AUDEAMUS
Chapter 34
She stood before the altar in St. Nicholas watching the carved figure of Mother Mary. The doors had been bolted, the chaos outside ever growing. Blank eyes tried to find some solace in the crying wooden eyes that stared down at her.
Suddenly, a boom broke through the desolate silence of the church. The morning light flooded inside, almost blinding her as she saw the outline of a figure. Bella Swan turned fully, her cheeks flushed, chocolate brown eyes wide and her mouth open in surprise.
She was met by Edward Cullen, walking in, stopping a few paces from her.
"We are leaving," he said in a brusque voice.
Slowly but surely a warmth extended within her at the sight of him. More men rushed in behind him. However, through the gunshots, the shrieks in the distance, his emerald greens still latched onto hers and captivated her. Edward made his way to her slowly, his steps echoing in the tall structure of the building. Somewhere, a dove flapped its wings. The beams of the sun filtered through the tall windows, illuminating her, specks of stirred dust floating in a slow dance about her.
"Miss Swan," he murmured to her as he came to stand tall before her. She looked as if wishing to reach out to him, hold him, burrow her face in his chest and whisper sweet words into his ear.
"A change of plans is it, Mr. Cullen?" she whispered.
His lips tugged at the corner. "I hear you know a way we might get inside the walls of Hayes without resorting to opening the gates."
Her brow furrowed. "What is your plan?"
He took her hand in his and turned to join his men. The longer they stayed, the more dangerous it would become. "The cannon is too guarded. We must force Forster's hand and lure him to us."
Slowly, she extracted her hand from his grip as she realized where he was headed. "You mean to open the gates and let them in?" An insulted twinge rang through the great hall of the church. The men watched in silence as young Miss Swan argued with Cullen. Jasper, who had walked in with Edward, understood the flaw she found in their plan.
"If we try to sabotage the cannon and fail, we will not get a second chance."
Bella backed away from him. "What about everyone inside?" Her frown grew. "What about them?" Her voice started breaking as she thought of her friends, her family. "And what of those who stay behind to destroy the cannon — if they can even manage to do that?"
He stood before her like a specter from the past. Strangely, she could no longer sense Masen within him, only Cullen. The darkness emerging from his eyes unsettled her. He was determined.
"You must trust in me, Bella," he said firmly.
She glanced behind him, at the men who would follow him. "You would allow him to do this?" she asked.
"Either we open the gates and control how many of Forster's men enter, or we allow them to blow a hole in the wall, killing many more in the process," Jasper argued back. "We need to distract them to get to the cannons, I see no other way. But I understand your sentiment... I do not like it either, Miss Swan," he sighed.
"We need yer help, miss," another man stepped forward. She recognized him as the butcher's son. More nodded, joining in.
"We trust in 'im," another said. "We were nothin' before. We've a voice now, miss. A chance to stand up for ourselves. It started with Audeamus, let it end with it as well, if it has to."
She closed her eyes as a painful expression spread across her features. Then, her eyes opened, and a fire seemingly burned them all. "I bloody hope you all know what you're doing!" she spat as she picked up her skirts and walked past Edward. "Bloody maniacs, you are," she muttered under her breath. It did manage to raise more than a few eyebrows. Had Lucy been there, she would have been proud.
Bella stood in the opening, trying in vain to shut out the deafening shots sounding left and right. "I know a way we may all enter into Hayes. But we need to get close to the wall in order for that to happen. We will also have to go one by one if we are to lead our horses through."
Cullen extended his arms wide in a showing gesture as his lips tugged into the cocky yet brilliant grin she had come to love. "Lead the way, Miss Swan," he winked.
She rushed out into the blinding light of day. In the distance, she noted the smoke from the gunpowder as the weapons were fired. Carlisle was holding an awaiting April for her.
"We need to make haste! Forster has sent a platoon to search the tree line. They will spot us eventually," he urged as Bella hurried into the saddle.
Edward sprung into the saddle of his black stallion, the beast trampled nervously under him as he held the reins with one hand. "Which way, Miss Swan?" he asked.
"East!"
"Obadiah, Jeremy, Oscar!" Cullen shouted. In a matter of seconds, three horsemen darted to the front, seating their horses confidently, armed to the teeth. Blood splatter stained their skin and clothes; mud together with the residue of gunpowder stained their hands and features.
"Aye?" one of them asked.
"Ride ahead, make sure the road is clear," Cullen commanded. "I shall be right behind you."
"Aye, sir!" They sprang into a gallop. Bella stared at the horizon, gulping as she wondered what awaited beyond the rolling hills, the grand wall of Hayes and the sound of war.
He rode up next to her. She heard his horse settle next to April. Edward looked right ahead. "I will never let anything happen to you, Bella."
Edward Cullen turned to look at her, ignoring if he lacked any sort of propriety. He cared little for keeping up pretenses in such a moment. As did she. She gripped the reins tightly, stilling her fears.
