by Sherry Ewing
She was prepared for the worst, but instead began to pray for a miracle.
Chapter 17
Riorden urged his horse forward to leap over the low shrubbery. They landed into what could only be termed as mayhem. His stallion reared and pawed its front hooves wildly in the air. Quickly pulling his sword free from its scabbard, he made fast work of the menacing fool who came towards him. He gave no further thought to his adversary, who fell dead beneath his horse’s hooves. He took quick note of the scene and the location of the women. One was missing and two were in the process of being dragged, most unwillingly, from the area. When he espied Katherine, he glared daggers at the buffoon who dared touch her thusly. Her eyes were tear filled as she caught his eye from across the flames of the fire, and he saw her wordlessly speak his name.
’Twas enough. Riorden’s battle cry rang out, and the sound echoed harshly into the night. His comrades-in-arms began to fill the area, and the ruffians began to scatter, now that well-armed and mounted knights took the advantage of those on foot.
“Follow them!” Riorden ordered, and Danior, Gavin, and Aiden took flight through the trees. He jumped down from his horse, as Patrick grabbed the reins, and approached the man who had been assaulting Katherine. He watched as the man adjusted his hose. This only infuriated Riorden, all the more. But he was brought up sharply when a knife was skillfully lifted to Katherine’s throat.
“Move, or I’ll do ’er in.” The man threatened, urging Riorden to distance himself.
“You will release the lady,” Riorden ordered through clenched teeth.
The man laughed and only tightened his grip on Katherine, taunting Riorden, as if he was denying him a tasty treat. Riorden took a menacing step forward.
“Did you think I but jested?” the captor jeered.
Checking his advance and holding his stance, Riorden sheathed his sword when he saw the ne'er-do-well dig his dagger into the fair skin at Katherine’s neck. A small trickle of blood appeared whilst Riorden clenched his fists. Not trusting himself to lessen the distance between them, he placed his hands behind his back and fingered the hilt of his own dirk, hidden beneath the folds of his garment. He stood silently, waiting for his opportunity to strike. He did not have to wait long.
A cocky grin appeared on the man’s face as he lowered his hand holding the knife at Katherine’s neck and made short work of fondling her breast. He gave it a hard squeeze, and a cry of pain wrenched from her lips.
“I always did like me more’n a ’andful.” He laughed arrogantly.
They were his last words. At lightning speed, Riorden flicked his dirk to land squarely in the ruffian’s forehead with a sickening smack. His eyes rolled back into his head. Riorden made a grab for Katherine before she too was yanked down to the ground. The man fell, landing in a heap at her feet. Her knees buckled as Riorden caught her. He pulled her close, his heart beating rapidly within his chest.
She squeezed her eyes shut, wrapped her arms around him in a death grip, and began shaking to her core. “Oh God, Riorden,” she whispered numbly.
“’Tis all right, Katherine. I have you now,” he whispered as he, too, felt himself trembling from having to watch the possibility of her life pass afore him.
Opening her eyes, she peeked around his head to stare at the man with a dagger protruding from his forehead. She made a strange sound of distress that he had never heard from a woman afore. “Is he dead?”
“I should think so, my lady.”
“I think…I’m going to be sick.”
“’Tis something one gets used to when one goes to war.”
“Are we at war?” she questioned with a frightened look in her eyes.
“We are always at war with someone, Katherine. ’Tis dangerous times we live in.”
She stood quickly and searched the glen. “My friends! You’ve got to find them, Riorden.”
Before he could answer, two men jumped from the bushes and began to engage Patrick, who swung his blade to defend himself.
“My lord!” he yelled, obviously feeling he was in need of assistance.
Quickly pulling Katherine to a nearby tree, he cupped his hands in order for her to lift herself up to one of the lower branches.
“But I’m afraid of heights,” she said fearfully.
“Do as I command, woman!”
As she placed her foot into his hands, Riorden deftly lifted her with ease until Katherine had her arms wrapped securely around the tree trunk, instead of his neck. He pulled his dagger free and again flicked it with amazing accuracy. It, too, hit its mark and one of the men fell dead.
