Daring Damsels

by Domning, Denise

  It took all his concentration to match her move and block it. “It’s time, Bria. You should have been married long ago,” he said.

  She was quick, much quicker than he was. And she was smart, despite her emotions warring to take control. He could see her mind working as she lunged. But experience won out, and he was still able to thwart her strike. He caught her sword with his and twisted his wrist. He had disarmed her more than once with that move. It worked again tonight. Her sword went sailing through the air.

  Disappointment surged within him. Even though she was getting better and better each night they sparred, he was still disappointed in her lack of self-control. Yet, it was only a matter of time before she disarmed him. Then he’d have nothing further to teach her. That would be the biggest disappointment of all.

  Bria cursed quietly and stomped after her sword. Before she could reach it, Harry put the tip of his sword to her neck. “Yield,” he ordered.

  Again, she mumbled a curse. “I yield,” she added grudgingly, and moved to proceed past him.

  He kept the sword to her neck. “Why were you disarmed?”

  Her jaw worked as she clenched her teeth. “I was overanxious. I thought I had you that time. Just like all those other times.” She shoved the sword from her neck and marched past him to her weapon, yanking it from the ground. She swung it through the air, hacking the breeze assaulting her. “I’ll never get it.”

  “You’ll get it,” he said, kindly. “You just have to learn patience. You want to win, but you’re not willing to wait for an opening.”

  “You make your own openings,” she countered.

  “When you’re good enough,” he agreed, approaching her, “and when you realize you’ll never be stronger than a man. You have to wait for an opening. You can’t fight aggressively. You have to fight defensively. Always.”

  Bria rolled her large blue eyes. “I know, I know.”

  “But you don’t know, or you wouldn’t be disarmed.”

  She handed her sword to him. He took the handle of the weapon. “Don’t stay out too long. Your father is suspicious enough.”

  “I know,” she murmured. She walked toward the thick forest just beyond the clearing where two horses were tethered to a tree.

  Harry shook his head in admiration. She was already better than most men he knew, but he dared not tell her that.

  Suddenly, she paused and turned to look at him. Her long, dark brown hair cascaded over her shoulder as she stared at him. “Thank you, Grandfather.”

  Harry smiled and nodded. “It’s my pleasure.” She was his joy, his treasure. She was the only spark in his otherwise tedious life at the castle. He would grant her the moon, but teaching her to sword fight was a hell of a lot easier.

  One of these times, he knew he’d have to stop her from riding out to her secret meetings with her friend Mary. The world was becoming much too dangerous a place for her to be out late at night on her own.

  Bria rode through the night, knowing the way to the pond in the east woods by heart. She knew where the land dipped, where it rose, where she had to duck to avoid the stinging slap of tree branches. So did her horse. They’d ridden this route together since she was ten, since her grandfather had begun teaching her to use a sword.

  She tried not to let her frustration consume her thoughts. She should have had him! She thought she did have him! Only one wrong move. Damn. That’s all it would take in a real battle to cost her life, all it would take for someone to kill her. One mistake.

  Bria spurred the horse faster. The animal raced on, the night speeding by. The huge rock at the edge of the Hagen farm marked the spot where she crossed over into Knowles’ lands, but she didn’t slow her pace. She turned right as she passed the massive stone, heading toward the pond where Mary would be waiting.

  As she topped a slight rise, the pond appeared, glistening in the moonlight. Bria slowed her horse and steered the animal toward the forked tree, actually two trees twined about each other so tightly as to become one.

  Bria dismounted, throwing the reins around a tree branch. She walked through the waist-high grass, staring at the dark pond. Long ago, soon after her grandfather had started teaching her swordplay, she and Mary had begun meeting at the pond. It was their secret place, a sanctuary where they could hide and tell each other their deepest desires. On some warm summer nights, when the moon was high and bright, Bria and Mary had gone swimming in those waters. She felt safe and comfortable here. They both did.

  At the crunch of grass, Bria looked to her right. Mary bounded toward her, her dark hair alive with the moonlight’s sheen.