"I know," she whispered as the winds tore at her loose tresses.
The clear heavens beckoned, and Bella urged April into a gallop, heading straight for the action, gripping tightly on and leaning forward. Her love rode right by her side and she was flanked by Carlisle and Emmett. The rest of the men followed suit as she set her eyes on the eastern part of the wall, hoping they would not be seen by any of Forster's men. They were, after all, pressing on the northern part of the wall. St. Nicholas was to the east of Hayes; they should be safe.
The powerful legs of her mare stretched underneath her, almost floating on the swaying grass as the tall, gray stone walls rose from the ground. Her town, her home. Her fingers entwined into April's mane and Bella inhaled the scent of the early morning, of metallic gunpowder, of mud, and her horse. She squared her jaw as they were met by the three scouts, declaring the road ahead free from danger. Bella Swan steered her mare further toward the wall, looking for a small break.
There was a small archway that was supposed to have a steel grating, allowing for a stream of water to escape through the wall. It was well hidden by twisting ivy vines and other branches. Bella was certain Forster had never known of it. She was sure few from Hayes had ever even thought to look where the stream led, unaware of the unprotected part of the wall. If Forster was not here now, he could not possibly know about it.
During her younger years, Bella had found that the grate over the hole in the wall was rusting and could easily be pried away when the flow of the stream subsided. They would have to get into the water, push against the grate and get the horse through, one by one. But it could be achieved. Alas, they were almost fifty men and she feared that Forster's men might happen upon them sooner rather than later.
They stopped by the stream and waited on her command. She was most familiar with the grating; thus she would approach it first. Bella rushed to the opening and steeled herself as the cool water touched her skin and she sank down to her waist. The young woman waded slowly through the water, prying away the vines which did well in hiding the entrance. Her white dress bunched up around her waist as she kept moving forward with April in tow. Bella felt around the edges of the grating. The rust was still there, but she had trouble pushing it aside, the water of the stream strong on this particular day. She let go of the reins and tried putting her entire weight on it. A rising panic now gripped her. If they couldn't get through here, there was no other way inside.
A black glove came to rest on her hand. She stifled a startled shriek and was met by two green eyes. "Together," Edward encouraged, nodding her way. She nodded back. Both now pushed as hard as they could, and she felt the rusty steel give way. Soon, they heard someone else join them in the water.
Emmett had rolled up his sleeves. "Amateurs," he quipped with a grin. He gripped the bars and pushed against the stream, the muscles in his arms working as hard as they could. Bella pushed, as did Edward. The three of them slowly but surely pried the grate open. Bella gestured in triumph and quickly ventured through with April following behind. While Edward and Emmett held the grate open, Jasper and Carlisle helped the men enter one by one. When twenty-two of them had gotten through, Emmett slipped, losing his grip on the bars and falling. Edward couldn't hold the grate open by himself and it slammed shut under its own weight and the pressure of the water.
She watched in horror as they all tried to push the grate open once more, but it seemed the iron had now embedded itself securely into the stone from the force of the blow.
"It's no use!" Jasper exclaimed. "Miss Swan, is there another way?" The kind eyes of Jasper looked at her in desperation as he realized the answer.
Bella grew pale. "You must try again!" she pleaded to the men.
They watched her and more jumped into the cold water to help. While they pulled on Bella's side, they pushed on Edward's.
Yet, the grating held firmly in place, even with ten men trying with all their might to force it open. They could not fit more of the men through the small opening.
Bella saw Edward in the water, gripping the bars, his emerald greens seeking her. Carlisle jumped into the stream, rushing to his son.
"You could try to climb over, or hide in the forest—"
"I will not leave thirty men here to fend for themselves," he whispered to his father. "I leave the rest of the plan in your hands."
Carlisle tried again with all his might to force the grid open, his eyes filling with unshed tears. They heard someone else jump into the water as Bella waded to them. She gripped the cold and unforgiving steel.
Carlisle shook his head as if unwilling to accept that Edward could not come with them. "Were you even planning to join us?" he asked. He received no answer, only the steely eyes of the masked man.
"Someone has to dismantle that cannon," Edward finally whispered.
"It's dangerous!" Carlisle growled back, trying desperately to control himself.
Knowing eyes stared back as a sigh escaped Edward. "It always has been…father."
Bella's lips trembled but unlike Carlisle she did not argue with him. Fate or his own choice — Edward was on the other side and there was nothing they could do now to change that. Even if he had been able to step through with them, she suspected he would have remained beyond the wall.
Edward's gloved hand found hers, enclosing her smaller hand in his. "Be safe," she begged, her eyes blank as she fervently tried not to let the tears fall.
His other hand snaked through the grate and pulled her in. Slightly obscured by the vines and ivy which cascaded over the opening, they would not be seen, if the couple had cared.
