Dara woke suddenly as something cool and damp dripped on her brow. Her head
throbbed with a furious headache, and her dry lips tasted of blood. Opening
her eyes carefully, she focused on a thin, dark haired woman standing with
her back turned to Dara.
"Mother?" Dara whispered hoarsely. The woman started and whirled around. Trying to shake off her pain and confusion, Dara struggled to place who the woman was. With a sudden chill, Dara recognized the woman as Mercy, the head of a local Assassin's Guild, claimed to be a merciless fighter and poor choice to cross. Dara was lying on something soft, and there was a wooden ceiling above, so she assumed she must be in Mercy's house on the outskirts of Glensfarr.
Mercy approached the pallet on which Dara was lying, her agate eyes unreadable. "By the Hells, you're lucky to be alive, lass." The assassin reached down, and Dara squirmed away from her taloned hand "Are you going to kill me?"
Mercy frowned "Git it through yer head, child. I'm the one who saved your carcass." With surprising tenderness, Mercy picked up the compress on Dara's forehead, and wiped the caked blood from the girl's face. "T'was just passin' by the Mule and Cart on me way home, and I hears a tremendous row, and a dog howlin'. A man comes stumblin' out in a fair mess, breeches all bloodied, and he's screamin that he'll have Orsin's head. Orsin comes out, nearly piddlin' hisself, and tosses a dog carcass out on the street, looked like the beast died a damned painful death. Then th' son of a bitch tells Mr. Bloody Crotch he can have the girl in return for all the pain he's suffered. He shoves you out the door, you're half conscious and weepin' like your heart was broke. The bloody drunk shakes you like a rag doll, and starts backhanding you. Tha's when I got mad, I jumps off my nag, and stuns th' bastard with the handle of me dagger (always keep a good dagger on you, child). Before that ass Orsin can react, I slung ya over the pillion, an' got out of there posthaste. They'll come lookin' for ya soon, I wager."
Tears streamed afresh down Dara's cheeks as she remembered what had occurred. Something wasn't right, besides the headache, something deep within her felt raw or burned, and she was keenly aware of Mercy's smoldering anger at Orsin, and maternal concern for Dara.
"Git up, see if ya can stand." Mercy grabbed Dara's hands and hauled her to her feet. Dara gasped and staggered, light flashed inside her head, forming the image of a white horse, flying like fire over a dark landscape. Mercy grabbed Dara's arms and ordered "Walk."
Dara limped forward a few inches. "No bones broken, you're just bruised somethin' awful." "Why did you save me?" Dara whimpered, her emotions overwhelmed, astounded by the assassin's act of kindness. Mercy winced, turning over her wrists, where a skull and crossbones and a dagger with blood running down the blade were tattooed. "Ey, appearances ain't everything. This old hired killer had children too, once."
Embarrassed, Mercy grabbed a thin blanket and a small dagger off a chair, and a worn leather sack off the table. "Here." She thrust the items into Dara's hands. "Here, take 'em. There's a few silvers in the pouch." Opening the door to a brisk fall night, Mercy shoved at Dara. "Go! Git runnin', girl. Luck be with you."
Confused, Dara stumbled out into the darkness, and forced her legs to work. Despite he fear and pain, Dara was keenly aware of the slightest sounds in the night as she ran, not knowing where she was going.
Suddenly, she stumbled and tripped over a rock. Too tired to move, she lay on the cold earth, falling into semi-consciousness. Heavy footsteps vibrated the ground, and leaves rustled in a breeze. Dara moaned, trying to move, but a heel came down on the back of her neck.
"What do we have here? Some whelp of the town?" a male voice grated. "Kick 'er over, so's I can see." Replied a female voice, equally harsh as the man's. With a jolt to her ribs, Dara was rolled over onto her back. Two hooded figures stared down at her, features indistinguishable. "Ugly liddle scrap, nowhere good enough to sell." The woman said. "She's got a money pouch on 'er." The man ripped the wallet from Dara's numb hands. "Bah! Just a few silver. Nearly nothing!" "Kill 'er then." The woman's voice was cold, dispassionate.
Closing her eyes, Dara heard the twang of a bowstring, and the clack of a wooden arrow, then a deafening equine squeal of rage. Something large jumped over her, and stood with hooves planted foursquare around her.
Opening her eyes, Dara saw the underside of the great white horse as it squealed again, and reared up, kicking. There was an awful crunch as the beast's hooves smashed one of the raiders' skull. The other raider, the one holding the coin purse, took off with a strangled yell. The horse snorted and swung his head around to look at Dara.
The animal's blue eyes seemed to go on forever, like a bottomless lake. They radiated concern and unconditional love. A rich voice echoed inside her head. "Chosen! I love you, I will never leave you, not ever. You are my Chosen, and I am Companion Tynan. We are now one, as we were two. Come!"
Tynan lowered his head, and shaking badly, Dara supported herself on the Companion's neck and climbed to her feet. With superhuman effort, she scrambled up into the saddle, and Tynan took off like a white arrow. The quiet morning dawn found the Companion and his newly Chosen sleeping the sleep of pure exhaustion in a small grove of trees, the redheaded girl's arms wrapped around the white horse's neck.
