Nothing. She saw nothing!
But she heard something—the sound of someone climbing up the tree.
Returning her bow to her quiver, she grabbed hold of a branch above her and hoisted herself up and up, seeking a sturdy enough limb from which to leap to the next tree.
The knight was a good climber, much faster than she would have thought. His grunts and groans filled the air, along with the creak of wood beneath his weight. Terror threatened to undo her.
Forcing it down, she swung up onto another bough. Then holding her arms out for balance, she plunged through a web of leaves, praying the branch was sturdy enough to hold her.
The man’s breath filled the air behind her.
“Come hither, witch. Unless ye can fly,” he said with a snicker.
She suddenly wished she could, for the next tree was nigh two yards away and the limb beneath her feet grew more thin and wobbly with each step.
The dogs growled and yipped.
“She’s to your right, Gerald!” one knight yelled up to his friend.
The branch trembled beneath the weight of the man.
Alexia had no choice. Whispering a quick prayer, she dashed across the limb and leapt in the air for the next tree.
Arms and legs flailing through the darkness, she reached for a hold, any hold. But found none. Her fall was broken by a lower branch that sliced through her bodice. She groped to hold on, but her grip loosened, and she tumbled down again and struck another bough…and another…ere she landed hard on the ground.
She jumped to her feet to run, but pain throbbed in her ankle. Her legs buckled beneath her.
A pack of dogs leapt on her as if she were a slab of meat. Teeth dug into her arm. She screamed. Hot breath and saliva sprayed her. Dark masses slithered around her. The dogs’ faces, fangs extended and dripping were suddenly yanked back as the knights pulled them from her.
One of them jerked her to her feet. Pain burned in her arm. A thousand blades stabbed her ankle, and she nearly fell.
“Let’s get the witch back to the bishop.” She recognized Sir DeGay’s voice, though she couldn’t make out their faces in the darkness. The dogs continued to bark, angry at being restrained from their meal.
The sound of metal rasping against leather met her ears. A groan. A thud.
Uneasiness drifted over the knights.
“Tucker?”
No reply.
Shuffling ensued, a grunt, and a splat.
Sir DeGay shoved Alexia toward another knight and ordered him to watch her as he drew his sword. His men followed suit, separating from each other and peering into the darkness.
Should Alexia dare hope God had sent a rescuer? The knight shoved her against a tree and leveled his blade at her chest. Unable to bear weight on her ankle, she sank to the dirt.
Metal rang against metal and mayhem exploded before her. A shadow—nay, a man—wielding a sword fought two knights. Clang! He met one of their blades high, then shifted to his left and swung in low to slice through the man’s leg. Screaming, the knight fell. The other knight charged him as his friends, blades drawn, did the same. Six knights against one man. Impossible odds. Blood dripped down Alexia’s arm, along with her hope.
Instead of running, her rescuer flung his sword through the air as if it were a whip, striking one man after the other—swooping down on one blade here, slicing an arm there. His movements were lithe and swift. He was there one minute, vanished the next, only to reappear somewhere else. She’d never seen the likes of it.
Another scream wrenched the air. One more knight down. The stranger appeared out of the foliage to her right and knocked another man over the head with his sword hilt. Sir DeGay toppled to the ground.
Three knights swung about, growling and sneering like the dogs still straining at their leashes.
The man met the first knight’s blade then thrust low in a counter-parry. She had a good view of him now. Dressed in simple leather breeches, boots, and vest, he wore a black kerchief around his head with two holes for eyes.
The hiss of steel filled the air as he swiped metal on metal then swung to the right and met the next knight’s attack. He fought with such skill and speed, it seemed surreal, and she wondered if he were a warrior angel sent from God to protect her.
He thrust his blade forward, striking one man in the thigh. The three men holding the hounds tied them to a tree and entered the fray.