Through the bars, Edward's lips met Bella's as he kissed her. Tears now streamed down her cheeks as her other hand came up to caress his face. She held onto him for as long as she dared, his thumb caressing the back of her hand.
Edward was shaking, not even the mask could hide it. He turned to his father, who had taken a step back to allow them some space. Carlisle couldn't help as his mouth fell slightly at the display before him.
"Take care that she doesn't go and do anything foolish," he urged. Then he turned to Bella. "Like riding out into a battlefield with almost six hundred mercenaries."
"You must place yourselves in safety in Raven's Grove," Carlisle ordered. "You must," he growled.
Edward steeled himself, releasing his hold on the grating. "We continue the fight. We must try to take down the cannon. Otherwise, they might still be able to blast a hole through the wall."
Jacob felt as if he was standing before the gates of hell. Below him floated the smoke from the gunpowder and further below sounded men's screams and cries of horses. Jacob kept shouting orders, ducking and running, trying to keep it together. Jonah held the furthermost part of the northern wall. Joe was in charge of helping the wounded down on the ground.
It was no common battle. This was war — a war for their freedom, a war for their rights. The men who fought for Hayes had wills of iron and knew what might be lost if the gates were breached.
"Black!" he heard through the noise.
He turned around, sweat mingling with the smudge on his face, his brow furrowed, and a look of anger on full display
Jonah ran up, eyes wide, sparking with something untold. "Carlisle Masen and Bella Swan request your presence at Lucy's tavern!"
Bella.
Hours earlier, Jonah had ridden to him and spoken of Bella leaving the protection of the walls. Jacob thought she was lost to them. He had wanted to ride after her but could not leave his post when he saw Forster's riders drawing near.
He embraced Jonah as he burst out into a joyful smile. "She is alive?" he blurted, tears threatening to fall.
"Aye, sir! You're needed there now. She demands your presence!"
"Silly girl," Jacob snickered. "I ought to have her locked up in the garrison after this."
Jonah pushed Jacob to the side as the whoosh of a bullet passed them. Yet, Jacob couldn't stop from smiling. He had thought her dead, he truly had!
He moved to stand and darted down the stairs. "I will return shortly, Jonah. You take charge now!"
He didn't look back as he ran through the muddied streets, passing the men who held their wounded limbs to them as they waited to be taken to The Laughing Goose. Time seemed to slow down as his tired legs carried him to the center of town. He could almost hear her laughter as he gritted his teeth.
The Laughing Goose was surrounded by wounded men nursing nasty blows, gunshot wounds or broken bones. The interior was a mess as Lucy Berg ran around, shouting in her booming voice, the dining tables used as makeshift operating tables for Dr. Blake and his assistants. In one corner stood Athar and Michael Newton, going over plans with Billy Black on where to deploy the next forces.
Jacob couldn't help but stare as the physician, together with the local surgeon, held down a young lad and sawed off his left leg below the knee. Jacob's mouth turned dry as he recognized the man as one of his own friends. However much he wanted to run to him, there was no time.
Friar Nathan was in another corner, helping the more fortunate with lesser injuries. Friar Blackwater walked around with a cross in his hand to those on the brink of death, prepared to give them their last rites should they pass.
Bella Swan was frantically helping a maid behind the counter, preparing cloths drenched in liquor to be used to clean the wounds. She had been lent a dirty apron with some questionable stains on it. Her cheeks flustered and despite the determination in her movements, something else seemed to occupy her mind. Carlisle was being looked at by another maid, with other cavalry awaiting examination.
When Bella caught sight of Jacob, she dropped what she was doing. It was as if her walls crumbled and she rushed up to her friend, casting aside all sense of propriety and embracing him tightly. The young woman had witnessed more horror in the past few hours than anyone else in her station would endure over a lifetime.
"Speak not, Jacob, reprimand me not. I have already received my punishment for leaving these walls," she stated in a shaking voice. "I know I shouldn't have left, but Collins was right!"
He looked past her, his eyes searching Carlisle's and the baron nodded. Jasper Hale rounded a corner, carrying more cloth, almost running into Lucy's large form.
"Ya watch it now, Mr. Hale. Can't be havin' any clumsy oafs in my establishment or I'll throw ya outside," she snapped as she rushed past him toward Blake to help with his patient. Lucy, it seemed, did not possess a weak stomach.
Jacob was shaking after having witnessed so many men perishing atop the wall. His countenance was pale, his limbs trembling and something was very amiss in his eyes.
"We need to speak to you alone, now," Jasper urged. "The four of us. The more time we spend here, the more likely that Forster breaks into Hayes."
Bella showed Jacob to the back of the tavern, to the only place she knew would be away from it all, the one place she knew had hidden and saved those she cared about; Lucy's bedroom.
Jasper shut the door firmly behind him as Carlisle settled down on the bed, grimacing as he hugged his side. He must have received a blow of some sorts or fallen during the battle.
