Not Magic Enough and Setting Boundaries - By Valerie Douglas Page 0,23

a shake of her head, she turned back toward the great room.

“Pay no attention to her, Delae,” Petra said, stoutly. “And we can do on half rations.”

With a smile, Delae patted Petra’s comforting hand on her arm. “For all my words to Cana, it’s not so bad as that yet, Petra, we might simply have to butter the bread a little more thinly for a time until I’m sure.”

A breath of a relief burst out of the aged little woman. She loved her bread soaked in cream and honey as much as the old bitch did.

With a small chuckle, Delae went on her way.

Her fingers drifted over the tapestry on the loom, remembering… Her throat tightened as she sat before it and chose her threads. In her thoughts was Dorovan’s lovely deep voice, telling her about life in Talaena, of how beautiful it was. She could only imagine it but some of it she set into the threads of the tapestry she wove, smiling as afternoon light slowly gilded the room in light.

That smile didn’t last long when she heard the first cry of alarm from the yard.

The first shout had Delae racing for the doorway, some instinct telling her that this, this, was what Kort had truly feared.

Morlis had spotted the black-clad riders coming and now ran to try to shut the gates, calling for help.

Damn you, Kort, what have you done? she wondered as she spun and ran for her sword.

Petra and Hallis rushed down the hall toward her at the shouts from the yard.

“Bar all the entrances, Hallis, Petra,” Delae said, snatching up her sword, fighting back her fear. “Go as quickly as you can. Get water heated and bandages ready. Go.”

Frightened, Petra said, “What is it, Delae?”

“I don’t know,” Delae said, as they heard another shout of alarm from outside. “But it’s bad. Bar the doors behind me. Your lives on it if you don’t.”

She ran, her skirts flying.

It was too late.

The riders hit the rapidly closing gates hard with the speed of their arrival, sending Morlis flying as the wooden gates slammed against his body, flinging him backwards.

Dan came running from the forge, a hammer and a piece of heated iron in his hands to face a dozen men on horseback, all armed with swords, some in leather armor.

The horses and riders milled around in the courtyard, disturbed by the smell of the hot iron, turning for the oak and iron-clad doors to the great room.

Where Delae stepped out with sword in hand to face them.

Behind her, she heard the bar on the door fall into place with a solid chunk.

There was no retreat, but if she didn’t win here retreat was not an option. A part of her wanted to weep, but she couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

“Dan – get Morlis,” she said calmly, seeing her hostler sprawled by the gates, shaking his head to clear it. She turned to the men before her. “The gates to the homestead itself are barred. Name your business here.”

She gave a significant glance to Dan, whose eyes widened at her words, knowing the doors would have to be battered open. He nodded, keeping his eyes warily on the intruders as he went to Morlis.

The leader of the invaders looked at her.

“You won’t gain entrance,” she said. “What is your business here?”

“Do you even know how to use that?” he asked, glancing at the sword.

A week’s lessons from an Elven Swordmaster were better than nothing by far, and certainly better than many of these who would know only how to hack and slash.

“Well enough to cut the first one or two who try me,” she said evenly. “Who wants to go first?”

The leader burst out in laughter as he eyed her.

Beyond him, Delae could see Dan help Morlis back to the barn before releasing him so he could close the stable doors as well. Dan gestured to the women and children, including his own Lucie, sending them into the miniature fortress that was the forge. Morlis quietly drew the doors shut behind him. All the smallfolk were safe and secure.

Now she was truly alone.

Dan shut the outer doors behind him, mallet and steel in hand, to guard the entrance and to aid Delae if he could.

His loyalty and courage touched her.

“Again,” she said, as much to keep their attention on her. “What is your business here?”

“Is this the homestead of landowner Kort?”

Kort.

She closed her eyes. She might have known. Now she understood his fear, his anxiety. He must