Authors: Diana Cosby
An Oath Broken (5 page)
Colyne nodded and rode toward Alicia.
“Sir Knight,” Sarra yelled from behind him.
Giric shook his head. “Hold on and prepare for a hard impact!”
“What?”
Her surprised question was lost as he let the rush of the fight fill him. Releasing his own fierce battle cry, he raised his broadsword.
And kicked his steed into a full gallop, on a collision course toward the warrior charging straight toward them.
CHAPTER 4
S
now whipped Sarra’s face as Sir Knight’s horse surged forward. Was this how her life would end, clinging to a Scot she barely tolerated only to be cut down by another?
now whipped Sarra’s face as Sir Knight’s horse surged forward. Was this how her life would end, clinging to a Scot she barely tolerated only to be cut down by another?
Six lengths from the attacker, Sir Knight yelled another battle cry.
Long red hair streamed out in his wake as the aggressor raised his blade, leaned forward in his saddle.
Five lengths.
She held her breath.
Four lengths.
The muscles of their horse bunched and surged forward. Sir Knight’s body tensed beneath her hands.
Three lengths.
Oh, God.
Two lengths.
This was it! She braced for the collision.
A second before impact, Sir Knight swerved his mount hard to the left. Steel merged with a vicious scrape.
She screamed.
Sir Knight raised his sword. “Hold on!”
“I am trying!”
“Do better.” Sir Knight wheeled his mount toward the west and kicked him into a gallop.
Icy air rushed down her throat as they rode, trees blurred past, and hooves thudded on snow like muted thunder. Heart pounding, she glanced back, watched as their attacker raised his bow.
Sarra turned. “Sir Knight—”
An arrow hissed past, then another.
“Saint’s breath! Hang on!”
She looked back.
Several men rode alongside their pursuer and were bearing down on them while reloading their bows. The man leading the scraggly lot withdrew another arrow from his quiver.
“There are five men behind us,” Sarra warned.
Sir Knight urged his mount faster. “I know how blasted many they are.”
They raced toward the dense swath of forest, the yells and clash of battle fading in their wake.
Another arrow hissed past, too close for comfort. With her entire body shaking, Sarra leaned against Sir Knight. Why did their pursuers want her? What would happen if they caught them? Would they kill her? Would Sir Knight let them?
“Duck!” Sir Knight shouted.
She lowered her head. Thin branches whipped across her shoulders.
Brush crunched, and then Sir Knight’s horse broke free. The depth of the snow deepened.
She shifted to look back.
“Blast it, keep your head down.”
Another arrow whizzed past, jammed into an oak a hand’s breadth away.
The horse stumbled, and then regained his footing.
A scream built in her throat. Please, let them escape!
His steed began climbing. Fir trees engulfed them, the rake of pine needles harsh against her body.
Seconds passed.
She glanced back.
Naught.
“The men have lost sight of us for the moment, but they willna give up,” Sir Knight said. “With us sharing a horse, they know we canna keep this pace up for long.”
“Wh-what do they want with me?”
He guided his steed beneath a rocky overhang. “I was hoping you could fill me in on that.”
At the sarcasm in his voice, she glared at him. “You think I would deal with those men?”
“Would you nae?”
“I do not want to be traveling to Dunkirk Castle, much less riding with you!”
“Lass, a desperate woman will go to many lengths to procure freedom.”
“Desperate, is it?”
He met her gaze square in the eye. “And would you be saying that you are wanting to be married?”
“I—” Blast him. That much was the truth.
They rode out of the shield of trees and into the sun. Sir Knight guided his steed around a rock. “Nae worry. I doubt you are foolish enough to hire anyone to aid in a plan to escape wedlock. Especially those men.”
She wished he could understand her reasons for not wanting to wed. As if he would care? He’d made his position concerning her life more than clear. And for an unexplainable reason, that hurt.
Now who was being foolish? “I assure you, if I did not want to be married, I would not have to go to such extremes as to hire ruffians to procure my freedom.”
“If you say so, lass.”
“Terrick,” came a shout from below, lost somewhere in the thick firs.
She gasped.
He urged his mount higher. “Do nae answer them.”
As if she was a fool?
“The lass is to marry Lord Bretane’s son who is a strong supporter of Balliol,” the man yelled up. “Is that what you would be wanting?”
Sir Knight stiffened in the saddle, and her panic grew. What did her marriage have to do with the choice of Scotland’s new king? Regardless, by Sir Knight’s reaction, the subject had hit a nerve. Would he now hand her over to them? “Sir Knight, what does his claim mean to you?”
A desperate second passed.
“Give her over,” the voice called from below, “and we will let you go.”
A shiver ripped through her. “You are not going to—”
“I have given my word to protect you,” Sir Knight growled.
But he didn’t look back, and her doubts grew. Would his vow matter? With their pursuers a short distance behind them, how long before they were caught?
They reached the summit and the landscape below, blanketed in snow, spread out before them.
Sir Knight halted, looked toward where the men below were closing on them, then back to her. “We will have to go over the edge.”
Was he totally insane? “We will die!”
Ice blue eyes narrowed. “If we stay here we will be dead. If we go over the cliff, we have a chance.”
Flashes of the men on their mounts flickered through the breaks in the trees below.
He was right. Sarra said a quick prayer, nodded.
“Slide back on the horse’s haunches. If my horse begins to look like he is going to roll, jump.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “Jump? Just like that?”
A muscle worked in his jaw. “There is nay time to argue.”
It seemed a fine time to speak her peace. Sarra opened her mouth.
Sir Knight kicked his horse. With a snort, his mount plunged down the steep slope.
Air, bitter and cold, battered her in a dizzying rush.