Jasper was quick to forego pleasantries and jumped straight to the question at hand. He knew they were speaking on borrowed time. "Forster has a cannon; he has been sending his men to attack the wall in order to buy himself time. He guards that cannon heavily and we know it only means one thing — to blast a hole in the northern part of the wall."
"A cannon?" Jacob exclaimed. Suddenly, he grew nauseated and had to lean on the wall for support. "But…but how did you get inside?"
"There is a stream the miller uses, the one which turns his waterwheel. It has to escape somewhere. The grate at its opening in the wall is rusty and I have gone past there before. But as we were making our way inside, the power of the stream was too strong, and it pushed the grid closed."
"Where…is Cullen?"
"Jacob," Carlisle interceded before anyone answered him. "We must open the gates."
The mere notion was an insult to the young man. "Are you completely mad?"
"We must open the gate and allow Forster's men to enter on our terms. Listen, we can divide his men and take care of the ones who are inside the town more easily. If we keep resisting atop the wall, he will blast a hole through it and enter anyway, killing many more in the process and diminishing our chances," Carlisle growled back.
"Where is Cullen?" Jacob asked again. When he saw their haunted faces the darkness in his eyes grew.
"He was on the other side when the grid was forced shut," Bella whispered. "We couldn't open it."
It rested on Jacob's shoulders now. Cullen would have known what to do, he always did. Despite the role he had assumed, Jacob was not comfortable making such decisions.
"You are asking me to trust in you all blindly and allow hundreds of men entry into this town — surely killing many of us in the process!"
"Because Forster has a cannon, Jacob," Bella repeated.
Jacob watched her, confused, afraid — uncertain of how to proceed. Cullen would know, he always knew.
"How many would lose their lives if we do this?" he asked them. In the background, they could hear the sounds of pain as men were treated for their wounds. It reinforced the weight of his question.
Bella frowned, not knowing how to answer him.
"We are asking you, Jacob, because you are leading the defense on the wall. Athar and Mr. Black are not men of battle," Carlisle said. "They will not open the gates. I understand why you hesitate. Had I not seen the cannon, I would too," Carlisle stepped forth to say. "Men will die regardless of what we do. We cannot save them all. You already know that — so does Cullen — so do most of us."
Bella walked up to her friend, gripping his dirty hands in her's. Her white dress was wet and soiled, taking on a dark gray hue. Some mud had been wiped from her cheeks. Her bandaged hands were dirty as well. Across her chest he saw some faint stains of blood camouflaged amongst the red and blue embroidered flowers. Her hair was in disarray.
But she was determined. That she would have fearlessly ridden out to warn Cullen — on the mere whims of a disgraced major — was enough to earn his respect.
"We can do this," she said breathlessly. "We can do this."
His black eyes peered down at her, on the woman he viewed as his little sister.
"Lord Masen," he murmured after a pregnant pause. His eyes darted up and locked with Carlisle's. "What is your plan?"
His words brought a wide grin to Bella's lips.
"We need to be prepared to rain down whatever we can on Forster's mercenaries and keep a steadfast grip on the entrance to the northern wall," Carlisle rushed.
"The portcullis," Jasper murmured. "They have not been in use for almost sixty years," he continued. "The chains holding them up are too rusty for daily usage. But we only need them down once. Let half of Forster's men ride in and then we saw through the chains, letting the iron gates do the rest. It will be easier to deal with half of their forces than their entire army."
Jacob nodded slowly. Once he came to terms with it, he realized it to be a good strategy. It would distract Forster and his men, giving Cullen and the others beyond the wall a chance to destroy the cannon.
"Then someone get the blacksmith while I inform the men on the northern wall," Jacob growled. "Lord Masen," he said. "I leave it to you to speak to my father about the town's defenses and their placements."
"Of course!"
"Bella," Jacob continued, now looking at her. "You must take shelter in the garrison." He hesitated again. "Athar and Newton should join you. If you, by some grace of God, survive this they are powerful enough to make the authorities in Wessport or Safeira see reason. They would be our last hope."
She nodded swiftly, not about to protest with his reasoning. Bella knew she had done enough for a lifetime.
And, with that brief conversation, Jacob darted to the front. Carlisle and Jasper started gathering the people in the tavern and Bella rushed with Michael and Willard to the garrison with April.
"We're almost ready to use the cannon," Westley, a gruff looking man with streaks of white running through his reddish hair shouted as he rode up to Forster. They watched their men attack the walls from a distance. For each passing hour, there were fewer and fewer men manning the wall.
The dark coals of Captain Forster's eyes burned with a fierce intensity. "When we get through, let the men loose," he growled as he gripped the reins. "If you find a pair of men who look similar with tan skin and black hair, do not harm them. They are mine. The same goes for the man called Jonah."
Westley had a rough scar cutting through his right eye and eyebrow. He stroked his unshaven chin as his lips curled into a satisfied smile. "I hear the ladies are fair in this town," he said in the same dark and coarse tone. "Ripe for the taking."
