Ransom answered his own question for her; he didn’t like the look in her eyes. “The only person I have faith in is myself. Who else will look out for me? In the army, in a battle, the only person you can depend on is yourself.”
“So, why do you want to help me? You don’t believe Raburn is bad, and yet you help me when you have no idea as to why.”
“Maybe you could give me a reason—other than the fact that you are a girl in distress.”
Annabeth’s eyes narrowed again. “So you abide by the laws of chivalry, even if you aren’t a knight?”
“They are good general rules for any man to live by. But give me a reason to make it my creed.”
“As to reasons, I have none to give other than that I am fighting my own little war, for reasons no one can know.”
“And if they know?”
“They die. In the morning I suggest we take our separate ways. We aren’t too far from the border. I suggest you cross back over it and be safe.”
“And if I don’t?”
“I am no knight, sir. I can offer you no protection.”
“But I can offer you some.”
“That is an offer I still must refuse, I am afraid.”
“Well, I’ll give you the night to think on it.”
She smiled slightly. “Fair enough.”
“Good night.”
“Night,” she answered, pulling her cloak over her shoulders and lying down.
Ransom sighed. It had been a long day, but things were looking promising.
CHAPTER 4
Annabeth lay perfectly still, breathing deeply. She kept one eye open, listening as Ransom readied for sleep a short distance away. Taking off his sword, he lay down, pulling his cloak about him. At the sound of his deep breathing, she relaxed and fell into a light sleep. She would wait for the morning.
When the stars glittered their brightest in the darkness before the dawn, Annabeth slipped silently to her feet. Noiselessly, she approached Ransom. Standing over him, she pulled his dagger smoothly from the sheath. Taking the damp strips of cloth she had sliced from the bottom of the shirt Ransom had washed, Annabeth tied his ankles together first, then slipped two separate strips around his hands and slowly started drawing them together behind his back.
Ransom awoke.
He bolted to fight, but her knee dug deeply into his back just below his neck, and she pulled his hands tightly together, wrapping and tying knots as she went, despite his struggles to free himself.
“Damp fabric is always hard to untie when done in knots. It’s hard enough to tie as it is.”
“What are you going to do with me?”
“Men who live by the sword—die by the sword. I suggest when you get out of your bonds that you head for the border, unless you have some sort of death wish. If you don’t mind, I am going to take back my earnings. Since you have a second horse, you can sell that and it will more than make up for what you lost to me,” she said, freeing him of some of the coins at his waist and rising to her feet.
Ransom rolled over to face her. “You are making a mistake.”
“I am saving your life,” she said, sinking his dagger deep into the tree above her head and well out of his reach. Then, taking his sword belt, she climbed up into the tree and hung it also out of reach before dropping to the ground.
Ransom glared at her and a smile pulled at the corner of her mouth.
“Godspeed to you, sir. May He keep you and your noble sword safe. Thank you for everything you did, but I cannot accept your help. This is my war and I must live or die by the results.”
Going to his saddlebag, she took bannock and her small pouch of earnings and nodded towards the hill.
“A little ways that way there is a farm house. I am sure that she would be willing to sell you whatever you want to eat.”
Ransom’s brow wrinkled. “How did you...?”
“Godspeed, sir. Farewell.”
Annabeth swung easily into the saddle, and, tapping the horse’s side, they broke into a trot and disappeared into the darkness.
RANSOM WAS FURIOUS. How had he found, followed, and been so close to her, only to lose her again? Was it possible?
He wrenched his bonds. Yes, it was possible.
I, Ransom, the best bounty hunter...
That thought he let slip: apparently not the best at everything. His commission slipped painfully through his mind.
“Find her, earn her trust, and bring her to me, for her father’s sake.”
“Well, sir. I promised two months, but since it has taken me almost a month just to find her...” He sighed, testing the bonds again. His hands were fastened tightly, and pulling on the wet knots only made them tighter. Drawing his knees into his chest, he pushed his arms down behind his back, around his legs, and over his bound ankles.
He then looked at the knot.
It was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was a series of wrapping and weavings mingled with knots of several varieties. He looked for the ends in the light of the grey dawn. They were somewhere, all right, but where in the mess, he wasn’t quite sure. He glanced up at his dagger, sunk so deeply into the bark of the tree. There wasn’t even a hint of the blade.
If I could only get to that, I would be out of this in a twinkling.
He moved to stand, but his tied ankles made him stumble. Leaning forward, he went to untie the knot. It was firmly fastened behind his ankles, with no easy way to access it. Flushed with anger and resentment, Ransom pushed himself against the tree and inched to a standing position. Turning, he faced the tree and pulled his dagger out with a jerk that almost sent him into a backwards tumble. Placing the now-dulled dagger in his mouth, he sawed through the damp cloth. At last he was free–at least partly.
“Annabeth, when I find you...!” he threatened under his breath as he cut through his ankle bonds. “I’ll—I’ll...” He paused. He wasn’t sure what he would do. He had to keep her safe. “Bring her to me for her father’s sake.”
