Lunging to one side, George feinted in one direction, then immediately shifted on his feet to strike at his true target, the man’s leg. Not enough people aimed at the legs. They always went for the torso. But few wounds were as debilitating in combat as a quick jab to the thigh.
The tip of his sword met its mark, and the strange man cried out, falling and clutching at his knee.
“Good,” cried the woman. “Kill him and let’s be gone.”
For a moment, George hesitated. The man was sprawled on the ground, at his mercy. There was little he could do that George could not counter. Could he kill the man in this condition, or simply leave him be and lead the woman back to where she came from? Yet, the man would likely continue his evil exploits if left unchecked, and George honestly couldn’t think of a reason why such a man should be allowed to live, especially out here in the wilds where there was no prison to hold him, to keep him from committing a crime again.
The man reached in his belt and pulled out a knife, so clumsily that his fist was shaking. George immediately pressed the tip of his sword against the man’s neck. “Don’t even think about it.”
The man stared at him, wide eyed, full of rage, and also something of fear. His hand shook as it held the knife. But then the man turned and stared at the woman. His expression did not change, as though some of that hate and loathing in his stare was meant for her. He pulled his arm back, as if making to throw the knife. George immediately caught on to his plan. He was going to throw the knife at the woman!
Without another thought, he drove the hilt of his sword downward, penetrating the man’s neck, causing him to gurgle. The knife dropped harmlessly on the leaf-covered ground. Both the woman and her rescuer watched as the captor lost all life, and every limb fell limp.
“Thank you,” said the woman in a breathless tone.
George barely acknowledged. Once again, he was caught as if by a spell, staring down at the dead man. He had just killed him. He’d killed before, but that had been war. It was different here. More personal. Gods, could he kill anything without suffering? Given his track record, he wouldn’t stand a chance against the dragon.
A faint touch, a gentle embrace, and all of that fled from his mind. He turned to see the woman in black there, her arms wrapped around his, and her face gently leaning against his shoulder. “Thank you,” she repeated. “He was carrying me to his castle, where I was to become his slave. You rescued me. I will be forever grateful.”
It was all he could do not to laugh, not to cry at hearing those words. Having her here made everything worth it. He would protect this woman if he died trying. Dragons, glory, they were nothing if this woman was not at his side. All else seemed to fade from his memory. He had been searching for a woman before. Had it been this woman? He couldn’t imagine why he would seek anyone else.
“An...anything for you, my lady,” he said. “If you want I will gladly escort you to your home.” And stay with her for all eternity too, though he managed to keep himself from saying that. The last thing he wanted was to scare her away.
“I would be delighted by that,” she smiled at him, a divine smile, surely a gift from the gods.
But there was a problem. He hung his head in shame. “I’m afraid I am lost in these woods, mistress. But if you know the way…”
“Be not afraid, I will guide you, and you will protect me, my own heroic savior.”
Her words did more than please George, they gave him hope. He was a hero, the very thing he had set out to be. No more did he need to slay any dragon. He had all that he needed right here, with this beautiful, wondrous lady. “I will protect you, my lady,” he said, though his voice came out as bland.
“You can call me, Duessa,” said the woman in black, with a mild smile. “Thank you, George. I can’t wait to get to know you.”
She offered her arm, which the Red Cross knight took graciously in his. His mind raced with her touch, yet there was a part of his mind that resisted. The same part that screamed at him, warning him of this woman, reminding him of the fact that he had never told her his name.
He pushed that part of his mind away. No one could come between him and his mistress.
11
The forest had not taken long to navigate. Una continued following the knight’s footprints until she reached a large oak tree, whereupon she discovered the remains of an unfortunate foreigner. She examined the strange man. He wasn’t from any land she knew of, and her parents had seen visitors from all over. None had those interesting beads or bandanas covering the face. The curved blade was familiar, similar to some she had seen on emissaries from the south. But they had been dark of skin, and this man was pale, almost too pale, though that was likely due to the fact he was dead.
As Una scanned the surroundings she found clear evidence of a struggle. The knight had likely fought and killed the man. But there were other footprints here as well, lighter and smaller like that of a woman. Not all that different from Una’s own footprint. Had he found someone else to be his traveling companion?
Not that Una was jealous. The man could travel with whomever he wanted, but it did seem odd, considering his supposed commitment to her and Castle Silene.
She followed the tracks for some time until she came to the edge of the forest. A cool breeze brushed her hair back and she closed her eyes to enjoy it. She hadn’t felt wind this pleasant since long before the storm. And there had been no wind at all inside the forest.
The hoof prints continued through the field ahead, likely going north, still in the direction of the Forest of Arden. So, either his newfound companion was also going that way, dragging him along with her, or he had decided to continue his travels without Una.
Should she even follow? If he was still going to Castle Silene, she would catch up with him eventually. Why bother with a knight who had done little other than intimidate some drunks at an inn? Well, and defeat that serpentine monster of course. That had been somewhat impressive. He certainly lacked nothing in skill, only in self-confidence.