"Especially Isabella Swan," Forster said with a smirk. The name alone provoked a curious reaction in the other.
"…Swan?" he asked.
"You would find her pleasing," Forster continued. Maybe in the arms of Westley she would come down from her high horse Forster thought.
The man grinned further, the rough wrinkles in his face twitching. A primal lust now flared in his eyes.
"Look!" Forster suddenly shouted. The sun was high in the sky, the stark rays cutting through the gunpowder smoke, the heat slowly pressing down on them.
Both men, one a disgraced captain, the other the leader of the mercenaries, watched in delight as the wooden northern gates gave way and their men stormed in. It appeared to them that the cannon wouldn't be necessary anymore.
While their troops pushed through the entry, they were not paying attention to the rear of their army, too keen on getting into Hayes. The men tasked with guarding the cannon had started wheeling it out into the open. They were fifty men strong, armed to the teeth and not willing to let anyone lay their hands on their precious cannon.
Therefore, as a small horde of horsemen came from the woods, they were not prepared to be met with a head-on attack.
Meanwhile, the gates of Hayes were pushed wide-open, shouts and cries echoing through the valley as the mercenaries forced their way in. "Hayes is ours!" Forster growled triumphantly, urging his horse to go forth.
More and more mercenaries streamed in — until they didn't.
"Redirect yer arrows n' muskets!" Joe echoed. The shooters who had been aiming for the men on the other side of the wall now turned around and shot at the men still in the entrance.
"Close the portcullis!" Jonah shouted fiercely. "Now!"
The walls of Hayes were medieval in their construction — the walls thick and the gates old. But while they had not been used in a siege for centuries, they still worked. The arched doorway leading into the town, where newer doors swung open, also had a hidden portcullis. Forster had believed it removed decades ago. However, it was still there, and it was Jacob's hidden ace.
The iron chain to the sliding door had been sawed off by the blacksmith and it came down with striking force. The men who were beneath it got caught in a virtual guillotine, losing their lives from the impact of the heavy metal.
Yet, there was no time to celebrate. As Forster and Westley growled, circling back with their men to ready the cannon, Jacob, Joe and Jonah now had more than two hundred men to deal with within Hayes. Indeed, for the mercenaries would not simply lay down their arms. They would do all they could to make Hayes surrender and open the portcullis and let the rest inside.
Slowly but surely, the intruders were being herded by the men on the wall and snipers on the roofs into smaller cul-de-sacs where they could be more readily managed. The infantry cut their returns short as they dragged the mounted men from their horses and faced them with rusty shields, dated swords yet wills of iron. Some men only possessed their pitchforks, an axe or simply just good pieces of wood or steel.
Beyond the wall, hundreds of men doubled back for the cannon — their only option left to get inside Hayes.
When Forster saw the masked figure of Edward Cullen, he spurred his horse on, set on taking down the masked man once and for all.
Edward turned, breaking from the ensuing fight for control of the cannon. "They are coming for us!" Emmett exclaimed.
"Sir, we cannot face the lot of 'em!" one of his riders said.
Edward watched in defeat. If they'd had only a few more minutes they could have dragged the cannon back into the forest and sabotaged it. He stared as the wall of men neared them, with Forster leading the charge. However, if they left the cannon, the mercenaries would enter Hayes by blasting a hole through the wall.
"We can leave the cannon and save ourselves!" he quickly shouted to them. "But then they will enter Hayes before they've gotten the chance to handle the first invaders." Edward paused, feeling sick for what he was about to suggest. "Or we face them and buy Hayes a few more minutes. We ward them off the best we can while we sabotage the cannon!"
Pale faces stared back at him and Edward knew their decision. They would stay because they knew what would happen otherwise. Two men jumped down from their horses and killed the remaining mercenaries who had been guarding the cannon. "Go!" they said as they set to work.
Edward's stallion reared as he quickly turned it around. Emmett rode up with him as they all formed a single line. Toward them approached the wall of bloodthirsty men. In a matter of minutes, they would collide.
"If I don't get the chance," Emmett said in a shaking voice, his brow furrowed as he revealed the worry he felt inside, "I never knew what you hid, I am sorry for what I thought about you — evident or not. You are a brave man, Edward. The bloody bravest man I've ever had the pleasure to meet...and…and call a brother." He turned to face him. "Albeit you're a bit mad I should think. But we need more of that in the world."
Edward squeezed the reins. "I feel the same way toward you, McCarty," Edward nodded stiffly. "But we cannot perish for you wished a rematch, and I shall give it to you."
Emmett let out a strangled chuckle despite himself.
They all readied their horses as Edward Cullen drew his sword. "For Hayes!" he roared.
"Let us dare!" the men roared next to him as they urged their horses into a frenzied gallop.
Bella ran around the interior of the garrison courtyard with the rest of them. Instead of sitting idly by and waiting for the gates to fall from all the pushing on the other side, they had decided to act.
