In a Glance

by Lisa Shea

  Hugh drew his sword. “We will get her out,” he vowed.

  She gave herself a shake. Her voice brooked no chance of failure. “Yes, we will.”

  She looked at him, and for a long moment their gazes held. She basked in the strength of his love, in the certain knowledge that, should she need him, he would be there. Then he nodded, gave a wry smile, and melted into the night.

  She crept forward, moving toward the front of the building. In the daylight a grassy path might have been seen leading out into the forest on either side of the clearing. In the barely-moonlit night even the large mill building itself was only a flat shadow against the stars. There was no sign that anything was amiss in the quiet landscape.

  Joan trusted in Jake’s report implicitly. Tobias and his bandits were in there. Their reputation preceded them; they were some of the most feared fighters in the county. She and Hugh would have to take them out one by one - or face certain death at their blades.

  Joan stood still for a long moment, closing her eyes, listening intently. If her vision could not help her, perhaps her other senses could. There was the whisper of wind through the large oak, the soft call of a fox … there! Ahead to the right; it almost blended in with the background. There was a rhythmic thrumming, as if someone were unconsciously tapping his fingers against his scabbard.

  She opened her eyes again, acutely aware of every leaf, every branch which lay between her and her destination. One cautious step at a time, she crept forward. His hunched back resolved from the shadows, and she inched slowly, careful of each rolling motion of her foot.

  She settled her knife firmly into her hand, then took the last step.

  Her blade flashed in the moonlight, the sharp edge drawing back and right against his exposed throat. She went for the jugular, not the artery, so that the blood would not burst from the wound, only drain gently in silence. The blade neatly severed beneath his voice box, so not a sound emerged from the explosive exhale of her victim.

  She pressed her body against his to support him as he sagged, carefully lowering him down into the dense grass.

  She knelt by his side for a long moment, her heart pounding. To her relief there was no cry of alarm, no sense that she’d been spotted. Her breath eased out of her, and she smiled. One down.

  A low cough came from the left, and she nodded in satisfaction. The team was efficient and logical. The second guard was exactly where she figured he’d be, beside the front door.

  She ran her left hand along the ground, searching with her fingers for a plum-sized rock. In a minute she had just the one. She carefully crept within twenty feet of the guard, then sent the rock over to hit the wall at the far corner of the structure. He turned in alert interest at the sound, taking a few steps toward it.

  In a few moments his corpse lay tucked along the outer wall of the mill, his sightless eyes pointed at the night sky.

  Joan took her time, stealthily covering the ground before the mill, before she was satisfied that these were the only two guards assigned to watch the front of the building. She knew, on the back side, that Hugh was doing the same. One of their only advantages would be making sure they fought on a single front. If an opponent were allowed to get behind them, all could be lost.

  Finally she moved to the window, carefully peering in. Her stomach twisted in concern, and she forced herself to take long, deep breaths. The place was a shambles. Tall wooden shelves were tipped over; leather-bound trunks sprawled open with their contents strewn about. Three rough men attentively dug through every chest and examined the contents of each. A table at the center of the room held a pile of items, from utility knives to leather belts. Candles glowed on a number of surfaces, setting a flickering sheen to the room. The mill stone, to the right, was in shadows.

  Joan moved right, past the door, and over to the other window. She eased the shutters open, then hefted herself up over the sill, dropping to her feet on the other side. She knelt for a long moment, allowing her eyes to adjust, listening to every sound.

  Was Hugh inside already?

  There was a stuttering creak from the far side of the room, from the deep shadows behind the mill stone.

  The three bandits immediately stilled in their searches, three pairs of eyes swiveling to pin the shadows with intense interest.

  The hand of the grey-haired man eased to his sword. “Marcus. Go take a look.”

  Marcus gave a short nod, drawing his weapon. His voice was a low mutter. “Probably a cat.” Yet he stepped forward cautiously. As he moved through the light Joan saw the shimmer of a scar on his right cheek. The man had been in a fight or two.

