Dragonfly (17 page)

"Dragonfly, dragonfly, dance over the pool. Dragonfly, dragonfly, catch me a fool!" she chanted, making the trapping motion that children used to pick the next "dragonfly" in the game. The men flinched back as if feeling a blow.

Two more guards arrived from outside. One had an arrow already in his bow.

He aimed at her, the point quivering in his terror. They didn't notice the giant creeping in the shadows behind them.

"Stop her!" the guard squeaked, but no one dared touch her. The archer lost his nerve and loosed his bowstring, the arrow embedding in her thigh. Tashi sank to the ground, clutching her leg. Before the soldiers could move to recapture her, there came a grunt of fury from the gateway and two guards fell to Gordoc's fists. Ramil attacked from the flank, running one man through and slicing the throat of the archer. Gordoc threw a fifth man against the wall, then punched the other one in the face before he could mount a defense.

Ramil felt like vomiting as he saw the blood he had spilt splattered on the snow. He had never killed a man before, but he knew there was no time for squeamishness. He ran to quiet the horses as Gordoc picked up the

Princess.

"We must ride quickly and see to her wound once

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we are clear of the castle," Ramil said hoarsely. There was no point trying to hide the bodies: they would lose too much time and the bloodstained ground told its own story. He swung up into the saddle and took Tashi from Gordoc, settling her in front of him. Gordoc pushed open the gates and stood back to allow Ramil to gallop through first. He then mounted the Inkar's grey warhorse and spurred it on, looking like a grown man on a child's pony.

Together they clattered down the cobbled road to the main gate.

"Make way!" Ramil shouted as guards stepped out into the road.

"Messengers for the Spearthrower!" Most jumped back but one brighter man realized that something was amiss when he saw the fair-haired passenger.

He swiped at Ramil with his spear, only to be kicked in the head by Gordoc.

A horn sounded up in the citadel. With dread, Ramil knew they were galloping towards trouble at the main town gates. These were bound to be defended now that the alarm had been raised.

As he feared, a group of soldiers waited with drawn swords and pikes, the front row kneeling in the road to stop their flight. Ramil had not, however, reckoned on the warhorses. Trained for combat, the stallions kicked out and reared, fearless of the blades, stamping a way through the line of unfortunates who had been on duty. Gordoc reached from the saddle and lifted aside the heavy bar locking the gates from the inside. With a roar he hurled it at the reinforcements rushing from the guardhouse, knocking them over like ninepins.

The way clear before them, Ramil spurred his horse

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onwards. The blue roan streaked down the road, taking them beyond

bowshot from the wall. Heading north, the two horses ran towards the mountains for a mile, passing through the checkpoints before the sleepy soldiers had a chance to react. Horns and bells sounded in Felixholt as the garrison mobilized, soldiers shaken from their drunken stupor. Taking advantage of a quiet stretch in the trees, Ramil steered his horse off the road and took to the countryside, looping round to head south. He had long since decided that this was their only hope of escape. North was where Fergox would look for them and was where he was massing his troops. The

warhorses plunged through the woods and broke out into open fields. Ramil could hear the snorts of the grey working hard to keep up so he knew Gordoc was still with them.

"Run, boy, run!" he urged his mount as the first flake fluttered from the sky.

The horses galloped on into the night, twin tracks in the white fields soon filled by the blessing of a heavy fall of snow.

Two hours later, Ramil judged they could risk a brief rest. Their steeds could not go much further at this pace, burdened as they were, and he was worried about Tashi. He could hear her breath coming in pained gasps as she pressed her hand to her wound to staunch the bleeding. He spotted a wooden barn situated quite far from a farmhouse. There were no lights--it seemed as if the

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inhabitants were asleep. It would have to do. Signalling to Gordoc, he directed his horse to slow to a walk.

"Can you hold yourself in the saddle, Tashi?" he whispered.

She nodded.

