by C. C. Wiley
Heat traveled up her face. “Well,” she bristled, “if you are ready, then let us ride to our destruction.”
The black wing above his eye lifted in response. Silently, he motioned Nathan to pick Sabine up and deposit her on his saddle.
Two ham-sized hands wrapped around her waist. Without a word, he plunked her down in front of Sir Darrick.
“Next time, you could just give me my own horse to ride,” she complained.
“No,” Darrick grunted. “You’ve already shown yourself to be a distraction to my…men. Besides, ’tis easier to watch over you if you share my mount.”
It appeared she had no choice where the surly knight was concerned. She gave in, for the time being. Seated in front of Sir Darrick, she kept her back stiffened.
He adjusted his arms, pulling her close. Sabine gasped at the sudden contact.
Turning to Nathan, he barked. “Do the men ride in the direction in which we spoke?”
“Aye.”
“Wait.” She grabbed Darrick’s forearms. “What of Matilda? We need her for the baby.”
“The goat is bundled in a cart with one of our men,” Nathan said. “They’ll not travel far behind.”
Nathan turned to walk away. He paused as if coming to a decision and returned. “Excuse my lack of manners, my lady. I go by the name, Sir Nathan Staves. Should you have any other requirements please do not hesitate to call on my honor and sword to aid you.”
Accepting the game he played, Sabine tipped her head towards her new acquaintance, “My thanks to you.” She smiled sweetly, letting her words drip off her tongue like honey. “I shall hold your offer dear.”
Hearing Sir Darrick snort at her pretty words, she decided it would not sit well if she tried to push his patience further. Nevertheless, unable to contain the imp inside her head, she smiled as innocently as possible and added, “Perhaps, when this old warhorse tires I will share your mount.”
She pinched herself to keep from laughing. The stunned look on Sir Nathan’s face and Sir Darrick’s stiffened reaction was almost too much for her to contain her mirth. Hearing his breath hiss between his teeth as he steadied the horse, she realized she might have pushed her luck a bit far. Ducking her head, she kept busy with the baby, ignoring the friction between the knights.
Darrick motioned his head with a silent jerk. With a snap of his reins, they began to move out.
Concerned, Sabine noticed that only Sir Nathan accompanied them. The men Darrick promised would protect them were nowhere to be seen. Worry that DePierce would catch up with them at any moment gnawed at her insides, making her restless in the saddle.
Looking down at the moving ground, she noticed the knight’s sword glistening in the setting sun. It rode at the base of Sir Darrick’s hip, nestled in the jeweled scabbard belted at his narrow waist. The hilt of the sword was in the shape of a wing. She had recently seen something similar in design, but she could not quite put her finger on where. ’Twas like an itch that could not be reached.
She twisted to see Sir Darrick and cringed. He had shuttered all expression from his face. ’Twas as if carved from stone. She was tempted to hold a hand up to his nose to make sure he was still breathing. After looking to see if Nathan still rode nearby, she found comfort in knowing there was another sword arm available to protect them. A sigh escaped and her muscles grew lax.
The sway of the destrier’s stride rocked her back and forth until her eyes grew heavy. Her head bobbed with each step they took toward the unknown.
* * * *
Sabine awoke with a start. Jerking up, she caught Darrick under his chin. His teeth clacked together. She feared she made him bite his tongue in the process.
“Quiet,” he murmured.
Afraid to move and rub her head where it throbbed from hitting his chin, she whispered, “Where is Chance?”
Placing his hand over her mouth, he added near her ear. “You were sleeping. Nathan protects the babe. My men scout ahead. Others double back behind us. We’ll have an answer either way.”
The horses stood still, stopped in a thicket of trees. The sun had set. There were shadows all around. Sabine was unable to tell who was friend or foe.
“Sit still,” he hissed. “Word has come. Torches draw near. We are uncertain where they came from.”
Sabine gasped as shadows appeared from behind the rocks. The trees began to grow men as they swung out of the branches overhead. Swinging from the treetops, hanging from their feet with spider-like grace they dropped towards the ground.