She was soon in the watchtower of the garrison, overlooking Hayes, watching the conflict. There were still many mercenaries left standing within the walls. A few groups had surrendered. However, the largest one was outside of the garrison, trying to force its way in. If they could get to the women, children and older people, they might have a chance to force a surrender from Jacob and his father.
Yet, her eyes were suddenly drawn to beyond the wall. She stared in horror as two things happened.
A horde of mercenaries was riding for the small cavalry which had not been able to get into Hayes with her. Edward Cullen and his small group of brave townsmen were about to face off against more than three hundred men.
Secondly, the portcullis to the northern gate had for a moment been drawn open once again as some mercenaries shouted for Forster's group that they could enter.
She sank to her knees, losing all hope. It appeared it was over, Forster would win. Bella pressed her bandaged hands to her eyes, crying in silence so as not to alert anyone who had yet to notice what was about to happen.
Bella had not the heart to see the clash of Cullen's men and Forster's forces. She squeezed her eyes shut and felt the warmth of the sun kiss her weary forehead. She thought back to her time with her parents, to Edward's embrace — their kiss in St. Nicholas, the meetings in the Grove. She thought of Lucy, of Jacob, of Lorraine, Sara, Robert, Nathan, Blackwater, and Thompson. Her eyes opened, tears streaming down her face, cutting through the soot and mud covering her cheeks. She stared at the immense sky above her, calmed by its immensity for a second.
There was a moment of peace where not a sound broke through. It was only the soft summer breeze and her, as if nature had decided to nestle her in its calming bosom.
In an instant, she was snapped back to reality.
A loud boom rocked the valley, the explosion causing the entire town to rattle in its foundation. Her breath caught in her throat as she darted up to stare out at the open fields of Cadherra.
Forster growled in frustration. They had not been able to reach their cannon in time. For, as Edward Cullen's men had clashed with theirs — willing to sacrifice their very lives to buy time to destroy the cannon — two men had remained and made sure the cannon was destroyed.
Yet, as Forster and Edward tumbled from their horses, engaged in a brutal fistfight, Forster was alerted to another fact — the portcullis to Hayes was opened once again.
For an instance, in the thick of battle, entirely encircling the small force of Cullen's men — both leaders locked eyes. It was drawn out, as if time had slowed down. Both men caught their breaths under the stark sunlight. It was time for Forster to decide — take down Cullen or make a run for it to Hayes. Forster knew he wouldn't gain another chance should the portcullis falter.
"To Hayes!" he yelled as loudly as he could. His eyes saw red as he realized he wouldn't be able to battle with Cullen…yet. He had no firearm. Only a flimsy sword and a knife — there was no time to reload.
"We cannot let them enter!" Emmett screamed in despair. Blood intermingled with soot and mud as pearls of sweat cut through the grime on his face.
There was no question about it. As the mercenaries paid them no heed, Cullen's men chased them however they could, hoping to catch at least a few of them. Edward reached for the horde, growing sick with the thought of seeing that many men assaulting Hayes.
Meanwhile, the citizens of Hayes fought like rabid animals. They aimed whatever they had at their invaders, hoping to catch some of them. A large number of them were intercepted in the main square. Lucy's tavern — The Laughing Goose — which had previously served as a makeshift hospital, was now the main point of defense. The windows had been broken to allow for whatever firearms they had to fit through. The wounded — those who were strong enough to hold a pistol or musket and take aim — hunched by the windows and shot for dear life. There were people on the roof raining down arrows, some boys even used simple stones which they threw from slingshots.
Forster, who had made his way to the garrison, knew that the only way to take down Hayes was to get to the weakest of them and use them as leverage. He glanced at the shut gates of the garrison, a wicked smirk twisting his features as he realized what had to be behind the doors of his old home.
"Westley!" he shouted as both crouched down near the end of the vast square.
The burlier man sent him a stiff glance as he once more aimed his musket at a young lad atop the roof, hitting him in the shoulder and sending him tumbling down. "Wha'?" he growled.
"The garrison, we need to break into it!" Forster continued. "They've their women and children there, I am certain. If we take them, the others will lay down their weapons in surrender!"
Westley's eyes glittered dangerously. He looked about them. With them, in the square, were now about 150 men. "We can do it!" he said confidently. "I'll send a group with a small keg of gunpowder n' have 'em light it."
"I've always enjoyed a good explosion!" Forster laughed, already savoring the bloodbath. They were so close! After this, Hayes would be his without any further pretenses. He would be free of Wilson to do as he pleased. Forster's eyes became deranged as he thought about what he could do to people like Jacob and Cullen.
From within The Laughing Goose, Little Lucy and Dr. Blake watched wide-eyed as a few of Forster's men crouched behind a makeshift shield of an old cart with some panels of wood hastily tied to the front of it.
When she spotted the keg one of them carried, she became enraged. "Stop 'em!" she screamed as loudly as she could.