Throwing the reins to Gordoc, he slid off the horse and crept to the side of the barn. It was not unknown for farm workers to sleep in such buildings. He had to hope this farmer was kinder to his men in winter. He unbarred the door and peered inside. The smell of cows hit him: a whole herd was sheltering on the ground floor. Climbing up into the hayloft he paused, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the poor light. It was empty of inhabitants, apart from a cool-eyed owl up in the rafters. He returned quickly to his companions.

"All clear. We have about an hour or two, I guess, until the farmer stirs--

longer maybe if they were celebrating Midwinter tonight. Let's see to the Princess and the horses."

The cows made no fuss as Ramil led the horses to their trough for a well-earned drink and a share of the fodder. Gordoc carried Tashi up to the hayloft and laid her on a pile of straw. Ramil joined him. They both looked down at Tashi who had her eyes closed, fighting the pain.

"And what was all that about, Your Highness?" Ramil muttered angrily as he assessed the wound. The arrow had passed through her robe and into the fleshy part of her leg. From the limited amount of blood, he guessed it had missed the major artery but it had done enough

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damage. He ripped the cloth away from the shaft. "I told you it was too dangerous but you had to dance around like that and scare us all!"

"You should've listened to him, my pretty," Gordoc said sorrowfully. He put the leather strap of his belt between her teeth for her to bite down. Ramil knew he was going to make the wound worse drawing out the arrowhead, but they could not leave it there to fester. Better to be quick.

Tashi cried out as he tugged the barbed points free; it hurt even more than when the arrow had first entered. Her leg began to bleed again. Ramil ripped up the black robe to put pressure on the wound, then bandaged it tightly. The sharp pain receded, leaving a dul insistent ache.

"Sloppy shot," Ramil remarked, able to smile now that the worst was over.

"Hit nothing vital. And now I've ruined your robes, you'd better put these on."

He pulled some warmer clothes out of his bundle: shirt, leggings, thick jacket and scarf. "Sorry I couldn't find any shoes your size, but there are some woollen socks that'll do while we ride."

Gordoc helped Tashi lift herself up so she could slip the leggings on under her robe, then the two men turned their backs as she changed into the shirt and jacket. The effort almost made her swoon as every movement

reawakened the pain in her leg, but she knew it was worth it once she began to feel warmth. She lay back on the straw gratefully, covering herself with the remnants of the penitent's robe.

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Ramil knelt beside her and brushed her hair off her forehead gently. His heart twisted with concern: she looked so pale and fragile. "Rest now, Your Highness. We've got to be gone before the sun's up."

Tashi nodded and fell immediately into a deep sleep, feeling safe for the first time in weeks.

Moving before dawn, the three travellers spent the rest of that day riding through the barren countryside of Brigard, steering due south. Ramil and Gordoc spoke only briefly, the attention of both devoted to putting as much distance between them and Felixholt as they could. Tashi said nothing at all, sunk far into herself, allowing the others to make decisions for her.

Fortunately for Ramil, Gordoc knew the land around these parts well, having travelled them many times in the past with Orboyd's circus.

"We should make for the Fens," he advised. "It's a wild place. Fergox's rule is felt only weakly there. We'll be able to hide until she is fit to ride further."

They reached the outlying regions of the Fens by evening, entering a strange empty landscape with stands of tall bulrushes and networks of ditches, slow going for the horses. The wind cut through their clothes with a biting edge.

"We can't spend the night outside," Ramil told Gordoc. "Do you know somewhere we can stay?"

The big man wiped a droplet from his nose with his sleeve. "Aye. There's a windmill not far from here. The keeper used to let the circus stop in his yard.

He may let us stay if we pay him well."

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Ramil shook his head. "I've no money, and I doubt the priests left Tashi with any gold."

Gordoc chuckled and patted his pockets. "But I, young Prince, have my winnings from last night on me. You can thank the weak-armed soldiers of the Spearthrower for that."

The windmill sat at the head of a drainage ditch, a dark cross against the night sky, its purpose to pump the water from the low-lying fields reclaimed from the fens. The keeper was a surly man with a hunched back, shrivelled up like a blighted leaf. He greeted Gordoc but spared not a word for Ramil or Tashi, sensing they meant trouble.

