Fargin women, Wyndall thought.
One had boiled his blood already, without even being in his presence, and the other had melted his heart with her timid voice and liquid eyes. He was pleased that he didn’t have to wait long. Lady Trella soon eased through the double doors that lead to the corridor beyond the chapel. She was struggling with a pillow sack, which appeared to be far too empty to warrant such effort. As she drew closer, the dull clank of precious metal explained why the sack was such a burden to the gaunt woman. Wyndall took it from her, and noticed her hesitation before she finally released it.
“Come, milady,” he said, forgetting his anger.
He knew that the value of the jewels and gold in the little sack he now held might make the difference in the success of the escape in the grander sense of things. There would be more to surviving than just getting away from the Zard.
“Follow me, and hurry. It is slick, and we’ve not much time.”
His voice was soft and reassuring now, and the strength and surety of it, went far in easing the angst the two women were feeling.
Through the dark drizzle, they made their way down to the river, to a place just a few hundred yards from where the head water came spilling over the natural dam that had formed Lion’s Lake. The roar of the powerful waterfall filled the night, but the darkness hid its beauty from the eyes.
Clayton Widden, a local farmer’s son, was waiting with the little boat. It looked to be a struggle for him to hold it there in the roiling current.
Wyndall helped the ladies into the craft, and then handed Lady Trella her bag. She nodded her thanks to him, but wasn’t sure if he saw. A moment later, he handed each of them a makeshift shield. They were old wagon wheels, with fence pickets nailed to them.
“If we are fired upon as we drift out, these will help protect you,” he said, over the sound of the waterfall.
Worriedly, he glanced back up the hill they had just descended.
“Lady Zasha, could you please hand up that bow?”
His tone had become suddenly urgent. He took it from her, strung it, and then threw the quiver of arrows over his shoulder.
“Clayton, be ready to shove off at my command,” he ordered, then moved off the dock back towards the hill.
“It’s past time to go,” Clayton was saying, but Wyndall didn’t hear him. Bryant had topped the hill.
There were two dark shapes, and only the slight glimmering reflection off of their rain soaked clothes as they ran, made them noticeable. One was Bryant. The other, was a young stable boy of about ten years of age, named Dort. Three, maybe four, Zard were not too far behind them. As soon as Wyndall had a good aim, he loosed an arrow. One of the Zard tripped forward, and went into a tumble of scaly limbs and tail.
“Don’t wait! Go!” Bryant yelled.
“We’ll swim for it!” added Dort.
Wyndall loosed another arrow, but missed his mark. He was drawing back a third, when he felt the gut bow string stretch to uselessness. The rain had gotten to it.
Clayton was urging him back to the boat, and as soon as he got in, they were off, swept downstream by the raging current. Already, Bryant and Dort were being forced to angle their mad dash down the hill towards them.
“Hold up the shields!” Wyndall commanded, as he drew his sword, and moved to the boat’s prow, which was momentarily facing the unfolding scene of the chase.
Dort leapt out over the water, his small legs churning, as if he were running through the air. Arrows rained down from above, some thumping into the wood of the boat and the shields, others plunking into the river’s dark water. Bryant barely escaped the claws of a Zardman, and dove headlong into the river. That Zardman, and a few others, came in after him.
From beneath the surface, a slithering, snakelike wake formed just behind Dort, who was swimming towards the boat with all the effort he could muster. It was all Wyndall could do to plunge his rusty blade blindly into the river behind the boy, as he reached the boat. The sword felt like its tip grated across the river bottom, until it violently shook itself free from his hand, and sank away.