Through the Fire by Beth Trissel
Kate’s gelding sprang away, galloping past
several riderless horses and two warriors who lunged at the reins. Bent low
over the horse’s straining neck, she flew across the hazy clearing into the
woods beyond.
Wrestling the reins, Rebecca turned her
mare in the same direction. “Come on, girl!”
Bare arms outstretched, mouth gaping as he
let loose a fierce war cry, a sinewy brave dove at her.
“No!” she screamed, and lashed him across
the face with her crop.
He wrenched it away and twisted a quick
bunch of her skirts to rip her off the horse. Jerked down by the force, she
clung to the saddle with one hand and smashed her fist up under his chin. His
head snapped back and she raked his painted cheek with her fingernails. She
kicked out for all she was worth and caught him on the chest. He stumbled back,
surprise on his bloodied face.
She thrust trembling fingers into the
saddlebag and pulled out a loaded pistol. She pointed the gleaming wooden
barrel at him and cocked the hammer. “Get away!”
He jumped up and knocked her arm aside. The
shot exploded uselessly overhead. The mare whinnied, dancing sideways, pitching
like a ship. Rebecca clung shrieking to the sidesaddle. If she fell, she’d be
trampled—or worse.
“Hold on!” a man called, his voice deep,
arresting.
A soldier? Clinging to the sidesaddle,
Rebecca turned and stared in shock at the powerful warrior running to her.
Black hair flying, he dodged a runaway
horse. His long legs vaulted over downed soldiers as he shoved other warriors
out of his path. “Naga! Ambelot!” Shouting alien words, he seized her assailant
and flung him reeling over the grass. The lesser man lifted conciliatory hands
and spun away.
Breathless, she met her champion’s black
eyes. Did he truly think to help her, or was he just more determined than the
other to yank her off? She might get off a clout to his jaw with the pistol
butt before she fell.
He extended one hand toward her horse.
“Easy. Steady.” The English words and his calm manner had a soothing effect on
the frenzied mare. But only for an instant.
Stepping nearer, he reached for the bridle.
Triumphant cries of victory rose around
them. The horse tossed her head and reared again, shod hooves pawing the air.
With a despairing cry, Rebecca flew from
the saddle and tumbled to the unforgiving ground. Knocked nearly senseless, she
lay in a fog. The riotous jubilation reached her as if from a distance.
Vaguely, she sensed someone near.
“So fair you are,” a low voice said near
her ear.
Strong arms lifted her, and she had the comforting
sensation of being safe before blackness claimed her.
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