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“Illan?” some people ask in shock. Still others stand in dumbstruck amazement. Never before had anyone known who Black Hawk had been. But once they knew, it didn’t take them long to realize where he’s going. All knew of what Lord Faetherton had done and where his family lies.

“They’re in the jail Illan,” one man cries out.

Illan nods and says, “Thank you. Now you should all return to your homes.” He glances around at the faces he’s known all his life. Some he’s watched grow to adulthood.

Still shaking their heads in wonder, they begin to disperse.

Sighing, Illan replaces his helm and glances to James. Then he resumes riding toward the jail. Before they reach it, they see lined up before the front door, thirty or more men, ten of whom have crossbows. Standing before them is a man dressed regally and can only be Lord Faetherton. Illan approaches and stops a good twenty feet from him.

“I’ve come for my son,” he announces.

“Your time is past, Black Hawk,” Lord Faetherton says derisively. “You and those with you are under arrest for the illegal release of a prisoner.”

“I don’t think so,” Jiron says.

“If you don’t remove your weapons, we will be forced to fire,” he says.

“If you don’t drop your weapons and stand aside, I will kill each and everyone who stands against me!” Illan says with utter conviction.

From his vantage point behind Illan, James watches Faetherton’s men begin to shift in their ranks. Each has grown up with the tales of Black Hawk and the viciousness with which he pursues his enemies. Several crossbows actually dip to the ground as the men holding them begin to reconsider supporting Lord Faetherton in the face of Black Hawk’s rage.

Lord Faetherton raises his hand and all can see it is not entirely steady as it shakes with the nervousness he’s feeling. “When I lower my hand,” he says loudly, “my men will fire. Remove your weapons and prepare to be taken into custody.

“When your hand falls,” Illan says as he begins edging his horse forward, “everyone dies.”

Suddenly from out of the dark to the right of the jail, a dozen horsemen appear. One is carrying a battle torn flag bearing the Black Hawk insignia. The rider in the fore says, “Thought you might be here.”

“Ceadric!” exclaims Illan.

“Your orders sir?” Ceadric asks.

“When his hand falls, kill them all,” he says.

“Yes, sir,” Ceadric replies and turns toward where Faetherton and his guards stand before the jail. The ‘whisking of swords’ can be heard as Ceadric and his men draw their weapons.

Hearing that, Faetherton glances from one force to the other and judges his chances. Behind him, some of his men have already judged their chances of survival to be slim at best. Two crossbowmen and three guards break ranks and high tail it out of there.

Standing there in indecision, Faetherton licks his lips and his arm remains up.

To the men blocking the entrance to the jail, Illan says, “Drop your weapons now.” When they hesitate, he adds, “I’ll not ask a second time.”

A second later, the clatter of weapons hitting the ground can be heard as, to a man, they all drop their weapons. Faetherton brings his hand down slowly. Illan glances to Ceadric and says, “Take them inside and lock them away until I decide what to do with them.”

“Yes, sir,” Ceadric replies and then gets his men moving to collect the prisoners.

Illan dismounts and walks toward the jail. James follows suit and tells the rest to stay with the horses.

Faetherton stands there as Illan approaches, still maintaining an air of superiority. “You’ll not get away with this!” he states. “I am the magistrate here. You are all branded outlaws.”

When Ceadric and the others with him hear that they all break into laughter. “Shut up,” one says when they pass by. Another spits at him and it lands on the front of his shirt.

“Now, let’s go inside milord,” Illan says with a slight derogatory emphasis on ‘milord’. Propelling him forward, they move toward the door into the jail.

Along the edge of the streets, the