The horse whinnied as he landed hard on the embankment, but kept his footing as he half-slid, half-stumbled along the sharp incline.
A third of the way down, the roll of snow that’d accompanied them from their initial impact grew.
With a curse, Sir Knight pulled hard on the reins. “Saint’s breath, I was afraid of this.”
“Afraid of what?” she yelled as she clung to him.
“We have started an avalanche.”
Terror swept her as she turned.
Within the building rumble, a churn of angry white was engulfing all within its path, including them.
The valley floor below grew dim.
“Whatever happens,” he ordered as his horse started to slide, “do nae let go of me!”
The churn of snow snuffed out the light.
The horse screamed.
Then, a sense of falling.
Snow and icy clumps battered Sarra as she struggled to maintain her hold. “Sir Knight!” Something hard jabbed into her side, then her world went black.
“Sarra!” Giric reached for her, but the rush of snow threw him back. Lost to the blur of white, he started to roll, then his body slammed to a stop.
Stars shattered in his skull and every inch hurt. For a moment he lay there, gasping for breath, stunned that somehow he’d lived. With a groan he peeked out. Sunlight, warm and blinding, greeted him.
Sarra!
Pain slammed his head as Giric tried to sit up, but from the waist down, his body was trapped in snow. “Saint’s breath!” Several feet away his horse struggled to dislodge himself from a mound of snow. After several unsuccessful tries, his steed broke free. With a snort, his mount shook his head.
Sarra! Breaths coming fast, Giric scanned the haphazard mounds of snow.
Naught.
Blast it, where was she? He furiously dug at the snow trapping his body. “A blasted mess,” he grumbled, but couldna ignore the fear edging through him like a knife. If he didna find her soon, she could die.
If she wasna dead already.
Nay, she was too stubborn to die. The blasted woman would cheat death and then some. And at this moment, he prayed he was right.
As Giric threw out another handful of snow, a movement from above caught his attention. He shielded his eyes. Glints of steel from the cliff reflected in the sun.
Blast it, ’twas Léod. Nay doubt he was trying to decide on the safest descent. That Léod, a man he’d reived with in the past, had set up an ambush to capture Sarra when he knew who escorted her, assured Giric the Scot wouldna negotiate.
One man gestured his way, and Léod shook his head. After several more moments, the riders wheeled their mounts and rode out of sight.
Giric didna delude himself. By daring to descend from the cliff, he’d bought himself and Sarra a bit of time. Once the Scots retraced their steps, they would round the base of the craig to where he now lay. And before then, he must find Sarra and escape.
He braced his hands on the bank, and his body trembled. With a grunt, he shoved. Pain streaked up his arms, and then they gave out. He collapsed. Blast it! Giric lifted his hand toward his steed. “Here, lad.”
His horse gave a soft nicker.
“Come here now.”
With a twitch of his ears, his mount picked his way toward him through the uneven ground. A pace away, he lowered his muzzle.
“There you go, lad.” Leaning forward, he caught the reins. Giric wrapped the leather straps around his hand. “Back!”
With a snort, his steed lifted his head and stepped away.
The reins grew taut.
Pain hammered him like the blow of a mace, but he held tight.
His body inched forward.
“Back,” he urged, and prayed he could keep hold of the reins without passing out.
Snow groaned.
His body shifted. “Back, lad!”
With a nicker, his mount took another step back.
Hands trembling, he clung to the taut reins, then his body slipped free. Now, to find Sarra! He struggled to his feet. Sweat soaked his brow as he stepped forward. Pain shot through his body. Giric leaned over, sucked in one deep breath, then another.
His horse eyed him and gave a soft snort.
Giric shot him a cool look. “Nae a word from you. The lass is enough trouble.” And had been from the start. Now look at them. Guilt swept him as he scanned the toppled mounds of snow. He wasna being fair. She had nae chosen this marriage, to travel in the middle of winter, nor to be shackled with him.
“Sarra?” His legs trembled as he forced himself to move.
A moan sounded from behind him.
Giric whirled.
Another soft groan came from near a large, jagged bank of snow.
Thank God she was alive! Giric stumbled forward, cursing every ache, celebrating every step. He rounded the tangled heap of white and found her lying on her back. Shaken, he dropped to his knees at her side and laid his hand against her cheek. “Sarra?”
Gray eyes flickered open, and she stared at him as if unsure. “Si—Sir Knight?”
Her whisper, roughed by pain, shot another surge of guilt through him. He’d done a poor job of protecting her. “Aye.”
“We . . . We made it?”
He nodded, scanned the slope of the land, and tried to smother a shot of unexpected need and the complications such could bring. “Aye.” They’d made it, but at what cost?
Her brow scrunched, and she closed her eyes.
“Sarra, can you get up?”
Her lids flickered open. “What?”
“The men chasing us are backtracking. They will be here posthaste.” At the flash of fear in her eyes, Giric damned the pending danger when the lass had already suffered so much. What other choice did he have? None. And that’s what irritated him most.
Sarra started to sit up.
He lay his hand on her shoulder. “Before you move, I need to check that naught is broken.” He ran his hands down her legs trying nae to think how good they felt. Confident she’d suffered nay more than minor injuries, he sat back. “Naught feels broken, but you will be bruised and sore for a few days.”
The doubts on her face of moments ago faded. “I—Thank you.”
He extended his hand to her. “We must go.”
“You are bleeding.”
He glanced at his chest. A small half-frozen stream of blood lay caked down his left side. “I will care for it later. There is nae—”
“Your wound needs immediate attention.” Her eyes narrowed as if daring him to contest her. “I am not a healer, but I am aware that a wound untended can fester and become life-threatening.”
He stared at her in disbelief. Of all times for her to give a damn what happened to him, now was nae it. “We have already wasted too much time.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled away.
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