Shouting for Nathan to follow, he kneed his mount and pushed through the trees. Branches caught at Sabine’s hair, tearing at her dress and cloak. Darrick leaned over, shielding her body with his own. He wrapped his arm around her waist as the horse tore through the trees.
Arrows flew past, striking the branches, taking the leaves off as they whistled through the air. Darrick cut the horse in a sharp turn. The marauders moved in to surround Nathan’s horse.
Sabine pushed the hair from her face. She searched Nathan’s arms. “The baby?”
Darrick wheeled their steed around. Did he really intend to ride into the fray?
“Stay low,” he ordered.
Sabine nodded and clung to the horse as they raced towards the attackers. Yelling his battle cry, he wielded his great sword, arching it overhead. It swung in great circles. The air sang with a high-pitched whine.
An arrow from above whistled through the air. It tore through the thin leaves, slowing in its deadly trail. Darrick jerked, and then dropped against her back. He bent over Sabine, pressing her into the horse’s neck. “Keep down,” he whispered.
Their attackers turned and stared at the apparition as it charged through the trees, mindless of all else but its target. They froze as the thundering horse charged and a black demon jumped out from the brush. Its teeth gnashed and bit, hungry for their blood. Darrick’s hound, Thunder.
Matilda followed close behind, butting her head into their unsuspecting backs. Overpowered and distracted by the demons from hell, the attackers retreated to the protection of the shadows of the trees.
Doubled over by his weight, the air squeezing out of her lungs, she prayed for patience while she waited for him to get off. Hoof-beats pounded the ground as they drew towards their mount. Impatient to know that Sir Nathan and Chance were alive and riding beside them, she raised her head as Darrick lowered his face to speak to her.
“Do not move, I beg you.” His harsh breath came in shallow pulls.” We need to wait…just a moment.”
Sabine turned as she heard a horse ride close. “Sir Nathan. ’Tis a relief to know you are still alive.” She tried to push up from the horse. “Chance?”
“Not particularly happy with the ride, my lady, but he fairs well. Can you make it to camp?” Nathan asked.
“I’ll be fine,” Darrick said. His breath came in pants. “But once we get there you will have some work to do.”
“So I see. My lady, are you able to ride?”
“From what direction did our attackers come?” Darrick hissed through clenched teeth.
Sabine struggled with the growing weight of the huge man leaning on top of her. “Sir Darrick. You are crushing me.”
“He hears you not,” Nathan said. The tone in his voice held concern. “An arrow impales his side.
“He is hurt?” she squeaked. “How can that be? He never spoke of it. What are we to do? I told him ’tis not safe to travel.”
“Calm yourself. We will have to make our way to safety. There is a cottage not far from here. If you are not afraid of what we may find, we can go there.”
“I fear DePierce more. He is the devil himself. We must keep Chance away from him.”
“The babe is safe. First, we must take care of Darrick. Then we will decide what to do. For now, to keep him from falling, we are going to have to tie
his hands around your waist and his legs around the horse. You will have to ride in front to steady him. Do you know how to ride as a man?”
“This I can do. Let us be on our way.”
* * * *
Sabine sighed under the weight of the knight’s limp body. Her shoulders, bruised from the fall, burned from straining with the reins. Lord, but he must weigh at least twenty stone.
Sir Nathan had said there was a cottage not far from where they were. She prayed that he was correct.
Nathan brought their mounts to stop in the shadows. He searched the trees and bushes before motioning her to proceed.
Chapter 9
Fighting to regain consciousness, Darrick’s head rested in a cloud of rose and heather. Smiling, he recalled his mother smelled almost as sweet. He wondered, after all the time that had passed, if her fragrance remained the same. Poking and jabbing at the shadows, something nagged at the dark corners of his mind. He drew the wonderful scent in, filling his lungs. This, he discovered, was unwise as the pain shot through his ribs. Groaning, he fought the darkness that warred within.