He watched as Patrick stumbled on a low lying root. Thinking his prey was at a disadvantage, the assailant leaned forward to deliver the kill. Instead, he found Patrick’s sword brought up at the last minute and the predator was all but skewered on the boy’s blade. Afore he could fall on the youth, Riorden leapt to Patrick’s aid and gave the dying man a swift kick, sending him sprawling to the ground. He heard Patrick gasp for air.
“You did well, Patrick,” Riorden praised the boy as he helped him rise from the dirt. “Dristan would be most pleased with your display of sword work this night.”
“Do you really think so, my lord?” Patrick said, as if the stars from heaven had come down to shine upon him.
“Aye! But you must still do me a favor and guard my lady whilst I go aid her friends,” Riorden declared. “Do you think yourself up to the task?”
“But of course, my liege,” Patrick puffed himself up that he should be given such an honor.
“Good lad.” Riorden came to stare up into the tree limbs at his frightened lady. She appeared as though nothing would make her loosen her hold. “I shall return, Katherine. Patrick here will stand guard over you.”
He watched her shake her head as if she dared not speak. But then, she surprised him with a request. “Before you leave, will you give me that iron skillet lying there on the ground?”
He handed it up to her, but how she maintained her position whilst holding the heavy iron was beyond his ken. She was like a frightened cat stuck up in a tree. If he had the time, he would have jested with her.
Riorden left his horse and set off on foot, running at a pace born from years of training. One did not get into the condition he was in by idly sitting afore a fire, eating and drinking one’s fill day after day. He was used to his daily regime of training, and it felt good to feel as if he was of use again.
He had not gone far, when he heard strange laughter emanating close by. It sounded most odd, given the circumstances the women found themselves in. He came upon Danior, and he found his friend had his hands full with the woman called Juliana. She had been tossed face down across Danior’s lap and saddle. Riorden watched in amusement as Danior landed a hearty slap upon her bottom. It had the desired effect Danior must have been looking for, since the woman at last quieted. Riorden raised his brow in question at such an action.
Danior only shrugged. “I could not get her to stop her uncontrollable laughter, and it seemed the only answer,” he said with a satisfying smirk to Riorden’s unasked question.
Another giggle erupted, along with a hiccup, from Juliana. “I couldn’t help it,” she gasped out between her mirth,” that jerk broke my heel.” She gave a little ladylike snort that turned back into laughter as she began mumbling about her shoes, which she waved in the air. Whatever further response she was attempting to make was lost to Riorden, when Danior headed in the direction of Katherine’s camp with his burden, who suddenly found her voice and began to curse most profusely.
Riorden stopped to listen to the sounds of the forest and to determine the direction he should now take. He saw two men on the ground and ’twas obvious Danior had dispatched them to a warmer clime. He saw another, barely visible underneath some brush, whose hand moved. Riorden proceeded cautiously. He pulled at the man’s arm, but saw he barely lived. He should have been surprised by the colors the man wore to distinguish himself, but in truth he was
not. Seeing his wound, Riorden knew there was not much he could do for the man. He began to rise, only to have his ankle taken in a surprisingly firm grip. He squatted down to hear the Irishman’s dying words.
“Must save Lady Emily. I swore to protect her,” he managed to say before his last breath left him.
Interesting information, to be pondered on later, Riorden noted. Once again, he did not progress very far when he came upon his brother and young Brianna. He watched in mild fascination as the youthful girl let out an ear splitting sound, much like her own attempt at a womanly battle cry. He had never heard the like. Her voice rang out with determination.
Yet, this is not what immobilized Riorden as he came to a skidding halt. His mouth hung open as he watched this tiny woman deftly twist his brother’s arm until he somersaulted onto his back. Gavin must have been just as bemused as Riorden himself was, viewing her moves. He continued to scrutinize her in shocked bewilderment ’til Brianna smartly again twisted Gavin’s arm, causing his brother to now lay face down eating dirt, to put it mildly. Everything happened so fast, he would not have believed it, if he had not seen it for himself.
