owe a great deal to engender this result.
“You just missed him,” she said. “He left only hours ago, heading south and west. If you leave now you can probably catch him.”
With a roar, the leader burst into laughter.
“I like you,” he said. “You’re a feisty wench. It must be the red hair. You must be the bitch he speaks of? His wife? Is that you? Are you his wife?”
“There’s nothing for you here,” she said, evenly, in answer. “Just go.”
Behind him, she saw Morlis reach out for the door to the hayloft and draw it closed. At least they wouldn’t fear fire.
“Kort owes my some money,” the leader said.
“A pity,” Delae said. “He should know better than to lend it to drunken gamblers. There’s no money here, Kort took it all.”
The leader looked around at the homestead, only then noticing doors that had once been open were now shut and Dan standing guard at the forge.
“As I said,” Delae repeated. “There is nothing for you here. Kort has every coin we had. If you leave now, you might catch him.”
It would serve him right to face the consequences of his actions for once. Or perhaps he could ride fast enough to outrun them.
Eyeing the closed and barred courtyard, the leader turned to her. “Somehow I don’t think so. You seem a smart woman. Too smart to let him take it all.”
Delae swore softly in her mind but took a page from the Elves - from Dorovan - and kept it from showing on her face.
If they took the money, it was die now or starve later. Even if they sold all their stock - if these didn’t take them, too - barring a miracle they would simply starve the next winter instead. And Kort would still be out there between waiting for more…or coming back for what little remained.
There was nothing else to do but brazen it out.
“I repeat,” she said, “there is nothing for you here. Just go.”
With a shrug, the leader said, “There is always you. Better a bird in the hand. Sell you to the slave markets and we’d get something at least. You’re a little thing but bold and pretty enough with that red hair. If nothing else, you’ll fetch a hefty price.” He smiled. “I’d be first in line to break you in. You’ve got spirit.”
Just the thought sent a shudder through her although she didn’t show that either. Or how utterly terrified she was.
She would fight, though, because she must.
With a shake of his head the bandit signaled to his men.
“Get the doors down,” he commanded. “Take her.”
Delae looked at Dan, holding one hand low, praying he’d listen as his muscles bunched.
It was likely they’d both die here but those they loved might not.
The riders dismounted, pushing their horses out of the way. Delae never took her eyes off the leader as two of his men headed toward her. The others gathered together laughing and shoving each other as they turned toward the doors to the great room.
If they did break in, they’d be sadly disappointed to find only two old men and two old women inside. Kort’s mother and Delae’s servant.
But they were Delae’s. Her responsibility. She set herself as the two men neared and then she nodded.
Dan charged with a shout, mallet and heated iron swinging.
It was a distraction and all she needed.
Delae ran and spun, her wrists locked as Dorovan had taught her. She felt the impact of steel against skin and bone, as sharpened steel sliced effortlessly through flesh. Her mind shied away from the thought and from the shower of blood that drenched her skirts even as she turned to the next, ducking beneath a swing that might have taken her head off.
A blade flashed in the late afternoon sunlight as the second drove his sword down at her head. She took it on her own with both hands. The force of the blow made her hands sting but she didn’t drop the blade, only her shoulder as she slid out from beneath it and danced away. Even as she spun and turned she drew the sword after her and felt it bite into flesh as the man shouted in pain.
It was the movement of mass – the sudden beat of hooves that made her turn – spinning and ducking as the leader spurred his horse at her, grabbing for her hair.
He missed.
Setting his horse on his heels, the leader turned it and swung even as a third man