  Another few steps, and he became lost in the darkness of the corner.

  There was a sighing noise, and then a soft thunk.

  The older soldier narrowed his gaze, staring after him. “Marcus?”

  A low voice called out to them, tinged with awe. “I think we missed something!”

  Both remaining guards glanced at each other, and the younger one’s eyes glimmered with avarice. “Might be we finally earn what we’re worth,” he murmured to the older one.

  “Don’t count it until it’s spent,” warned the elder.

  They moved steadily toward the back corner. Joan eased around to the left, positioning herself behind them. The older one was slightly ahead of the younger, and she left that man to Hugh.

  Now it was a matter of careful timing. She crept forward, her knife high …

  From the shadows there was a flash of silver. She dove forward, her knife driving into her man’s back just as Hugh sliced his weapon across the older man’s throat. Her free hand cupped the guard’s mouth, cutting off his last exhale, and she eased his body to the ground.

  Hugh’s eyes met hers briefly, and she saw the warmth of respect in them. Then they turned as one to fix focused attention on the stairs in the center of the room.

  The room fell into silence.

  There were slow, steady creaks and thunks upstairs, but none came toward the stairs. Whoever was up there, they seemed oblivious to the fate of their comrades below.

  After a long moment Hugh turned to her. He held up two fingers, then using both hands he pointed to the left and right sides of the ceiling.

  Joan nodded. That was where she had figured the thieves were as well. Probably ransacking the bedrooms, looking for jewelry and other trinkets. She settled her knife’s hilt securely in her fingers.

  Hugh moved toward the stairs, looking at the open hallway above, but she put a hand on his arm. He stilled instantly. His eyes swiveled back to hers, holding a question.

  She put a finger to her lips, then pointed at the stairs, then her own feet. She knew every creak and moan of those old treads. If they were going to get up them silently, he would have to follow behind her.

  His gaze stilled for a long moment, and he glanced again at the ceiling, at the audible evidence of the armed men above. Then he drew his eyes back to hers for a long moment. At last he nodded.

  She crept forward, every sense alert. On the first tread, she stepped to the far left. The second tread was fine all the way across, but on the third her foot needed to be slightly right. Hugh remained immediately behind her, mirroring her actions.

  Joan gave a wry smile as she moved. Sarah had laughed at Joan that afternoon as she had been working out how to move silently. Joan invested hours in going up and down the stairs, examining them, teasing out their secrets. Joan was immensely glad now that she had put in the effort.

  At last she reached the top, and she paused for a moment. The men were still rummaging on either side of them, apparently unaware of their presence. There was a tap on her shoulder, and she waved Hugh up to join her on the last step. His warmth next to her was nearly intoxicating, and she looked up at him, her heart pounding with a sensation which was suddenly far removed from the dangerous situation they were in. He met her gaze, his eyes smoky with passion, and it was with clear effort that he looked away, turned his head down the hallway to his righ
t.

  In a moment he was in motion, and she turned toward Sarah’s bedroom. A candle’s gleam shone through the half-open door. She crept carefully toward it, then peered in.

  The man was built like a bull. He had Sarah’s trunk open and was pawing through her clothing. He held up a pale ivory chemise and pressed the thin fabric to his face. He drew in a long inhale.

  Joan’s stomach turned, and she held in the urge to fling the dagger at his back, to stop him right there. Instead, she slowly crept toward the man. The long, flat curve of his back called to her, and she adjusted the angle of her blade, seeing exactly where it would slip through the ribs.

  Crash!

  A loud jangling noise echoed from the other room, and Joan’s heart leapt in fear. Was Hugh all right? Had the bandit caught him off guard?

  Then her own man was spinning, staring at her in surprise, and she found she had more immediate problems on her hands. She dove straight at him, her top priority to silence him before he could raise the alarm to Tobias. She had no doubt the leader was in the attic, and she desperately prayed that he had not yet found Sarah. There was still a chance. If she could only –

  He slammed his arm from right to left, and instead of her blade drilling into his heart it only carved a gouge across his chest. His left hook instantly followed, and Joan spun left to block it, catching the blow high on her shoulder. The force of the hit flung the knife from her hand and sent her entire arm numb. As she staggered, his right arm wrapped around her neck from behind, slamming her back against his chest.

