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Miranda scrambled to her feet, knowing from experience that she could not let
Barlow corner her in the stable. Elendra darted out of the sphere of
Barlow s wrath. She already had a natural instinct for avoiding her father s
attention. Miranda could see her daughter crying fearfully. She made a
hopeless image clinging to her baby brother and watching her mother be abused.
The scared children reminded Miranda vividly of her nightmares.
Barlow descended on Miranda, blocking the children from her view. He attacked
with extra special viciousness, and Miranda held her arms over her face. When
he grabbed one of her arms, she clawed his face mercilessly with her free
hand.
Cuts opened on his cheek and Barlow yelled in pain. Shocked by the wound, he
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released her. Miranda fell back on the gate of a stall, startling the animal
inside. Her scratches only made Barlow pause though, and he resumed his
attack. Frantically she managed to unhook the gate and swing it toward him. He
howled when the gate bottom slammed into his shins, but he slammed the gate
back instantly. On the rebound the gate knocked Miranda into the stall.
She landed in the soiled straw and the mare s hooves danced around her.
Satisfied that she was trapped, Barlow opened the gate leisurely.
 Miranda, stop fighting me. You know you always lose. I don t want to put more
bruises on you, he said.
The horse was intolerant of his intrusion. Although tethered, the horse reared
and lashed out with its front feet. A hoof caught Barlow on the forehead. The
blow was so wicked, he did not even make a sound as he toppled backwards.
Content with the victory, the horse calmed itself and snorted loudly.
In the sudden quiet Miranda picked herself up and lay a thankful hand on the
horse s shoulder. Her lucky reprieve from his assault was unbelievable. For a
moment she gaped at Barlow s sprawled form. He did not move, and a purple arc
had sprouted on his forehead.
Tasting the familiar salt, Miranda wiped the blood from her lips. She must not
hesitate now.  Elendra, start packing, she ordered decisively.
The girl stepped into the open. Sniffling noisily, she stared at her father s
unmoving body. That her mother was relatively unhurt pleased
Elendra, but she did not know what to think of her father. Cautiously she
approached him, wondering if he was alive.
 Leave him alone, Miranda snapped.  Do as I say.
Glancing around nervously, Miranda led the horse from the stall. The mare was
a handsome animal, chocolate brown with three white stockings
and a white nose. Miranda had never stolen, but she intended to keep that
horse.
The mare responded to her attention favorably and gave little protest to being
bridled. Miranda knew it was wrong to steal a man s horse and gear, but her
necessity exceeded her morals. Hastily she saddled the animal and ran to
finish packing. Elendra had achieved little of her assignment. Every moment of
preparation cast her in terrible peril. The horse s owner could return, or
anybody could see Barlow s body and stop her.
As she flung her few utensils into a pack, her hand closed around the handle
of her knife. Miranda s eyes strayed from the shining blade to
Barlow.
I should cut his throat, she thought.
A cold desire for retribution chilled her heart, and she might have done it,
but the puzzled expression on Elendra s face stopped her. Miranda could not
kill him, at least not in front of her daughter. She put the knife into the
pack and tied it closed.
An urgent fear of discovery sank teeth into her nerves, and Miranda could not
move with enough speed. She grabbed Barlow s ankles and lugged him out of
sight into the stall. He did not make a sound, and
Miranda wondered if he was dead, but she did not check anything beyond his
coin purse.
She loaded their supplies and blankets onto the horse, and then grabbed
Elendra.
 Mama, is this our horse? the little girl asked.
 It is now, Miranda said firmly and placed her daughter in the saddle.
Next, she secured Esseldan into his carrying sling and placed him on her back.
Trying to mount the horse with such an unwieldy arrangement proved difficult,
but luckily the horse did not fight her. Miranda was strong and managed to
pull herself up.
The woman and small children were not a heavy load for the horse.
Confidently Miranda grasped the reins, as if her last ride had been yesterday,
and boldly rode into the square. Actually leaving Droxy would be her most
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vulnerable time. The owner of the horse could easily chance to see her and
raise an alarm.
I will be hard to stop on this good horse, she thought.
The sun had flown west over the cliffs and the dusk would soon be over
Droxy. Most of the fighters had departed to take up positions in the
countryside, but the gates were still open, allowing the last of the
frightened peasantry to enter. Miranda forced herself not to nervously scan
the crowd because it made her look guilty. She blended into the tumult of the
square and reached the gate without problems.
A young woman with small children leaving the town at sunset made a curious
sight to one of the gate guards.
 Young lady, he called, stepping out to meet her.  Where are you going? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]