Riorden called her name, but she continued to hold Gavin’s arm with her knee positioned most firmly in his back. Riorden smiled at the vision of this tiny warrior. He laughed, thinking Gavin had at last met his match.
“’Tis my brother Gavin you have firmly pinned, Lady Brianna, and given the opportunity, I am sure he will explain he was only trying to help,” he exclaimed.
“Oh dear,” she said, clearly embarrassed. She took her foot off his back. Stretching out her hand, she politely stood, offering to assist Gavin from the ground. He, in turn, looked aghast that a woman would propose such aid, as if he needed it, or to think he would actually accept such a service.
Riorden gave his brother a satisfying smirk as Gavin rose of his own accord. Gavin glared at him, wiping at the open cut bleeding from his chin. Riorden watched in amusement as the now contrite Brianna began to coo at Gavin, like a little mother hen, as she tried to stem the bleeding.
“I cannot believe it,” Riorden chuckled, “bested by a woman.”
“Shut up, Riorden,” Gavin shouted as he began to lead Brianna back to the camp.
Three down, one to go, Riorden thought, and if he were to have his guess, Lady Emily would be the toughest one of them all. He was not far off the mark, for he began to hear shouting up ahead. He quickened his pace and drew his sword in front of him ’til he once again came to a standstill, watching a most baffling scene unfold afore him.
There, afore his eyes, stood Lady Emily. Her tunic was torn. She held the fabric together with one hand whilst she prodded, for lack of a better term, a stick at Aiden, who tried to take it from her. ’Twas not too often that Aiden stood almost eye to eye with someone, especially a female. Yet, there she stood, holding her ground with one of the best knights he had ever known.
“I told you, buster, to keep your hands off me or you’ll regret it!” she shouted and poked him again in his midsection.
“Stop that!” Aiden commanded. His words held no worth, for she smacked him again, this time on his upper arm.
“I won’t, unless you leave me be. I appreciate your help with those two idiots over there, but I don’t know you. I’m certainly not about to go anywhere with you, mister!”
Aiden held up his hands, as if to surrender. “Has anyone ever said you talk too much?” He made a grab for her and was rewarded with a stinging smack of her stick. “Give me that, wench!”
“Ha! Wench, am I? A few minutes ago you were thinking me more than some low bred wench, I’m thinking,” she yelled, and brought down her stick upon his head.
Aiden had had enough and grabbed her. Twisting her around, he at last was able to remove her weapon from her grasp and throw it off into the woods. “There! Will you now listen to reason, lass?” he said soothingly.
She brought her foot down upon his, but it made little impact with the boots he wore. She swore, hopping up and down, holding her sore foot. “Now see what you made me do? I’ll be limping for days,” she screeched.
“Aiden!” Riorden called. “If you are done aggravating the Lady Emily, perhaps you can make your way back to camp. He means you no harm, my lady.”
She quieted and pushed her way from Aiden’s arms. “Nice to see you again, Lord de Deveraux,” she purred smoothly, throwing a scathing look in Aiden’s direction. “I just knew you’d find us sooner or later.”
Riorden gave a slight bow and watched Aiden leap into his saddle.
“Come ride with me, Lady Emily,” Aiden offered gallantly. He held out his hand for her to take, which was refused.
“No thanks. I’d rather walk,” she fumed, and marched off in the direction of camp.
Riorden watched her go and looked up at Aiden, who had a look of admiration on his features.
“What a woman,” he said, smiling, and sent his horse off into a gallop.
Riorden began his trek back through the forest and ran at a brisk pace. He could only imagine what awaited him when he returned back to camp. He gave a hearty laugh and quickened his pace. He would hate to miss anything that would surely prove entertaining if not baffle the mind.
Chapter 18
Come on, you pansy. You’re almost there,” Emily called up to Katherine, who began to shimmy down the trunk of the tree, scraping her hands in the process.
“I hate you, Emily,” Katherine fumed in righteous indignation.
“No you don’t,” Emily laughed knowingly. She turned to Patrick, who held out his hand for Katherine to take. “How in the world did he manage to get her up in a tree?”
The boy just shrugged. “He just told her to do as he bid, and up she went.”