“Behind you!” Alexia shouted. The man guarding her slapped her across the cheek. Blinking through the sting, she watched as her rescuer spun just in time before the first knight ran him through. Caught off balance, he attempted to jump to the side, but another knight sliced through his arm. Growling, the rescuer shoved the man back with his blade then slugged him across the jaw. He toppled backward, struck his head on the tree, and slumped down to the dirt.
The dogs continued barking.
Another knight joined them and three knights circled the stranger, blades leveled.
Alexia could hardly breathe. The man guarding her shifted nervously from foot to foot. If she could but grab his blade…
The knights attacked with ferocity. Her rescuer skillfully fended off each blow, but they drove him backward. One of them managed another slice to his chest. He kicked him backward, but the knight quickly resumed his attack.
Another man in a mask marched into the clearing as if he owned the forest and took on two of the knights, quickly dispatching them both.
The man guarding Alexia lowered his blade. Fisting her hands together, she leapt toward him and knocked it from his hand. Momentarily stunned, he went to retrieve it, but she kicked him in the groin. He doubled over. She grabbed the sword and held it to his chest. Someone chuckled behind her, and the fallen knight glanced in that direction, cursed, then scrambled to his feet and dove into the thicket.
Spinning around, Alexia found her rescuers—two of them now—engaging the remaining knights with both sword and knife. Hoping for a quick escape—or at the least a slow, hobbled one, she dropped the heavy sword and shrank into the shadows. But the two strangers made quick work of their enemies, sheathed their blades, and headed her way. Without a simple by your leave, the first one grabbed her, flung her over his shoulder, and marched into the forest, leaving behind a pile of moaning knights and growling dogs.
“Took you long enough,” the man holding her said to his friend, who walked beside him, her bow and quiver in his hands.
She’d know that voice anywhere. “LePeine, you beast!” She pounded his back
“You seemed to have things in hand,” the second man replied, humor in his tone. “Besides ’twas fun to watch.”
The moss and needles of the forest floor transformed to grass, embroidered in silver from the starlit sky above.
Horse hooves thumped and Sir LePeine lowered her slowly down to the ground. Their bodies slid against each other so intimately, she couldn’t help but feel the gorged muscles beneath his doublet still twitching from battle. Heat swamped her as an odd ache formed in her belly. She tried to step away, but pain shot up her leg and she stumbled.
“Easy there.” He grabbed her waist and held her close, then tore off his kerchief and shook out his hair. Rescuer two did the same, and as she suspected ’twas Sir LePeine’s larger friend, Damien LaRage. Sounds drew her gaze up to Jarin the Just, who led three horses toward them across the clearing. The men no longer wore the knightly garb of the King’s Guard, nor boasted the Royal Crest on their shoulders.
She drew a deep breath, head swimming. “Bravo, gentlemen, you have saved me from LeGode’s knights. Now, if you don’t mind, I shall be on my way.”
Dismounting, Jarin handed the reins of one of the horses to LePeine. “Not very grateful is she?”
“I have never found her so,” came Sir LePeine’s reply.
“What do you intend to do with her?”
Damien snorted. “I say we take her back to the bishop.”
Alexia gave a lady-like growl.
&nb
sp; “She’s no witch,” Ronar glanced her way. “She’s Lady Alexia D’Clere.” He gave a bow, and though she could not make out his expression, she sensed mockery in his tone.
She struggled against his grip, but to no avail. “All the more reason to release me. I am lady of the manor and should not be treated like a common wench.”
Jarin chuckled. “Ah ha! This lady is your Falcon, is she not?” He circled her and whistled. “I would never have thought so, but I find myself of the sudden opinion that all women should wear such tight breeches.”
Alexia grimaced. “Reserve your sordid gaze, Sir Jarin, for your strumpets.”
Damien rubbed his chin and snickered. “This little sprite is your fearless Falcon, Ronar? The one causing you so much trouble?”
“I am no one’s Falcon. I am—” She intended to reiterate her station to these buffoons, but Ronar picked her up by the waist and placed her atop his horse as if she weighed no more than a sack of corn.
“What are you doing?” She swung her legs on the other side, intending to slide off when he leapt behind her and wrapped arms of iron around her waist.
