Dream of Me/Believe in Me (85 page)

“Ravens,” he muttered and his lieutenant frowned, struggling to discover what concerned his lord.

“They are only birds,” he said.

“Absolutely, only birds. You did not hear me say otherwise. Birds, that's all.”

One of them, the largest of the bunch, with a shrewd glint in her eyes, cawed loudly. At once, Hawk heard a rustling in the nearby brush. He was on his feet, hand on the hilt of his sword, when a dog bounded forward. The animal ran right at him, jumped up on its hind legs, laid its paws against Hawk's broad chest, and dragged a wet tongue over his bemused face.

“He likes ye,” Thorgold chuckled. The little man stepped out onto the road and whistled for the dog, who gave off licking Hawk and loped over to Thorgold's side, where he sat on his haunches, panting happily.

“He's a good dog, he is,” Thorgold said, gently petting the animal, who waved his tail even more vigorously.

Looking more closely, Hawk saw the signs of a beating he suspected was recent but that seemed to be healing with unusual—he wasn't going to think “unnatural”—speed.

“Is that—?”

Thorgold nodded. “That's him.”

“I'm glad he landed on his feet,” Hawk said with a grin. “All four of them.”

“Aye, he did an' ye can be gladder of it than ye know. He has the scent of Udell an' can follow that bastard over stone.”

“That's why he's here, because you're trailing Udell?”

“Nay, because ye aren't. Yer fetchin' up a dry gulch, lad.”

Hawk stared at the old troll as the confirmation of what he had seen in the hoofprints settled over him. His hand tightened on the hilt of his sword, the knuckles
glowing white. The curse that broke from him sent the ravens into the air.

Thorgold waited until the leaves stopped shaking before he spoke the words he knew would plunge the Hawk into white-hot fury. Then he prudently stood back as with lightning speed the Lord of Essex divided his force. He chose with unerring precision the deadliest killers among his men. At his orders, they handed over to the others all weight that might conceivably slow them down. What was left was a war band honed to single purpose and lethal will.

An extra horse was brought. Thorgold bounded onto it and whistled for the dog, who leaped onto the saddle before him. Hawk spared a single glance to be sure they were well seated, spurred his stallion to a flat-out gallop, and raced back down the road toward Winchester. Only one thought drove him on, to find the woman he loved while she lived.

L
YING WHERE SHE HAD BEEN THROWN IN THE BOW OF
a boat, her arms and legs still cruelly tied and a gag biting into her mouth, Krysta fought the twin demons of nausea and terror. Her prayer that they would be stopped leaving Winchester had not been answered. On foot, hidden by shadows, Udell and his men had evaded the guards. What an enemy army could not have done, they managed. Once beyond the city, they moved quickly to a boat waiting for them on the River Itchen. Rowing throughout the night, they put many miles between them and the royal fortress before sunrise.

From time to time throughout the long hours of darkness, Udell called out, telling her what he would do to her. He described his plans in loving detail, dwelling on exactly how she would suffer and the measures that would
be taken to assure she did not die too quickly. His voice became a kind of torture itself, reminding her of how very far she was from hope or help.

Yet through it all, as he ranted on and on, she refused to give in to her fear. When at last the boat turned in toward shore, she closed her eyes briefly, prayed deeply, and gathered her courage to face whatever was to come.

Given the horrible threats Udell had been spewing, the reality was anticlimactic. He was in far too much of a hurry to pause long enough to do anything to her. Horses awaited them in the small clearing beside the river's edge, brought there apparently by prior arrangement. Several furtive men looked around anxiously, accepted a pouch heavy with coin, and vanished back into the forest. In the gray light of pre-dawn, the Mercians hurried to mount and be gone. Still bound, Krysta was about to be thrown up across a saddle when her frantic protests finally drew Udell's attention.

“Jesu, you squeal loud enough to wake the dead! Perhaps I'll just smother you now and be done with it.”

During the long hours in the boat, Krysta had ample time to think and she had come to her own conclusions about why Udell would have taken the risk of stealing her from beneath the very nose of the king's guard. She doubted very much that he had done it only for vengeance.

