Serpent (7 page)

“What in the bloody hell is that noise out there?” she demanded, but kept speaking before Penelope could answer her. “Alec tossed me in here
and told me to stay with ye. Me own son tossed me about like an ale-house wench! Now, what
is
all of the madness about?”

Penelope grasped her Aunt Jemma and pulled the woman over to the brazier, which she
then toppled onto its side to douse the embers. Jordan saw what her daughter was doing and quickly pushed dirt upon the coals to quench them. Even Jemma kicked at the dark, moist earth as they hurriedly buried the coals, but she was more interested in what was happening.

“Penny?” she urged. “What has happened?”

“I am not sure, Aunty,” Penelope said honestly “I was on watch at the north perimeter of the encampment when something roared. Did you hear it? And then it seemed as if the entire marsh came to life because the water was churning and this… this
head
came out of the water.”

Jordan and Jemma looked at Penelope as if the woman had gone mad
. “Head?” Jordan repeated, incredulous and apprehensive. “What kind of head?”

Penelope thought back to that terrifying moment; in truth, she was frightened, perhaps more frightened than she had ever been in her life.
She struggled against that fear, an unfamiliar sensation.

“I do not know,” she said, listening to the shouting about camp grow closer
. Horses seemed to be all around them. “It was big and… and silver, I think. It looked like the head of a horse. Or a snake. Oh, I do not know
what
it looked like, exactly. It was difficult to tell in the moonlight.”

The thunder of hooves
was right outside the tent now and the side of the tent suddenly caved in. Penelope pulled her mother and aunt out of the way of the folding fabric and then leapt in front of the pair, broadsword lifted, as a man burst into the collapsing tent. She thrust violently at the figure onlyh to be met with a block of greater power. It was dark so it was difficult to see who she was engaging, but after a short and panic-filled moment, Penelope realized she was looking at her brother, Thomas.

“’Tis me!” Thomas hissed, shoving
her broadsword aside. Another dark de Wolfe son only a few years older than Penelope, he reached down for his mother. “We must get to the horses.”

Penelope grasped her Aunt Jemma and followed her brother from the partially-collapsed tent. “What is happening, Thomas?” she demanded.

There were horses all around and men shouting as they exited into the cold and bright night. Several soldiers ran past them, nearly knocking Jemma over, and the woman cursed loudly. Penelope was trying to help the woman along, glancing over her shoulder towards the northern perimeter as they fled. She could see a line of men, and knights on horseback, and as she watched, a very large creature with a long neck and a snake-like head reared up and roared into the night. She could see the silver moonlight reflecting off of long and terrifying fangs. It was too astonishing to believe.

There was tangible terror in the air as the four of them raced to several horses that were tethered near a small copse of trees. The ground was heavy with moist earth and wet grass, making it difficult to move quickly and not slip. By the time they reached the horses, more men were rushing in from the road to the south astride steeds that were fast and lightly armored. Penelope watched the men rush past them, trying not to feel an inordinate amount of confusion
. For a knight, confusion could be deadly.

“Thomas,” she called to her brother as the man moved to help his mother mount a skittish horse. “Who are these men?”

Thomas launched his mother onto the back of the horse. His gaze moved to the group of men who were fending off whatever hellish creature was upon them, helping The Wolfe’s men in their fight. He shook his head, genuinely puzzled, but nonetheless focused on what he must do. Like his father and brothers, he was a competent and powerful knight.

“I do not know,” he said, moving to his Aunt Jemma. “
They came in from the road to the west and headed straight into the fight. They are Welsh, that is certain, but we do not know who they are. All that matters at the moment is that they are with us, not against us.”

Penelope
helped her brother get Jemma to a horse and assisted her in mounting. The horses were agitated and Thomas grabbed his sister.

“Get mounted,” he told her. “Father wants you to take Mother and Aunt Jemma and ride for Rhydilian Castle.”

Penelope tried not to be startled by yet another horrific roar as the creature was fended off by a host of well-armed men. But as she mounted the nearest steed, which happened to be Thomas’ horse, the lure proved to be too great and she turned to watch as men began lighting arrows and shooting flaming projectiles from their crossbows. The light of fiery arrows began to fill the night sky as they shot overhead, illuminating the terrible beast at the edge of the marsh. In fact,  there seemed to be a good deal of flame happening on the northern perimeter, so much so that the creature, whatever it was, began to shrink back, clearly turned away by the men with flame.

“Thomas,
look
,” Penelope pointed to the battle in the distance. “It is moving away!”

Thomas was preparing to send his mother and aunt off into the night but he paused at his sister’s insistence. His hazel eyes watched the scene, carefully gauging the degree of battle and of danger as the flame arrows continued to fly and the creature turned back for the marsh. With the bright moon and flaming projectiles,
it was easy to see what was going on. He had to admit that his sister’s assessment seemed to be correct; the creature seemed to be returning to whatever hellish cave it crawled out of.

But for Penelope, it was not enough. She had to see for herself, attracted as she was to the heart of any conflict
. It was the de Wolfe in her, the traits passed down by her father. As Thomas yelled after her, she spurred the black charger towards the gathering of men, most of whom seemed to be backing away, in a line, just as the creature was moving away from them. She could see de Wolfe men poised for battle, and knights she had known all her life who were watching the retreat with concern; her father, Paris, Kieran, her brothers Scott and Troy and Patrick, Kieran’s sons Kevin, Alec, and Christian, and Paris’ sons Hector and Adonis and Apollo.

… Apollo?

