Sora's Quest (20 page)

Sora stared in horror, unable to believe the swiftness of the battle. More hounds leapt from the bushes, perhaps over a dozen, though some hung back, obscured by clots of grass. They kept their distance, circling and snapping from just beyond Crash's reach. The assassin faced the pack in a half-circle, his sword in one hand, a short knife in the other. Every time one got too close, he lunged forward, slashing with his blade.

When Sora turned back to the bridge, she saw that Burn had mounted the first planks and was starting across, coaxing his horse behind him. The horse trod gingerly on the half-submerged planks, its ears back. Sora marveled at the horse's training, following its master into such dire straits. The bridge swayed and jerked in the heavy, sluggish water.

Dorian followed with his horse, but stopped just before the bridge. He waited until Burn had reached almost midway across the planks. But by that point, Sora could hear the shouts of human voices, the squish of unseen hooves. The soldiers would be upon them soon.

“Dorian, take my horse,” Crash called, and indicated the tall gray steed. Dorian nodded and caught the reins, then tied it to the back of his horse.

Crash turned back to the hounds, swinging his sword several times to back them off.

Dorian turned to Sora and nodded curtly. “You're next,” he said. “Should anything happen, just call my name.” And he winked, a terribly roguish look. “I'll come back for you.”

Sora balked at that. Come back for her? Unlikely, especially if the bridge collapsed. She was about to say something, but the thief had already started across the expanse, the two horses stepping lightly after him. They were smaller steeds with long, delicate legs. The ropes strained. The boards creaked. So far, the bridge held.

Another hound leapt from the brush, drawing her attention. Crash hacked it down with his sword just as quickly. The dog whined pathetically, writhing on the ground, blood spurting from a wound at its neck. The other dogs paced back and forth, even more excited by the scent of blood, then skittered away to avoid Crash's blade. They paced just beyond the fringe of grass, looking for an opening.

Sora waited for Dorian to make some headway across the bridge. She felt a nervous knot form in her stomach.
I'm next.
She looked back across the drizzling wetland to the distant shapes on the hill. The clouds had moved lower, if that was possible, and the soldiers were filmy on the horizon.

“They've stopped shooting,” she said, relief in her voice. “Maybe they'll give up...?”

“No,” Crash replied darkly. “The other soldiers are too close. They won't risk hitting their own men.” Then he turned and started moving her toward the bridge, one eye on the dogs, his sword still at the ready. Sora led her horse toward the platform, following Crash's direction, unable to protest. She tried to hide the tremor in her knees. The river might appear slow and sluggish, but she was certain that it had a nasty undertow, and that the water might be too thick to swim against.

“Prepare yourself,” Crash said. Then he headed her onto the bridge.

Sora started across carefully. Burn was almost to the other side, and this gave her hope. Dorian was just past the halfway point. The smaller Wolfy shouted back to her occasionally, pointing out rotted beams or loose ropes, but she could barely concentrate. She was too busy gripping her necklace in one hand and the horse's reins in the other, her eyes trained on her feet.

Burn reached the other side. Dorian was two-thirds of the way across. Where he stood, the water was shallow and the bridge was supported by thick mud, much more secure. Sora felt a bit of tension loosen. With less weight on the bridge, she was certain it would hold. She started stepping more boldly, leading her horse as quickly as she could. The water flowed over her boots, icy cold, seeping through the leather and freezing her toes. At times, the bridge dipped downward, submerged. She was almost waist-deep in water, her clothes soaked. Her horse balked, and she had to pause for a moment, coaxing it forward, cautiously testing each beam before putting weight on it. It was painfully slow going.

Finally Dorian made it to the other side. After securing his two horses, he returned to the bridge and waited for her, standing lightly on the planks, watching her progress. Sora, grateful for his vigilance, felt more secure.

“Here they come,” Crash called. He was only a few paces behind her.

Sora glanced back and spotted the shiny helmets through the tall grass. The dogs had noticeably calmed. Her heart lurched. The soldiers were right behind them and would probably try to cross the bridge too....
What can we do?