Even so, she was daring greatly as she stared at Udell with frank disbelief. Refusing to be silent, she continued her protests until finally, in exasperated fury, he yanked off the gag.

“By God, I swear I'll kill you right now!”

“No, you won't.” Though her mouth was so sore that it hurt badly to talk, Krysta forced herself to continue. She straightened up as far as her knees, all she could manage with her ankles still tied, and said, “You need me as a hostage.”

“I
need
to kill you.”

“Maybe eventually but not yet. You know Hawk is coming after you.”

Udell stared at her for a long moment, his mouth working. Finally, he said, “He's far from here and headed in the wrong direction. By the time he realizes, I'll be in Mercia and you'll be dead.”

“You won't kill me just because you reach Mercia. You're not such a fool. You know perfectly well no border will stop the Hawk.”

Udell laughed but uneasily. He stood with his hands on his hips, looking down at her with such utter hatred that it was all Krysta could do not to cringe. Instead, she kept her back straight and her head high, ignoring the burning pain in her limbs. Not for a moment did she allow her gaze to waver.

“Then he will come,” Udell said and shrugged. “On my own lands, in my own stronghold, I can defeat him easily. With the Hawk dead, all of Mercia will rally to me. I will take Wessex and the throne.”

So he had worked it all out in his disordered mind and so he truly believed it could happen, for the moment. Soon enough, Krysta suspected, he would begin to remember the many battles of the Hawk, the enemy armies destroyed, the mighty fortresses laid waste. Fear would eat at him and his actions would become unpredictable. But for some length of time yet, she could turn his insane confidence to her own ends.

“Thus the sooner you reach Mercia, the better for you. Why am I still tied then? Surely you don't believe I can escape from you and a dozen armed men?”

When Udell said nothing but only continued to stare at her, Krysta said, “My weight and yours on one horse will slow you down. Let me ride.”

He hesitated and for a moment she was certain he would refuse. But speed was uppermost in his mind and
he could not deny the truth of what she said. Besides, how could one lone woman escape a band of armed men?

Udell barked an order. Krysta's bonds were cut. She stifled a groan of sheer relief as she tried swiftly to rub some circulation back into her muscles. As Udell turned away to throw a saddlebag over his mount, she said, “Give me a moment to see to my needs.”

He turned and glared at her. “Why the hell should I?”

Struggling to her feet, Krysta said, “Because you are not afraid of me. You don't wonder why the ravens attacked you. You aren't concerned that the story my half-brother told might be true. And surely you aren't puzzled why the most powerful warlord in England will march through hell to reach me. For after all, I am only a mere woman.”

Even in the gray light, she saw his face pale. He looked around hastily to see if any of his men had heard. Reassured they had not, he hissed at her, “Do it then and be quick! But by God, if you try witchwork on me, I'll see you burn!”

Krysta made haste before he could reconsider. She was not so foolish as to try to escape where she had no hope of getting away, but the temptation was strong all the same. Every ounce of her courage and determination was needed to mount the horse beside Udell's. The reins had been removed and a rope tied to the horse's bridle. Udell had hold of the other end. Krysta clung to the pommel as the horses set off at a gallop.

They rode for hours without once slackening their pace. By afternoon, Krysta was close to despair. They would have to stop for the night at some time, that or run their horses into the ground. But once they halted, no doubt she would be bound again. The thought of what the long hours of darkness in the company of a hate-filled, vengeful man could mean made her blood run cold. Perhaps it would be better simply to take her chances and
hope she could get away into the forest somehow. But to elude Udell and his men on foot would be impossible.

She was searching frantically for some faint ray of hope when she glanced to one side and noticed through the thick-leafed branches the glint of fast-running water. From time to time during the long hours she had caught a glimpse of the river, enough to realize that the road they were on must roughly parallel it. But now it seemed unusually close and the road appeared to be turning in its direction.

A few moments later, her suspicions were confirmed when she realized they would have to cross a low wooden bridge that joined the two parts of the road on opposite sides of the river. As they approached the bridge, she saw that the water beneath it was turbulent, breaking against submerged rocks and sending up froths of spray that showered rainbows of light to either side. Under other circumstances the beauty of such a display would have struck her, but now all she could think of was that day was fast fleeing and taking hope with it.

