Rise of a Legend (Guardian of Scotland Book 1) by Amy Jarecki Page B

the faint sound of hoofbeats carried on the breeze.
    William squeezed his fingers around the hilt of his sword and made eye contact with Blair, then Little. Each man’s face determined, Willy would be confident riding into battle with these men any day of his life. He raised his head high enough to peer through the brush at the pass. The English hadn’t yet rounded the bend.
    The archers atop the hill loaded their bows.
    Movement at the forest’s edge caught William’s eye. What the devil? His heart stopped in his chest. I’ll murder that wayward ox-brained lad .
    Blair nudged William’s arm and pointed.
    All Willy could do was shake his head and roll his eyes. Now he’d have to worry about a woman and a lad of two and ten who thought he was a man. When this was over, Robbie Boyd would need to be taught a lesson in obedience—if he managed to survive this day.
    The first rider came into view, carrying the king’s pennant—and the next touted Sir Heselrig’s colors emblazoned on his surcoat. William raised his ram’s horn no higher than his shoulder—the men on the hill could see his signal, but in the gully, he and his rebels remained hidden from view of the English.
    “Now,” John Blair whispered.
    William shook his head. Let them come a bit farther .
    He waited until the iron pike tips reflected the sun over the heads of the riders. Slowly he drew the horn to his lips, holding his hand steady. With a single blast, he dug in his spurs and drove his mount toward the unsuspecting cavalry. Arrows hissed and enormous stones bounded down the hill. Horses whinnied and men howled with unimaginable pain.
    Bellowing the rebel’s war cry, “Scotland until Judgement,” William led the charge straight toward the first horseman. With a gasp of horror, the man cast his pennant aside and reached for his sword. Before he drew, William dealt a killing blow across his neck.
    The English cavalry surged forward, surrounding William and his men. One by one he fought the onslaught of riders. “I will avenge my father for his murder at Lochmaben!” He spun his horse in place, swinging his longsword from side to side.
    His mount squealed with a high-pitched whinny and reared. Thrown from his seat, William crashed to the ground, his sword clattering beside him. Intently focused on the battle, no pain could sway him during a fight. Clamping his fingers around his swords hilt, he sprang to his feet. A horseman barreled in, bellowing like a madman, battleaxe held high. Planting his feet, William prepared to meet the bastard’s blow. As if time slowed, he watched the weapon as it came down on a path to lop off his head. But the English soldier made a mortal mistake by wielding it with only one arm.
    William ducked aside. With and upward strike, his great sword met the soldier’s axe with a clanging scrape. The jarring impact shuddered through his arms, but Wallace held fast. The bastard’s weapon flew from his hand, while William caught the attacker with his downward stroke. Cut in two, the man’s corpse dropped to the earth.
    William spun in place, searching for his next opponent. A shrill scream resounded from the forest edge. Robbie toppled forward as he took a bash with the hilt of a sword. Heselrig threw Eva over his horse’s neck and galloped into the forest with a half-dozen riders behind him.
    “No!” William yelled, racing for his horse. Before he took two steps, something crashed into his helm with teeth-rattling force. He dropped to his knees, the world spinning.
    ***
    When William opened his eyes, Robbie’s worried mug grimaced inches from his face. “Thank the good Lord, ye’re alive.”
    William’s hand shot up, his fingers clamping around the lad’s throat. “Why did ye not stay at Ellerslie, ye fool-born milksop?”
    Robbie clenched his hands around William’s wrist. His face turned red as he croaked out a gurgling sound.
    “If ye want him to answer, ye’d best loosen your grip,” Blair said beside