Perhaps she should forget about him. There was little point in worrying. He had clearly found his way out of the forest and was now in someone else’s company. He was out of her hands, except…
She looked back at the mule carrying all of the knight’s belongings. It was still odd that the knight seemed to care little for his armor, not to mention everything else he had left behind. Una knew only a little about knights, but she knew that armor like what George possessed was not cheap. Such plate was built to last a lifetime, and it was expected to remain with the knight until his death and be passed on through the family line after that.
So why had George seemingly abandoned it?
Whether she followed the knight or not, for now they were heading in the same direction. Una’s eyes peered into the distance. There wasn’t much out here, and she was still far enough away from the Forest of Arden that she could see no sign of it, even though the hills stretched in front of her for miles.
Perhaps she would find the knight, or perhaps she wouldn’t. In any case, she would press forward regardless. The question was, should she leave behind the knight's armor?
She stared back at the mule who carried everything. It would be a large burden off the pack animal if she removed the armor. She might even get to ride the animal herself for a while, take a load off her feet.
She almost did it, coming so close as to begin unlatching the packs that contained the glimmering plate. But something stopped her. The flash of sunlight on pure metal held her entranced for more than a moment. It was exquisite work, and well cared for. No, George would not, in good conscience, abandon such precious commodities. Which meant only one thing.
Something was wrong.
Una didn’t know who George’s new female companion was, or what she wanted with the man. And she didn’t know the story behind the dead man still lying by the great oak. But she knew one thing, and that was that George was in trouble. And he’d helped her get this far. She owed him
something in return.
She once again strapped the packs down, ensuring that nothing was likely to fall off. Then she led the mule by its reins and began heading down the barren hill.
Several hours later, she was beginning to regret her decision to bring along the armor. It would have been so nice to mount the mule and let it carry her for a few miles. Perhaps she could do it, even with the armor? But no, the mule was also showing signs of fatigue. It was sweating and panting slightly.
She had never seen an area of Britain so desolate. Most of the rolling hills she’d seen the last time she’d been through this area were green, and often covered in crops from nearby farmers, or some livestock at least. When had all that fallen apart? This was more than just a consequence of the Saxons pushing south. Even if the Saxons had pillaged the nearest village or killed the farmers, the place would be overrun with plant life with no one to keep it in check. Here there was nothing but short, yellow grass, not even suitable for a cow to eat.
Worse, as they continued on, the ground lost its softness, giving way to more rocky terrain. Eventually the tracks of the Red Cross knight and his mysterious companion disappeared. Una searched and searched but could find no trace of them.
But she kept moving until she finally spotted some green in the distance, near the base of a hill. That had to be a water source. The mule needed water, and if there was any chance of relocating the tracks of her knight, it would be near the river.
Encouraged, she led the mule down the hill until they reached the base. Indeed, at the bottom they found a river bed, mostly dry, but with a small stream of water flowing through it.
Una still had water in her leather canteen, but not as much as she’d like. It was amazing to think they had encountered so much water back when it was raining, yet there was no evidence of that here.
The mule pushed forward upon seeing the stream, until it could lower its head and drink its fill. Una sat along the bank and let a chill wind wash over her. The shadows were growing longer, so this might be as good a place as any to camp.
But first, she had to try and find George’s tracks, or at least the tracks of his horse. Once the mule had drunk its fill, she pulled it along and set out down the length of the stream. Assuming the knight had come anywhere near here, he would have needed to cross the river bed in order to continue on to the Forest of Arden.
She searched for an hour, maybe two, but found no trace of anyone traveling across the river bed. She went as far as she could in one direction, then returned and searched up the other side of the river. But there was no sign of George, Pegasus, or their companion.
The sun was nearly down, and she was forced to settle down for the night. “Curses,” she muttered as she made her bed in the grass next to the bank. If she had just gone on ahead, she could have made much better progress by now. Instead, wherever George had gone, he was probably far ahead of her by now.
A low rumbling came to her on the wind. She froze. That had not sounded natural.
She straightened and stared in the direction of the noise, noting immediately that the mule, who she had previously tied to a feeble root off the bank, was stomping its feet and looking skittish.
There it came again, a deep, throaty sound that pierced her to her bones. It wasn’t far, whatever it was. Cursing herself for not keeping George’s spear near her, she tiptoed back to where the mule was tied.
A shape sprung at her out of the grass, a creature with massive front paws, a gaping mouth, and a mane of hair covering its head. Una only got a brief look before she threw herself to the side, rolling on the ground and barely avoiding the beast’s outstretched claws.
Not missing a beat, the creature raised itself on its hind legs and fell down to one side, towards her.
Una had seen one of these creatures before, though she was probably one of the only natives of Britain who had. They’d been brought by visitors from beyond the sea as a display for kings and queens to gawk at. A huge cat of unreal proportions.
