“Spread out!” Father called. “Find him!”
We all scattered in different directions. I plunged through the forest, vaulted over shrubbery and ducked under low-hanging branches. Baron wouldn’t have just left us. What had happened? All of my companions faded from sight and hailing distance. I was alone.
Then I heard it. The faint sound of Baron’s voice. I strained my ears. There it was again—the distant sound of voices, Baron’s among other men’s voices. My first thought was that Father and the others had caught up with him. But my gut reaction told me that was wrong. The tones were not familiar.
I followed the sound of Baron’s voice as quietly as I could. It was as though I could feel another presence near—an ominous aura that was dark and threatening despite the warmth and brightness of the day. And I knew who that presence belonged to. My suspicions were confirmed when I finally found Baron.
CHAPTER 39
Baron was kneeling in a clearing, arms held to the sides by two men I recognized from the camp while at least a dozen others surrounded them. Looming over Baron was his father. The sheriff’s hand was raised, and he struck Baron powerfully across the face. “Admit it! You know where they are!” he cried.
Baron shook his head. His black hair had fallen over his eyes, and I saw a trickle of blood drip from his mouth.
“I don’t,” Baron stated calmly. “I never found any of them.”
“Liar!” screamed the sheriff as he backhanded his son.
I released an arrow before his hand was finished following through with the attack. The arrow grazed his left arm instead of striking him in the triceps as I had meant to do. Regardless, he howled in pain and doubled over, gripping his upper arm. All the men surrounding their leader looked in my direction.
I stepped out of the trees and fired a rapid volley of three more arrows. Both guards holding Baron collapsed, but my third arrow merely grazed the tunic of another soldier. All the men thundered toward me.
I didn’t even have time to shout at Baron to run but turned and fled myself, dashing through the trees, followingthe winding trail I had blazed on my way there. The men were noisily crashing through the forest behind me. They were all shouting about the witch and calling encouragement to each other as they pursued me.
Two of the men were faster than I and caught up. I felt their hands swipe through my hair that streamed out behind me as I dashed into a clearing.
I suddenly stopped running and dropped quickly into a tight crouch. Neither of the men expected it, and they tripped as their shins hit my huddled body. They went sprawling into the thicket beyond.
Now the time for running was over; the others had caught up. From my crouched position, I dropped my bow and pulled my knives from my belt to prepare for my next assault.
I threw rapidly, one knife after another. Some sunk home deep into chests. A few knives were dodged and, finally, I was overpowered. Three of the remaining uninjured men pounced. My knives and quiver of arrows were wrested from me, and I was pulled harshly to my feet. The men I had attacked leered and fumbled for their weapons.
“Leave her alone!”
I looked around wildly. Father, Dale, and Little John emerged from the trees a bit away from me, weapons drawn, ready for a fight. Where were the others? I remembered how several of the men had run in the opposite direction. They were too far away to help now.
A roar erupted from the men around me. There were more of the sheriff’s men than there were of ours. Several of our enemy nursed wounds, but they were big and mean and used to brutality. I watched as one man ripped one of my knives out of his forearm. He ignored the blood that poured from his limb and flung the knife back at me. He clearly had no experience throwing knives, and the hilt thudded against my shoulder. Itwould bruise, but nothing worse. The man who’d thrown it advanced on Father.
“Wait!” called another voice I recognized. It was the sheriff. He assessed the scene and his eyes lit on me.
“You!” he snarled, glaring daggers in my direction where I was still being held back by two of the men, one of which who had managed to grab hold of his sword as well as me. I wrenched at my captors’ grip, but they held fast. “You’ve ruined everything!”
For a second that felt like an eternity, we all froze where we stood. Father, Little John, and Dale shifted their weight, hands tightening on their weapons, eyes sharp.
My captors’ fingers dug cruelly into my skin; I knew I’d have bruises before the hour was out.
No one spoke.
No one even dared to move.
And then?—
Father moved first.
The snap of his bowstring cut through the standoff like a lightning strike. His arrow flew across the clearing and buried itself cleanly in the man clutching my right arm. The guard let out a choked gasp and crumpled, dragging me sideways with him.
The moment I felt his grip loosen, instinct surged through me. I twisted toward the remaining guard, letting my weight drop beneath his center of gravity just as I’d done to Baron months ago. The man sputtered a curse, fumbling to keep hold of me, but I drove my shoulder beneath his ribs, used his momentum against him, and heaved.
His body sailed over my back and crashed to the ground with a thud that rattled through my bones.