Crash raised his shortbow and fired a few arrows into the brush. One of them caught flesh and a gurgling scream split the air, along with the howl of a few dogs. Her horse paused at the sound, legs  stiff, ears back.
No!
Sora tried to coax the mare forward, clicking her tongue, pulling on the reins. But her steed would not budge.

“Ugh, stupid horse,” Sora snapped, trying to drag it forward. She could sense Crash's impatience. He fired off an arrow, striking yet another soldier. She cursed the steed and hoped that the soldiers didn't return fire. She and her steed were helplessly exposed in the center of the bridge.

Then a sudden, terrible snapping sound reached her ears. Distracted, she looked down at her foot. The planks were bound by a frayed rope, and as she watched, the last strands split apart. The bridge sagged abruptly under her weight. Then, with several twists and snaps, the ropes broke apart in a chain reaction, one plank after the next.

“Dorian!” she cried, suddenly sick. She looked up to see him a few dozen feet away, lingering on the bridge, watching her. He could make it to her side if he moved fast. “Dorian! Help! The bridge!”

She waited for him to rush to her, or at least reply. But when she met his eyes, they were strangely dark. He watched her blankly, inquisitively, and for a moment...just a moment...she thought his face looked different. Like someone else.

Then the center of the bridge dissolved under her feet. The water leapt up to claim her. Sludgy and thick, it felt like falling into ice-cold porridge. Rocks and twigs propelled by the vicious current snagged her skin, cutting and bruising it. Her horse screamed in terror, sinking up to its saddle, hooves buried in the muddy bottom of the slough.

The horse bucked and kicked, dancing to one side. Its harness became entangled with a fallen tree branch, knocking Sora even further into the water. The current rushed up to grab her, twisting her away from the bridge and the ropes, dragging her downstream mercilessly. The river was much stronger than she had thought. Before she knew it, she was fully submerged, the water swallowing her whole.

She fought her way back up to the surface, struggling against the current. “Help!” she screamed, kicking her legs and propelling her arms, trying to stay afloat. The water was impossibly deep, with no sense of a bottom, and she was quickly swept downstream. She grabbed hold of the rope that had once held the bridge, hoping it was tied to something at the other end.

Luckily, the rope caught, and she tried to pull her way back. But the current was powerful and the rope tenuous, and her head kept going underwater. She was far away from the bridge, with no way back. She opened her mouth and inhaled mud, choking. She couldn't stop coughing, with the water splashing up in her face.

The water was so cold, her fingers became numb. Her hands tired and slipped. Her head went under again, and this time the river yanked her downward, catching her foot in an undertow. She couldn't hold on anymore. She didn't even know if the rope was still in her hands.

Then suddenly, strong, rough fingers snagged her shirt.

She was dragged upward against a strong, toned body. Held tightly against a broad chest as the water rushed against her, trying to press her down. A rope was looped around her wrist, binding her tightly to her rescuer's belt. He started pulling her back to the bridge, fighting the fierce current and lots of debris.

Relief surged through her.
Dorian, it has to be!
He had been paralyzed back there on the riverbank, perhaps by panic or fear. But he had come for her, just like he had promised.

Her head broke the surface of the water and Sora gasped brokenly, weak and drained. She clung to Dorian's hard torso like a squirrel to a branch, digging her fingers into his skin, wrapping her legs around his waist, half-squeezing the breath out of him, terrified. A second rope was tossed to them; he grabbed it in two firm hands. Arm-length by arm-length, she was pulled toward the opposite side of the river, where Burn and the horses were gathered. It was all she could do to keep her head above water. Dirt muddied her eyes and mouth, twigs were caught in her hair, her clothes were heavy and tangled.

It seemed to take an hour to reach solid land. Finally she felt the soft bank beneath her, but didn't have the strength to use her limbs. She was pushed and lifted through the water, propelling herself clumsily with her legs, too numb and weak to do much else.

Once the water was shallow enough, her rescuer cut the rope between them and stood, lifting her into his arms, settling her partway over his shoulder. Then he carried her through the waist-deep water much as one might carry a child, her legs around his waist, her arms tight at his neck.