It was a lion.
The mule raised itself on its hind legs, trying to tear its reins away from the root it was attached to.
She had no time to wonder how such a creature had come to be here, for in that moment it sprang at her, its paws ready to grab her and hold her in place so that those jaws, full of massive teeth, did their dirty work.
Una didn’t have time to roll out of the way, instinctively she raised her arms, though it would do no good against a lion’s jaws. “No!” she cried out in the instant before teeth longer than her fingers would tear her apart. Something went out of her, like a wave of emotion, draining her instantly as she prepared for her death.
But death did not come.
Opening her eyes, she stared upward. The lion stood over her, its paws on either side of her body, its face poised above hers. But it did not attack.
Why did it remain still? It had clearly wanted to eat her mere seconds ago, but now it looked at her expectantly, like a dog awaiting the arrival of its master.
“Get away,” she said almost without thinking about it, feeling another wave of adrenaline pass through her. But at her command, the lion obeyed, stepping backwards so its body no longer straddled hers. She stared at it for a long time.
“Can...can you understand me?” she asked. The lion answered only by cocking its head. It was responding to her, but did that mean it was sentient, like a person?
A distant whinny drifted to her. She whipped her head around to see that the mule was no longer tied to the root. It had broken free and was now racing for all it was worth across the river and away towards the Forest of Arden.
“Oh, come on,” she said. That mule still had everything on it. All but her small roll-up bed, her canteen, and George’s flint and steel that she had extracted before the lion attacked. Even her food was on that mule.
When she looked back, the lion had disappeared. Una stood and twisted her head to see where it had gone. It was running in the distance, away from her, and thankfully away from the mule as well. She wanted her food back at least, but she also didn’t want the mule to get hurt.
Instead, she sat back down on the soft earth and grass. What was she going to do now? She could make a fire, but all that would do was keep her warm. She had nothing to eat, and everything around her was a barren wasteland. Even with the river supplying water, she couldn’t go without food for long.
For once, she wished she was back at that inn playing dice with the drunks. At least that was a game she understood, a game she could win. She could survive in civilization, even when the people were cruel. All she had to do was wait for the lucky role, as she had when she’d escaped her prison. Something always came up. But out here, there was nothing, not even a poor farmer to con.
Muttering to herself, she set about getting the fire going. But even that was a chore. There were a few trees near the bank, but they didn’t provide much wood. She had to scavenge up and down the length of the river bank for a while before she had enough for the night.
After an hour or two, it was dark, but she’d finally managed to build the fire up. That was when she spotted a pair of eyes in the distance, glowing in the firelight. They were getting bigger, approaching her.
Taking a branch out of the fire, and her knife out of her belt, she held them at the ready. But when the eyes came close enough, she realized it was the lion. In its mouth was a young fawn, hanging limp. Una stared, wide-eyed as the lion deposited the catch next to the fire, then met her eyes, expectantly.
What was going on? First the lion had tried to attack her, and now it was feeding her?
“Go that way,” she said, pointing to her right. The lion obliged, stepping casually on its padded feet until it reached the spot where she was pointing, before turning to regard her once more.
12
The situation tickled her memory. This was just like the time when she’d fought the serpents, or the dice roll had somehow changed.
And she couldn’t forget that fateful
night three years ago. Something had happened then too, something she couldn’t explain, and she’d been imprisoned for it. She’d spent the next three years thinking she had been wrongly accused. But what if she hadn’t? What if she truly had some sort of inherent magic, like the sorceresses at Avalon?
The thought sickened her, but also made her curious. After all, that lion, wherever it had come from, had gone from wanting her for dinner, to being completely under her control.
She tried to put it out of her mind as she skinned the fawn and prepared its meat for cooking. But that was hard to do with the lion just sitting there, waiting for her, expectantly.
“Here,” she said, taking a large slice of meat and throwing it at the beast. It immediately caught its dinner in its mouth and set to work eating. From the way it tore at the thing, it must have been hungry.
Una finished cooking what was left, then ate as much as she could before getting ready for bed. She wasn’t even sure she could sleep at all with that lion nearby. What if her...spell or whatever it was wore off while she slept?
But a full day of travel eventually caught up with her, and she found herself dozing off, only to jerk back awake after a few minutes to fix her eyes on the lion. But the beast was also sleeping, resting its head on the ground, its belly rising and falling with deep breaths and a rumbling purr.
Of course, he was nothing to worry about. She could sleep with a lion nearby, of course she could.
That proved not to be the case. With the purr to constantly remind her that the lion was there, she only managed to drift away once more during the night. But that didn’t stop her head from throbbing the next morning when it was time to rise.
As she rose to her knees, silently cursing the gods for her predicament, the lion stirred. She glanced up to see its face poised not more than a foot away from hers. Scrambling backward, whatever sleep she still felt fled from her in a moment of shock.
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