WolfeStrike (De Wolfe Pack Generations #2) - Kathryn Le Veque Page 0,44

said in a Scots accent. “Go about yer business, lads.”

The soldiers eyed the big, burly metalworker and his apprentice, who was clearly a son because he was simply a younger version of the man.

“’Tis none of your affair,” Scar-Face said. “Mind your own business.”

The metalworker didn’t move the iron bar. “Ye’re harassing one of my customers,” he said. “Move along.”

Scar-Face shoved the iron bar out of the way. “I don’t take kindly to a Scots dog telling me what to do,” he said. “And how do you know I wasn’t going to be a paying customer? And what makes you think she is?”

The metalworker lifted the iron rod, wielding it like a club. “I willna tell ye again tae move along,” he said. “I’ve got more weapons at my disposal than ye do, so consider yer answer carefully.”

Scar-Face’s answer was to unsheathe his sword. His companions followed. Seeing this, the metalworker and his son unsheathed two gorgeous broadswords that they had displayed in the center of the stall. People began to scatter as metal began to flash.

A fight was in the air.

That is, everyone scattered but Isalyn. She was outraged and frightened, but the metalworker had defended her so she couldn’t very well leave him. She was standing by a display of beautiful daggers, including the dog’s head, and she grabbed it. Her other hand took up a long and very sharp dirk. She wielded both of the weapons threateningly.

“You have been told to leave several times,” she said. “You are not welcome. If you do not leave immediately, I will summon the watch and they shall run you out of town.”

The soldiers looked at her with a mixture of impatience and annoyance. “I’ll deal with you after I’ve taken care of these bastards,” Scar-Face said. “Put those daggers away before you hurt yourself.”

Truth be told, Isalyn had never used a dagger in her life. She didn’t even own one but, even so, she wasn’t afraid to use it. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be turned against her, but she was willing to take the chance. She couldn’t let the metalworker’s noble defense go unaided.

“If you do not leave now, I am going to summon the watch,” she said steadily. “You have your last warning.”

“Better listen tae her, lads,” the metalworker said. “I can use a sword as well as ye can, so dunna think I’ll make an easy target.”

He’d meant it as a deterrent, but it only seemed to act as a threat. One of Scar-Face’s companions brought his sword to bear on the table in front of him, one that held metal bracelets and combs. The table broke and the items went flying, and people began to run in earnest.

The metalworker flew into action.

Swords began flying and a table dumped over onto Isalyn as men engaged in combat. Frightened, and surprised by the tipping table, she let out an instinctive scream. It was enough to cause one of Scar-Face’s companions to swing his sword in her direction, right at her head. Isalyn hit the ground when she saw it flying at her and she screamed again, simply because it was very frightening. She wasn’t used to combat of any kind. Her thoughts turned towards summoning the watch to break up the fight, but that was the last thing she remembered thinking before the entire stall exploded.

Suddenly, there was a fully armed knight in their midst.

A massive broadsword was arcing in the direction of the soldiers in a skilled and offensive fashion. Caught off-guard by an enormous and enraged knight, they struggled to defend themselves from the onslaught. But their actions were for naught. They were no match against the knight bearing the colors of the House of de Wolfe. Scar-Face was the first one to go down, sliced across the neck, down his chest, and into his belly.

He hit the ground right in front of Isalyn.

She yelped again, hit in the face by Scar-Face’s hand as he fell. She rolled away, now scrambling to get out of the way as a vicious battle took place over her head. She was crawling through the mud, trying to get clear and get to her feet so she could run away. At some point, she made it far enough away to stagger to her feet, but she made the mistake of turning around to see what was happening.

All she could see was Tor killing everything that moved.

It was hypnotic.

A second soldier went down as she watched, leaving the last soldier fighting against Tor