Read Online Riverrun by Felicia Andrews - Free Book Online Page B

wood, and when she chanced a frantic look back over her shoulder, she saw the massive cabin of the carriage spinning free of its stone captor like a child’s top. It crunched against another almost immediately afterward, swerved, and bore directly down on her like a silvered black spectre.
    Without a moment’s hesitation, she redoubled her efforts and threw herself nearly full out of the water to one side as the carriage charged past her, narrowly missing her feet. It rushed on for several more yards, bobbed and spun maniacally, then struck a boulder of tremendous size and seemed to explode, to disintegrate into planks and splinters, and vanish as though it had never been.
    The fearful distraction, however, nearly proved Cass’s undoing. She realized with a shock that she was heading directly for a rock of similar size. Frenziedly she beat at the water, using its own flow to guide her to one side; but she relaxed too soon, her left leg dragged, and it smashed against the stone with a force that ripped a scream from her throat. Instantly, water rushed into her mouth, her eyes glazed, and her head disappeared beneath the surface.
    There was nothing in her world but water and pain. Her lungs fairly screamed for the sharp night air. She wanted to give up, to end the pain, but the resolve she had clung to so desperately worked her legs and arms and she struggled back to the surface, thrusting herself into the air, gulping to fill her lungs. A smaller rock glanced off her shoulder, spun her to her back. She twisted back around, blinked water from her eyes and saw directly ahead the skeleton form of a dangling dead branch. There was no time to consider; the white water beyond was louder, heavier, and she knew without seeing that she would soon reach a falls. She stretched, kicking herself waist-high from the river, and with her right hand grabbed and held the thick, gray wood. The current dragged her on, but her grip was firm, and though the branch was pulled with her momentarily, she was almost immediately yanked to a halt.
    From one branch to another, then, she pulled herself toward shore. Her injured leg dragged uselessly behind her, each movement of her body sending lances of crimson agony up through her hip and spine. Twice she nearly lost consciousness, fought, and eventually realized she had made good progress into a broad section of shallows.
    Crawling now, she tripped and stumbled forward like a bird with a broken wing. Though the pebbles on the bottom had been worn smooth by the passing river, they somehow contrived to tear at her skin, to bruise her as though she were being struck by clubs. She fell facedown, then raised herself back to her hands. The cold numbed her, and there was only her leg, and the mindless crawling that drew from her lips a constant stream of sobs, of moans, of unintelligible pleading.
    Finally, when she knew there was no more she could do, she reached a tall, sloping bank covered with moist weeds and moss. She stopped, hung her head, then rolled over onto her back. From the waist down she was still immersed in water, but it was too soft, too comforting, and her arms had already used the last of their strength.
    She fainted, then, and awoke a few minutes later to cough up water and gag until she thought she would bring up her stomach.
    Again there was darkness.
    Again she opened her eyes.
    Move, she told her limbs, but they would not obey her. So she lay there, the moss and weeds a pillow for her head. She stared at the icy points of stars above her, felt the night wind dance about her face and breasts. Cramps caused her to groan, and a rhythmic throbbing in her injured leg made her suspect it was broken, if not shattered. She knew she had to move herself soon into the protection of the trees above and behind her. To lie as she was would surely mean her death before sunrise. Yet there was little she could do to make her body respond to her commands. Her arms lay limp across her stomach, her good