"Mother?" Dara whispered hoarsely. The woman started and whirled around. Trying to shake off her pain and confusion, Dara struggled to place who the woman was. With a sudden chill, Dara recognized the woman as Mercy, the head of a local Assassin's Guild, claimed to be a merciless fighter and poor choice to cross. Dara was lying on something soft, and there was a wooden ceiling above, so she assumed she must be in Mercy's house on the outskirts of Glensfarr.
Mercy approached the pallet on which Dara was lying, her agate eyes unreadable. "By the Hells, you're lucky to be alive, lass." The assassin reached down, and Dara squirmed away from her taloned hand "Are you going to kill me?"
Mercy frowned "Git it through yer head, child. I'm the one who saved your carcass." With surprising tenderness, Mercy picked up the compress on Dara's forehead, and wiped the caked blood from the girl's face. "T'was just passin' by the Mule and Cart on me way home, and I hears a tremendous row, and a dog howlin'. A man comes stumblin' out in a fair mess, breeches all bloodied, and he's screamin that he'll have Orsin's head. Orsin comes out, nearly piddlin' hisself, and tosses a dog carcass out on the street, looked like the beast died a damned painful death. Then th' son of a bitch tells Mr. Bloody Crotch he can have the girl in return for all the pain he's suffered. He shoves you out the door, you're half conscious and weepin' like your heart was broke. The bloody drunk shakes you like a rag doll, and starts backhanding you. Tha's when I got mad, I jumps off my nag, and stuns th' bastard with the handle of me dagger (always keep a good dagger on you, child). Before that ass Orsin can react, I slung ya over the pillion, an' got out of there posthaste. They'll come lookin' for ya soon, I wager."
Tears streamed afresh down Dara's cheeks as she remembered what had occurred. Something wasn't right, besides the headache, something deep within her felt raw or burned, and she was keenly aware of Mercy's smoldering anger at Orsin, and maternal concern for Dara.
"Git up, see if ya can stand." Mercy grabbed Dara's hands and hauled her to her feet. Dara gasped and staggered, light flashed inside her head, forming the image of a white horse, flying like fire over a dark landscape. Mercy grabbed Dara's arms and ordered "Walk."
Dara limped forward a few inches. "No bones broken, you're just bruised somethin' awful." "Why did you save me?" Dara whimpered, her emotions overwhelmed, astounded by the assassin's act of kindness. Mercy winced, turning over her wrists, where a skull and crossbones and a dagger with blood running down the blade were tattooed. "Ey, appearances ain't everything. This old hired killer had children too, once."
Embarrassed, Mercy grabbed a thin blanket and a small dagger off a chair, and a worn leather sack off the table. "Here." She thrust the items into Dara's hands. "Here, take 'em. There's a few silvers in the pouch." Opening the door to a brisk fall night, Mercy shoved at Dara. "Go! Git runnin', girl. Luck be with you."
Confused, Dara stumbled out into the darkness, and forced her legs to work. Despite he fear and pain, Dara was keenly aware of the slightest sounds in the night as she ran, not knowing where she was going.
Suddenly, she stumbled and tripped over a rock. Too tired to move, she lay on the cold earth, falling into semi-consciousness. Heavy footsteps vibrated the ground, and leaves rustled in a breeze. Dara moaned, trying to move, but a heel came down on the back of her neck.
"What do we have here? Some whelp of the town?" a male voice grated. "Kick 'er over, so's I can see." Replied a female voice, equally harsh as the man's. With a jolt to her ribs, Dara was rolled over onto her back. Two hooded figures stared down at her, features indistinguishable. "Ugly liddle scrap, nowhere good enough to sell." The woman said. "She's got a money pouch on 'er." The man ripped the wallet from Dara's numb hands. "Bah! Just a few silver. Nearly nothing!" "Kill 'er then." The woman's voice was cold, dispassionate.
Closing her eyes, Dara heard the twang of a bowstring, and the clack of a wooden arrow, then a deafening equine squeal of rage. Something large jumped over her, and stood with hooves planted foursquare around her.
Opening her eyes, Dara saw the underside of the great white horse as it squealed again, and reared up, kicking. There was an awful crunch as the beast's hooves smashed one of the raiders' skull. The other raider, the one holding the coin purse, took off with a strangled yell. The horse snorted and swung his head around to look at Dara.
The animal's blue eyes seemed to go on forever, like a bottomless lake. They radiated concern and unconditional love. A rich voice echoed inside her head. "Chosen! I love you, I will never leave you, not ever. You are my Chosen, and I am Companion Tynan. We are now one, as we were two. Come!"
Tynan lowered his head, and shaking badly, Dara supported herself on the Companion's neck and climbed to her feet. With superhuman effort, she scrambled up into the saddle, and Tynan took off like a white arrow. The quiet morning dawn found the Companion and his newly Chosen sleeping the sleep of pure exhaustion in a small grove of trees, the redheaded girl's arms wrapped around the white horse's neck.
