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“There,” he cried, pointing to a clump high in a pine tree, just a half-league north of where they road. “A raptor nest. Where there is one, mayhap shall be Lady Judith. ”
“And there is another,” said de Rigonier. “And another. We must divide ourselves. ”
This was quickly accomplished, with Mal, Nevril and Gambert heading north on their own. His heart thudding with purpose, Mal kicked Alpha into a full gallop and once again left the others in his dust. As they headed toward the forest of tall, scraggly trees, he felt a moment of bliss at the glorious speed and grace from his warhorse. Oft the destriers were so large and muscular they didn’t have the speed and elegance one needed for such a task, but Alpha was one of a few that had all the skills a battle-bound lord would need.
As they galloped among the tall trees and thickening brush, Mal kept his eyes trained on the nest he spied. It was the first he’d seen from the road, and his senses tingled. Mayhap Judith had seen it too. As they drew closer, he saw something else that made his insides seize up: birds. Circling. Diving down among the treetops then reappearing.
God, nay. Something inside him tripped and he urged Alpha faster, all the while praying also for sure-footedness. They leapt smoothly over a large tree trunk and easily skirted bushes and trees, clumps of dirt flying up from the destrier’s hooves behind them. He bent low over the stallion’s neck to keep from being swept off by a low branch.
Over the pounding of Alpha’s massive hooves, Mal heard frenzied barking and snarling in the distance. The snarling grew closer and louder, and Mal and Alpha smelled it at the same time: blood. In
the air. Thick and heavy. Nay. He kept his mind blank as his horse reacted to the smell of blood—the smell of war. What he’d been trained for. Alpha slowed and snorted, then roared on faster.
Suddenly, they burst into a clearing near the tree he sought, and Mal saw the bloodied corpse of a horse. But they blazed past it, scaring away the hawks picking at the carrion, and headed for the feral pack of dogs crowding around a tree. The wolf-like beasts snarled and clawed as if trying to launch themselves up the rough bark. Nearby on the ground was a human corpse—that of a man, praise God—but it was unattended and the wild canines seemed more interested in what was in the tree.
Mal had his sword in hand by then and was ready when the first of the wild, rabid creatures noticed him and launched in his direction. Alpha screamed and reared up on his two back legs, then crashed down, crushing the dog that had come too close. Mal, who easily kept his seat, cried out as he slashed with his broadsword, neatly cleaving the head from the next dog.
At the same time, he heard a voice…from above. A female voice. “I am here! Up here!”
He glanced into the branches, his heart leaping with hope—for it sounded like Judith—but he couldn’t take his eyes from the snarling canines for long enough to see if his prayers had been answered. The rabid creatures terrified him for another reason: should one of them bite Alpha, the destrier would surely become rabid himself. Then Mal would lose one of his most valuable possessions. He wheeled his mount around and galloped back out of the clearing before the worst happened.
Two of the mayhap dozen dogs followed on his tail, leaping and snarling at Alpha’s heels. Yet in the end, the horse was much too fast for them and the gap between them widened. But Mal had to get his mount to safety while going back to rescue whoever was in the tree. He wheeled his horse around sharply, feeling the shudder as Alpha stumbled and nearly fell. Heart in his throat, Mal sent up a prayer of gratitude and patted his horse on the neck, murmuring a thanks to the beast as well.
“Off with you,” he said as they headed at a breakneck speed toward a low, thick tree branch directly in front of them. “Go, Alpha. ”
Sword in hand, the dogs barking madly in their wake, Mal half-crouched, rising, in his stirrups, his weight on the balls of his feet. As they barreled toward the branch, he braced himself.
The bark was rough and hard, and he slammed into it hard enough that half his breath was knocked out, but he caught it as planned, curving his arm around it. Alpha streaked on past and as soon as the horse was out from beneath Mal, he dropped to the ground.
Just in time to face the raving beasts.
FIVE
Judith gripped the tree trunk tightly as a horseman blasted into the clearing below. Relief swept through her, followed by admiration when she watched the mail-clad knight remain in his saddle even as his massive warhorse snorted, rearing violently in the midst of the feral dogs. She heard the sickening thud as one of its hooves crushed a canine to the ground.
From her perch high up in the branches, Judith could see little detail other than the blur of blue and gray from the knight’s shield, the sleek, dark coat of his horse, and a flash of steel as he swung his broadsword to behead one of the mad dogs. The sounds were horrible: squealing, thudding, snarling.
Then just as quickly as he’d come, her presumed savior and his mount bolted out of the clearing. Two of Judith’s four-legged captors followed, barking and streaking behind, but the others remained. Their frenzied snarls, red eyes, and foaming mouths didn’t seem to have lessened in the hours they’d had her trapped. Every time the pack began to quiet or edge away, something would happen to start them up again, and thus she’d been stranded.
Judith hadn’t been on the ground for nearly four hours, and she was tired, hungry, and frustrated. And frightened. If she hadn’t had the rope to tie herself to the trunk, surely she would have tumbled down by now. But now that help had arrived—or so she thought—Judith had a sudden burst of strength.
Shortly after the warrior on the horse galloped away, she heard a sharp whistle in the distance, followed by the bellow of a horn echoing among the trees. Moments later, a man ran into the clearing brandishing his sword. At first, Judith wasn’t certain whether it was the same man who’d been on the horse. She climbed down to the lower branches, watching in hope, fear and amazement as he drew the dogs’ attention to him with a ferocious war cry.
Between shield and sword, he fought off two of the dogs before the others were able to twist their writhing bodies away from the tree and bound over to him. But then they all seemed to swarm toward her rescuer at once, and Judith’s heart was in her throat as five canines leapt toward him. He was much more vulnerable on foot, and from above she watched tensely. He spun and slashed, blocking snarling fangs and maniac claws neatly with his shield, then slicing and slashing with his weapon. The dogs cried and squealed, thumping to the ground or staggering away, howling in pain.
The sound of more horses thudding through the forest caught Judith’s attention, and she climbed up two more branches in order to see. A group of men-at-arms streaked toward them, bounding through the woods.
More help. Aye, Judith was saved.
A loud, victorious cry from below drew her attention back to the man as he stabbed the last dog, heaving the beast away from the end of his sword.
“Judith!” he bellowed up into the tree, his face tilted toward her for the first time.
Her heart leapt. Malcolm? Nay, impossible. But she was already clambering down as quickly as she could on stiff legs and arms, her heart light and relieved.
“Judith, are you there?” he shouted again as the other horses arrived in the clearing. It was Malcolm!
“Aye! ’Tis me!” she called as her foot slipped and she skimmed wildly down the trunk. Judith gasped in pain as the rough bark scraped down her arms and a cheek, but she caught herself before tumbling all the way to the ground. That would have been most mortifying.
