Ch 8.
By mutual agreement, they walked the horses until they had gone around a curve in the trail and could no longer see the campfire. They mounted carefully and started to trot. The trail was visible by the moonlight, but the going was still rocky and they did not want to lame their horses soon into their escape.
They travelled for many minutes in silence. Then Sarah brought her horse up level with Drew.
"I've been thinking. They must be very sure that I was not going to be rescued tonight. They didn't have anyone guarding me, and they don't have any lookouts posted."
Drew snorted. "I was supposed to be the one guarding you tonight," he pointed out, "and as for the lookout, I killed him earlier."
He could see Sarah look at him sideways. "Wouldn't they have sent someone to relieve him at some stage?" She asked him quietly.
He shrugged. "Possibly. We'll just have to be careful and take care of him when we get to him."
She stared at him, then giggled slightly. "You talk so matter-of-factly about killing him. I just can't understand it!"
"Understand this, then, my Lady. Those men would be quite happy to kill you tomorrow to frame the grandfather of your best friend. Does that put things into perspective for you?" Drew felt inexplicably angry. Did she think that he liked to kill? Didn't she realise that it was just another job to him?
She seemed to feel realise that she had upset him. "Yes, I suppose it does put it in perspective." She sighed. "Please forgive me. This morning I was walking in my friends' garden, this afternoon I found out that I was going to be killed. I guess I just find it a little strange that it has been so easy to escape."
No sooner had the words left her lips than Drew heard a hissing noise. He turned and felt something speed past his ear, then heard Sarah behind him give a gasp of surprise. He saw a glint of metal ahead and quickly jumped off his horse and ran towards it. A man was busy trying to notch another arrow, but before he could aim it, Drew had reached him, drawn out a knife and plunged it into his stomach. The man gave a gurgling couch and slumped over Drew's hand. He pulled out the blade and wiped it on the ground, then, sheathing it, dragged the man off into the bushes at the side of the trail. He walked back to the horses. Sarah was looking at him in surprise.
"It's okay, my Lady, I have killed him."
She didn't answer him, just looked at him. "My Lady?"
He reached her side just as she began to topple from her horse. He caught her and laid her on the ground, brushing aside the edges of the cloak.
A haft of an arrow stuck out of her shoulder. She had gone deathly pale, and her eyes had closed. He gasped and pulled her forward. The arrow had gone through cleanly, and the arrowhead and part of the shaft were protruding from her back. He bit his lip, and then made his decision quickly. She seemed to have fainted. If he was going to pull out the arrow, now would be the best time. He sat her up and leaned her head against his chest so that he could reach around with both hands and grasp the arrow. Holding it still with one hand, he snapped the head off with the other. He felt her flinch, but she did not cry out. Blood was running in rivulets down her back, and made his hands slippery. He laid her back down on the ground and grasped her shoulder in one hand, his other hand wrapping around the feathered flight. He took a deep breath.
"Okay, my Lady, I'm going to pull the arrow out, okay? On the count of three. One...Two..." He yanked the shaft out. Blood flowed freely, soaking into her already ruined dress. She opened her eyes briefly, and then fainted again.
"Three." Drew sighed and tossed the shaft into nearby bushes. He jumped up and rummaged through his saddlebags, pulling out a length of linen that he had been given by a grateful daughter of a Lord. He used his knife to split it into pieces, and then wadded the last two pieces into pads. He used some of the water to clean the wound as best he could, then placed the pads on either side of the wound and bandaged it as best he could. Sarah was a dead weight in his arms, but better, he mused, than screaming her head off. He packed everything up and put it all back into the saddlebags, then turned back to the problem of Sarah. With her shoulder bandaged, there was no way that she was going to be able to ride her own horse, especially if she was unconscious. He tied her horse's reins to his saddle, and then turned to her. Her eyes were open and she was watching him, but he was not sure if she was fully conscious.
"Can you stand?" He asked. She did not reply. He picked her up and gently set her on her feet. She swayed slightly, but could stand. He mounted his horse and reached down to grab her. As he pulled her in front of him, he realised that she had fallen unconscious again, probably due to the pain of moving. He wrapped the cloak around her, and tapped his heels on the flanks of his horse.
