Suddenly the elven woman regained her composure, and she said, “Then I must protect the children alone.”
“Damn,” said Miranda. “If we can get clear of this murderous mob, I may be able to help.” She glanced down at the two boys and saw enormous eyes staring up at her from tiny faces. No older than four or five years of age, they would be counted children for nearly another three decades by their race, and would not be considered mature for a century. But by either standard, human or elven, they were beautiful children. Sighing in resignation, Miranda said, “I will save your children.”
“How?”
“Come with me and be silent.”
Miranda moved away. The woman and the two boys followed, and while Miranda could have wished they had the legendary wood skills lore gave to their race—these three were villagers and were not adept at moving through the heavy undergrowth—at least these three were far quieter than a like trio of humans would have been.
Wending their way up the path from the village that they must have used to enter the forest, Miranda led the fugitives. After nearly an hour, Miranda said, “Is there any place near here where I might rest?”
The woman said, “There is a small clearing ahead, and on the other side the entrance to a cave.”
Miranda nodded and returned her attention ahead. The raiders might be combing the area for survivors or they might be enjoying the fruits of their looting. Small villages like this yielded little by way of valuables, and if there were few women of suitable age for the men’s amusement, the captains might have sent men out on patrol simply to avoid conflicts over who could be among the first to rape the women.
The elven woman tried to lead onward the two silent boys, and after a moment, Miranda picked up one of the two. The woman nodded and picked up the other and they carried them. Miranda knew that any child frightened enough will go silent, instead of crying, and these babies were severely frightened. Without conscious thought, she kissed the child on the temple and stroked his hair before starting to walk.
Making their way through the trees, they stopped once at the sound of distant horses and waited. When the sound receded, they continued. Reaching a heavy growth, they moved through the underbrush to a clearing, on the other side of which stood a cave. “It’s safe here,” said the woman.
Miranda put down the child and said, “Wait.” She advanced into the darkness, using her magic arts to see in the gloom. The cave was indeed empty, and showed enough signs of human use that it was unlikely any animal would attempt to use it as a den. She went back outside and said, “Come—”
Before she could finish, a man crashed through the brush, shouting, “I told you I saw tracks!”
Pulling a long knife from his belt, he said, “A couple of brats! But the women are young!”
Another man answered from behind, but whatever he said was lost as Miranda shouted, “Get inside!”
The woman grabbed her two children, each by one arm, and hurried inside the cave. Miranda pulled a long dagger out of her belt and waited. Another man followed the first into the clearing.
Both looked like common mercenaries. The first wore a ragged tabard over rusty ring mail, the design faded and unknown to Miranda. The second was a tall man, wearing a heavy gambeson cut off at the shoulders, for it was obviously a size too small and would have confined his ability to fight otherwise.
Miranda waited as the two advanced. “What are you going to do with that?” snarled the second man, pointing at the dagger. He glanced at his companion.
“Put that away, girl,” said the first with a nervous smile. “We’ll treat you good if you don’t cause problems. Give us trouble and we’ll make it rough for you.”
Miranda waited, and when the first man stepped close enough to attempt to reach for her, she took a quick step forward, faster than either man expected, and stuck the dagger into his throat.
She wrenched the dagger out as the second man jumped back in shock and the first died, his life gurgling out of his gashed throat. “Hey!” cried the second man, his quick moves marking him a dangerous foe, no matter his ragged attire. His sword hissed from its scabbard and he was ready for any attack before she could close, so she moved back.
A distant clatter of hooves, and the man shouted, “Here! Over here!”
Miranda cursed as answering calls rang through the air. While he warily observed her, she feigned an attack. His sword lashed out and he briefly exposed his arm to her. She flicked out with her blade, but it slid off the ring mail protecting his shoulder.
He laughed as he unleashed a powerful backhanded blow designed to remove her head from her shoulders, but she merely squatted. As the blade cleaved air, she thrust upward with her dagger, taking him in his unprotected groin.