong enough for the blade to fly out of his hand. The good news: it was strong enough for him to fly off his feet and to sail past Reuben, crashing onto the stone of the walkway. Quickly, he scrambled to his feet.
“Because, you see,” Reuben continued, and Ayla could hear the explosion approaching under the superficial calm of his voice, “I’m not ordinary. And I most definitely do not fight fair.”
“Yaa!”
Dashing forward, Sir Luca again pretended to strike at Reuben with his sword. This time, though, he didn't change the direction of his blow but simply stopped it and moved his leg up sharply, sinking his knee into Reuben's crotch. With a dull thud, his knee made contact.
It had absolutely no effect.
For a moment, just a moment, all the eyes of the men on the wall went wide, and Ayla could see it in their faces: they weren't thinking about the fight anymore. Hands went to areas between legs. Hundreds of male faces twisted in mixed pity, awe, and incomprehension. It was obvious to Ayla that whatever Reuben had done before to weave a legend around his name, this would easily outstrip it.
“Satan's warty prick…” Burchard murmured behind her, his voice raw. “What's the matter with the fellow? How is he still standing after…that? He isn't…you know…missing something?”
Ayla’s mouth dropped open. She hadn’t even considered that possibility! But no, that couldn’t be it! Not with a smile as lascivious as his! He had to have…stuff down there. It had to have been his painlessness. It had to!
“No. He isn't. It's something else. He’s, um…fully equipped down there. I am absolutely sure.”
Burchard's voice got a good deal more suspicious. “And how the hell would you know?”
“Psht!” She waved at him imperiously. “Be quiet!” She was watching Reuben, listening intently.
“There, you see?” Reuben’s voice rose. It was becoming more menacing by the second, deep and growling, like the warning sounds out of the belly of some fierce beast just before the inevitable attack. “I'm not just any knight you can trick with your underhanded ways and stab in the back. I know them all— I invented most of them myself!”
His hand shot forward, gripping Luca by the throat. If not for the metal bevor around his neck, Ayla felt sure he would have crushed Luca's windpipe.
“I am different,” Reuben hissed. “I'm the Red Robber Knight. There's nothing you can hurt me with.”
“That's where you're wrong,” Luca gasped. He brought up his sword to slash at the arm holding him. Reuben let go and brought his own blade around to counter the attack—but Luca had already broken it off. He had dived for the tower door and now flung it open again. Expecting this to be another attack, Reuben brought up his hand to shield himself—in vain. The door slid open just wide enough to admit Luca into the tower.
“Satan's hairy ass! Come out and face me!” Reuben marched towards the door and flung it fully open—just as Luca emerged from the second door right beside it, behind Reuben. Ayla gave a startled cry.
“Reuben! Look out!”
She knew it would come too late. Luca was too close already. But then…then Luca ran past Reuben, away from him, down the walkway. What was this? The fight was over there. Why was he running towards her?
And then the penny dropped.
“Reuben! Reuben, he’s going to-!”
But the rage in Reuben’s eyes showed that he already knew why Luca was heading away from him and towards her.
Quickly, Ayla bent down, grasping a dagger that had been dropped by one of the dead fighters, and held it out in front of her with trembling hands. Luca just smirked, ducked underneath her clumsy strike, grasped her wrist, and twisted. The merciless grip of his iron-clad hand sent red-hot pain through Ayla's fingers. She screamed in pain, and the dagger clattered to the ground.
“Let go of me, you ugly brute!” Writhing, she tried to somehow get out of his grip. But he just ignored her, enveloping her in his steely grasp. A moment later, she felt something she had felt only twice before: a sharp blade at her throat. She growled. “Let me go, you bastard!”
“Now, now,” a silky voice hissed into her ear. “That's not the appropriate way for a lady to talk, is it?”
His blade remained at her throat, but his other hand shot up, palm out. “Not another step closer! Not one step closer, or she dies!”
Through her tears, Ayla saw Reuben, frozen to a red statue of rage, only a few feet away from her.
“Let her go,” he said, his voice as deadly as death itself.
Slowly, Luca shook his head. Ayla could feel the movement in the way the blade moved across the skin at her throat and cut into her.
“Oh no. That's the last thing I'm going to do, bastardo.” He smiled. “You see? There is a way to hurt you. And I believe I have found it.”
*~*~**~*~*
Reuben stood there, gazing at Ayla in the arms of that monster, and didn't move a muscle. Oh, if only he could take one more step forward. One step would be enough, and the danger to the center of his world would be ended. But if he could take that step forward, he wouldn’t actually kill Luca. Oh no, not so fast. He would cut off his hands and feet so he could cause no more harm, and then the fun would begin…
Suddenly, a movement from behind Luca distracted him. Burchard, wounded and weak as he was, had dragged himself over to the Italian and grabbed the fallen dagger on the floor. Slowly, he raised it, ready to plunge it into Luca's calf.
Without bothering to turn, Luca kicked the knife out of his hand, and then let his foot come down on the steward's fingers.
“Arr!” Burchard bellowed in pain, and Ayla tried to twist to see what was going on.
