Surreptitiously, she glanced at the guards as they frowned at the bare distance, never even glancing at the crowd at the foot of the platform.
“We’ve waited long enough,” said one of the black-robed judges from behind Alyx. “Let the witch burn.”
One of the guards lowered a flaming torch toward the bracken and as he did so, Alyx filled her lungs to capacity with air. Desperation, fear, hope, joy, all combined in her voice and the note she emitted was so strong, so loud, that for a moment everyone was paralyzed.
Jocelin was the first to move. With a cry much like Alyx’s, he leaped to the top of the platform and behind him came twenty men and women. One confessed murderer threw his weight onto the guard holding the torch, sending the flames backward, to land in the pile of branches behind Alyx, where they went up instantly.
There were six guards and four judges on the platform. The judges ran away at the first sign of trouble, their robes raised to their knees, flying out behind them.
Smoke curled around Alyx’s body as she watched the men and women fight the steel-clad knights. With each blow that hit flesh she felt it in her own. These people she had treated so badly were risking their lives to save her.
The smoke grew thicker, making her cough and her eyes water. Heat, like the hottest sun, hurt the back of her. Trying to see, she looked at the people around her, fully aware how fragile they were compared to the knights in their heavy armor. Her only consolation was that Raine had been sensible enough not to risk his life in this fight. At least he’d stayed away somewhere safe.
It was some time before she became aware that one of the knights was not being attacked by the forest people. It was only when she heard his roar, hollow from inside the helmet, that she realized that one of her guards was Raine.
“Jocelin! Cut her loose!” Raine commanded as he brought a double-edged ax down on the shoulder of an armored knight, sending the man to his knees. A woman jumped on the fallen knight, pulled his helmet off, while a one-eyed man slammed a club into the head of the dazed knight.
The smoke was so thick Alyx could see no more and her throat was raw from coughing. More tears flowed as Joss cut the ropes about her wrists, grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the burning brush.
“Come with me,” he said, pulling her by the hand.
She’d halted, looking back at the platform. Raine fought two men at once, swinging mightily at them with a steel-studded mace, sidestepping, moving with slow grace in the heavy armor. Behind blazed the fire, flashing off the men’s armor, turning it to a frightening, bloody red.
“Alyx!” Jocelin shouted at her. “Raine gave me orders of where to take you. He’s angry enough at both of us. For once, obey him.”
“I can’t leave him!” she tried to say, but her raw throat and the lump there made it come out as a croak.
One strong pull from Joss and they were running together. After a very long time she saw horses coming toward them.
“He’s late,” Joss yelled, panting from the run. “Come on, Alyx!”
At least the running kept her mind from the danger Raine was in. Carrying the extra weight of her unborn child made her awkward, and she needed every bit of her wind.
When they reached the horses, Jocelin mounted and pulled her up behind him and, to her chagrin, they headed away from where Raine and the others fought. Alyx tried to protest, but again her voice failed her. Her silence was so uncharacteristic that Joss turned to look at her, and his snort of laughter showed he understood her predicament.
They rode hard for two hours and when they stopped at last, it was at a monastery. Alyx, exhausted from her fear during the last several days, could hardly stand when Joss helped her down.
“Is your voice really gone?” Joss asked, half amused, half in sympathy.
She again tried to speak, but only a rasp that hurt her throat came out.
“Maybe it’s better this way. Raine is angry enough to tear the tongues out of both of us. Are you all right, though? They didn’t harm you while you were a captive?”
Alyx shook her head.
Before Joss could speak again, a tonsured, brownrobed monk opened the heavy wooden door.
“Won’t you come in, my children? We are ready for you.”
Alyx touched Jocelin’s arm and frowned in question. What did the monk mean by “ready”?
“Come inside. You’ll find out,” Joss said, smiling.
Inside the wall was a large, lovely courtyard, green and shady in the early morning August sunlight. There were doors off three sides of the courtyard, a thick stone wall behind them.
“We have a few rooms for women visitors,” the monk said, glancing down at Alyx’s soot-covered coarse white gown. “Lord Raine has made arrangements for your comfort.”
Moments later Alyx was in a spacious room off the courtyard and given a mug of thick buttermilk to drink. She was only halfway through it when the sound of clanging steel came through the door.