  As Mary drew closer, her eyes scanned Bria’s disgruntled face for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Bria,” Mary whispered. “You’ll beat your grandfather yet.”

  “I know. It’s just so unfair,” Bria murmured. It was uncanny how sometimes each knew what the other was thinking or feeling.

  “Unfair, is it? Your grandfather is so much older than you! It should take you years to surpass his expertise, if ever.”

  “Thanks a lot!”

  Mary shrugged her shoulders. “You know what I mean. How would he feel if you beat him the first time you crossed swords?”

  “But it’s been hundreds of times!” Bria said with exasperation. “Hundreds of times, and I have yet to best him once!” Bria kicked at a fallen branch.

  “It’ll take time, but I know you can beat him,” Mary assured her friend.

  “Garret said he has a move guaranteed to disarm him,” Bria said quietly.

  “Really?”

  Bria nodded her head. “He’s going to show it to me.”

  “Isn’t that cheating?”

  Bria quirked an eyebrow. “Not if I win.”

  Mary’s brown eyes widened in disbelief. Then she smiled and draped an arm across her friend’s shoulders. Together they walked slowly through the grass. “Do you think your future husband will let you sword fight?”

  Bria grunted. “Not likely,” she murmured.

  “What if it’s Garret?”

  “Mary!”

  “You’re so lucky!” Mary’s enthusiasm bubbled over. “He’s handsome and kind –”

  “Mary, I can’t marry Garret. It would be like marrying my brother!”

  “But he’d let you sword fight.”

  “And we’d have to move very far from you.”

  Mary sighed, her excitement leaving her in a huff of exasperation. “No matter who you marry, you’ll move away.”

  “So I won’t marry.” Bria shrugged Mary’s arm from her shoulders and raced off through the clearing.

  Mary followed her through the tall stalks of grass. “You have to marry! You’re a lady! That’s your place -- to produce heirs.”

  “What if my place isn’t to produce heirs? What if my place is... to battle against tyranny?”

  Mary giggled.

  Bria stopped, striking a statuesque pose with her hands on her hips. “I am the Midnight Shadow!” she proclaimed in a deep voice.

  “You sound like a woman.”

  “How’s this?” Bria lowered her voice to a husky whisper. “I am the Midnight Shadow.”

  “That’s pretty good,” Mary admitted, amazed and surprised. “I think you’ve been practicing.”

  Bria smiled. Sometimes alone at night, she did. “Tyranny will not be tolerated!” she whispered. “All people will be treated fairly.”

  Mary grunted, the humor leaving her. “Then you’d have to battle Lord Knowles.”

  Bria broke her pose. “Now what has he done?”

  “He increased our taxes again.”

  “Not so!” Bria gasped. That was the second time in a month. Trying to come up with the extra food to pay the collectors had been hard enough, but now it would be next to impossible for Mary’s family to have a decent living.

  “Mother and Father work so hard. They’re up before dawn and work well into the night. I help as much as I can...” Mary shook her head, her dark locks swaying over her f
ace. “But it’s never enough. Lord Knowles always wants more, more, more.”

  Bria had no words to console her friend. She wished Mary lived on her lands, under her father’s rule.

  “Someone has to do something!”

  Bria was shocked by the conviction in Mary’s voice, the passion.

  “It’s not fair that we should have to work day and night! If Mother or Father get sick, we’ll starve!” Mary sighed. “If only the Midnight Shadow were real. He’d do something about this.”

  Bria remembered a time when she’d wished for the Midnight Shadow, too -- when her father had gone off to war to fight the French and Randolph Kenric threw her into the bramble patch. She put an arm around Mary’s shoulders. “I wish I could do something to help –”

  Suddenly the sound of a man’s laughter rang out through the forest. A second man’s voice spoke quietly.

  Silence settled around them again and the two girls glanced at each other.

  “Let’s go find out who it is,” Bria whispered, feeling brave in the darkness.

  “No,” Mary gasped. “What if it’s robbers?”

  “They won’t see us. Come on, Mary.” Bria tugged her friend toward the voices, pulling her into a group of thick bushes near a small dirt road.