By mutual agreement, they walked the horses until they had gone around a curve in the trail and could no longer see the campfire. They mounted carefully and started to trot. The trail was visible by the moonlight, but the going was still rocky and they did not want to lame their horses soon into their escape.
They travelled for many minutes in silence. Then Sarah brought her horse up level with Drew.
"I've been thinking. They must be very sure that I was not going to be rescued tonight. They didn't have anyone guarding me, and they don't have any lookouts posted."
Drew snorted. "I was supposed to be the one guarding you tonight," he pointed out, "and as for the lookout, I killed him earlier."
He could see Sarah look at him sideways. "Wouldn't they have sent someone to relieve him at some stage?" She asked him quietly.
He shrugged. "Possibly. We'll just have to be careful and take care of him when we get to him."
She stared at him, then giggled slightly. "You talk so matter-of-factly about killing him. I just can't understand it!"
"Understand this, then, my Lady. Those men would be quite happy to kill you tomorrow to frame the grandfather of your best friend. Does that put things into perspective for you?" Drew felt inexplicably angry. Did she think that he liked to kill? Didn't she realise that it was just another job to him?
She seemed to feel realise that she had upset him. "Yes, I suppose it does put it in perspective." She sighed. "Please forgive me. This morning I was walking in my friends' garden, this afternoon I found out that I was going to be killed. I guess I just find it a little strange that it has been so easy to escape."
No sooner had the words left her lips than Drew heard a hissing noise. He turned and felt something speed past his ear, then heard Sarah behind him give a gasp of surprise. He saw a glint of metal ahead and quickly jumped off his horse and ran towards it. A man was busy trying to notch another arrow, but before he could aim it, Drew had reached him, drawn out a knife and plunged it into his stomach. The man gave a gurgling couch and slumped over Drew's hand. He pulled out the blade and wiped it on the ground, then, sheathing it, dragged the man off into the bushes at the side of the trail. He walked back to the horses. Sarah was looking at him in surprise.
"It's okay, my Lady, I have killed him."
She didn't answer him, just looked at him. "My Lady?"
He reached her side just as she began to topple from her horse. He caught her and laid her on the ground, brushing aside the edges of the cloak.
A haft of an arrow stuck out of her shoulder. She had gone deathly pale, and her eyes had closed. He gasped and pulled her forward. The arrow had gone through cleanly, and the arrowhead and part of the shaft were protruding from her back. He bit his lip, and then made his decision quickly. She seemed to have fainted. If he was going to pull out the arrow, now would be the best time. He sat her up and leaned her head against his chest so that he could reach around with both hands and grasp the arrow. Holding it still with one hand, he snapped the head off with the other. He felt her flinch, but she did not cry out. Blood was running in rivulets down her back, and made his hands slippery. He laid her back down on the ground and grasped her shoulder in one hand, his other hand wrapping around the feathered flight. He took a deep breath.
"Okay, my Lady, I'm going to pull the arrow out, okay? On the count of three. One...Two..." He yanked the shaft out. Blood flowed freely, soaking into her already ruined dress. She opened her eyes briefly, and then fainted again.
"Three." Drew sighed and tossed the shaft into nearby bushes. He jumped up and rummaged through his saddlebags, pulling out a length of linen that he had been given by a grateful daughter of a Lord. He used his knife to split it into pieces, and then wadded the last two pieces into pads. He used some of the water to clean the wound as best he could, then placed the pads on either side of the wound and bandaged it as best he could. Sarah was a dead weight in his arms, but better, he mused, than screaming her head off. He packed everything up and put it all back into the saddlebags, then turned back to the problem of Sarah. With her shoulder bandaged, there was no way that she was going to be able to ride her own horse, especially if she was unconscious. He tied her horse's reins to his saddle, and then turned to her. Her eyes were open and she was watching him, but he was not sure if she was fully conscious.
"Can you stand?" He asked. She did not reply. He picked her up and gently set her on her feet. She swayed slightly, but could stand. He mounted his horse and reached down to grab her. As he pulled her in front of him, he realised that she had fallen unconscious again, probably due to the pain of moving. He wrapped the cloak around her, and tapped his heels on the flanks of his horse.