its speed and the wind, she prepared to kill it, but just before she released the string, Crushaw grabbed and held her fast.
“Get off,” she grunted, trying to shake him.
“Let it go,” he returned, keeping a firm hold.
“Are you nuts?” Leinjar asked, grabbing at Crushaw’s arms. “It’ll warn others. They’ll know our path.”
“I’m counting on that,” Crushaw said. “That’s our best chance.”
“Let go,” Molgheon said, her voice filling with rage. “Let me go, now.”
“Trust me,” Crushaw said. “I’ve thought this through.”
Leinjar let go of Crushaw’s arms and backed away, a look of disgust and bemusement on his haggard face. As the orc got out of range, Crushaw released his grasp on Molgheon. She raised her bow as if to fire but, seeing that all hope of hitting the prisoner was gone, lowered it and returned the arrow to her quiver. Then, she turned away from the other two and walked a short distance away, obviously shaking.
“If that orc doesn’t warn the army and lead it in this direction,” Crushaw said. “We’ll have to face them on their terms. This way, we control when and where, as long as we get to a spot first.”
“You’re cunning, my lord,” Leinjar said, a smile erasing all the disgust from his expression. “I just hope this works.”
“Me, too,” Crushaw replied. “Don’t let anyone know. When you get back to camp, get rid of the strap that held it to the wagon. We don’t need a panic.”
Molgheon still stood away from them, so he moved behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder as if to comfort. He half expected a punch in the jaw if not a knife in the ribs, for in all the years he had known her, he had not once seen her allow anyone to touch her for more than a handshake. Many a drunken Ghaldeon had been beaten bloody in her tavern for making unwanted advances, and now in a short span, he had grabbed her in a bear-hug and touched her tenderly. Instead of attacking, however, she shivered, jumped away, and then turned to face him.
“If you ever touch me again,” she said, her face a stone mask. “It’ll cost your life.”
“She acts mean,” Crushaw said to Leinjar, trying to laugh off the threat. “But she’s not so bad.”
“Try me,” she said, not blinking.
“We don’t have time for this ,” Leinjar barked. “You have to get moving, and we need to get back to the drills.”
Crushaw wasn’t conditioned to ignore a threat, and had it come from nearly anyone else, he probably would have struck them down. He would forgive Molgheon, however, because she had been through so much at the hands of the humans after the Resistance had been broken. He shouldn’t have touched her either time, and he knew it.
“Leinjar’s right. I’ve gotta get going,” he said to her. “Forgive me. I wasn’t thinking right.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, still not blinking. “Forget it.”
With that, she turned and marched swiftly back towards camp. Leinjar lingered for a moment and muttered something to him about smoothing things over while the general was gone. Crushaw nodded his thanks and then also turned away to find his horse and the two elves who would accompany him. When he reached the horse, he gritted his teeth and, using mostly his arms for support, hoisted himself into the saddle. As his injured ankle slipped into the stirrup, he groaned audibly from the pain. The elves, who would follow on foot, rushed to assist, but he stopped them cold with a glare that only a soldier who has endured unspeakable hardships can give.
***
Suvene ran across the open lands for as long as he could. His body was weak from the meager amounts of food he had been given since the uprising, and because he was well beyond even the most skilled archer’s range, he slowed to a brisk walk to conserve energy. Darkness was a couple of hours away, and he wanted to walk until midnight to get plenty of distance between himself and the hunting party that would
“Get off,” she grunted, trying to shake him.
“Let it go,” he returned, keeping a firm hold.
“Are you nuts?” Leinjar asked, grabbing at Crushaw’s arms. “It’ll warn others. They’ll know our path.”
“I’m counting on that,” Crushaw said. “That’s our best chance.”
“Let go,” Molgheon said, her voice filling with rage. “Let me go, now.”
“Trust me,” Crushaw said. “I’ve thought this through.”
Leinjar let go of Crushaw’s arms and backed away, a look of disgust and bemusement on his haggard face. As the orc got out of range, Crushaw released his grasp on Molgheon. She raised her bow as if to fire but, seeing that all hope of hitting the prisoner was gone, lowered it and returned the arrow to her quiver. Then, she turned away from the other two and walked a short distance away, obviously shaking.
“If that orc doesn’t warn the army and lead it in this direction,” Crushaw said. “We’ll have to face them on their terms. This way, we control when and where, as long as we get to a spot first.”
“You’re cunning, my lord,” Leinjar said, a smile erasing all the disgust from his expression. “I just hope this works.”
“Me, too,” Crushaw replied. “Don’t let anyone know. When you get back to camp, get rid of the strap that held it to the wagon. We don’t need a panic.”
Molgheon still stood away from them, so he moved behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder as if to comfort. He half expected a punch in the jaw if not a knife in the ribs, for in all the years he had known her, he had not once seen her allow anyone to touch her for more than a handshake. Many a drunken Ghaldeon had been beaten bloody in her tavern for making unwanted advances, and now in a short span, he had grabbed her in a bear-hug and touched her tenderly. Instead of attacking, however, she shivered, jumped away, and then turned to face him.
“If you ever touch me again,” she said, her face a stone mask. “It’ll cost your life.”
“She acts mean,” Crushaw said to Leinjar, trying to laugh off the threat. “But she’s not so bad.”
“Try me,” she said, not blinking.
“We don’t have time for this ,” Leinjar barked. “You have to get moving, and we need to get back to the drills.”
Crushaw wasn’t conditioned to ignore a threat, and had it come from nearly anyone else, he probably would have struck them down. He would forgive Molgheon, however, because she had been through so much at the hands of the humans after the Resistance had been broken. He shouldn’t have touched her either time, and he knew it.
“Leinjar’s right. I’ve gotta get going,” he said to her. “Forgive me. I wasn’t thinking right.”
“It’s nothing,” she said, still not blinking. “Forget it.”
With that, she turned and marched swiftly back towards camp. Leinjar lingered for a moment and muttered something to him about smoothing things over while the general was gone. Crushaw nodded his thanks and then also turned away to find his horse and the two elves who would accompany him. When he reached the horse, he gritted his teeth and, using mostly his arms for support, hoisted himself into the saddle. As his injured ankle slipped into the stirrup, he groaned audibly from the pain. The elves, who would follow on foot, rushed to assist, but he stopped them cold with a glare that only a soldier who has endured unspeakable hardships can give.
***
Suvene ran across the open lands for as long as he could. His body was weak from the meager amounts of food he had been given since the uprising, and because he was well beyond even the most skilled archer’s range, he slowed to a brisk walk to conserve energy. Darkness was a couple of hours away, and he wanted to walk until midnight to get plenty of distance between himself and the hunting party that would
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