by John Booth
When they reached the middle of the river, Jalia slipped and vanished underwater, dragged downstream by the current. She still had hold of the horses’ reins and the animals were pulled with her into the deeper part of the ford.
Jalia managed to get to her feet with a supreme effort. The water came up to her shoulders as her feet touched the ground. She caught a glimpse of Daniel starting to wade out into the water. He would be far too late.
“Come on boy!” Hala shouted at her horse and dug her heels into the horse’s side the way her father taught her. Blaze, frightened by the water, reared, pulling Jalia most of the way out of the water. That reduced the drag on the horses and they started walking upstream toward the bank, with Hala screaming at Blaze and kicking her heels deep into his side to urge him to greater effort.
Jalia put a hand on Hala leg
“It’s all right, Hala. You saved us,” Jalia gasped as she was pulled along by the horses. A few seconds later, Daniel grabbed Blaze’s head and calmed the frantic animal down.
When they reached the bank, Daniel picked up Jalia and carried her onto dry ground.
“If you two have finished wasting our time, we can get on,” Hadon said irritably. He leant with his back against a tree, its trunk only just as wide as Hadon’s body. “We do have a boat to catch, you know.”
He would have said more, but the crossbow bolt buried itself into the tree above his head drove the words from his mind.
There was nowhere to hide. Stone blocks had never fallen on this side and The arche’s smooth stone wall did nothing, except block any possible escape.
“Stand still and drop your weapons,” a commanding female voice shouted. “I won’t tell you again,” she continued when nobody moved.
Cara Marin watched the trading party cross the river with increasing impatience. Her two younger brothers, Mic and Don kept changing position on the ridge, despite her orders to the contrary. She worried that someone below would spot them, given how long the river crossing was taking.
Cara looked at Mic with quiet exasperation. Mic was two years younger than her, being twenty one years old, and he was a bull of a man, heavy set and laden with muscles from the work he did on the farm. Mother had once whispered that Mic was stronger than a bull, just not quite so clever.
From Cara’s point of view, Mic’s strength was hardly an asset. He just didn’t seem to understand that standing behind a bush did not make him invisible, especially when he was a good foot taller than the bush in question.
Don was less of a problem. He had finally settled down and lay patiently behind a small boulder that he propped one of his crossbows on. The other two bows were cocked and ready to fire, in easy reach on his right side.
Cara’s skills were with sword, knife and brain, while Don’s were with any kind of bow. His hunting bow waited by his left side and he could be just as lethal with that when he needed to be. Don was a tall, wiry young man, and at nineteen years old, had been all too eager to come on this adventure to find and bring back their youngest brother, Bril.
Cara knew Gef and Tom Fasser all too well. Gef had been the first man to bed her when she was fourteen and he the ripe old age of fifteen. The bad boy of the village, she had been attracted to him since childhood, mistaking posturing and bullying for heroism. Cara leaned better when he took her on a robbery a year later and slit a man’s throat for the fun of it. Cara shuddered at the thought of her baby brother being associated with the man.
She knew Gef and Tom well enough to be certain that they would have attacked this party on the far side of the river, sure as eggs were eggs. Cara needed to know what had happened. She decided that the simplest way to find out was to capture these people and ask them from a position of strength. Traders lied when you simply talked to them Cara reminded herself, it was their way.
From her vantage point high on the ridge, she watched Daniel and Grilt struggle across the river with the first couple of bags. She mistook Grilt for the leader of the party as he was clearly competent and was the older of the two men. When more of the men started to cross the river, she realized her mistake.
Cara had never seen so many old men in her life. Traders often traveled in family groups, but a group of men of their age was unprecedented. She noted how heavy the bags were, despite their relative lack of bulk. She soon spotted the true leader of the party, a fat man with grey hair. It wasn’t a difficult task, given how often he shouted at the other men.
