The Consolation Prize (Brides of Karadok #3) - Alice Coldbreath Page 0,39
floor to her side of the bed. It was a figure crawling on all fours. Opening her mouth, she screamed loud and high.
Other figures, large and bulky were now coming through the paneling. Pausing to draw breath, Una felt Armand sit upright in the bed, and leaving him to deal with the intruders advancing upon him, she turned to the floor by her side of the bed, where a shadowy figure seemed to be rising to its knees. Reaching to the small table by her side of the bed, Una clutched the water jug and brought it down with a heavy swing in a vague approximation of the figure’s head.
The jug made contact and shattered, and Una saw the figure reel. Throwing back the covers, she leaped from the bed, and keen to take advantage of her momentary upper hand, she fell upon the figure, seizing its shoulders and bearing it back to the floor. From the size and shape, she rather thought her adversary was a woman. Grabbing her head, Una slammed it back against the floorboards, attempting to stun her further.
Behind her, she heard a scuffle and a bellow and could only hope that Armand was managing to hold his own. His sword she remembered was hanging on a chair at the foot of the bed. If she could only reach it, maybe she could help him, for she fancied he was contending with two or three to her one.
Suddenly, the figure beneath her seemed to recover her wits and started struggling wildly. It was all Una could do to remain astride her. She reached for her wrists, but only managed to catch hold of her left, for the right was swinging wildly and Una realized with a flash, that she held some kind of weapon in it, most likely a dagger.
Una redoubled her efforts, but it wasn’t easy for the female had an undoubted wiry strength. “Jeb!” she started screeching. “Get off me you bitch! I’ll kill you!” She slashed wildly at Una who let go of her left hand, to concentrate her efforts on securing the right, which held the real threat.
Dimly, Una heard someone crashing down to the ground behind her. She muttered a prayer that it was not Armand, as she finally caught hold of the hand with the knife. The woman beneath her gibbered incoherently with rage as they both exerted all their strength against each other. It was a close-run thing for Una feared they were very evenly matched in muscle. The dagger was now between their two bodies, and when she felt the blade against her ribs, she felt a new surge of strength born of fear.
Was she really going to end her days in some squalid inn, the victim of what she could only guess was a gang of murderous thieves? She, who had so many times faced death during her short, beleaguered life. Pushing desperately against the other woman’s shaking fist, she heard her give a startled grunt, then felt the sickening give as the sharp blade found its mark. Warm blood surged over Una’s fingers and she blinked in the darkness as the other woman turned limp.
There was another crash behind her, and an oath, who she relieved to discover was Armand. “Una?” he shouted.
“I’m here,” she answered shakily.
Then the door burst open and someone stood there with a candle. “Una?”
She recognized Otho’s voice before she saw his face and felt a wave of sickness wash over her. Surely Otho was not at the bottom of this?
“Halt!” shouted Armand. “Do not come any closer,” he warned, “Unless you want to suffer their fate.” In three strides, he was over the bed and kneeling beside her. He ran his large hands over her arms, feeling her for injuries.
“Nothing ails me,” she assured him. “I’m not hurt.” He had to help her to raise, for her knees were shaky and felt grazed from the floor. “I killed her,” she said numbly.
“Hush, you did well,” Armand soothed her.
“Why did they attack us?”
“I don’t know yet,” he answered grimly, slipping an arm around her waist to support her, and turning back to her brother. “You were also attacked?” he asked, and Una noticed for the first time that Otho was dressed for bed in a nightshirt, which bore splatters of blood across it. It seemed he had hastily pulled on his boots to come in search of them.
“You are hurt, Otho!” she blurted.
“It’s nothing,” he responded dismissively. “Are they dead?”