A Dishonorable Knight(25)

Gareth led Isrid through the thick fog, trying to stay true to the direction he hoped would lead him to Cynan's uncle's small keep. In the eerie silence of the fog-shrouded woods, Elena lost all track of time. She was just about to doze off when Isrid came to an abrupt halt.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"Straight ahead, do you see it? A fire. Cynan must have realized we'd fallen behind and lit a fire hoping I'd see it. 'Tis a wonder he was able to find wood dry enough to burn."

"How can you be sure it's Cynan and Bryant?"

Gareth laughed. "How many other travelers do you think would be out on a night like this in the middle of Wales?"

Elena shrugged and held on tightly to the saddle, eagerly anticipating the warmth of a fire on her chilled fingers. In a few minutes, they entered the small clearing.

"Damn," Gareth muttered under his breath. It was not Cynan and Bryant they had stumbled upon, but four large, vile looking men sprawled around the fire. Mercenaries, Gareth thought as he spotted the motley array of armor and weapons piled haphazardly about. And drunk too, no doubt, judging from the empty wine skins lying about.

"Hoohoo, laddies! Did I not tell you, "Ask and ye shall receive?' Now we were just wishing we had a woman and here one comes to us. Led by a servant, no less."

The other three men pushed themselves us. "And a comely wench, she is."

"I've not had one that clean since I was a boy," said a third as he stood. "Come'ere, lass. Come and enjoy our hospitality."

Turning, Gareth pushed hard against Isrid. "Back! Get back!" Isrid backed a few paces but stopped when he ran into a tree. "Come on you--" A large hand on Gareth's shoulder spun him about.

"You wouldn't be meanin' to keep her all to yourself, now would you, whelp?"

Gareth looked over his shoulder at Elena. "Run!" he yelled as he swung with all his might at the man in front of him, landing a cracking blow to the man's nose. "Go on!" he yelled again as Elena stayed where she was.

Spurred to action by the urgency in his voice, Elena reached for the reins that were dangling in the mud. She screamed as one of the men grabbed them first. Twining her hands in Isrid's mane, she kicked the horse as hard as she could. Isrid reared up, nearly throwing her. Holding on to him with all the strength in her legs, Elena pulled on his head to turn him around, but a second man was grabbing for her from the right. She kicked as hard as she could, aiming at the drunken man's face and then swung Isrid back toward Gareth. He was battling the other two men, who, despite their drunkenness were moving swiftly. Though Gareth was smaller than either brute, he landed blow after blow on chin, nose, and stomach. Elena stifled a scream as the men finally organized enough to circle Gareth. One of them grabbed Gareth from behind and the other moved to deliver a crippling blow, but in a flash of movement, Gareth twisted from his captor's embrace and, as if from nowhere, a knife flashed in his hand. The meaty fist that had been aimed at Gareth now glanced off the other man's shoulder. Before the man had a chance to recover from throwing the punch, Gareth brought the knife down to land between his attacker's shoulder blades. The stabbed man fell onto his partner and the two landed on the ground. Spinning quickly, looking for other adversaries, his gaze met Elena's. Without urging, she moved Isrid around the fire. As the stunned mercenaries regained their senses and groped their way to their feet, Gareth swung up behind her. Applying his spurs harder than he ever had to Isrid's flanks, he sent the powerful horse into an immediate gallop. Elena squeezed her eyes shut as the horse easily cleared the fire and crashed through the brush on the other side.

Although he knew not which direction they were headed, Gareth kept Isrid at a full run until the horse began to tire. When he dismounted and began leading his horse, he realized that Isrid had been running up hill for the last half mile. Pausing to pat the gallant animal on the neck, Gareth looked around, noticing that the fog was almost gone at this higher elevation, replaced by bright moonlight. He continued leading Isrid, being careful to avoid rocky spots over which the tired horse might trip. Halfway up the mountain in front of them, Gareth spotted a huge cluster of rocks.

"You'll have to walk a bit," Gareth said quickly to Elena who, despite her weariness, could not close her eyes. "This mountain is very steep and I would have us get to those boulders lest your suitors decide to follow us."

Elena nodded and threw her leg over the saddle. Gareth grabbed her waist as she slid off the horse and held her up when her knees went out from under her. "I'm afraid we must hurry," he said apologetically. "Though they were drunk, those men were trained mercenaries and I fear they may still have wits enough for a chase. Do you have the strength?"