Rescue

Rescue

  Marie Brown

  ©2012

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  Rescue

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  Rescue

  Cinnamon heard the sound first, as usual. She flung her head up and snorted, ears pricked.

  "What is it, girl?" Kell patted the mare's neck and strained her own hearing. Nothing, of course, just the gentle sighing of the chill breeze as it passed through sodden leaves and over drenched grass. The mare halted of her own will, ears trembling as she analyzed that distant sound, then she moved into a canter, smoothly covering the ground faster than most horses could gallop.

  They'd traveled a good distance, probably a quarter mile, when Kell finally heard something over the sound of her Great Horse's hooves: a girl screaming. Her heart leaped into her throat and she loosened her shortsword, hardly more than a big knife, in its scabbard, then checked the strap securing her bow to the saddle. Yes, ready to do its job and release the bow quickly if needed.

  She could see the disturbance ahead now, and urged Cinnamon to move faster, faster. Mounted men crowded around a fallen figure. Some of her tension eased. With the men still mounted, the chances of rape decreased dramatically.

  "Hold!" Kell yelled. Her horse plunged into the group and the other horses, startled, shied and tried to scatter. She reined Cinnamon in a tight circle and halted her between the mounted men and the sobbing, whimpering figure of a young woman, hardly more than a girl, below. The men—Shandar gentlemen?—fought their horses to a standstill and stared at her in shock, completely incongruous in their sodden finery atop their fine blood horses.

  "You have no business here, Ranger." The oldest of the lot, the one best dressed, recovered first. "Move away from our lawful prey."

  "I'll determine what's lawful here, thank you very much."

  Cinnamon fidgeted, snorting. At her feet, the girl's sobs eased a bit and Kell saw a hint of movement, yellow mixed with mud. "Will you kindly tell me what's going on?"

  "Fugitive retrieval." Oh, cold, cruel man! It showed in his eyes, steely grey in the light of the overcast day, and sounded in his hard, controlled voice. Always one with an eye for horses, Kell noticed the firm grip he kept on his plantation walker's foamed mouth and the beast's pinned ears, the ropes of lather on its neck. Poor thing. "Now step aside."

  Kell favored him with a cold look. "As you pointed out, I'm the Ranger here, and I'll thank you not to order me about in my own jurisdiction."

  One of the younger men made a small, startled movement, holding out a hand as if to ward off a blow, and several of the others shifted in their saddles, glancing at each other. Their horses sidled into a tight knot, as though the riders thought proximity to each other would provide protection from the Law.

  "Yes, that's right, you lot are out of Shandar now. That village over there," and she jerked her head backward to indicate the first outbuildings of Rebka, suddenly brilliantly visible as the setting sun broke through a clear band in the clouds, "is a good half day's ride from the border of Shandar Province. This girl is now under my protection. Will you please tell me her crime, that I may know if she needs to be jailed or not?"

  "It's disgusting!" One of the younger men burst out, only to be silenced by a look from his elder.

  "The fugitive broke a long-standing law of the Shandar Province, one which prohibits congress between members of the same sex."

  Kell's dislike, which she'd struggled to contain on the off chance that the girl really was a criminal, abruptly blossomed into full-fledged disgust. She despised Provincial prejudices. "You poor, prejudiced bastard. The girl is well free of your restrictive culture and your insanely strict penalties. Now take your fancified butts back to Shandar, where you and all your foul kind belong."

  Not very professional, perhaps, but these bastards would burn this poor child on the ground at Cinnamon's feet. She struggled upright, an unlovely sight covered in mud with damp hair clinging to her face, but with hope shining through the fear and the marks of tears.

  Kell had time to take in the look of cold calculation on the older man's face before he shouted, "Get them!" The younger men whooped and spurred their horses forward, drawing their swords in an uncoordinated but enthusiastic attack.