“I’m impressed,” Emily declared.
“I do not understand what is so impressive about his orders,” Patrick said in confusion. “If she is to be his lady, then ’tis her duty to obey the commands of her liege lord. Everyone knows this. Surely, where you come from, wives must needs obey their husbands. ’Tis the way of things.”
Katherine at last stood on solid ground and turned to look at the young man before her. Since she was short, she wasn’t surprised the boy was taller than she, most people were. Still, she needed to set the record straight that she had a mind of her own and she would use it.
“Do you have a sister, Patrick?” She smiled brightly when his face betrayed his answer.
“Aye, three of them.”
“And they all do as they are commanded by their lord without question?”
Patrick sighed. “If you knew my sister Amiria, and even Lynet, you would not ask that of me and would know they do not. But ’tis an unusual circumstance, and not the normal custom.”
Katherine’s smile broadened, and she gave Patrick a slight hug. He was startled by the open display of affection. “I am not the norm either, my young friend. My lady friends and I are used to being independent and doing things on our own.”
Patrick only crossed his arms in front of his chest and smirked with an inner knowledge he knew for certain. “That was afore you met Lord de Deveraux. Be prepared for change, milady.”
She laughed out loud. “I will concede the point for the time being.” She turned to Emily. “And you stop calling me a pansy! I would think you could come up with a different name that would be more pleasing to my ears.”
Emily shrugged. “It fits,” she proclaimed and went to sit next to Aiden on a log by the fire.
Katherine saw Emily pick up the stick she had used earlier and begin poking it in the fire. Aiden leaned over to whisper something in Emily’s ear and received a shove that sent him soaring over the tree trunk with his feet flying up in the air. It was an amusing sight. Everyone laughed, despite Aiden’s look of indignant anger thrown in their direction, once he regained his footing. He sat back down with a look that appeared as if he would behave. Emily, with good reason, kept her guard up.
Juliana stood next to Danior and b
oth of them seemed completely tongue tied...a first for Juliana, at least to Katherine’s recollection. To be honest, Danior appeared flustered, and she swore she heard Jewels break into a nervous giggle or two. Seeing the conversation didn’t appear to be something to laugh about, Katherine assumed her friend was ill at ease.
That, of course, left Brianna. Katherine could only shake her head at her young friend, given she had Gavin’s head lying comfortably in her lap. She told him to lie still as she applied a butterfly bandage to his chin. A chin she swore was damaged due to her own reckless nature while trying to defend herself. Katherine thought it strange that, just days before, Brie could barely stand the sight of blood when Katherine’s own fingers were bleeding all over the place. Yet, for some peculiar reason, it didn’t seem to now matter while she helped Gavin. She gave a muffled laugh, for what man wouldn’t mind being the center of attention and being fussed over by a beautiful, young woman.
Where is he? Katherine searched the edges of the forest, pondering his absence. She peered into the darkness beyond the fire, yet saw nothing but dancing shadows cast in the tree limbs above their heads. She held her breath while she waited for Riorden’s return. He couldn’t have gone that far, could he?
A rustling of the bushes caught the attention of the group, and immediately, each man grabbed a woman, placing her in protection behind him, then each drew their swords. Even Patrick stood to protect Katherine, and she had the notion he would die on her behalf...a humbling thought, if there ever was one. She tried to peer around Patrick’s shoulder to see if it was friend or foe and earned herself a warning glare from her young protector. It was a bit too reminiscent of Riorden. Then she heard the sound of the men’s swords returning to the scabbards at their sides, and she was finally allowed to see what the commotion was all about.
Their eyes met, and Katherine again felt the pull of Riorden, as if only the two of them existed in this world. She waited breathlessly until he opened his arms wide. It was all the invitation she needed as she ran, closing the distance between them. She hurled herself into his arms and felt him embrace her, as if he never intended to let her go. She hugged him tighter and heard a small grunt from him, causing her to wonder where he was hurt. If he was like the men of the twenty-first century, he would only ask for medical attention if he was on his death bed. Thankfully, that didn’t appear to be the case.