Daniel, in particular, caught her attention. Six feet tall, brown eyes, longish black hair, and handsome with a face that was always smiling or on the point of a smile, she felt her pulse quicken as she watched him work. Cara saw muscles ripple as he slung bags onto an ever growing pile and wondered what it would be like to lay with him. She shook her head to clear it of such thoughts and concentrate on the task at hand.
It was no surprise when Daniel was the one who led the donkeys across the river. He was the most capable man there and had the look of a leader. Cara noted the sword on his back and knew this was a man who fought to keep what he owned, well so did she. She would fight to the death for her family.
When Jalia led the horses across with Hala riding on Blaze, Cara frowned. She recognized competition when she saw it. Cara knew she was an attractive woman, her raven black hair, ample bosoms and pretty, if somewhat determined face, had led her into many amorous encounters, but Jalia was more than that.
Cara felt a twinge of envy at Jalia’s lithe form, legs that seemed to go on forever, hair that shone in the sunlight and skin as smooth and pale as cream. If she could have made out Jalia’s deep blue eyes at that distance, she would have certainly cursed.
The horses looked to be the most valuable assets in the traders’ party and they were entrusting their crossing to the girl. That told Cara several things about Jalia that made her begin to feel uneasy. She would be the one to watch when they launched their attack.
Cara gasped when Jalia slipped in the river. She knew the risk of using the ford, having crossed it several times herself and having heard many stories about those who slipped. Cara saw Daniel was in the water heading to the rescue the instant it happened. She knew he would be far too late. The river was too fast and strong, it would drag the girl to a horrible death.
When Jalia surfaced still holding the reins, Cara knew she still had a chance. It was Hala’s actions that surprised her. The girl had looked terrified earlier, but when things became desperate, she found her courage.
Cara wanted to applaud as Jalia was pulled to safety and Daniel took charge of the panicking horses. However, it would have been better for her plan if Jalia had drowned. Cara decided that she better act while the party was still confused and before Jalia recovered from her ordeal.
She gave Don the sign he had been waiting for and he fired his crossbow bolt with consummate skill, the bolt embedding itself in the tree above the leader of the party’s head.
Cara shouted orders at the traders below, and then repeated them when the stunned men below did not act fast enough for her liking.
Daniel knelt beside Jalia when the crossbow bolt hit the tree. He dropped flat and face down, shielding Jalia’s body with his own. Jalia placed her chin on his shoulders and peered around her as Cara shouted her commands.
“Options?” Daniel asked. If he was the strategic thinker of the partnership, Jalia was the tactical. Her ability to assess situations was phenomenal.
“Do you remember a time when we used to go weeks and months without having one of these little crises?” Jalia asked, a little wearily.
“I certainly do,” Daniel replied. “Things have been more than a little hectic recently, haven’t they?”
“There are a least three of them, but I can’t be sure of more,” Jalia said, returning to the matter at hand. “The man with the crossbow is well hidden and can’t be seen, but I could kill him with two bolts if he hasn’t moved since he fired that shot. There is an enormous man to the left of that large elm. He is possibly th
e worst woodsman I have ever seen. He might as well be holding a big sign with his name on, for the ability he shows to hide. Then there is their leader, the woman shouting the commands.”
Around them, the traders were raising their hands in surrender. Grilt looked to Daniel for instructions on what to do and Daniel indicated that he should surrender.
“If not for Hala, we should make a break for the horses and hope our attackers are unwilling to shoot them. We could lean over the saddles towards the wall of the bridge and ride for cover. However, under the circumstances we can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“Look at Hala, Daniel. She’s still in shock and is about to fall from her saddle. If we run, she will follow, if only because Blaze will run after the other horses. She’d be an easy target and they’d probably kill her to get the horse.”
“My instincts are that there aren’t that many of them.” Daniel said thoughtfully. “Otherwise they would have killed us all. There’s no escape to speak of from here.”
“I agree,” Jalia said emphatically. “Get up so they can’t see me while I move into position behind you.”