“No! Please stop,” she pleaded. “Please don't hurt him! I'll…I'll…”
Not even pretending to listen to her, Luca lashed out with his armored foot a third time and delivered a stunning kick to Burchard's head. The steward was thrown back and slammed into the parapet with a very unhealthy thud. He remained there, limp, his head hanging to the side.
“Nooo!” Ayla wailed. She tried to turn again, but Luca had a firm grip on her. For just a moment, he looked down to see if she was still secure.
Reuben moved. In the split second that was given to him, he had already crossed half the distance between him and his prize—but it was not enough.
“Back!” His eyes flashing up, Luca pressed the knife more tightly against Ayla's throat. Her scream of pain was like a dagger thrust into Reuben's heart. Literally. He hadn't felt pain like this in years. Not since he had been cursed. All he saw was the fear in her eyes and the thin trickle of blood running down her slender throat.
“Back up, bastardo!” Through the slit of his visor, Reuben could see the beetle eyes of the mercenary commander glinting dangerously. “Or I'll cut her some more.”
Reuben tried to make his voice seem calm. Thank the devil that he was wearing a visor and that the other man couldn't see the expression on his face, or any appearance of calm would be instantly shattered.
“I thought you wanted it to be just the two of us?” He inquired. “A duel to decide the fate of this battle.”
“I lied.” Reuben could hear the smirk in Luca's voice. Stay calm, he told himself. Do not, I repeat, do not try to lunge forward and rip him apart with your bare hands. Ayla's life is at stake.
He made himself laugh dismissively.
“Ha! And why do you think that I care if you cut her or kill her? She is convenient for holding this land together, true. But even if you kill her, I'll still have the old man in my power. It won’t be difficult to make myself the lord here.”
“Oh?” Sir Luca's voice sounded amused. “You only want her for convenience and a way to power? You're not really interested in her? Well, then I guess I'll better kill her right away.”
His blade moved.
Reuben jumped back as if stung by a viper. “No! Don't!”
“I thought as much.” The dark self-satisfaction in Luca's voice was enough to make Reuben want to choke him. Actually, the man's mere existence was enough for Reuben to want to choke him, but that was beside the point right now.
“So you wouldn't like it if I killed her?” the Italian inquired.
Reuben's jaw muscles worked like those of a hyena. He desperately tried to find something that would keep him from snapping and attacking that half-faced haggard. Finally, his eyes landed on Ayla's face. And what he saw there drained all the anger out of him. Well, almost all.
Her eyes weren’t full of fear. It was worse. They were brimming with love, with desperate longing. He knew exactly how she felt. He thought that, if only he could close the distance and have her in his arms once more, all the world would be right again.
Of course, there was the little matter of the knife at her throat.
“Yes,” he whispered. “I wouldn't like it at all if you killed her.”
“Then lay down your sword.” With his free hand, Luca made a motion towards the Luntberg soldiers further down the walkway. “All of you! Lay down your arms immediately, or your mistress will be a head shorter!”
From behind him, Reuben heard the clatter of weapons that fell onto the walkway. Instinctively, his hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. He couldn't let go! Not now! He was the only one who stood near enough to Ayla to be possibly able to save her. He couldn't let go off his weapon. Oh, if Luca could only be distracted for just one moment! One moment would be enough.
“Let go, I say!” Luca's voice had a note of steel in it this time. “Or I will hurt her. Do it, now!”
Reuben's hand trembled. He couldn't! He was the only one close enough to…
Or maybe not.
Surprised, he blinked. Was he seeing right? There was a shadow behind Luca—a small shadow slowly creeping nearer to the mercenary commander. Was it Burchard? Reuben flicked his eyes to the left, where the steward was still lying, passed out, against the wall. In rising confusion, he looked back at the approaching shadow. It couldn't be Burchard anyway. Whoever this was, was only about a quarter of his size. Who…
Slowly, a smile of comprehension spread across his face. Once again profoundly grateful for the visor that blocked his face from Luca’s sight, he loosened his grip on his sword and let it point down, so Luca would follow its course with his eyes, keeping him busy. All the while, the small shadow crept closer.
“How do I know that, if I let go of my sword, you will release her?” he asked.
Luca snorted. “I won't. She'll be my prisoner until the Margrave arrives. But she will still be alive.”
“Will she? How can I possibly trust you?”
Now, the shadow was only a few feet away. Reuben saw something in its hand. Something long and thin.
“You can't,” Luca said. “But you can trust that I do not wish to incur the Margrave's displeasure by harming his greatest prize. He is not a man to cross, as this little lady will find out soon.”
He patted Ayla's arm, and she shuddered under his touch. Reuben's wrath flared, but he clamped down on it, controlled it, shoved it away. Amazing what love enabled you to do.
“And the villagers and soldiers?” he asked, stalling.
Just a few more feet now… The small, dark form behind Sir Luca rose slowly.
“They will be punished according to their crimes,” Sir Luca snapped. “Now, put down your sword!”
“Very well.” Reuben bowed his head. Slowly, he opened his fingers, and the giant sword fell from his hand, onto the stone. Everyone was so silent that the clang seemed unnaturally loud.
“I'm unarmed,” Reuben proclaimed, fixing his gaze on a point behind the mercenary commander. “It's up to you now.”
Sir Luca shifted, uncomfortably.
“What? What are you babbling about—”
The shadow sprang!