“Sir, did you have any clue?” Ransom kicked his legs free. He had ground to make up.
Climbing the tree, he took down his sword and fastened it to his side. He dropped to the ground, carried his saddle from the far side of camp to his horse tethered on the very opposite end, saddled his horse, and mounted.
His stomach rumbled. He could travel on an empty stomach, but a filled one was better. He would have to find that farmhouse. As he rode in the direction that she had signified, he found his horse’s gait strange. Dismounting, he found to his utter and complete disgust that a shoe was loose.
“Did you do that all by yourself or did she help you?” he asked his horse, hands on hips. The horse didn’t seem to deem it necessary to reply as he looked blankly at Ransom. He switched mounts, leading his misshod companion. Time was slipping away with precious swiftness.
In a minute he spotted the farmhouse and pulled his horse to a halt in front of the door. As he was dismounting, the door opened and a round woman appeared. She chuckled under her breath as he stepped forward to introduce himself.
“Are you Ransom?”
He stopped in his tracks, startled.
She laughed at the look on his face. “She said you would be by and that I should have this ready to give you.” The woman waved a sack at him.
Suspicious, Ransom stepped forward and took it from her hands. He felt the hot bannock through the sack, and his mouth watered. “My husband is a decent farrier, by the way, and he’s in the shed out back, and she said I was to give this to you, too,” she said, handing him a second but smaller sack. Ransom opened it to find it filled with dried meat and smoked cheese.
“How much do I owe you?”
“The girl paid for it. Now go in the back; he is waiting.”
The sound of a hammer striking metal steered Ransom in the right direction. Water sizzled and steamed up as the man placed a glowing metal object in a bucket of water. Looking up, the man saw him coming.
“I was just getting ready t
o come after you. She said if you didn’t appear by the time I was ready for you to come a lookin’.”
“Well, I am here now,” Ransom said between clenched teeth. How on earth could she do this to me? Why did she have to be so know-it-all irritating? And why, of all people, am I sent after her?
In a minute the man was working on the horse’s shoe, setting it properly into place. Ransom waited impatiently, reminding himself that he was actually saving time by having a good horse instead of dragging one with a loose shoe around.
“There you go, sir; that will be three coppers.”
Ransom fished the money out of his money pouch and handed it to the man.
“Do you know which way she went?”
“Aye.”
Ransom waited. The man went back to work.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
“Nay.”
“I will give you three silver pieces if you tell me where she went.”
The man looked up at him, doubtful.
Frustrated to the core, Ransom pulled out the money and laid it on the table. “I am her friend; I need to know where she went. She is in grave danger and I need to know.”
The man glanced at it and nodded.
“Where did she go?”
“That-a-way,” he said with a nod to the west.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded and mutely took the money off the table, putting it in his pocket.
Ransom walked in that direction and picked up her trail. It was hers all right, and pretty fresh. With hope riding high in his heart, he followed her. It should be easy to catch up. However, by noon he had lost her trail and the only person he passed was a decrepit and bent elderly lady with a horse suffering from a bad case of mange pulling a cart. He searched the road the surrounding areas, but to no avail. She was gone. She and her trail had vanished into thin air.
Chapter 5
For the next two weeks Ransom followed any phantom news of Annabeth, traipsing all over the country hither and thither, yon and aft, with little success in finding her precise whereabouts and disguise. He was one week into the second month of the time he had promised to have her, and now he was completely baffled with his mission. His plans weren’t working at all. The thwarting only made him cling to her trail hotly; searching, watching, waiting for her appearance.
Raburn’s men were doubled. With her traveling with a supposed accomplice, she was now an even higher threat, and they were searching for her thoroughly.
Notorious descriptions were hung everywhere, claiming she was a dangerous criminal and should be brought to justice. Even with the large reward on her head, little effort was made on the people’s part to have anything to do with her. They didn’t dare help her, but they weren’t about to turn her in, either. Let Raburn chase her around and leave the rest of them in peace. Daily prayers for their king’s return were offered. He was still off in the Holy Land fighting the crusades, while Prince Alfred’s lord protector wreaked havoc on the land. Had he heard their pleas? Had the letters that begged for his return reached him; or was only Lord Raburn’s news getting through to him, along with the Prince’s missives which were overseen by the lord protector himself?
It was true that Prince Alfred was a public captive. Smiling, joyful, but certainly kept in hand and guarded with the greatest care by Lord Raburn.
The notorious Song Lark struck up a few new tunes claiming rash ideas in the midnight’s darkest hours, strumming on his bold lute with courage, telling of fame and faults of those at court and countryside.
One of his latest horrifying truths ran something like this:
My name is Song Lark.
Oh, I pray thee, hark.
Listen to my words with care.
There is a fox within our lair.
He is handsome, he is bold,
He is dressed in yellow gold.
But he hath set for thee a snare;
Oh, our beloved prince, beware.
He hath cut the necks of nobles,
Yours he shall cut with no foibles.
