Hearts in Cups (21 page)

With a grim expression,
Hollin gave Farion his head and together they made a dash for the safety of the
trees. The green of the grass swept under his hooves as Farion carried her away
from the confines of the battle. They were almost under the boughs of the first
trees when Hollin heard the pounding hooves of another horse racing alongside.
Before she could evade it, an arm reached out to encircle her waist and tore
her from her saddle. She received the quick impression of a leering face, and
then she drove the dagger she still clutched into his leg, and fell to the
earth with a heavy thud as he dropped her. Thoroughly winded, her heart
pounding and her ears ringing, she fought to stay conscious. Gasping to force
air back into her lungs, Hollin heaved herself onto her hands and knees,
looking frantically about for the dagger she had let fall when she hit the
ground. Seeing the glimmer of its blade in the deep grass, she crawled over to
it and sat up. Not far from her, Daffyd wheeled his horse, dodging and parrying
the attacks of two more riders. A vibration from the ground alerted Hollin to
danger coming at her again from behind. Lurching to her feet, she whirled
around to find that the man who had first taken her from Farion’s back was now
galloping straight for her. A rictus of pain and blood-lust distorted his face
as he charged at her with a raised sword. In desperation, Hollin feinted an
escape to the right, throwing herself to the left at the last minute. His horse
charged by, skidding on the wet grass as it was viciously pulled to a halt. The
man bellowed a curse and turned to ride at Hollin again. Assuming that her
diversionary trick would not work so well a second time, Hollin turned and ran
for the shelter of the woods. The sound of galloping hooves behind her grew
louder. She tried to run faster but her skirts, flapping and catching at her legs,
hindered her. For the second time, she fell sprawling to the earth as her
skirts tripped her. Panting, she lay in the long, wet grass, waiting to feel
the hot pain of metal on her exposed back. She was amazed when the horse
thundered by harmlessly. Cautiously raising herself up on her elbows, she
looked around and realized that she had reached the eaves of the forest.
Several hundred yards away, men and horses clashed eerily in and out of the
thickening fog. She craned her neck around, searching for the man who had
attacked her. His body, face down with an arrow jutting from his back, lay not
far from her.

Crawling slowly until
she was under the branches of a large tree, she pulled herself upright and,
leaning against the roughness of the tree’s trunk, she looked back at the
meadow. With relief, she realized that she was well-away from the pass, where
most of the fighting was concentrated, and that no one else seemed to be
looking for her at this point. Perhaps whoever had fired the arrow that had
killed her assailant assumed that he had shot her as well. Though she was safe
for the moment, she knew that it was a false safety. To her left, about twenty
yards away and at the edge of the meadow, she saw an unhorsed Daffyd contending
with an armed rider. A second body lay unmoving on the grass and three saddled
horsed trotted aimlessly about the meadow, staying well away from the the
fighting. There was no sign of Farion. Looping her skirts over her arm, Hollin
stayed under the cover of the trees as she warily made her way towards Daffyd.

Though he had not
managed to get into the forest, Daffyd had found a tree and was shielding
himself from the attacking rider by keeping it between them. Finally,
frustrated with trying to maneuver his horse around the tree, the rider
dismounted and came after Daffyd on foot. Daffyd, who wore no armour save a
leather vest, was underdressed for a contest with the mail-clad warrior
advancing on him. His opponent moved swiftly and swords were raised. They met
with a clashing of steel and the straining of muscles, then broke apart to
repeat the action. After a half-dozen encounters of this kind, Daffyd's arm
began to grow weary and he started steadily backing away towards the forest.
His opponent, not wishing to allow Daffyd the possibility of turning and making
a dash for the forest, forced Daffyd to retreat in a half-circle, putting his
own back towards the wall of trees. Then, while deflecting a particularly
powerful blow, Daffyd’s right foot slipped and he lost his balance. As he fell
to the the ground, his hand hit a rock, sending his sword flying from his
grasp. His opponent rushed forward to take advantage of the situation, but his
eagerness offset his judgment, and his blow went awry. In desperation, Daffyd
kicked at the man's legs and brought his opponent crashing down beside him. The
other man, who had not let go of his sword, rose to his knees and aimed a blow
at Daffyd, who was trying to scramble over to where his weapon lay. Hollin,
having crept to within a few yards of where Daffyd fought for his life, now
darted from the cover of the trees and, before either man was even aware of her
presence, she flung herself at his opponent’s back, burying her dagger into his
neck. He screamed as blood spurted, and she retreated, pulling her dagger from
the wound while he sank to the grass. Daffyd clambered to his feet, grabbed his
sword and, catching her by the wrist, they ran stumbling for the safety of the
forest.