“Knife?”
“Knife.”
Daniel got up slowly, keeping his hands away from his sword and his body between the enemy and Jalia. Jalia slid her boot throwing knife into her left sleeve. The sleeve had a pocket designed to keep the knife in place with the hilt just covered.
The traders stood in surrender, with their arms raised up.
A large black horse with a white lightning mark on its forehead trotted from the trees at the top of the ridge. A tall woman wearing all black except for a silver breastplate, rode towards them. She rode to where Hadon stood by the tree and their eyes met.
“We can pay you money…” Hadon started, but she ignored him and turned her horse towards Daniel and Jalia, who stood a few feet apart from each other. Her horse danced from side to side skittishly as she moved closer.
“What’s your name, pretty boy?” Cara asked Daniel, a smirk on her face.
Cara’s breastplate had the effect of raising and emphasizing her ample bosoms. They had Daniel a little mesmerized as they shifted from side to side. Before he could speak, Jalia intervened.
“His name is Daniel. What are yours called?”
Cara looked down at Jalia almost pityingly, “My name is Cara and these are called breasts, dear. You might grow a pair someday.”
Cara had relaxed and totally unprepared for what happened next. Jalia sprang forward and jumped onto her, knocking her out of the saddle and dragging her crashing to the ground. Daniel grabbed the reins of Cara’s horse and positioned it between him and the people on the ridge. He moved back towards Hala and scooped her out of her saddle to stand beside him.
Cara was a good fighter, but she never got the chance. Jalia had the blade of her knife against Cara’s throat as soon as they hit the ground. Cara stopped moving as she felt its razor sharp edge cut into her skin.
“Quickly, stand in front of me,” Jalia ordered, and in the space of five seconds Cara was standing, or rather stooping in front of Jalia, Cara’s body providing a shield against the bowman on the ridge. Cara was the same height as Daniel and had to stoop or risk Jalia cutting her throat by accident.
Up on the ridge, things happened too fast for Don and Mic. Don tried to get a clear shot at Jalia, but from the moment that Jalia struck, she and Cara were too close to separate. Then Cara was in front of the smaller woman and there was no shot at all.
Mic whined in frustration as if he was a dog. He began to run down the hill, despite Don ordering him to stop. Don sighed in frustration and settled down with his crossbow. He took careful aim at the traders again. Don knew he might have to kill to save his brother or his sister. This had seemed such a simple plan when Cara first explained it.
“Calm down, girl,” Cara said as calmly as she could, trying to calm the situation. There was a constant pain in her neck from shallow cuts. She felt the tension in Jalia and knew her life hung by a thread.
“My name is Jalia al’Dare,” Jalia replied furiously, still hurting from the comment Cara had made about her breasts. It was about the only thing that anyone could say that got under her skin.
“We only wanted to ask you some questions about our brother.”
“So you start by shooting at us?”
“Traders aren’t the most honest people. I wanted the truth,” Cara continued. Every time Cara tried to move in a way that might give her a chance to escape, Jalia’s blade cut into her. Warm, sticky blood slid down her neck and over her breasts. Cara had never felt so close to death.
“We don’t know your brother. There are only those here and those we buried yesterday.”
Mic had made it down to the bottom of the slope and lumbered towards his sister, causing the traders to step out of his way.
“Cara, what do I do?” Mic asked as he stopped a few feet from her. Cara ignored him and continued her conversation with Jalia.
“He would have been one of the men who attacked you. He was barely a man, tall and thin with short fair hair. His name is Bril,” Cara said as quickly as she could manage.
“I killed him yesterday,” Jalia stated without a trace of emotion. “He more than deserved it.”
Mic screamed in despair at Jalia’s words and stepped towards them. Cara felt the knife bite deeper into her throat.
Mic knew he should have stayed up on the ridge from the moment he reached the traders and found himself only a few feet from his beloved sister. Blood ran down Cara’s neck. If looks could kill, the one she was giving him would have left him stone cold dead.