Billy Black could not help as his blood froze once he realized what Lucy meant.
"They're going to blow it up!" he shouted, just as loudly. Billy had never been good with pistols or any other type of weapons. Yet, now even he searched desperately for a firearm to hold in his hands.
The townspeople aimed at the approaching wagon, yet even when a few men fell, it continued forth.
"We cannot let them succeed!" Lucy screamed. No one could not get a good shot as Forster made sure to cover his men.
Billy stared at them dumbfounded, realizing they would not be able to stop the wagon in time. Lucy watched in shock as well, but she knew she had to do something. The old woman, who had seen much in her life, had never been one for violence. But now, realizing that those she cared for were in grave danger, she cast it all aside.
The stout woman crawled to the back of her tavern to where she stored her liquor. Lucy took a bottle about three quarters full. "The devil will come fer ya now," she growled and couldn't help the satisfied smirk that formed on her face. She ripped a part of her skirt with her teeth, inserted the cloth into the bottle and then reached for a candle.
While bullets flew left and right — splinters of wood exploding into the air like bizarre fireworks — Lucy set to her task.
Some in the tavern, taking momentary cover while reloading their firearms, watched Lucy, astonished. The old and chubby woman — with a tongue as brazen as a sailor's and the manners of a common tavern wench — watched the wick burn and searched for her target. She saw Forster crouching with some of his men near the far end of the square. But it was still close enough for her.
"A present my husband left behind fer me, ya bloody bastards!" she shouted, extending her arm behind her and throwing the bottle at the group of mercenaries. She ignored her own safety, not wishing to miss her target.
Then she threw herself down on the floor as a new set of bullets rained into the tavern. Yet, they all watched the ignited bottle fly in an impressive arch toward the twenty or so men who stared in confusion. They had no idea what Lucy had thrown at them.
Upon impact, the cloud of fuel droplets and vapor was ignited by the attached wick which created an immediate fireball followed by spreading flames. The screams of pain and horror brought a smile to her lips. She dared sneak a peek and saw part of Forster's upper left torso in flames. His friend Westley was completely smothered by flames and darted up in a panic. He was quickly shot down, his corpse still burning as he hit the ground.
But the joy of the citizens of Hayes was short-lived. Forster's men ignited another wick and an explosion soon followed.
As Lucy stared wide-eyed — angry tears streaming down her face — she felt something wet spreading near her shoulder.
"Blake!" someone shouted as the robust woman collapsed into a heap on the floor. "Lucy's been hit! Lucy's been hit!" There was panic in that voice, but it wasn't enough to budge the old woman.
"Shut yer mouth," she quipped back. "It'll take more than a bloody bullet to kill me, lad!"
Forster doused himself in the water near the well by the far end of the square. He had been luckier than others for the flames had barely touched his flesh. Aye, there were some burns — but nothing substantial. He knew, just by looking, that others would not survive theirs.
The dust which had spread after the massive explosion upon the gates started settling and his men all gathered renewed courage.
"This will be the final fight," he roared. "And then we take Hayes!" He heard them answer, their spirits down, but the promise of looting and pillaging, of taking what they wanted, was enough for them to continue by his side. Of course, the promised money was a big factor as well.
They all gathered, all seventy of them — those who had survived the shootout with The Laughing Goose. The tavern was still now as they neared the fallen gates. It seemed they were out of ammunition or simply too terrified of what might happen to the people in the garrison. Forster and his men gripped their weapons, nearing the opening, licking their lips in anticipation.
All were ready with their muskets and pistols. Ten mercenaries were sent ahead to inspect, should it be a trap, which Forster very much doubted.
The mercenaries stood in the opening, watching the dust settle, frowning when they saw an entirely empty courtyard. They gripped their weapons harder.
"Don't just stand there like bloody fools, step inside," Forster growled behind them.
"There ain't no one there," one of them turned around to say.
"Of course there aren't! Do you really believe they would be waiting for you with open arms?" he asked.
But, for some reason, the mercenaries hesitated when stepping inside. Yet, prompted by Forster's outbursts and the chuckles of their fellow men, they entered, only thinking of their prize.
The archway to the gates was intact after the initial explosion. Walking through it, they failed to notice the two small figures atop the arch who looked to a corner of the garrison for a signal. The moment they saw it they released two large vats of a cloudy liquid and rained it on the men below. The men looked up and heard the giggles of what sounded like children. Immediately they regretted their action. The substance — whatever it was — found its way into their eyes and burned them so much that they dropped their weapons.
"Fire!" a female voice shouted firmly and, suddenly a storm of arrows was released. Most missed the men but some managed to pierce them where they stood — yet to take cover. Forster and the rest watched dumbfounded.
"Again!" the voice shouted, now with confidence.
Another shower of arrows.
Forster growled. "Take cover!" he ordered the men.
"My eyes!" one of them screamed as he clawed at them.
