A second later, the wildlife burst into squawking, scrambling motion all around them. A family of rabbits rushed across the trail in a close grouping, making for the distance with great, stammering hops. Birds exploded from every tree and bush in the vicinity, fleeing upward like ashes from a drenched fire. She heard the bleat of red deer and saw a bluish-green lizard leap from tree to tree on fans of skin under its arms.
Forge was off his horse and on the ground in one step, as smoothly as if his horse were still. In another instant, he unslung and strung his bow, nocking an arrow as he knelt behind a blackberry tangle along the trailside. His gray eyes had not left the bend in the trail behind them.
“Forge, what—”
But then she heard it, the thunder of hoofbeats. Several horses, driven hard, had panicked the animals as they crashed toward the spot on the trail where Trinadan’s little convoy stood idle. She barely had time to turn her charger around.
And they were upon her. Three horses, swathed in yellow and blue, rounded the bend at speed, weapons held high. They saw her and pointed, the leader in half-plate and a high bucket helm as he spurred into a full-tilt gallop, taking the lead from his two companions. She saw his lance drop to fighting trim, its head growing enormously as it arrowed toward her at the speed of a maddened horse. The head was not the basket-cup of a jousting lance, but real iron, forged and worked to a cruel point.
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Get “Keep of Glass” at https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08RMVLWXV/.
Find out more about Steven G. Johnson and “Keep of Glass” at: https://chriskennedypublishing.com.
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Responsibility of the Crown Page 35