He wants to make you cold as stone,
To take your throne to be his own.
Oh, prince, my prince, beware,
There is a fox within your lair.
The rage that poured out over this tune was large as Raburn’s men turned out in full force. Ransom’s search became much more stealthy, hidden, and urgent. He needed to find Annabeth.
The discovery of Annabeth was unexpected. He was riding along the road when she darted out in front of him across the path and into the forest beyond, with six men hot on her horse’s heels.
Her white horse was foaming with sweat; theirs were fresh and strong. He immediately joined in the chase, taking up the rear without being noticed. In a clear spot in the forest, one man came riding up beside her, laying his hands on her waist in attempt to pull her off her horse. In a moment, her dagger flashed—cutting his arm. He fell from his horse with an agonized cry. Placing the dagger back in her belt, she whirled around with sword in hand, cutting down the next man that dared to come near her.
Ransom withdrew his sword and started working his way toward the front, taking men down one at a time as he neared her.
Two men approached her at once, and she tumbled off the back of her horse to avoid their fatal blows. She drew one man into combat, using her horse as a shield for her back, as the other approached her. In order to get at Annabeth, he had to dismount. She held them off well as the third man parlayed Ransom into a corner, which he fatally thrust himself out of. Turning to help Annabeth, he watched as she rushed between them, hesitating for a moment, then leapt aside as both blades thrust forward with deadly intent: the killing blow that was meant for her taking their lives.
Annabeth stood sideways and turned to look at him. “So you’ve come to finish me off, have you?” she asked, her eyes glittering with an unusual brightness, while her face seemed ashen pale in comparison.
He didn’t answer, but stepped forward.
“I thought you would have gone home.”
“I never take advice I don’t ask for.”
“Are you that desperate to be a wanted man? For you are one, though no one has a clue to who you might be. I suggest you go while you still have a chance.”
“I am here to offer you my protection.”
“I am not used to taking protection I don’t ask for.”
Ransom smiled as she threw his own words back at him. “So that makes us more alike; we are both wanted, both excellent swords people, and both have nothing better to do.”
“I have much better things to be doing. They just don’t allow me time for it.” She nodded with a shiver towards the dead men. “Now, if you will excuse me, I should be going. You can have whatever loot you want from them.”
She whistled softly and her horse came closer.
Ransom stepped to her side and whirled her around. “What exact–”
She let out an agonized cry of pain and dropped to the ground.
Then he saw it. Annabeth’s left side was dripping with blood. Her blood. That was why she had only turned part of the way around to look at him.
“Annabeth,” he said, dropping to her side.
“It’s only a flesh wound,” she whimpered, holding her left hand tightly over it.
“Let me see it.”
“No,” she ground out between her teeth.
“You can’t go on like this.”
Annabeth only closed her eyes; she was feeling lightheaded. Rising, he went to his saddlebags and pulled out one of the sacks he had been given to keep his food in. Digging into hers, he found the shirt with strips cut from the bottom: strips that had been stretched and then used to tie his hands and feet together.
“Lie down, Annabeth.”
Too weak to resist the order she did his bidding, sending her head into a wild spin.
Taking the shirt, the softest and cleanest of all the materials, he pressured the wound with his left hand. Placing h
is knee on the large sack to hold it still, he cut long wide strips. Tying them together, he gently but firmly wrapped them around her waist.
Ransom laid his canteen gently on her lips. “Here, just a little bit.”
She closed her eyes and laid her head on the ground, completely exhausted and weary.
“Are there any more men following you?” he asked in a whisper.
“I had just gotten well away from one band when I was found by them. I suggest you leave me to my fate. They will find me soon enough.” Her voice seemed resigned to abandonment. She was preparing herself for death.
“I don’t think so. Rest for a few minutes.” He took her left hand and washed it free of blood.
Opening her eyes, she looked at him. “Thank you.”
“Lie still.”
Standing, Ransom looked and listened to the forest around them. There was something in the forest—something far, far away, but the threat was still real. She was so pale, but there was need for haste. He looked at her horse. It was worn out. Looking around, he chose a new horse that seemed steady and reliable and placed her saddle on it. They would need to ride separately if they were to move with any form of swiftness.
He waited as long as his gut would let him, then stirred her.
“Annabeth, I need you to stand. Here; take my hands and hold on tight.” Ransom pulled Annabeth to her feet. She leaned against him, fighting the sense of nausea that swept around her and infiltrated every sense in her body. Her fingers gripped his doublet.
“Do you think you can ride?”
“Might as well give it a try,” she whispered.
Ransom could not help his smile. She was determined to escape them, no matter the cost. With a swift movement, he lifted her into the saddle. She buried her face in the horse’s mane and was unable to move for several moments, but as he mounted into his saddle, she pushed herself to a seated position and took the reins.
Ransom looked at her. She was sitting up all right, but her eyes were blurred with pain and her face was pale and weary from loss of blood and a thousand other things. He would have to lead and watch her carefully.
Annabeth's War Page 4