The girl standing behind Cara with the knife held against Cara’s throat had eyes so cold that he knew she would kill Cara without a second thought or a moment’s regret.
“Cara, what do I do?” Mic asked desperately. He wanted to stamp his feet with frustration at seeing her held with a knife at her throat. He knew then that he never should have insisted on coming on this trip. He was suited to building barns and herding cows, not fighting battles and rescuing people. If only Bril had had the common sense to stay home, none of this would have happened.
Daniel had been watching events develop by peering over the flank of Cara’s horse. He considered the risk of being hit by a crossbow bolt slight, as he presented little in the way of a target. Seeing Mic approach Daniel felt it was time for him to act. He pried Hala from around his side with difficulty. The girl clung tightly to him, as though her life depended on it.
It was the work of a few seconds to remove his scabbard with his sword still in it and drop them lightly to the ground. Daniel passed the horse’s reins to Hala, giving her a quick hug and then he edged past the horse to where Jalia stood.
Cara decided that if only she could find out where Bril was, they could make their peace with these traders and the demon girl holding her. She described Bril to Jalia as quickly and accurately as she could.
“I killed him yesterday,” Jalia stated without a trace of emotion. “He more than deserved it.”
Jalia’s cold and callous statement was too much for Mic. He screamed in despair and lurched towards them.
Daniel stepped from behind Jalia and met Mic head on, pushing him away from the women. Mic saw someone he could hit and all his frustrations vented as he struck at Daniel.
Daniel felt as though someone had hit him with a tree trunk. He staggered back, his hand rubbing an aching jaw. Mic screamed and rushed him.
When facing someone stronger and heavier, there are two options, to use your skills to avoid the enemy landing a blow, or to hug them close so their blows have little power. Daniel chose the second course of action and wrapped his arms around Mic in a bear hug. It was a mistake, as Mic responded and Daniel felt the wind being squeezed from his lungs.
“Mic will kill your man,” Cara said in a worried voice. “He’s too upset to know what he is doing and he’s much stronger than your man.”
Jalia pulled out her
second knife and pressed its point again Cara’s back. When she was sure that Cara understood it was going to be just as easy to kill with that knife as the other, she withdrew the knife from around Cara’s throat. Cara’s hands flew to her throat to try to ease the pain.
“Daniel could kill him easily, even in an unarmed fight. He is distracting him to try and save his life.”
Whatever Daniel could or couldn’t do, at that moment he felt he had made a fatal mistake. Red blotches clouded his vision as Mic continued to squeeze him. If Mic had not yet cracked one of his ribs, he would soon. Daniel inally managed to get his arms free of Mic’s hug. He boxed Mic’s ears as hard as he could.
Mic screamed, this time in agony as his eardrums were subjected to immense pressure. He dropped Daniel and put his hands to his ears to try to stop the pain. Daniel clasped his hands together and swung them as hard as he could into Mic’s midriff. Mic doubled over as the air was knocked from his lungs. Daniel landed another double-handed blow to Mic’s shoulders sending him crashing to the ground.
“Stay down, Mic,” Cara shouted as Mic tried to get to his feet. Cara’s words had the desired effect as Mic moaned and dropped wearily. All the fight had been knocked out of him and what he wanted most was to go home.
Up on the ridge, Don Marin had been fighting indecision. He saw Mic lurch forward towards his sister though he couldn’t hear the words that triggered his brother’s insane response. He had no target to shoot at except his brother. He knew that if Jalia killed Cara in the next few seconds, she could still use the body as a shield against his bolts.
Then Daniel stepped in front of them and attacked Mic. Daniel was an easy target and Don lined up his crossbow. That was when Don saw that Daniel had removed his sword and was unarmed. Don’s first thought was that insanity must be catching. He knew how strong Mic was, and though Daniel was a big man, he wouldn’t stand a chance against his brother.
