boys laughed in unison. They were bare to the waist, one broad and one skinny, with their hose pulled up high and their calves pink from the chilling waves that washed past.
The skinny one splashed, chasing a fish, and the other lad laughed as he watched. The sound blended musically with the burble of the waters.
From somewhere far away, Sara watched too. She knew she didn't belong in this pastoral scene. Yet, she couldn 't look away, for the children were so beautiful in their innocent play. The husky boy laughed again, then glanced, to his right, and there, upon the shiny pebbles of the far shore, was a black sword.
A chill washed over Sara. The boy turned, mesmerized by the weapon as he made his way through the deepening water. Dark clouds suddenly raced like mounted steeds toward the sword, swirling from the sky, ready to engulf the boy.
The skinny lad turned, terror in his eyes.
"Go back!" Sara screamed. "Go back!" But no one heard her.
The boy touched the blade. The clouds turned to dark, gnarled faces. And the river turned to blood.
"Nay!" Sara shrieked. She woke with a start. Evil approached. She felt it in her heart, and in wild desperation, snatched up a branch from the fire.
Her scream ripped Boden into wakefulness. He grabbed for his sword and slashed even as he leapt to his feet.
Shadows sprang toward him through the darkness. Boden slashed again, catching the nearest man across the belly. He screamed and crumpled to the ground, but there was no time to think. The first brigand was felled, but there was another behind him, shrieking a battle cry. He dove from a nightmare, hefting his sword as he came.
Boden ducked, stabbed, and ducked again. Blood spurted into the night air. A man fell with a gurgling cry. Another came on.
Where was the woman? Was she dead?
Boden slashed again, then felt the bite of steel against his arm. The hiss of pain was his own, but his opponent fell, and now he could see the woman. She stood with a blazing brand in her hand while a villain lunged at her.
She screamed, but in the same instant she swung. An arc of sparks sprayed outward, lighting the villain's hideous expression. Wood met steel and the wood was severed. The villain laughed as he sprang forward.
Boden lunged toward them. A mace swung from the darkness. He leaped sideways, but not soon enough.
Thunder echoed in his head and he staggered. The world slowed. Reality trembled as a brigand screamed a battle cry. The sound echoed in Boden's mind. He turned, disoriented, dulled. Someone leapt toward him. He reacted by instinct. His arm lifted, blocked, parried, and suddenly the villain was impaled on his sword.
The man fell, dragging Boden's blade with him. He staggered sideways, pulling Adder free and searching for Bernadette. Did she still stand? He turned, trying to focus.
She was there. The flaming end had been severed from her brand, but she stood with her legs apart, nearly atop the child she so desperately tried to protect. The villain laughed again and lunged toward her, but in the wavering shadows of the failing fire, he tripped, and in that instant she swung wildly. The club connected with his skull and he fell to his knees.
Bernadette stumbled backward. The baby cried. She reached down, scooping him into her arms, but in that instant the brigand rose with a roar.
Darkness swirled around Boden. He grappled with it, yanking it aside as he struggled through the tattered webs of his failing consciousness toward her.
The brigand lunged. Bernadette raised an arm, trying to shield the baby.
A battle cry ripped, unbidden, from Boden's throat. Adder swept upward and suddenly, like black magic, it was embedded deep and ugly in the villain's back.
Boden watched the sword drop from the other's hand, watched his body reach skyward and stiffen before it crashed to the earth.
Then there was silence. Boden listened to it for a moment, nodded to the woman, and then he, too, slumped into darkness.
The music and the
The skinny one splashed, chasing a fish, and the other lad laughed as he watched. The sound blended musically with the burble of the waters.
From somewhere far away, Sara watched too. She knew she didn't belong in this pastoral scene. Yet, she couldn 't look away, for the children were so beautiful in their innocent play. The husky boy laughed again, then glanced, to his right, and there, upon the shiny pebbles of the far shore, was a black sword.
A chill washed over Sara. The boy turned, mesmerized by the weapon as he made his way through the deepening water. Dark clouds suddenly raced like mounted steeds toward the sword, swirling from the sky, ready to engulf the boy.
The skinny lad turned, terror in his eyes.
"Go back!" Sara screamed. "Go back!" But no one heard her.
The boy touched the blade. The clouds turned to dark, gnarled faces. And the river turned to blood.
"Nay!" Sara shrieked. She woke with a start. Evil approached. She felt it in her heart, and in wild desperation, snatched up a branch from the fire.
Her scream ripped Boden into wakefulness. He grabbed for his sword and slashed even as he leapt to his feet.
Shadows sprang toward him through the darkness. Boden slashed again, catching the nearest man across the belly. He screamed and crumpled to the ground, but there was no time to think. The first brigand was felled, but there was another behind him, shrieking a battle cry. He dove from a nightmare, hefting his sword as he came.
Boden ducked, stabbed, and ducked again. Blood spurted into the night air. A man fell with a gurgling cry. Another came on.
Where was the woman? Was she dead?
Boden slashed again, then felt the bite of steel against his arm. The hiss of pain was his own, but his opponent fell, and now he could see the woman. She stood with a blazing brand in her hand while a villain lunged at her.
She screamed, but in the same instant she swung. An arc of sparks sprayed outward, lighting the villain's hideous expression. Wood met steel and the wood was severed. The villain laughed as he sprang forward.
Boden lunged toward them. A mace swung from the darkness. He leaped sideways, but not soon enough.
Thunder echoed in his head and he staggered. The world slowed. Reality trembled as a brigand screamed a battle cry. The sound echoed in Boden's mind. He turned, disoriented, dulled. Someone leapt toward him. He reacted by instinct. His arm lifted, blocked, parried, and suddenly the villain was impaled on his sword.
The man fell, dragging Boden's blade with him. He staggered sideways, pulling Adder free and searching for Bernadette. Did she still stand? He turned, trying to focus.
She was there. The flaming end had been severed from her brand, but she stood with her legs apart, nearly atop the child she so desperately tried to protect. The villain laughed again and lunged toward her, but in the wavering shadows of the failing fire, he tripped, and in that instant she swung wildly. The club connected with his skull and he fell to his knees.
Bernadette stumbled backward. The baby cried. She reached down, scooping him into her arms, but in that instant the brigand rose with a roar.
Darkness swirled around Boden. He grappled with it, yanking it aside as he struggled through the tattered webs of his failing consciousness toward her.
The brigand lunged. Bernadette raised an arm, trying to shield the baby.
A battle cry ripped, unbidden, from Boden's throat. Adder swept upward and suddenly, like black magic, it was embedded deep and ugly in the villain's back.
Boden watched the sword drop from the other's hand, watched his body reach skyward and stiffen before it crashed to the earth.
Then there was silence. Boden listened to it for a moment, nodded to the woman, and then he, too, slumped into darkness.
The music and the
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