“We must not delay. LeGode’s knights may awaken and come after us.”
Damien mounted his steed. “Enough of this troublesome woman, Ronar. Falcon, witch, or lady, ’tis none of our affair. Keeping her from LeGode will not bode well for our mission.”
“Our mission is to find the Spear, and she may know of its whereabouts. Besides, we each took a vow to protect helpless ladies in distress,” Ronar said.
“There you have it, Sir Knights. I have never been helpless, and I am most definitely not in distress. Ergo, you may release me at once!” Alexia attempted to pry Ronar’s arms off her.
“She has a point, I’ll grant you,” Jarin said. “This helpless maiden did nearly kill us a sennight ago.”
Ronar tightened his grip. “Would you have me turn her over to those who would see her burned at the stake? Besides, there is something evil at Luxley, and I believe LeGode is in the center of it.”
“Where will you go?” Jarin asked.
“Rivenhall.”
“We will join you.”
Ronar’s horse snorted and pawed the ground. “Nay, ’twill draw too much suspicion. Return to Luxley. Tell the bishop I am on the king’s errand and will return in a few days. In the meantime, I will discover this forest sprite’s secrets. If she has the Spear, I will return with it anon.”
Alexia tried a new tactic and shoved her body backward against Ronar, attempting to hit his head with hers. Her back struck steel, her head a rock, and pain thundered through her already battered body. “I have no secrets and I’m not going anywhere with you!”
Jarin mounted his horse and stretched out his arm. Ronar gripped it. “Watch over Lady Cristiana. Whoever is poisoning her is still at the castle.”
“’Tis Sir LeGode!” Alexia hissed. “And she is my sister. I will protect her!”
“Impossible to do, my lady, whilst burning at the stake.”
“I will guard her with my life,” Jarin said.
“Stay away from her, you frothy varlet, you…” Alexia shouted, but the wind stole her voice as Ronar galloped away.
Chapter 19
The more the lady struggled in front of him, the more Ronar enjoyed himself, and the more he’d have to repent of that enjoyment later.
“Hush, be still, my lady,” he whispered in her ear. “You are safe, now.”
She elbowed him in the gut. “I need not your protection, Knight. Release me at once!” Her voice was lost to the wind as they galloped across an open field with naught but stars to light their way.
Those stars soon disappeared behind thick, heavy clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Ronar slowed Penance to a canter. Still the lady struggled. He tightened his grip around her waist. He would not lose this forest minx again. She might be the most skilled archer he’d seen, a benevolent caretaker of the poor, and quite good at hiding her many identities, but she was a fool when it came to her own safety.
And he would not see her burn.
In truth, if he admitted it, he would not see her harmed at all.
He’d caught up with LeGode’s knights just as they were pulling the hounds off her. Would that he’d been there a second earlier, for the sight of her bloody arm sent him into a rage. He surprised himself at the anguish he’d felt, the fear for this lady who had done naught but lie to him. Yet, at that moment, he would have gladly taken on the king’s army by himself…
If only to save her.
Tush, what a fool he was! Even now, taking her to Rivenhall, a place he’d vowed never to return to again—a place and a time he longed to release to the graveyard of forgotten memories. Yet ’twas precisely because of those forgotten memories he took her there, for no one knew of the place, save his closest friends.
A drizzle began, cooling his face with moisture. He drew in a breath of air filled with the scent of loamy earth, horse, the spice of rain…
And woman. Ah, the sweet scent of a woman. And this one in particular—all rich moss and pine.
The lady settled in front of him, but he would not be fooled. She was wise, this one. No doubt she waited for his defenses to lower, for his grip to loosen so she could fly away like a falcon. Though how far she thought she could get on her wounded foot puzzled him.
“Why have you stolen me?” She broke the silence with her sharp tone.
Ronar tapped the reins, turning onto the King’s Highway. Though the road was well traveled, there would be few out on this stormy night, and it was the quickest way to Rivenhall. “Because you appear to have no concern for your safety,” he finally said.