When Daffyd felt they had
retreated far enough to not be seen, he paused to lean against the bole of a
tree. Both were breathing hard and had faces streaked with sweat and dirt.
Blood was spattered in dark spots on the front of Hollin’s dress. Hollin wiped
the back of her hand across her forehead, leaving a grimy smear.

Pushing away from the
tree, his breathing restored to normal, Daffyd straightened himself and spoke
to her with quiet intensity. “We must escape this carnage, your grace."

"You are right;
there is nothing more that we can do," she replied with great sadness in
her voice. "But where shall we go? We have no food and no horses."

"I will go back
and get my saddle bags. I pulled them off with me when I jumped from my horse. We
will have to try to escape on foot, but the further and faster we leave this
dreadful place, the better."

Leaving Hollin waiting
anxiously within the shadow of the trees, Daffyd crawled back to where he had
dropped the bags and retrieved them. From where he lay in the long grass, he
could see the fighting continuing in the distance. The odds against the members
of the embassage were unfortunately discerned by their severely depleted
numbers. Cautiously making certain that no one was watching him, Daffyd melted
back into the eaves of the forest. With his saddle bags slung over his shoulder
he jogged back to the duchess, the sounds of the conflict growing fainter as
his distance from it increased.

Hollin had not sat idle
while he had been retrieving his gear; exploring the woods around her she had
looked for indications of trails. When he returned she was able to show Daffyd
a narrow path with the hoof prints of a single horse clear in the soft ground.

"When I was pulled
from my horse," she explained, "I did not see him again. These may be
his prints!"

Daffyd shook his head
dubiously. "They could belong to any horse. However, a horse is a horse,
if we find it. If you are ready then let us be off; they may still come looking
for us."

"The odds are
against our people?" she asked  against her own better knowledge.

"There is no hope
in that direction," he said bluntly.

Tightening her lips,
she replied, "Then let us go."

As they started down
the thread of a trail, Hollin said no more, concentrating only on keeping up
with Daffyd's rapid pace. He moved surely and quietly along the trail, his long
stride covering much ground. In her cumbersome clothing and riding boots
unsuited for strenuous walking, Hollin was hard put to keep up with him.
Holding her skirts in her hands she hurried on with the memory of the last hour
burning in her mind. So wrapped up in her own angry thoughts was she that when
Daffyd stopped unexpectedly she barely avoided running into him. Looking over
his shoulder, she saw a small clearing in the dim light. There, with his reins
fallen over his head and the saddle at an uncomfortable angle, grazed Farion.
Stepping around Daffyd, Hollin called to the horse. Raising his head the horse
nickered and, as she moved out from under the trees, he walked to meet her.

"Hello
Farion," she said in a trembling voice, stroking his neck and putting his
reins right.

"Well, this is
luck," was Daffyd's comment as he joined her. The horse’s nostrils blew in
great gusts as he inspected his mistress' companion. Daffyd rubbed his hand on
the horse's forehead.

"I think that he
can carry both of us," Hollin told Daffyd.

The man shook his head.
"We can travel faster if you ride with the saddlebags and I lead him. I
can see that your skirts are hindering your speed and there is very little
daylight left. Though it may be some time before it's discovered that we have
escaped, it will be discovered." He ceased talking and sat on the ground,
opening one of his bags to extract a pair of leather walking shoes. "I can
go faster in these."

