“You shall not pass,” he said, planting his sword point in the bridge planks as if punctuating his statement.
“You said that already,” Abigail said. “I would ask you to hear me out.”
He frowned as if her request was unexpected. Then he nodded.
“Prince Torin is under the influence of a witch. We are trying to rescue him.”
“Nonsense! Lady Peti is his betrothed and he’s a lucky man to have her. She’ll make a fitting queen.”
“You’ve been duped-deceived by witchcraft. Peti is not a lady, she’s demon spawn and she has her claws in your prince.”
“He said that you would come and he said that you would lie, but I didn’t think your lies would be so obvious. You are fair by any man’s standards, but Lady Peti makes you look plain by comparison.”
“This is getting nowhere,” Abigail muttered, shaking her head. “Do you have a wife?”
“What’s that …”
“Answer my question,” Abigail interrupted.
“Yes,” he said, seeming somewhat taken aback by her demeanor.
“Did she see Lady Peti?”
His brow furrowed and he spat. “Yes, but she was jealous of her-kept going on about her not being human and such. Utter nonsense.”
“Perhaps she saw true.”
“I’ll believe my own eyes before I believe the addled ramblings of a woman.”
Abigail took a deep breath to steady her growing anger, looking up and down stream for another place to cross.
“Don’t think to pass elsewhere,” he said, raising his sword point it at her. “I am the protector of this village and I will obey my prince.”
“You are a fool,” Abigail said, her temper finally slipping out of her control, “a dupe who betrays your prince and threatens the future of the very people you profess to protect.”
“I think you need a lesson in manners, woman,” he said, advancing toward her. “I command you to lay down arms and surrender.”
The rest of the men started forward onto the bridge while Abigail started backing away.
“Submit or die!” the village protector shouted, bringing his broadsword up over his head.
Abigail stopped, grasping the hilt of the Thinblade and standing her ground, anger flashing in her pale blue eyes.
“So be it,” he said, bringing the sword down.
Abigail drew, slipping to the side and cutting his broadsword off at the hilt, then bringing the flat of the Thinblade down on his shoulder. He froze in shock and disbelief, the men rushing in behind him stopping uncertainly.
“Your witch-blade will not prevail here,” he said, though with somewhat less certainty. “You may kill me, but …”
“Shut up! Back away! Right now!”
Confusion and relief danced in his eyes as he slowly stepped backward, out from under the threat of the Thinblade, still holding the useless hilt of his broken broadsword.
Abigail swept her blade through the timbers under her feet, then turned and ran. The bridge creaked and groaned for a moment before the timbers gave way and the bridge collapsed, spilling several of the men into the water. They flailed against the strong current even though the stream was only a few feet deep. The rest of the villagers scrambled to pull their friends out of the frigid water.
Abigail didn’t say a word, stalking past Magda, turning into the forest heading downstream and trying to master her temper but mostly taking it out on the brush in her way. A hundred feet from the edge of the village, she stopped and sliced through a tree with a single stroke. It wobbled for a moment before slowly crashing across the stream.
“Once we’re across, we’ll double back into the village, get some horses and be on our way.”
“The fallen tree is likely to draw attention,” Magda said.
“I know, just try not to kill anyone,” Abigail said, stepping onto her makeshift bridge.
Within minutes, the villagers were converging on the place where the tree had fallen, but Abigail and Magda had already moved through the forest to the road and were running back into the village.
A startled woman was the first person they saw. She eyed them warily.
“Where’s the stable?” Abigail asked.
The frightened woman pointed farther into the village. They continued without a word, finding the building and slipping quietly inside. A woman cleaning out one of the stalls froze when she saw them, staring like they might be death itself.
“We won’t hurt you,” Abigail said. “We need two horses with saddles.” She held up a coin purse, rattling the contents. “We’ll pay.”
The woman nodded tightly but didn’t move.
“You have nothing to fear from us,” Magda said gently.
“It’s just that … the last travelers to pass this way weren’t natural.”
“We know,” Abigail said. “We just need horses.”
She seemed to relax a bit until several of the men searching the woods shouted that they’d found tracks.
“We don’t have much time,” Abigail said. “These two look like fine horses. How much?”
“I don’t know. My husband always does the business, but he’s been acting so strange since they arrived. The one that came with the prince … she looked like something out of a nightmare. She just smiled at me like she knew I could see her, like she knew none of the men would believe me.”
“I know,” Abigail said. “Here are six gold coins for the horses and saddles.”
The woman stared at the gold that Abigail dropped into her hand, quickly nodding her agreement. Abigail and Magda went to work saddling the horses and attaching their packs.
“Will you help us?” Abigail asked.
“What can I do?”
“Go toward the bridge and shout for help. Say you saw us in the woods.”
“We don’t want to hurt your men, dear,” Magda said. “But they aren’t themselves right now, and we can’t afford to let them delay us any further.”
“All right, but you have to promise me you won’t kill anyone.”
“Agreed,” Abigail said, leading her horse to the barn door and opening it just enough to peek outside. “Looks clear.”
They waited until the woman started shouting before leading the horses out. They had just mounted when one of the men saw them, shouting to the others. Abigail cursed under her breath, looking over her shoulder at the man running toward them.
“Time to go,” Magda said, spurring her horse.
Several more men emerged from the forest in a vain attempt to stop them, but they weren’t willing to risk being trampled by the two galloping horses.
Ten minutes later, well south of the village and out of immediate danger, they slowed their pace to preserve the strength of the horses.
“How far is Torin?”
“Just over a league, still nearly due south,” Magda said.
“It’s a good bet they got horses in that village, too.”
“Agreed.”
They’d been traveling for about an hour when they heard the thunder of hoof beats growing in the distance behind them.
Abigail shook her head, sighing heavily. “It’s never easy.”
The forest was still thick, tall firs lining each side of the road, their boughs reaching across overhead and mingling with those from the opposite side. Abigail suspected she could get her horse through the brush on either side of the road if she led her, clearing the more stubborn shrubs with her sword, but she knew it wouldn’t be quick. She reined in her horse and dismounted.
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’m going to fall a few trees across the road; see if I can slow them down. Maybe they’ll lose interest.”
Magda shrugged, nodding her approval. “Better than killing them.”
Abigail selected trees just off the path, cutting them carefully with the Thinblade to fell them diagonally across the road, taking three from each side but alternating them so that each toppled over the last, creating an interlocking obstacle completely blocking passage.
Nearly twenty men from the village arrived just after she felled the last tree. Magda chuckled, handing Abigail her horse’s reins and they continued south, shouts and curses fading into the distance behind them with each passing moment.