“My safety, Sir, is none of your concern.” She hesitated. “Though I thank you for your help. However, I had no need of it and had things well in hand.”
He chuckled. “If I had not intervened, your flesh would either be shredded by LeGode’s hounds or sizzling atop a roaring fire.”
At this, a shiver ran through her, and he realized the lady did have a smidgen of natural fear. Or was it the sudden cold wind that blasted over them? She turned her head slightly, her cheek brushing his chin. Her hair whipped in his face, and the scent of honey and herbs tantalized his nose. “I wish to return to the friar,” she spoke so sweetly, he thought he’d captured the wrong lady. “You have fulfilled your knightly vow to protect the fair maiden. What need have you of me now?”
The rain came harder, tapping a cadence in the mud and on the leaves of trees and shrubs lining the road.
Ronar didn’t answer. Mainly because he couldn’t answer her with anything that made sense. He told himself and his friends ’twas the Spear he sought. But when this lady was present, his mind was not on the Spear at all. Though this vixen had done naught but distract him from his mission and send his life into a hellish spiral, he longed to know more of her, found himself enchanted by everything she said and did.
Rain splattered atop his head, and he realized he’d forgotten his hat. Thunder quivered the puddles forming on the ground. The lady trembled, and Ronar drew the reins and halted Penance. Keeping one arm around her waist, he opened his pouch attached to the saddle, withdrew a cloak, then flung it around her shoulders.
He thought she’d resist, but instead she tugged it around her neck and thanked him.
’Twas something at least.
Smiling, he nudged Penance forward again, listening to his hooves slapping the mud. So dark the night, he could barely make out the grassy hills surrounding them, nor the thick forest he knew they soon would reach. Rain slid down his forehead. At least the trees would give them some respite from the storm.
Pain burned his right arm where a blade had penetrated, and he eased his grip on the lady, knowing she, too, was injured.
Leaning, he whispered in her ear, “Are you indeed Lady of Luxley manor?”
“Along with my sister, aye.”
They entered a copse of pine and maple, and the droplets transformed into a
mist. “What need of such deception?”
Moments passed ere she answered. “Years ago, after my parents were dead and I was but nine, the friar discovered a plot against my life and stole me away. My mother and he were good friends, and she had charged him with my care.”
“And he never discovered ’twas LeGode?”
“Nay. And he forbade me to ever return.” The sorrow in her tone convinced him she told the truth. For once. “When I learned of my sister’s illness, I begged him to allow me to serve at Luxley where I could be close to her.”
“And he conceded?”
“As long as I vowed to not tell a soul my true identity. He sensed a danger still present.”
“Seems the old friar was right. How did LeGode discover your identity?”
“I told him.”
Ronar groaned. “For what purpose?”
“I thought he could help,” she shot back, but then her tone filled with pain. “I trusted him. He is…was a close friend to my mother and father.”
“And now he accuses you of being a witch.”
“I’ve been such a fool.” She turned suddenly, and he felt her breath on his chin. “You don’t believe him, do you?”
“You are many things, Lady Falcon, but a witch? Nay.” Releasing her, he raked his wet hair back. “Alack, no one is as they seem,” he added sadly. Especially this lady who now leaned back against his chest as if resigned to her fate. A titled lady, nonetheless, flitting about the forest with bow and arrow. Amazing! “Lady of the manor, Falcon of Emerald Forest, hunter for the village, and maid in Luxley castle.” He pulled back the collar of her cloak and pretended to peek inside. “Any other people hidden in there you wish to disclose?”
She tugged it back, but said naught as raindrops tapped laughter on the canopy above. Laughing at him, no doubt, for believing anything this lady said.
“Where are you taking me?” She sat up straight, sending a wall of chilled air between them.
“Someplace safe where you won’t be found.” Where Ronar could determine his next move and more importantly discover what was truly going on at Luxley.
“I will be safer with the friar.”
She Walks in Power Page 14