  Cinnamon reacted before Kell did, lunging forward herself with a squeal and a strike. Kell whipped out her sword and risked a glance at the girl. Fallen back to the ground, tangled in her long yellow skirt, face full of panic. . . Kell ducked a wild swing from an adversary, heard Cinnamon's hooves connect with someone's thigh, saw five weapons, those absurdly long and slender rapier-things favored by Shandar men, heading her way, felt a flicker of fire on her shoulder.

  "Enough, Cinnie!"

  She dragged the mare's head around and pointed her at the girl. "Girl! Get up, now! Your hand!"

  Kell made the grab on the first try, pulling the girl up over her saddlebow with a grunt, spinning Cinnamon around in another of those wrenchingly tight turns.

  "Hear this, men of Shandar," she yelled, voice seething with anger. The confused jumble of youths halted and looked at her, while the older man glared ineffective hatred from his detached observer's position. Poor things, didn't even know how to work together, getting in each other's way. Too bad. "You are out of your jurisdiction. You have attacked and wounded a Ranger. And you have caused harm to one seeking protection from cruel and repressive laws. Now I suggest you haul yourselves right back over the borderline between our countries, or I assure you, I will get Guard assistance and bring your worthless carcasses in to stand trial. And I also assure you that with the evidence of this," she squeezed her painful shoulder, "you will not get away with your freedom. Which is it to be?"

  "Very well, then," the leader said. "You win this one. This girl is not worth any trouble. I wish you joy of her and her foulness."

  Despite the distinct sense of anticlimax, Kell felt relieved when the men turned and rode away. Six against one were not good odds, no matter how uncoordinated and inept five of the six were.

  Keeping an eye on the departing riders, Kell patted her prize on the back. "You can sit up now, if you like. That can't be comfortable, where you're at now."

  "Are they really going?" The girl spoke in a soft voice, her accent as pronounced as the men's. She lifted her head and brushed hair out of her eyes.

  "Yes, they are," Kell nodded, although she still continued watching the riders.

  "I thought they would never give up. Am I really safe now?"

  "Safe from your pursuers, at least. Beyond that, who knows what tomorrow holds?"

  Kell helped the girl struggle into an upright position, with her skirt bunched up awkwardly and her pantaloon-clad legs settled on Cinnamon's shoulders.

  "Do you have a name? I can't keep calling you 'girl' all the time."

  "My name is Shanya," she replied. Kell noticed the lack of family name and smiled to herself. The girl already began to dissociate herself from her past. Not that everyone put much stock in family names, but stuffy Shandar reckoned a person's worth by who they were related to. Of course, some family names were worth claiming. . .

  "And I'm Kell Ardantin, Shanya. I think they're really leaving. How would you like to head into town and get cleaned up a bit, maybe have some supper?"

  "I haven't eaten in two days," Shanya said, wistful. "Food would be wonderful."

  "Let's go, then." None of the Provincials carried a bow, so Kell felt reasonably safe turning her back on them. She pointed Cinnamon towards the town and nudged her into a walk. "Did they hurt you? Are you in need of medical attention?"

  "Not badly. Just bruises, I think."

  "Good." Kell rubbed her shoulder. She didn't think she required medical attention either, but now pain seeped through the remains of the adrenaline rush. "Th
e inn it is, then. C'mon, horse."

  A collection of buildings clustered together somewhat haphazardly around a large green square to form the small village of Rebka. The inn rose above the others, by far the largest and most conspicuous. Like so many rural inns, it served many purposes: meeting house, courtroom, hospital, shelter in time of need, and basically any use the villagers could think of. Large and solid, built of deep red brick at least three hundred annums ago, the inn was the only building in Rebka boasting the Ancients' plumbing, making it all the more popular with its indoor privies and steaming hot showers in wintertime.

  Now, with harvest just begun, the inn stood nearly deserted. Most villagers remained in their fields, working dilligently to reap what they had sown in spring's gentle warmth before the damp weather ruined it all. Kell steered Cinnamon to the stable, unsurprised to find it vacant. She dismounted and helped Shanya down, offering support as the girl staggered sideways.

  "My legs! Oh, I feel terrible," Shanya said, clinging to