Hollin inspected the
saddle, righting it and tightening the girth. She lifted one of the
saddle-bags, throwing it over the pommel while Daffyd, on his feet again, threw
the other behind the saddle and lashed it in place with a piece of rope. He
also unbuckled his scabbard and tied it to the pommel. Taking the reins from
Hollin, he offered his hand and boosted her up into the saddle. As she adjusted
her feet in the stirrups, Farion moved beneath her. She steadied herself and
the horse moved willingly after Daffyd.

The rangy horse jogged
along behind the man, while the horse’s passenger ducked and swayed in the
saddle to avoid being hit by low branches. As they plunged deeper into the
forest, the last light of day faded and night enveloped them.  Hollin did
not know how Daffyd was able to find and follow any path, but he kept them
moving while there was any vestige of light. At last, with true night around
them, they stopped.

"We can go no
farther tonight." Daffyd's fatigued voice rose out of darkness. "The
horse can be tied to one of the trees. I will make a pile of pine needles for
protection from the cold."

"What about wild
animals?" Hollin asked as she dropped from the saddle and landed on her
feet beside him.

"The only wild
animals we need fear are those behind us," he answered bitterly, untying
the rear saddlebag. Dumping it on the ground, he continued in a gentler tone.
"Forgive my rudeness your grace; I am very weary."

Hollin reached out and
placed her hand on his shoulder. "You are tired, but you are also right.
Let me take care of Farion, you sit for a moment." She lifted the other
bag down and handed it to him. He said nothing, but began to gather pine
needles into a large mound.

Meanwhile, Hollin
unloosed the girth and pulled the saddle off the horse’s back. Next she removed
the bridle and slipped a loop of the rope, handed to her by Daffyd, over his
neck. They had just crossed a tiny clearing, and she walked back to pull a
handful of grass. Twisting it into a whisp she forced her numb body to rub it
over the horse’s wet body. When she finished, she discovered Daffyd standing
nearby with a skin of water.

Hollin took a long
draught and handed it back. "Is there a way we can offer some of it to
Farion?" The horse had begun to thrust his nose at her, eager for the
water he smelled.

"Cup your hands
together and I'll pour some in for him," Daffyd instructed. She did as he
bade and the horse drank gratefully of what they gave him. Taking the rope, she
tied it to a branch and gave Farion an affectionate pat on the shoulder. Only
now, with her primary task accomplished, did she begin to shake with cold and
nerves.

Following the dark bulk
of Daffyd’s back, she made her way cautiously to where he had put together a
primitive campsite. Taking her by the hand, he led her by touch in the
blackness of the night, to a hollow in the mound of needles and leaves he had
built. She sank down, groaning with physical relief, into the soft, crackling
pile. The clean, sharp scent of pine surrounded her.

Daffyd sat down, somewhat
diffidently, next to her. "I'm sorry about the cold," he apologized,
"but I think it unwise to light a fire." She agreed and took the
strip of dried meat and pieces of dried fruit he placed awkwardly into her
hands: basic traveling rations.

As she chewed, she
realized how very hungry she was. He gave her another two strips of meat and a
stale hunk of bread. After devouring these, her stomach quieted down.
"Have you any idea where we are?" she asked at last.

"I have a fairly
good notion," he answered. "The forest that we have been traveling
through is an extensive band from east to west. To the east, it spreads out and
ends on the hills just above the valley of the Inner Ward. To the west, it
climbs further into the mountains and is cut in many places by canyons and
ravines. The Great Northern Road tends to be the dividing line. We began by
heading almost due west but have been going downhill, southwards, for at least
an hour. In the morning I should be able to get my bearings a little
better."

"How do you know
all of this... traveling through the woods and keeping a sense of
direction?" she inquired, jolted into wakefulness by her own question.

"I was raised in
the mountains between Tuenth and the Inner Ward," he said. "My uncle
is a squire with a fair-sized holding in the province of Lowgria. My father
moved south when he married my mother, one of the old Viscountess Treves's
ladies-in-waiting. I was sent to my uncle's for fostering when I was a child.
While there, I made friends with many of the hunters and the men who make their
way in the world using their woodcraft. I learned from them."