Knight's Prize (43 page)

What
accusations were made by Lord Morbroch, what vicious epithets the crowd
sneered, what last prayer the executioner murmured, Miriel didn't know. As they
spoke, Miriel stole with infinite patience and stealth from branch to branch
until she perched directly above the rope. Then she drew her
woo diep do
and
waited.

She
swallowed hard when the executioner placed the rope around Sung Li's neck, as
if she herself was about to be strangled. Then she took a deep and silent
breath. Her timing had to be perfect. So did Rand's.

************************************

Rand
watched the proceedings with the eyes of a falcon, not daring to blink. The
torch stood ready in his hand. But though he'd never admit it to Miriel, he had
little faith in the long row of sticks set along the crest of the hill. How
could a few powders from the kitchen rolled up in the pages of a desecrated
Bible do more than incite the wrath of a vengeful God?

Yet
he did as Miriel wished, for what other choice did he have? They were three
against many, and in his heart, Rand knew she was right. Even if he'd been able
to convince Lord Morbroch 'twas not The Shadow he'd caught after all, 'twould
have changed naught. The man was eager for a scapegoat, mostly to appease his
fellow lords. And the fact that the outlaw was a strange-looking old man from a
far-off land no doubt made his execution all the more palatable.

Still,
Rand hated the fact that he'd left Miriel alone down there to battle the whole
of Morbroch while he played Prometheus upon the hill.

Rand
narrowed his eyes. The rope was about Sung Li's neck now. The executioner stepped
back. In another moment...

The
man gave a shout, the driver cracked his whip, and the cart bolted forward.

Sung
Li's feet were dangling only an instant when a black figure descended the
hanging rope, slicing through the bonds around his wrists. With amazing agility
for his age, Sung Li swung his freed arms up, seizing the rope above his head
before it could strangle him and scrambling up it until he disappeared into
the tree.

That
was Rand's signal. Walking slowly along the row, he touched the burning brand
to the pieces of coated twine, one by one.

The
first sharp hiss almost startled him out of his braies. When he cast a glance
over his shoulder, he saw a bright flash of flame, and the stick shot up with
as much force as if 'twas fired by an archer, then sailed down like a falling
star.

An
instant later, the second shot up as well. This time, he watched as it arced
high into the air. Sparks and flame and smoke made a trail across the morning
sky.

As
he paused to watch, the third followed closely thereafter in a burst of fire,
then the fourth, with a fierce sizzle, causing the castle folk to start
shouting in panic. When the fifth almost exploded upon his foot, Rand realized
he
shouldn't
have stopped walking. The small beasts
were
closing in on him, nipping
at his heels with their
fiery teeth.

He
increased his pace, lighting the sticks in a steady rhythm that kept the sky
full of the most incredible explosions and crackles and puffs of smoke, as if
some horrific dragon swooped over Morbroch, raining fire upon the countryside.

The
horse spooked and bolted, dragging the cart, rumbling and skittering over the
rocky road, all the way back to the castle. The crowd scattered like mice
before a cat, screaming and shrieking, racing, tripping, half-tumbling down the
hillside as they ran in terror from the smoke and flames. Like bats from hell,
the projectiles streaked in every direction, popping and whistling and spitting
flame, filling the air with noxious fumes.

Rand
couldn't help but grin at the glorious chaos he'd wrought. And for one mad
moment, he didn't care what he'd promised Miriel. These amazing weapons, like
lightning and thunder all in one, were too magnificent to keep a secret.

************************************

"What
the bloody hell was that?" Helena asked Deirdre, stopping in her tracks
on the forest trail.

Deirdre
frowned, one hand on the hilt of her sword.
"It
sounded like..."

Before
she could finish, another unearthly whistle rent the air. Then another. And
another.

Helena
drew her blade. " 'Tis coming from Morbroch."

The
two sisters exchanged grave looks, then bolted forward along the path. 'Twasn't
for naught they'd stolen away from Rivenloch under the noses of their husbands,
tracked Miriel for three days, and now charged onward, fully armed and ready
for battle. No matter what Miriel called herself, no matter how expert a
warrior she was, they had always come to the defense of their little sister,
and they weren't about to stop now.

But
when they reached the place where the trees thinned and the trail emerged on
the hill above Morbroch, they could do little more than stand with their mouths
agape and stare in awe.

People
were tearing across the field toward the castle, howling as if their hair were
on fire. The sky looked like a vision of Hades, filled with toxic smoke and
some strange sort of devilish locusts that buzzed and spit fire as they dove
this way and that in pursuit of the fleeing castle folk.

Not
fifty yards to their right, Deirdre and Helena discovered the source of the
monstrous swarm of insects. Rand, his face lit up with diabolical glee, was
setting fire to a row of sticks that sizzled and shot up into the air at the
touch of flame, like bolts from a bow.

"What
the Devil...?" Helena said.

Then
Deirdre elbowed her and nodded to the pair of wretches scrambling up the hill
toward them. "Miriel," she breathed.

"Lucifer's
ballocks, is that Sung Li?"