  She scrambled with both hands to pull the arm lower, even a hair. It was like tugging on a massive oak.

  Bright, sparkling stars danced across her vision, and she knew she only had seconds before she lost consciousness. She raised her boot and aimed a solid kick back toward his kneecap. He turned his leg as she moved, taking the kick against his calf, and her vision swam. She shifted her weight, to go for the other one. But her clawing hands were faltering, and the world shimmered out of focus. Blackness gaped before her …

  The bandit holding her coughed, staggered, and his grip on her neck eased. She fell onto all fours, desperately sucking in air. At last she turned.

  Hugh was carefully lowering the muscular body onto the ground. The corpse’s chest was interrupted by the bright, silver tip of a dagger protruded from a welling fountain of blood.

  Hugh turned to her, putting out a hand, helping her back to her feet. He ran his fingers gently down the side of her neck, and his voice was hoarse. “Are you all right?”

  She held his gaze, and it was all she could do not to fold into his arms, to show the depths of her appreciation. There would be time enough for that later. “I am fine,” she reassured him. She drew another blade from her boot, then turned back to Hugh. “I assume the man you took on was not medium-height and blond?”

  Hugh shook his head. “Short, bald, and quite clumsy. He dropped a box of jewelry just before I got to him. I worried the loud noise might have thrown you off, so I took him out quickly and sprinted back here.”

  She gave a wry smile. “Good thing you did,” she murmured. Her eyes flicked to the stairs. “I asked because we still have Tobias unaccounted for. I would guess that puts him upstairs, then, where I figured he would be.”

  Her gaze shadowed. “He is a snake, and for some reason he has gotten even more vicious these past few months. If he has found Sarah, his latest pastime would be to gut her before our eyes, so that we had to fight him while listening to Sarah’s dying screams. Whatever risks there are, we must make sure we get him away from her.”

  Hugh nodded, his face serious. “Let me go first this time, then.”

  She shook her head. “We still hold the advantage. He will think I have come alone to save Sarah. Stay behind me. You might only have one chance; use it wisely.”

  Hugh hesitated, but at last he nodded again. “Be careful.”

  She ran a hand along his arm, then turned. Once again they were moving, step by step, precisely choosing the placement of each foot on the wooden span. Joan carefully poked her head up over the level of the attic floor, looking around the cluttered room.

  There were only two shuttered windows on this level, one at each end. It was nearly impossible to make anything out amongst the boxes, bales of hay, and other supplies which lay in heaps. She remained in a crouch as she stepped onto the floor.

  A low chuckle sounded by the front window, and she turned. Her heart drained as her eyes adjusted to the scene.

  Tobias was holding Sarah before him as a human shield, a dagger held to her throat. Sarah was a tall woman, with long, auburn hair and a navy blue dress. She practically covered Tobias from head to toe, and he had to lean his head left slightly to meet Joan’s gaze.

  His mouth curved up into a smile. “I figured you might be along eventually,” he drawled. “That little rat-pet of yours probably went scurrying away the moment we kicked in the front door.” His eyes traced down her form. “I get two for the price of one, and I have to say, you are definitely an added bonus here.”

  Joan settled the knife more securely in her grasp. Her world focused down to just the portion of Tobias’s neck which was exposed past Sarah’s body. There were mere inches to work with. Could it be done?

  Tobias gave a rasping laugh. “Ah, Joan, you always did like to take risks. But keep in mind, if I kill Sarah, I still get you. If you let me kill Sarah – what do you have left? Could you live with that?”

  Sarah’s eyes were wild with panic. Then Tobias drew his blade slightly against her throat, creating a thin, crimson line. Sarah’s shriek was cut off again by fresh pressure from the edge.

