One man turned to face us. I fired. I think I hit him, but I was never sure, because just then Lightning leaped across the ditch.

We sailed through the air.

Then we landed heavily atop the ridge. Tom yanked hard on the reins as the King’s Men shifted to close the gap. A hand grabbed the bridle, bringing us to a halt inside the circle.

I looked down to see the hand belonged to Charles, our king. He held a sword, just a simple blade, retrieved from one of his fallen men. His eyes gleamed with fire—the flame of the torches and the blaze of battle.

“Didn’t want to miss all the fun, eh?” he shouted with defiant glee as he helped us down from the warhorse.

Then our fight began in earnest.

CHAPTER 49

A KING’S MAN FELL RIGHT beside Lord Ashcombe. Tom took his place, hacking and slashing with Eternity at the spears, halberds, and poleaxes that thrust forward to open the gap. Men fell under his blade as he used all that Sir William Leech, Captain Tanner, and the King’s Men had taught him, and so, too, his own God-given strength.

I stayed with him, just behind, filled with terror. I thought of picking up a blade—I eyed a fallen halberd, wanting desperately to grab it and join him—but I knew my skill was no match for the Covenanters. Instead, I helped him how I could: with my pistols.

I timed my shots carefully. I placed one hand on Tom’s back, the other holding a gun at the ready. Anytime a gap opened beside Tom, I fired. When a shoving halberd unbalanced him, I fired. When a spear gouged the side of his leg, and he stumbled, I reached over his shoulder and fired, giving Tom time to steady himself.

After every shot, I reloaded. It was automatic now. Dump the powder in. Jam the paper wadding in the barrel. Ram down the ball. Fill the frizzen. Wait till Tom needed me.

Then fire.

The battle battered my ears. The boom of my guns, the clash of blades, the screams of the dying. The war cries, too.

“The Lord our righteousness!” the Covenanters shouted—

“Havoc!” Lord Ashcombe howled in return. A command to destroy everything, it was the greatest defiance he could cast at them, even as the King’s Men fell.

War now was my only thought, my only existence. Steel and smoke, blood and death. The bodies piled higher, making it harder for the Covenanters to get to us, but for every five of them, we lost one, and our circle got smaller.

Still I fought.

Fire. Powder, paper, ball.

Fire. Powder, paper, ball.

Fire.

And then I was out. My powder, my shot, all used up.

“I’m empty!” I shouted to Tom, warning him.

He nodded, focused on the enemy. But Lord Ashcombe, beside him, heard me. He ripped a pouch from his belt and threw it backward, where it hit me in the leg and fell to the ground. His own supply: powder horn and shot, for the pearl-handled pistols at his side.