Read Online Sword of Hemlock (Lords of Syon Saga Book 1) by Jordan MacLean - Free Book Online Page B

went.  “My niece was sacrificed like a goat
to some wicked god, and her blood stains your hands.  Were you a knight before,
you are none now!”
    The grin faded, and Bernold’s sword lowered slightly, but he
raised it again in defiance.  “We were hired to steal a virgin and bring her to
the clearing.”  He breathed deeply.  “What became of her then is none of my
affair.”
    Renda’s gaze faltered for a moment and met Gikka’s.  A
virgin.  The thought that even more evil had been done to Pegrine than what
they had seen welled rage in Renda’s eyes.
    Suddenly, Bernold took a step toward Renda and slashed at
her, but she sidestepped and brought her sword down at his shoulder, cutting
through his doublet with the poisoned side of the blade but not breaking his
skin.  But in moving aside, she had left the way to the door open.
    Sir Bernold glanced toward the door, then back at Renda. 
They all  he had but one chance for escape, the coward’s chance, and he took
it.  He slashed crudely toward Renda to drive her back, then bolted for the
door, leapt atop his horse and viciously kicked the beast into a full gallop
toward the west and into the city of Farras.
    Renda and Gikka made their ways to their own horses and
mounted, riding after him with all speed.  Alandro was exhausted, as was
Zinion, but the two horses pounded after the escaping knight with all their
strength, ducking around merchant’s shops and flying over the cobblestone paths
after him.  The Wirthing horse was not their equal, but he was rested and they
were not.  They would be hard pressed to catch him.
     
     
    The morning light was still gray, though the sun was peeking
over the horizon now, and the streets were mercifully empty.  Renda watched him
turn left twice and smiled.  Instead of staying to the main street, which would
have taken him right through the city and into the wild forests to the
northwest where he might have had the best chance of escape, he had gone
instead into the densest part of the city and the most difficult to navigate.
His impulsive turns and doubling back made it clear to her that he had no idea
where he was or where he might go. 
    On the other hand, she and Gikka knew this area well. 
Kadak’s army had found the infamous Farras slums baffling and impossible to
infiltrate during the war, and they had abandoned the effort early on.  For
that reason she had made of it her own base of operations for the liberation of
Farras and most of the western campaigns.  She signaled to Gikka.
    Gikka whistled to her, and at once the Bremondine and her
horse turned aside and disappeared into a thin alleyway that ran behind the
sleepy marketplace and into the Maze behind it, a clot of tents, hovels,
taverns and brothels with no easily discernible path through them.  If Sir
Bernold did not know his way already, he would certainly trap himself in any of
a hundred constantly shifting culs-de-sacs.
    Renda closed the distance between herself and the Wirthing
knight. By now Alandro was close enough to bite the braided tail of the Wirthing
stallion if he so chose, and soon enough, she would be able to engage the
knight with her sword.
    But the Wirthing knight glanced back at her with a sneer and
kicked his mount even harder, driving the poor beast to gasp and wheeze, but
managing to pull ahead of her. 
    Renda frowned.  He had glanced back at her over his right
shoulder. He would most likely turn suddenly to the left again, as he had shown
inclination to do, and away from the Maze unless she could scare him off toward
the right.  She heeled Alandro hard to the left and drew her sword.
    At the sound of her blade being unsheathed, Sir Bernold
looked back at her again, this time seeing that she was at his left, and he
veered sharply to the right, sparking his stirrup against the wall of the
corner mercer’s shop as he passed into the Maze.
    A grim smile passed over Renda’s features as she turned to
follow him.  In spite of the