Penelope could see the tall, red-haired knight standing next to Alec Hage. The last she had seen of Apollo, he had ridden on to Rhydilian Castle to announce the arrival of the party from Castle Questing. Logic would dictate, then, that the men who had ridden to their aid must have been from Rhydilian Castle if Apollo was with them. Further logic would dictate that The Serpent must be among them; it must have been the man himself who had ridden to their aid. There was no other clear alternative.

Penelope didn’t like that thought at all. She didn’t know why she was suddenly apprehensive, but she was. To know that the man she was pledged to was somewhere in her midst
unnerved her. When she heard someone give the retreat cover command, she drove her heels into the sides of the horse and charged after the men on horseback that were pursuing the beast. As she raced towards the marsh, unknown to her father or the rest of his knights, the de Wolfe encampment began to hastily pack up and prepare to move out.

It hadn’t been a particularly wise move on her
part, she thought in hindsight, going in pursuit of a dangerous beast, but she found that she had to get away. She had to do what came naturally, to fight and defend, and then perhaps it would help her clear her mind and not feel such apprehension. She didn’t like the feeling. But the truth was that she didn’t know this land and in the bright moonlight, it made movement more difficult. Everything was gray or shadowed, making it difficult to focus on the details of her surroundings. She knew she had put herself in some danger by bolting off but she wouldn’t dwell on it. She was riding at the tail end of the group of men going after the beast until abruptly, they split up and went different directions. The swiftness of the movement caught Penelope off guard and she was unable to pull her horse up before the animal slipped headlong into the marsh.

Panicked, she spurred the animal out of the water and back onto firm land. She could se
e men off to her right in the distance, skirting the edge of the marsh, and she thought to go in their direction until the water in front of her suddenly exploded up into the air like a great silver fount. The charger startled and reared, dumping Penelope off onto the soft and wet ground. Falling on the hilt of her broadsword, she grunted in pain as she rolled to her knees. She tried to grab the horse but he was too spooked and bolted off. As she struggled to regain her footing, a familiar and terrible roar burst out next to her.

The creature was suddenly there, emerging from the marsh in a great eruption of water and mud. Penelope, stunned and horrified, watched the beast rear its neck out of the water, no more than a dozen feet away from her. It spied her instantly as she
knelt on the ground, halfway to her feet, and the big mouth gaped open, roaring again. It was an utterly terrifying sound.

Penelope could see that it was looking at her and
at that moment, she could have done one of two things; she could have surrendered to the inevitable, knowing it meant to kill her, or she could do what her character dictated - she could fight it. She was a de Wolfe, born and bred for battle, and whatever this creature was, it would not be the end of her. She would not allow it. She had to kill it, or injure it, before it did the same to her. The crossroads of life and death were staring her in the face and she was not about to back down. She was not going to concede defeat.

Quick as a flash, Penelope unsheathed her broadsword, the one she had fallen on when the horse had dumped her
. There was nowhere to run or hide as the enormous head of the beast began to reach for her; if she turned her back on it to run away, it would surely kill her, and she couldn’t run fast enough to get out of the reach of its very long neck. Therefore, she stood her ground as a trained warrior would, watching the thing come down on her and waiting until the last second to roll away, away from the momentum of the lurching head. As it slammed to the ground beside her, she lifted her sword and jammed the blade straight into the baleful right eye.

The creature screamed, a howl that was so loud it nearly ruptured her eardrums, and her broadsword remained stuck in the beast’s eye as it reared up and screamed in pain
. Terrified, Penelope scrambled to her feet and began to run, running so hard and so fast that she dare not look behind her. As she ran for the safety of the nearby trees, men on horseback raced past her, heading for the animal. All except one; he pulled his horse up as she ran past him and bailed off of the animal, grabbing her on the arm.

Her momentum sent them both to the ground
. Penelope was in a flurry of panic, beating at the man who held her, struggling to get away from his grip. But his embrace was like iron; he was a very big man and extraordinarily strong.

“Let me go!” she howled. “We must run from this place! It will come back!”

The knight held on tightly. “Easy,” he said, laboring to calm her. “You’ll not run that way. There is only more swamp and many ways to drown.”

Penelope had stopped fighting him but she was still struggling. “Please,” she begged. “We must get away from here
. That beast will surely return.”

The man sat up, pulling her with him
. His dark green eyes were on the scene in the distance; the creature with a broadsword in its eye had quickly submerged and his men were standing on the edge of the marsh, waiting and watching for the beast’s return. But his attention was more on the knight he had grabbed than the beast; he had no idea it was a woman until she spoke and now, his curiosity had the better of him.

He studied her intently
in the silver moonlight; her dark hair was pulled back against her skull, braided and pinned behind her head. He hadn’t noticed her hair until now; she must have had a lot of it because the bun and the braid were very thick. At close range, he could see her exquisite features with a pert nose and seductive, long-lashed eyes. She was a remarkable beauty, even in the dark, but she was also wearing heavy mail, portions of plate armor that was custom –fitted to her body, and a scabbard for the sword she had just launched into the beast’s eye. His curiosity turned to confusion.

“You... you are not a knight,” he stated the obvious. “Who are you?”

Penelope looked at the man, hearing the disapproval and hazard in his tone. She resumed her attempts to pull away from him. “I am with William de Wolfe,” she said, avoiding giving him an answer for the most part. “Who are
you
?”

Bhrodi wasn’t going to tell her; at this point, he really didn’t want anyone to know. He still wasn’t sure he wanted de Wolfe here and certainly didn’t want to meet the man on a level playing field, here out in the middle of the marsh as they fought off The
Serpent. He wanted to meet the man in his great hall where he had the upper hand and the perception of being in control in his own castle.

“A man who has saved your life,” he said, eyeing the mail hood about her shoulders. “What are you doing dressed as a knight?
Where is your husband that he would let you dress like this?”