Memories crept in. The invisible enemy was busily opening doors that many years before he had locked securely behind him. Happy times floated by; kisses on his cheeks and the occasional hugs from his mother. He and Elizabeth shared laughter over a prank played on the servants. The proud look of his father, his firm hand pressed on his shoulder.
And there were times of torment. Pain erupted; the squire’s fists, pounding on him as he strove to deliver more pain than he received. Cold looks of hatred from his sister, whispers of his mother’s infidelities, and the names of her lovers, danced through his mind. The fierce Lord of Lockwood watched from the blackened corners of his mind, shaking his head in shame. With tears running down his face, he turned his back on his only son and walked away holding Darrick’s mother and sister at his side.
His body tensed, Darrick threw his arms out, pleading with them to stop. Fighting the internal ghosts, he wrestled for his life.
* * * *
Sir Darrick’s health was rapidly diminishing. His breathing was labored and shallow. Sweat streamed down his face. Sabine wondered what, beyond the arrow protruding from his side, attacked his body with such vicious force. They could not wait any longer. The knight must be moved into the cottage and allowed to rest.
Locating the wispy trail of smoke coming from the chimney, Nathan silently watched the cottage for signs of life. Saying nothing to Sabine, he dismounted and moved toward the cottage. His broadsword drawn, he slammed the weathered door open.
“No one is here. Judging by the pot of stew bubbling over the little fire, the owner of the cottage will soon return. Our host’s reception may not be a welcome one.”
Sabine rode her mount up to the door. Her mouth was set in a thin grim line as she sat astride the weary horse. “Whether our party is considered welcome or not, we will be staying the night.”
Nathan shrugged and prepared to help them dismount. He untied Darrick’s wrists from her waist. “You’ll have to steady him. I’ll pull him down after I have untied his legs from the horse. Are you ready my lady?”
“Yes, let us make haste.” Sabine was losing her grip on the horse. “Careful, he is quite ill. He lost consciousness on the ride in.”
Nathan grunted. “Never fear, he is a strong man.”
Sighing as Nathan helped the heavy burden slide off her back, she gingerly dismounted the old nag, her legs trembling from fatigue. Rubbing the small of her back, she gave little thought to where the owners of the cottage hid themselves. Despite Nathan’s bold claim, Sir Darrick would not last if the arrow remained in his side. The injured knight needed a place to lie down and she needed to see to his wound.
Nathan carefully lowered his friend to the cot, mindful of the protruding arrow. Darrick groaned as they placed him on the unforgiving surface.
Rising, Nathan turned to Sabine. “Are you able to give me a hand with this, my lady? ’Tis possible the arrow is not a death shot. See here? Blood does not bubble from his mouth or the wound. But we must get the arrow out very soon.”
Sabine gulped the nausea back down and nodded.
“I’ll break off the end of the shaft then push it through to the other side,” he said.
“Can you not simply cut it out?”
“No. The head of the arrow is barbed. If we pull it back through, it will tear the flesh, lodging deeper into his ribs. Judging by the length of the shaft that is exposed, ’tis a shot that near went clean through.”
Sabine looked doubtfully at the bleeding wound. “And you have experienced this procedure before?”
“Not I, personally.” His gaze lifted to match hers. “Our other plan would be to let it stay where it is. Let Darrick rest. Then move him to where our men are camped.”
Sabine shook her head. “He has already slipped into a sweat. Have you noted his labored breathing?” She sniffed the air. There was a rank odor coming from the wound. If only she had her father’s books at hand. Or dear Nandra’s healing knowledge. “This is not a shot from a simple bow. I fear a poison coats the head of the arrow.”
Nathan’s brows beetled as he released the word under his breath. “Poison?”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said.
Juggling the baby in her arms, Sabine looked around the little cottage. The small cot in the corner was barely able to contain Darrick’s large body, his long legs draped over the end. The only light, other than the meager fire in the fireplace, came from the dimly lit oil lamp. It sat on a short wooden table along with all sorts of clutter. The walls, covered with shelves, held various jars and vials. Hopeful, Sabine lifted the bottles and sniffed at them. She recognized some of the scents as essential oils extracted from herbs. Dried flowers and weeds hung from the ceiling. Some of the dried stems were the herbs she used while living at Clearmorrow Castle.