Angered, some mercenaries rushed in, their pistols ready to fire. But much like before, they entered an empty courtyard. Twenty men entered, standing by their wounded brothers who had fallen to their knees, practically blinded. They turned around and looked up at the archway, but behind the decorated wood and stone they found nothing.
A whoosh sounded to their left and a great ball of what appeared to be cloth or leather was hurled at them on a piece of rope, releasing its contents upon impact. Before they could react, the same object came from the left.
The contents — a murky and cloudy liquid — rendered this wave of mercenaries just as incapacitated. It had also managed to soak most of them from head to toe.
"It's lye!" one of them roared in pain. "Bloody she-devil," he cried out as he scratched at his eyes.
Those who had escaped the lye now turned to the northeast roof and saw a woman in a white dress flanked by more women — of all ages — aiming crossbows at them. Next to her, in a dirtied and wrinkled shirt, was a tall and proud gentleman with strands of gray running through his neatly brushed hair. He held a longbow, aiming an arrow at them.
"Fire!" she ordered. The arrows were released, aimed directly at the mercenaries.
Bella Swan and Willard Athar quickly switched places with the next line as they reloaded their weapons. However, the mercenaries had had enough.
They rushed in, aiming pistols, knowing that they would eventually outnumber them. The women and older men of the garrison threw themselves down on top of the roof and dragged themselves away from the unforgiving bullets. Bella was pulled inside one of the buildings by Athar as more women entered after her. Rosalie was not too far behind, holding her arm and clenching her teeth as she bit back a cry. A bullet appeared to have grazed her.
As the mercenaries started working on the locked doors, the townspeople at The Laughing Goose prepared their weapons once more, finding a few stray bullets. The best shooters gathered by the window, knowing each bullet counted.
A few men fell, but more seemed to join Forster's group.
The cause appeared lost for a large band of brutal mercenaries was now within the vast gates.
Suddenly, hoofbeats echoed through the streets of Hayes, turning many faces ashen as they believed even more mercenaries were about to join the action.
They neared like deafening drums and Forster grinned in anticipation, waiting for more of his men to join them and break open the remaining doors to the garrison. He supposed the rest of the town had already fallen.
Around the widest entry to the square came a large group of seated riders. In the lead was none other than Jacob Black, aiming his pistol at the rogues. He shot without blinking, watching one of them fall. Behind him came Jonah, Robert, Joe, Jasper, Carlisle and many more, all armed to the teeth, all jumping into the fray.
Forster's eyes widened as he ran into the garrison, yelling at a man to force the doors shut. But it was futile. Jacob's horse kicked the door open and Forster slipped in the lye as the riders rushed in, the beasts trampling him. Jonah turned his mount around, watching as the Captain of the Royal Guards gasped desperately for air. Jacob looked ready to dart from his horse and finish Forster off but one look from Jonah kept him on his steed. While Jacob and his father had been tortured by the vile captain, Jonah had lost his friends to the man. He had lost his freedom as well for when it was all over, he still had stolen for Forster and knew there would eventually be a price to pay. Jonah let go of the reins as he closed his eyes, savoring the sound of Forster's painful struggle as his life ebbed away.
"Drop your weapons!" Jacob Black growled to the rest of Forster's men. "Your leaders are dead or have given up. Do the same and we will spare your lives!"
He appeared as a wild man atop his steed, gripping his pistol tightly in his hand, a murderous yet satisfied look forming in his eyes. The mercenaries, the fifty of them who were still standing, did as Jacob ordered. They watched Forster's trampled body with broken bones protruding from his left leg and blood soaking his uniform. They knew they were outnumbered. They knew they had lost. Yet, they still gripped their weapons hoping something would miraculously save them from their hopeless predicament.
Jonah knelt next to Forster, watching as the pleading eyes of the captain begged him to end his life. "This will be nothing compared to the suffering you will face in hell," he growled. He unsheathed the knife in his belt, watching it, waving it slowly in front of Forster's wide eyes.
"P-please," the wheezing voice begged.
Jonah raised an eyebrow and stood up. "I'll commit no more sins for you, Forster."
He spat to the side with a sneer and walked away as the mercenaries watched in horror and Jacob's black eyes darkened. Hot tears of anger and frustration rolled down Forster's cheeks as he looked at the bright sky, searching for forgiveness. But he saw none.
Minutes passed as Forster lay on the cold earth of the square, his breath slowing, his eyelids heavy until the light eventually left him.
The clanking of metal traveled through the town as a stillness emerged, the brilliant light of the midday sun embracing the humble people within.
It was over.
Despite all odds stacked against them, they had prevailed.
Hayes was victorious!
A/N: Thanks again to Moonwinks for helping me with the edits of this chapter.
I am currently home with a cold :( I never get sick ughh... Anyways...here's to hoping it will go away before next week.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thanks to all the wonderful people who reviewed the previous one!
Cheers!
Isabelle