She hugged Dorian tightly, still choking, spitting out sludge from the back of her throat. She wiped her face across his shoulder, blinking the grit from her eyes, then buried herself against his wet black hair.

Wait! Black hair?

“Burn! Bring a saddle blanket!” her rescuer called. It was not Dorian's voice, but deeper, stronger, carrying the weight of authority.

Crash!

Sora wanted to care, but she was too exhausted. She hadn't the strength to thrust him away. All she could do was cling and shiver.

She was carried a short ways from the riverbank behind a thin copse of trees, then easily maneuvered to the ground. Although it was soft and sludgy, it was solid, not the quicksand of the slough. She wanted to stand up, but her limbs shook. Her teeth chattered uncontrollably. And, she suddenly realized, it was raining.

When she looked up, the assassin knelt above her, his eyes the color of moss, his black hair bristling with water. He briefly checked her for injuries, silently and efficiently, his hands running over her body in a brusque manner. She tried to protest by pushing him away, but he deftly avoided her attempts.

“Do you feel pain?” he asked, stretching out her arms and legs, pressing at her ribs.

“No,” she gasped, then coughed again, spitting out a shard of leaf.

“Good.” Then he reached up and took the saddle blanket that Burn offered. “We have to continue for a ways, but not far, just out of range of the soldiers. Can you stand?”

Sora nodded and pulled the saddle blanket around her. It was rough and heavy, and not immediately warm. She couldn't stop shivering. Still, she managed to climb to her feet and pull her wet hair away from her face. She was surprised that Crash stayed there by her side, assisting with her balance. She slowly tugged off her leather boots and dumped out the icy water. He didn't release her arm until she was able to stand on her own.

Dorian appeared, leading their horses. Somehow, they had managed to rescue her mare. They had lost several bags of supplies to the river, but the majority was still intact, if a bit damp. Sora looked at Dorian strangely, but he avoided her eyes, focusing solely on the beasts.

“I called for you,” she said, thinking back to the sinking bridge. “Did you ignore me?”

Dorian still didn't meet her eyes. It seemed as if he hadn't even heard her words. He acted very interested in the saddlebags, untying a few to check their contents. Sora watched him, her hands tight on the rough blanket, speechless.
It's like he doesn't even care!
She would have expected this from the assassin, but not Dorian. He, at least, had acted like a friend.

When she turned back to Crash, he was watching the Wolfy with a searching gaze. From the set of his jaw, he was definitely tense. His eyes flickered over Dorian's lean form, from his face to his boots.

“You left her to drown,” he said shortly, then grabbed the reins of his gray steed, pulling the horse away from the Wolfy. “You left
both of us
to drown.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow, unable to avoid the assassin. “I froze up! I didn't know what to do,” he said irritatedly. “I don't know what happened. I mean, I heard her....” He glanced to Sora, then looked away again, glaring at the horses.

Burn took his steed as well, his gaze full of concern. Then he glanced to Crash, and the two shared a strained look that Sora couldn't interpret. “How are your wounds, Dorian?” Burn asked suddenly. It seemed like an odd question, given the context. “From the attack in the woods?”

“They're healing,” Dorian grunted, and briefly lifted his shirt, showing the long red scabs. Then he winced. “Another week and they'll be gone.”

Burn nodded slowly, thoughtfully. Then he looked to Sora. “Whatever just happened,” he said, “we can discuss it later. Come, let's find a place to set up camp and dry our things. I think a big fire is in order.”

For once, no one argued. The rain became an honest downpour. Everyone took charge of their mounts and started into the swamp proper, eager to find shelter from the storm. The ground was much firmer between the massive tree roots, and the horses were able to walk easily. Sora looked up at the tall eucalyptus trees, the naked trunks that wove in and out of each other like thick tendons. The trees had wide, high branches, fanning out into a perfect canopy. The air was dense with noise: pattering raindrops, croaks and bird calls, rustles in the underbrush, chirping crickets.