"I don't want to know," he said, biting the coin. "You can stable your horses here tonight, eat and sleep under my roof, but you're to be gone by sun up.

No names, no faces. If you're caught, you were never here."

After seeing to their horses, Ramil joined Tashi by the fire in the little room allocated to them. Gordoc was supping with the miller, feet up on the table.

Ramil admired the strong man's ability to seize his chance to relax when it was offered. As for himself, he was still jumpy, expecting their pursuers to be knocking down the door at any moment.

"How's the leg?" he asked Tashi, passing her a bowl of bean soup and a hunk of bread.

"Fine," she said quietly.

"You've just had an arrow pulled out of your thigh and you say it's fine!"

Ramil marvelled. Blue Crescent people were so understated, it beggared belief.

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"All right, it hurts." Tashi put the soup aside untouched.

"You have to eat." Ramil took a spoonful of his own meal, his empty stomach growling.

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't care if you're hungry or not; you have to eat or you'll slow us down."

Tashi closed her eyes, refusing to listen to him. His restless energy and positive attitude dropped like a stone into her well of despair, causing a ripple before vanishing.

Ramil tapped her arm, annoyed by her passivity. "Look, I'm going to need some help here, Your Highness. I may have got you out of the castle, but we're still in the middle of Fergox's empire, hunted by all his troops by now."

"I told you to leave me behind."

"And I told you that I was going to rescue you." He now knew how the Inkar had felt; he wanted to shake Tashi himself. "Listen to me: you've been through a terrible ordeal. Fergox has meddled with your head, told you stuff that's not true, confused you. Are you going to believe what he said, or what you've spent your whole life trusting?"

Tashi shivered. "I can't explain it, Ram. I think I've lost my beliefs completely.

My faith was like one of those bogs out there--I thought it was all green and pleasant until I tried trusting myself to it, then I fell through." She clutched her hands together in a tense, desperate knot. "I'm drowning."

Ramil, who had never stopped to ask himself what

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he really believed, tried to imagine what it was like to be her, a person whose whole life had been governed by an acute sense of her Goddess. He guessed a little of the emptiness and the fear that Tashi was feeling. He thought he'd saved her from Fergox, but now he realized he'd only brought part of her with him. If he was to do his job properly, he would have to help her escape this too, unlikely though he was as a defender of the Blue Crescent faith.

"You think this just because he told you he bribed the priests?"

She nodded.

"Well, I've known for ages that he did that--the rumors have been around for years."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, it's supposed to make you realize that, once you were made into the Crown Princess, how you got there no longer mattered to everyone else."

"It matters to me--it will matter to my people."

Ramil ran his fingers through his hair in exasperation. "Look, I don't know very much about your faith but if it's anything like mine, I'd be wondering if the Supreme Being cannot use even a man like Fergox in his or her plans.

You might be where you are now because your Goddess exploited the

Spearthrower's greed. Maybe she wants you here."

Tashi opened her eyes. His dark gaze was fixed on her, full of compassion.

"Do you think that's true?" she whispered, hardly daring to allow herself to hope.

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"Oh, Tashi, I don't know." Ramil rubbed his face, not feeling up to this deep discussion, though he knew it was vital. "I've never claimed to know what's true when it comes to the big questions of religion. I'm just an ignorant boor, remember."

She smiled at the reminder of her own rash words. Ramil felt an urge to kiss her sweet, sad lips, but instead reached out and took her hand.

"What I do know, Tashi, is that it is possible and preferable to the alternative explanation that Fergox is in control of all our destinies. And I suppose the only way to find out who is right is to live our lives as if we do have faith in our Father--or Mother in your case. It seems to me that in the end your Goddess and my God are two sides of the same Creator."

Tashi knew she had reached a turning point. She could continue on to despair, following the path pointed out to her by the Spearthrower, or she could listen to Ramil and walk the way of faith with nothing but hope to guide her. She knew which she wanted to choose, if only to spite Fergox. Not the most admirable reason, but it would have to do for now.

"Thank you, Ram. I take back what I said about your being ignorant. I think you are wiser than me."