  An elderly woman’s voice drifted over to them from the road. “I don’t understand why you’re bringing me here this late at night.”

  “It’s necessary,” a man replied.

  Bria peered through the leaves. An old gray-haired woman stood near a man in the pale moonlight. She was dressed in a plain brown gown, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. The man had his back to her, so Bria could not see his face. His leggings were black, his tunic pale. But what captured Bria’s attention was the sword strapped to his waist. Bria swung her gaze down the road before them and saw another man not far away -- a soldier, she guessed, by the chainmail he was wearing -- but his tunic had no crest, no allegiance. He held the reins of two horses.

  “Well, what is it you want?” the old woman demanded. “I’m sure it could have waited until morning.”

  “It’s Widow Anderson,” Mary whispered. “The herbalist.”

  Bria nodded.

  “You want me to make you more potions?” Widow Anderson asked. “You still owe me for the first one. A lot of time and skill went into it, believe me. And if it’s not used properly it could have deadly consequences. I took a great chance giving it to you.”

  “Yes, you did. And you’ve kept the secret well, as I instructed. It is with great regret that I must tell you there will be no payment,” the man said.

  Every one of Bria’s senses flared to life. Something was wrong here, very wrong. Beside her, Mary shifted her position. Bria could feel the anger in her friend’s stiff shoulders and clenched fists.

  “No payment?” the woman huffed. “We agreed on ten gold coins.” Her voice quickly changed from one of outrage to one of calm certainty. “I think you’ll pay up.”

  “And I think you’re mistaken.” The man’s hand dropped casually to the hilt of his sword.

  One of the horses the soldier held whinnied and reared, and the man before the old woman turned suddenly, stepping into a beam of moonlight.

  Bria froze as the ghostly light washed across his features. It couldn’t be! She recoiled into the safety of the dark bush, praying he hadn’t seen her. She’d hoped never to see him again.

  “Listen, Kenric, you cheap worm, you’ll pay what you owe.” The old woman drew the man’s gaze to her once again.

  Kenric! Fear coiled around Bria’s body, immobilizing her. Bria reached out for Mary...

  But Mary wasn’t there. Her friend had burst through the cover of the bushes and onto the road.

  “No! Mary!” Bria whispered frantically.

  But Mary moved forward, oblivious to Bria’s warning, stalking toward Kenric and Widow Anderson.

  Bria peered anxiously through the bushes, but remained hidden, unable to stop her pounding heart, unable to suppress the fear encompassing her. It was Kenric, her mind repeated. Kenric.

  As Mary stomped toward the duo, Kenric’s eyes slowly turned and his lips curled into a contemptuous sneer. Fear gripped Bria’s insides. Fear for Mary, fear for the old woman. Fear for herself. Her breathing came hard and fast as frightful images danced before her mind’s eye. Haunting memories of Kenric’s ugly black eyes glinting down at her. Falling into a thorny patch of brambles. Wicked laughter played over and over again in her ears.

  Deep inside, she knew she should do something. She knew she should take a stand beside Mary, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t face Kenric. She could only watch in frozen terror as Mary approached Kenric, her tiny fists clenched at her sides.

  Kenric surveyed the area around them, his gaze flashing past Bria’s hiding spot and moving on. He turned back to Mary.

  “That is quite enough!” Mary proclaimed. “You’ll pay Widow Anderson, or everyone will know you cheated her.” Her threat hung in the air.

  “She’ll get what’s due her,” Kenric finally said.

  Bria didn’t like the sound of his voice.

  Mary seemed well pleased by his verdict. She nodded and smiled with satisfaction. Had Kenric changed after so many years? Was he going to do the right thing? Would he pay Widow Anderson?

  Kenric drew his sword and plunged it into Widow Anderson’s stomach.

  Sheer terror held Bria immobile as Widow Anderson’s mouth went round in a circle of shock.

  Kenric’s black, evil eyes shone in the moonlight. They were the most terrifying eyes Bria had ever seen. He smiled coldly as he pulled his sword from the herbalist’s body. Widow Anderson crumpled to the ground like a scarecrow untied from its pole.

