The boys’ attention wavered for only an instant. But it was enough. Like a striking cobra, the final guard bashed the hilt of his sword across William’s neck. Before William even hit the ground, the ferret whirled and, with a meaty thwack, buried his blade in Collum’s upper arm.
With a furious shout, Bran whipped his sharp curved blade up and brought it down where the man’s shoulder met his neck. An arterial jet of jewel-red blood arced through the air once, twice. Then the man’s beady eyes rolled to white, and he crumpled sideways to the floor.
Jaw set, Collum wrenched the embedded sword from his own arm. He swayed but didn’t go down as Bran helped a staggering William to his feet.
With two of his guards dead and the other still unconscious, Eustace now backed nervously toward us as a united Bran, Collum, and William advanced on him. His cheek twitched and I could see the beads of sweat that pocked his pale scalp as he held the sword across Rachel’s throat. Blood flooded down Collum’s arm, dripping off his fingertips. In the low light, I could see him blinking too fast.
Shock. He’s going into shock.
“Coll!” Phoebe yelled.
“Back up, or I swear I’ll kill her,” Eustace snarled, candlelight glinting off the links of his chainmail.
It was a standoff. If the boys moved, Eustace would kill Rachel. Of that I had no doubt.
But we’d run out of time. Sunrise was only hours away, and if we didn’t make it to the glade, it was all over.
I had to do something. But what? I skimmed the room frantically, trying to find a way that didn’t involve getting some of us killed.
No way out. There’s no way out. At the very least he’ll kill Rachel. I can’t let that happen. Oh God, what do we do?
Phoebe edged up beside me, slender blade in hand. Leaning close, she breathed in my ear, “If all else fails, stick them with your knife.”
I nodded my understanding. The guys couldn’t chance him hurting Rachel. It was up to us. And we’d have to do this together. By itself, Phoebe’s tiny blade was no match against armor and sword.
With a few gestures, she indicated her plan. I shook my head, still not trusting my own ability with the blade in my boot. Instead, I snatched up the heavy silver candlestick off a nearby table. Scorching wax splashed over my hand as the thick taper fell to the floor and spluttered out.
Phoebe smiled, mouthing, Even better.
Eustace was so close now we could smell his greasy hair and the rank oil he used to polish his armor.
A muscle twitched beneath Bran’s eye. He saw what we meant to do but didn’t take his eyes from Eustace.
With a slow exhale, I raised the heavy candlestick to my left shoulder like a baseball bat.
Just a little closer, you barbaric freak.
Phoebe darted forward, jabbing her blade toward the man’s armpit, the one place the chainmail didn’t protect. As Eustace jerked and gave a surprised grunt, I swung the candlestick at his skull.
I was off. Too low, and the angle was wrong. Still, the solid mass of metal smashed into the side of his neck and face. There was a sickening crack, like a chicken leg snapped in two.
Eustace went down, crushing Rachel beneath his weight.
As Phoebe crowed in triumph, a clump of bloody hair slimed down and crawled across my knuckles. I shivered and flung the stick aside as cries and the sounds of a struggle came from the other side of the door. Eleanor’s eyes found mine. She gestured to Collum and shook her head. I understood. She knew who he was now. And knew what would happen when the castle guards got into the room. There was no way we’d get out in time. The queen would back us up. But even she could do nothing once the authorities recognized Collum.
William dragged Rachel from beneath Eustace’s bulk. He hugged her fiercely to him. But at Collum’s low moan, Rachel pulled back, patted William’s cheek, then raced to Collum’s side. She pressed a wad of cloth to his arm. When the blood soaked through too quickly, she muttered under her breath.
“Rachel?” I begged as, out in the hallway, something slammed against the thick door. “What do we do?”
Chewing her lip, she rifled through her supplies. “There’s no time to stitch. Only one thing will stop the bleeding.”
Our eyes met. Hers flicked to the brazier. My stomach lurched, but I nodded. “What do you need?”
“Take the poker and bury it in the coals. Make certain it is red hot.”
Rachel became a whirlwind. Using clumps of something that resembled moss and spider webs, the girl applied pressure to the gaping wound until I returned with the glowing poker.
“Hold him down,” she commanded. Eleanor held a lamp aloft as the rest of us arranged ourselves around Collum, each restraining an uninjured limb.
Collum’s eyes looked glassy. Sweat poured off him, but he didn’t utter a sound. When he nodded at Rachel, she took a deep breath and, holding the ragged edges of the wound together, pressed the poker to his skin and seared the wound closed. Collum reared up, shoulders and heels the only thing touching the floor as his flesh sizzled. The sickening stench of cooked meat filled my nose.