Besotted (The Fairest Maidens #3) - Jody Hedlund Page 0,2
Jorg spoke the language of the Great Isle flawlessly because he’d lived in Warwick for most of his childhood, until his father, one of Queen Margery’s courtiers, had sought sanctuary in Scania.
Jorg didn’t reminisce about his childhood other than to say his father hadn’t been able to stomach the queen’s cruelty, nor had he been able to support her with a good conscience. As a result, he’d made a bold move in escaping from the country with his family. At the time, Jorg had been a squire, working toward becoming an elite knight. Although Scania didn’t have the same elite regiments that existed on the Great Isle, Jorg’s father had found a Scanian knight willing to finish preparing him for knighthood.
Now, as we traversed through the forest, Jorg took the lead, his training lending him a keen eye that would alert us to danger. Our empty stomachs prodded us onward. When we reached the woodland near the ravine, we had to wind our way through particularly heavy shrubs. The rushing of rapids beckoned to us. As we broke into the river clearing, morning sunshine poured over my head, warming me and making me pause to take in the grandeur of the rocky cliffs and magnificent river.
For the beginning of September, the water level was diminished from what it had been in early summer. Because of its remote location, few people fished this far inland. Thus we always had success netting carp and trout, and we’d also found crayfish, which were small but edible.
I dug my fishing gear from my bag, eager to sate my appetite. Then I tossed the sack into a tall cluster of woodrushes only to have squeals erupt—the angry squeals of a boar that didn’t appreciate being disturbed.
I threw down my gear, and with a burst of energy borne from fear, I sprinted along the riverbed, keeping to the cleared area for ease of escaping. I leapt over brush and rocks and splashed in the shallow water.
Even so, the boar’s enraged squeals resounded much too close to my heels.
“Run faster!” Jorg shouted from where he stood upstream.
I was tempted to respond sarcastically and thank him for his astute advice. But I was too focused on staying one step ahead of the boar. I unsheathed my sword and held it in one hand, while pulling my axe out of my belt with the other. I took a backhand swing at the creature and managed to make it stumble over loose rocks in the river, slowing it a little.
I used the moment to push myself harder, scanning the steep cliffs for a place I might escape. Covered by thick vines and brush, the rocky surface was twice as high as the thick walls of a castle, impenetrable and unable to be scaled—at least not by natural means alone.
As the squeal sounded nearer again, my gasping breath and lagging speed warned me I couldn’t keep going indefinitely. I was too tired from the short night and weak from hunger and needed to find a hiding place, somewhere I could rest until the boar lost interest or my scent—whichever came first.
The thick brush against the cliff would conceal me better than the more open riverbank on the opposite side. As I rounded a bend, I made a quick turn and hacked at the ivy and hawthorn, clearing an opening. I pushed through until I felt the uneven granite of the cliff. Even then, I chopped branches out of the way and worked my way farther down the river.
At the snorting and squealing a mere dozen paces away, I held myself motionless, praying the creature would give up the chase and move on. The irony of my situation wasn’t lost on me. Under normal circumstances, I should be the one cornering the boar—along with the others of a hunting party. But then, in coming to Inglewood Forest for my Testing, everything familiar and comfortable had been turned upside down.
My only hope was that Jorg was aiding me by pursuing the boar with the intent of killing it for a feast of our own. If I could distract it, he might be able to get close enough to slay it before it slashed him.
With a fresh spurt of energy, I sliced my axe into the thick vegetation, piling it up and making a barricade. I worked swiftly and expertly, the mound growing. As the boar caught a fresh whiff of me and barreled toward me, I dove over the heap.