Chapter 27

Rand
crowed with triumph
as Miriel and Sung Li came
racing up the rise, looking none the worse for wear. It had worked. Their plan
had worked. The folk of Morbroch, thinking they were being assailed by some
unholy plague, had fled like sinners for their lives.

"Miriel!"
came a feminine shout from behind him.

He
whipped his head about. "Helena?" He scowled in surprise. "Deirdre?
What the bloody hell...?"

Rand
stood, flummoxed, still holding the burning brand, while the three sisters
collided in victorious reunion, hugging and grinning and all talking at once.
He shook his head. He supposed the Warrior Maids of Rivenloch were going to
take credit for Miriel's rescue now.

"All
this," Deirdre was asking Miriel as she gestured to the smoky sky,
"just to recover Father's silver?"

Miriel
shrugged. "I couldn't leave Sung Li behind."

"By
the Saints," Helena breathed in wonder. "Sung Li's a man."

Miriel
attempted to level a stern frown at Deirdre. "But what are you doing here?
I told you I didn't need your help."

"Oh,
we didn't come to help," Deirdre assured her. "We came to
watch."

"Deirdre,"
Helena whispered, tugging on her sister's sleeve, "Sung Li's a man."

Rand
cleared his throat. "Well, now you've watched. I suggest we resume our
escape."

No
one was paying the least bit of attention to him.

"After
all," Deirdre said, "I've never actually seen The Shadow in
action."

"Aside
from my knocking you on your arse," Miriel teased.

"Oh,
aye, aside from that."

"Miriel,"
Helena hissed. "Miriel. Your maidservant—"

"Aye,"
Sung Li bit out impatiently. "We all know Sung Li is a man."

"Ladies,"
Rand tried again.

Deirdre
finally noted the bruises on Miriel's face. "Oh, Miri, what happened to
you?"

"'Tis
naught. Just a few scratches I—"

"Scratches?"
Rand burst out, finally garnering their attention. "'Tis more than
scratches. I was fighting for
my..."
He
trailed off, suddenly realizing 'twould be a grave mistake to let the two
sword-wielding sisters know that he was the one who'd inflicted those injuries
upon their darling Miriel.

But
their suspicions had already been roused. Helena's weapon was halfway out of
its sheath.

"Did
you do this to my sister?"

Miriel
pushed Helena's hand back down. "Helena, you don't know the whole—"

Now
Deirdre was skewering him with a glare. "If you touched one hair on her
head—"

"Deirdre,
do not," Miriel pleaded. "I'll explain everything."

Rand
cast a glance down the hill again.

The
knights of Morbroch were no longer terrified by the unearthly assault. The
bravest men had armed themselves and were now ascending the hill, prepared to
challenge whatever hellish beast threatened Morbroch.

"Run!"
Rand yelled at the women.

They
stopped their chatter and looked at him as if he were addled.

"Run!"
he shouted again.

Still
they stood their ground. What the Devil was wrong with them?

Of
course, he realized. He'd made a poor choice of words. Saying "run"
to a warrior woman was like saying "surrender" to a knight.

"Hurry!"
he amended. "They're coming. Take Sung Li to safety."

With
a verifying glance down the hill, they complied, bolting into the woods.

Then,
with a final headlong rush, Rand lit the rest of the
huo yao.
The
sound was incredible, like a whole row of trebuchets firing rocks upon a castle
wall in rapid succession. As if Hephaestus were forging armor upon his great
anvil over Morbroch, sparks flew everywhere, their brilliance rivaling the sun.

There
was no time to see what effect this climactic series of explosions had upon the
knights. Rand had to join the other fugitives. He lit the final stick, tossed
down the torch, which guttered out upon the damp heath, and made his escape
into the forest through the concealing veil of smoke.

Why
he imagined he'd get a word in between the excited palavering of the sisters,
he didn't know. They were clearly too busy untangling years of secrets to pay
heed to what he was saying.

"So
in all this time," Deirdre said, "Father hasn't lost a penny?"

"Not
a penny."

Helena
murmured, "And Sung Li. Has he been a man all along?"

"Of
course," Miriel said with a laugh.

"He
was your teacher, wasn't he?" Deirdre guessed.

"Aye."

"I
wish you'd told us," Helena said with a pout.

"Amazing,"
Deirdre marveled. "Sir Rand kept tracking The Shadow, never realizing he
was on the trail of his own ladylove."

Helena
laughed and clapped Miriel on the shoulder. "And she had the ballocks to
leave him a silver coin."

"What
about your collection of weapons?" Deirdre asked. "Do you actually
know how to use them?"

Miriel
nodded.

Helena's
eyes lit up. "You must show us, Miri. Promise."

Sung
Li didn't bother trying to interject any words of wisdom as they hurried along.
Nearly an hour into the journey, he finally remarked upon Rand's injuries.
"So what happened to you?"

"The
Shadow happened to me," he replied.

"Hmph."
Then a smile of pride mixed with something wicked slowly curved Sung Li's lips.
"You are lucky you are still alive."

Rand
nodded. He knew just what Sung Li meant. If Miriel hadn't had one tiny sliver
of love left for him, he might lie dead now.

But
so might Sung Li.

"You
are lucky as well."