  Tobias looked meaningfully from the dagger in Joan’s hand to the sword which hung at her hip. “First the dagger,” he instructed. “Throw it clear.”

  Joan looked to Sarah. She forced her tone to be steady and reassuring. “Sarah, do you remember what I told you before, when you were to hide up here? You needed to be calm and still. Perfectly still.”

  Sarah almost nodded, but the pressure against her neck drew her up. Instead she squeaked out, “yes.”

  Tobias chuckled. “Yes, dear Sarah. You remain still, while your best friend disarms herself.”

  Joan latched the dagger blade with her thumb, spreading her fingers wide to show she was no longer a threat. “I am throwing it away,” she informed him. She took a slight step to her right, aiming at a beam to the right, sending the dagger to embed solidly into it. “Now let Sarah go.”

  Tobias shook his head. “The sword, too, Joan.”

  There was a gentle tap on her right hip, and Joan drew in a breath. Hugh was ready. Joan slowly drew her sword from its scabbard and flexed her hand along its hilt for a long moment. She held Sarah’s eyes, infusing the woman with all the steadiness she could muster. Her voice was a bare whisper.

  “Calm and still, Sarah.”

  She raised the sword high, and Tobias followed its glittering arc with satisfaction as she took a step to the right, tossing it toward the far right wall.

  A flash of silver whizzed past her left ear, shaved threads off of Sarah’s neckline, and embedded itself into Tobias’s throat.

  Joan raced forward, knocking the dagger from the falling man’s hand, pulling Sarah to safety and throwing her own body over the frightened woman. Hugh’s heavy footsteps behind her dove straight for Tobias, and when she was able to turn and look she found Hugh was sprawled on top of the other man, a dagger at the ready. But it was clearly not needed. The light had already faded from Tobias’s marble-cold eyes.

  Sarah’s breath was coming in gasps. “Is he dead?”

  Joan drew her into a warm hug. “He is dead,” she reassured the woman, “as are the rest of them. It is all over.”

  Sarah burst into tears at that, her body convulsing with emotion. Joan let the shock work its way through the woman, holding her as the storm ran its course. Hugh moved alertly through the rest of the attic, checking behind boxes and bales, but at las
t he came over to join the two women.

  Sarah’s tears finally slowed, and she looked between the two in grateful relief. “How could I ever thank you,” she murmured. “I can’t even imagine what would have happened if you had not arrived.”

  Joan ran a hand fondly down Sarah’s hair. “Don’t imagine it,” she reassured the woman. “It is all in the past. Now we need to get you to your sister’s.”

  Sarah’s face creased in confusion. “My sister’s?”

  Joan nodded, helping her to her feet. “First, we need to get you to your stables. Close your eyes. The less you see, the better.” She glanced over to Hugh. “Maybe if you could –”

  He nodded at once, stepping forward to sweep Sarah up in his arms. “I could indeed.”

  They made their way down the stairs and out to the stable, where a pair of quiet, aging horses waited in the stalls. Joan spoke with Sarah while Hugh placed a checkered saddle blanket on one steed and prepared its tack.

  “Tell your sister that you need some time away – nothing more,” she instructed the woman. “Stay there for three full days. When you get back, the mill will be as good as new, and your troubles will be over. You can go back to full production.” The corner of her mouth tucked up in a smile. “You might even finally accept the suits of that nice young man. Aiden was his name, I think?”

  Sarah blushed crimson, looking down at her hands. “For so long I have been living this nightmare,” she murmured. “To think that it might at last be over …”

  Hugh settled the bit into the horse’s mouth, then turned to them. “All ready.”

  Sarah climbed up onto the steed and looked down at the two. “I will never forget this.”

  Joan gave a wry smile. “You need to forget it all,” she reminded the woman. “We were never here. Nothing happened tonight. You decided to visit your sister, and off you went.”

  Sarah’s eyes shone with emotion, but she nodded. She gave her horse a nudge, and in a moment they were heading east down the path. A few more strides, and she had vanished from sight.