But he couldn’t let his thoughts about Sophie distract him from his purpose, which was to keep her alive and deliver her to Valten, her betrothed. With two people on one horse, the going was slow, and if he didn’t focus, they might end up back in Hohendorf — or dead.
The terrain was getting rougher. They would have to pass through some mountains in order to get to Lower Saxony and Hagenheim. They were now on a narrow trail that led them through a valley that had fewer trees than the mountainside and was parallel to another valley where a river lay. They had only stopped briefly to let the horse rest and get a drink of water, but they hadn’t eaten, and Gabe knew they would have to soon. Sophie must be as exhausted as he was, but she hadn’t said a word. Neither of them had spoken much, in fact.
A forest-covered mountain lay just ahead, and the trail was already ascending again. They couldn’t camp here in the open expanse of the valley where there was almost no foliage. It was too dangerous. Perhaps after they got to the other side of the mountain they would find a sheltered spot. It would be a cool night, unfortunately, but they would have to do without a fire. With all the wolves around, he would try to sleep sitting up, with his crossbow in his lap.
Sophie had gone limp, her head bobbing on his chest. She must have fallen asleep. He forced himself to focus on the trail, which had grown slippery with wet, moldy leaves that covered the path as it grew steeper. Gingerbread was surefooted for such a big beast, but he was slipping more often than not, and Gabe hoped the trail would soon level off.
Just then, Gabe heard a crisp whoosh and felt something hit, hard, against the crossbow strapped across his back.
He turned his head and saw the butt of an arrow sticking out behind him.
If not for the heavy wood and iron of his crossbow, the arrow would have gone right through his body.
Chapter 9
Gabe kicked his heels into his horse’s sides as he turned his head again and saw his foe. Through a break in the trees, a man on horseback raced across the valley they had just left. He would close in on them in no time.
Gabe urged Gingerbread to hurry, but speed only seemed to make his hooves slip even more on the steep hillside.
If the man following them was using a crossbow, he’d have to stop to reload. But if he was firing at them with a longbow, he could keep shooting. Gabe couldn’t risk looking behind again, but he’d soon know.
Another arrow whooshed by his ear. Longbow. God help us. Gabe leaned lower, pressing Sophie securely between his arms as he held onto the reins with both hands. She lifted her head and looked up at him, wide awake now. She leaned her head to one side to look behind him, but he pushed her back in front of him. “Someone’s shooting at us. You’d better move your arms.”
Another arrow whistled by. Sophie jerked her left arm and gasped. She tucked her arm against her stomach, a flash of bright red on her torn sleeve.
They had to get out of the valley, had to find cover, or they would be dead in a matter of minutes. Not to mention that their pursuer could hit Gingerbread, may have already wounded him.
Gabe prodded Gingerbread off the trail, and they plunged between trees, dodging limbs. Gabe kept Sophie snug between his body and the horse’s neck.
He sensed the animal’s nervousness at their breakneck speed between dangerously close tree trunks. They continued their climb up the mountain, but at a more managable angle. Gingerbread was slipping less now, but sometimes the tree limbs were coming at him so fast Gabe couldn’t see where they were going.
God, please guide this horse.
They were crashing through the woods with such noise, their pursuer couldn’t fail to hear exactly where they were if he stopped to listen. But it couldn’t be helped. Until Gabe could find a likely place for them to hide.
He glanced down at Sophie’s arm. The red stain was growing bigger, but there was no arrow sticking out of the wound. That was good. Perhaps it had only grazed her.
Gabe glanced around, frantically looking for someplace they could take refuge. He tried to listen, to detect how far behind them their attacker was — or attackers, since he wasn’t sure how many there were — but he couldn’t hear anything except Gingerbread’s crashing hooves as he smashed through dead limbs. Green boughs were pushed aside by the horse’s powerful shoulders. Gabe was thankful he had taken Gingerbread, his destrier, rather than the smaller gelding in his father’s stable who would have tired much more easily with two riders on his back.
Just in front of him, Gabe glimpsed a ravine. He couldn’t see the bottom of it, and it pitched almost straight down, but it might be their only escape.