In the lead, Udell slowed his horse to a walk. The hooves of the animals resounded sharply against the wooden planks. They were about to ride out onto the bridge when Udell stopped suddenly. A long pole attached to a trestle had been lowered across the entrance, blocking their way.

“What the hell is this?” Udell demanded.

Barely had he spoken than a little man bustled forward from somewhere beneath the bridge. He was quite short but powerfully built, with long black hair that merged into the beard that hung halfway down his barrel chest. There was an air of importance about him as he confronted Udell and the others.

“Pay the toll, cross the bridge,” he announced in a low, rumbling voice.

“Toll?” Udell looked at him incredulously. “What
are you talking about? There's never been any toll on this bridge.”

“There is today,” the little man said. Boldly, as though it concerned him not at all to be facing a band of armed warriors, he held out his hand. “Cross my palm with gold and cross the bridge. Elsewise, turn back or—” His eyes, hidden beneath great bushy brows, gleamed. “Or would you rather swim? River's running hard though. Only a truly good swimmer would have any chance of making it to the other side, much less downstream.”

“What're you prattling about?” Udell demanded. His hand went to the hilt of his sword. “Get out of my way, old man, or by God I'll cleave you in two.”

Far from being alarmed by this threat, the little man merely shrugged. “Are ye a good swimmer then, Lord of Mercia? Feel up to takin' yer chance in the water, do ye?”

Udell looked at him in disbelief, then threw back his head and laughed. “By God, the fellow's addled. He knows who I am and he's still doing this!”

The men behind Udell also laughed but they sounded distinctly less amused. Krysta scarcely heard them. She was staring at the water through the dancing rainbows of light, thinking about what the little man had said. The river was running hard and there were the rocks, not to mention the rapids she had glimpsed just north of where they had left the boat. The current would take her at once and she would have very little chance of fighting it. But if she could catch hold of a fallen log and keep her head up enough to get air—

Udell would not be delayed much longer. Already he was drawing his sword.

“Get out of the way, old man.”

Krysta pressed her heel into the side of her horse, urging him over near the edge of the bridge.

“And move that damn pole.”

All in the space of a heartbeat, she breathed deeply, raised her hand in thanks to the little man, swung her leg over the horse, and jumped. The current took her with stunning force. There was no time to think or breathe or even try to swim. Behind her, she could hear Udell shouting and managed to turn her head just enough to catch a glimpse of him frantically gesturing to his men. Then bridge, Mercians, and all else vanished from sight as the current pulled her under.

Just beneath the surface, the river looked far calmer. Dappled light illuminated forests of waving fronds that grew out of the gravelly riverbed. Swirls of mud rose in eddies, momentarily obscuring Krysta's vision until she was thrust clear of them. Rocks flew past, some small, others the size of huts. Of a sudden, she found herself staring directly into the eyes of a fish, a salmon she thought. Then it, too, was gone and the current flowed on.

It was very peaceful really for all its speed. She was vaguely surprised to have no sense of danger. Indeed, she felt nothing but relief to be free of Udell and all the turbulence above. The river rounded a bend and she was suddenly thrust again into the sun. She surfaced gasping, terrified for an instant that she could not breathe, and had no time to think of the absurdity of that before her starved lungs drew in air.

Her clothes dragged at her and she was pulled under again. This time, she fought her way back into the open and found herself cast into a quiet pool that flowed off to one side of the river. On hands and knees, she crawled onto the mossy bank and collapsed in an exhausted stupor.

Some while later, she had no sense of how long, she raised her head and looked around. She had no idea how far she was from the bridge but all her instincts told her to keep moving. Udell would not be willing to lose the hostage who stood between him and certain death. He
would come after her if only to recover her body, for if Hawk was hunting them and he found her dead, he would attack without mercy.

Staggering to her feet, Krysta struggled to decide what to do. If she tried to follow the river road back the way she had come, Udell would have a far easier time of finding her. But if she abandoned the road, she might easily become lost in an area where there were few settlements and many natural dangers. That left the river.