  Bria struggled to regain control of her senses. “Run, Mary, run!” she shouted. A dark, shadowy presence swept over her as Kenric turned in the direction of her voice. She prayed she was hidden well enough in the bushes so he couldn’t see her. He studied the area around her, his dark eyes narrowing as they tried to penetrate the darkness.

  With a cry, Mary raced away into the forest on the opposite side of the road and quickly disappeared into the blackness of the thick trees, swallowed up by the woods. The soldier gave chase.

  Bria shrank back into the cover of the bushes. Kenric still held his bloodied sword, looking in her direction. He took a step toward her.

  He’s coming. He’s going to find me.

  Then another step.

  Bria shot to her feet and whirled, dashing from the bushes, away from Kenric. She sprinted back through the tall grass, across the field, racing back the way she and Mary had come. Her heart pounded in her chest and in her ears. Bria clutched the skirt of her dress, holding it high so she could run as fast as her legs would take her.

  Behind her, Bria heard the crash of someone moving through the brush. Once again she was a child of eight, running from Kenric. She couldn’t let him get to her. Sharp branches tore at her clothing, scratched at her flesh as she ran through the forest. She fought her way through the night, running for her life.

  He’ll kill me, she thought again and again. He’ll kill me this time if he catches me. Just like he killed Widow Anderson.

  Instinct brought her to her horse, which remained tethered to the branch of the tree. She pulled herself up onto the horse’s back and immediately turned the animal toward the safety of her father’s lands. All she needed to do was get to Delaney lands and she would be safe. Kenric was chasing her on foot. And now she was on horseback. She’d make it.

  But the horse whinnied angrily as its head jerked forward.

  The reins were still wrapped around the branch! Bria grabbed hold of the leather straps and pulled frantically, trying to free them, but they became more entangled around the branch. With a howl of fear and frustration, she tore the straps free, yanking the small branch from the tree. She spurred the horse away as a threatening shadow crashed through the wall of bushes beside her.

  The steed reared and Bria alm
ost fell, but she clung tightly to the horse’s mane, keeping herself in the saddle. The horse raced away over the land, knowing the way back to Castle Delaney by heart -- a lucky thing, because Bria’s hands were trembling so badly she couldn’t have steered the animal if she wanted to. She urged her horse on, spurring it hard until she broke free of the forest. They raced over a small hill, galloping at a breakneck pace toward the castle.

  Soon Castle Delaney loomed before her, but Bria didn’t feel relieved. Fear held her in a tight embrace, erasing all other thoughts. She spurred her horse below the portcullis, ignoring the guard’s call. As soon as they reached the inner ward she dismounted, practically throwing herself from the saddle. Her feet hit the ground first. Then she fell forward, landing on her hands and knees. For a long moment, she stayed that way, trembling fiercely, struggling to catch a breath, willing her pounding heart to slow down.

  Kenric will kill me if he finds me.

  He killed Widow Anderson. He murdered her in cold blood!

  Mary! Bria quickly stood and took a step toward her horse, lifting her foot into the stirrups. But then she froze. Kenric would be waiting for her at the edge of the east woods. He’d know she would come back.

  How can I not go back for Mary? He might hurt her. He might kill her!

  Guilt and terror at what she had done, at what she was doing, weighed heavily on her shoulders.

  She’d left Mary alone in the woods.

  Suddenly, Bria bolted into the keep. She raced up a set of spiral stairs and down the hall. Garret would help her, she was sure of it. He’d return to the woods and search for Mary with her. She ran as fast as she could, finally skidding to a halt before his door.

  Bria lifted her hand to knock, but suddenly froze, her hand raised in the air. He’d tried to protect her against Kenric a long time ago, but he hadn’t been strong enough.

  And now Kenric was even more evil.

  What if Garret were hurt, or even killed, because of her?

  Bria lowered her hand. She couldn’t risk his life. She turned and raced down the stairs. She would get Jason of Victors, the captain of the guard, and bring a dozen men with her.