A heavy black cauldron hung over the weakening fire. Warm steam rose lazily from the simmering pot. She leaned over to check the contents. Her stomach growled at the familiar smell of bubbling stew. “At least we will have supper for tonight.”
Nathan looked up from Darrick’s bedside. “Right now, his wound needs tending. I must go out and find a safe place to hide the horses until we discover our host. Like it or not, you’ll be called upon to help.”
Sabine bristled. “Have I yet to show myself unworthy of the task?”
Nathan grabbed her free hand. “’Tis not that you’ve been unworthy, but more the case that you have not earned my trust or my friend’s. He would ask the same as I, how do you suppose DePierce knew where to send his men? Perhaps he has help in places we are not yet aware. What say you, my lady? Do you know of these allies?”
Sabine struggled from his grasp; she felt as if his fingers wrapped around her throat instead of merely her wrist. “I have done nothing to deserve this treatment. Nor have I anything to say to your accusations.”
“You leave too many questions unanswered, wench.”
Unable to pull away and afraid her grasp on the baby would slip, she forced herself to stop struggling. She unleashed her words in a rush. “Again, you, and your friend, insult me. ’Tis Sir Darrick I will forgive, because he cannot defend his thoughts right now. You, I cannot. If I am a spy for DePierce, please tell me how I came to be abandoned on the island. How did I come to be in possession of Elizabeth’s baby? Sir Darrick chose me to travel with him. I, too, was a target today. If I am a great threat to this little caravan, why did your friend choose to protect me? I told Sir Darrick they would be after us and he felt he had enough men to protect us. You were in the lead, Sir Nathan,” she stated bluntly. “Perhaps you are the traitor.”
“Traitor is a deadly name to give a man.”
Sabine chose to ignore his warning. “You were in charge of deploying the men. Where are they now? Moreover, how did you know of this place? I
believe, you too, have a lot of questions to answer.”
Nathan let his hand fall away from Sabine’s wrist. Running his fingers through his auburn hair, he turned towards the door. “I will not say how I knew of this place. I find my information in many ways. ’Tis what I do. As for the men, a few coins can change a man’s mind. You brought up questions that I will have to discover the answers to.”
Sabine sighed and grabbed at his sleeve. “Let it be, Sir Nathan. At this moment, I am more concerned with getting the arrow extracted and finding a poultice to draw the poison. ’Tis plenty of time to figure things out while he heals. Please understand that I would give my life to protect this baby. I will do all that I can to help Sir Darrick. DePierce is my sole enemy. He has stolen everything from me.”
She glanced down at Darrick. His breathing had become rapid and shallow. A sheen of sweat covered his pale skin, dampening his dark hair. “Will you place our friend’s life in my care, or will you let him die by doing nothing?”
“Aye,” Nathan said. “I have no choice but to trust you. For now.”
Sabine gazed up at the bear-sized man and gave a weak smile. “’Tis all I ask. Tie up the horses if you must. I will search for the herbs we need. There appears to be quite a selection here.”
Nathan gave her an incredulous look. “You have knowledge of healing potions?”
“I learned from the best healer known to live on Clearmorrow lands.” Sabine held up her hand to stop any other comments. “Healing, not witchery. Although, until I encountered your friend’s family, I have had little practice of late.” Shooing him with a flutter of her hand, she added, “I urge you to make haste. We dare not tarry.”
“Bar the door behind me. The owners of the cottage cannot be far from home.” Nathan slowly opened the wooden slats and slipped out.
Sabine shut the door firmly behind him and picked up the half-empty bag of goat’s milk. How much longer would they have to wait for Matilda’s return? She fed the baby before she gathered the needed herbs from the rafters. She didn’t know if they would help Darrick, but she would do her best.