Deep in the forests of the Andrian Forest, Lucas rode his big gray gelding hard, sacrificing stealth in favor of speed. It had been a grueling 3 days and nights pursuit and they were both beginning to feel the strain. The stops had been brief, more to rest the horse than to rest himself; he could eat and drink in the saddle, and he had found herbs along the way that would keep him alert for a while longer. The men he pursued were close now and if Lucas read the trail correctly they were down to three.
The chase had begun on the northern side of the forest, the small group of men he was pursuing had escaped from a battle between the forces of a dark wizard and the small army that Lucas had brought together. There had been five in the group originally. One had succumbed to wounds after only a few hours, another had lain in wait for Lucas and the ambush had nearly worked. There should only be three remaining, but they were the healthiest and most desperate. They knew they were being pursued.
The southern side of the forest was near now, beyond there were a few villages and the Great Northern Market road. If they reached the road Lucas had only a 50-50 chance of following. Letting them slip away was not an option.
He straightened his back and Ironhoof slowed to a walk, then stopped. Lucas glanced down at the puddle by the game trail he was following. Yes, three sets of footprints, heavy soldiers boots from the look. The edges of the print were very sharp, water was still seeping in. They were close! He could almost smell them.
Soon, he would have them. He raised his hands, nudged with his heels and Ironhoof jumped into a canter again.
Mary liked fall evenings more than any other time, especially days like today. There was no one needing healing, the herb garden required no attention, the stacks of firewood were neat and stacked high under the eaves of her cottage, ready to see her through the upcoming winter, there was a warm fire burning in the hearth and a savory stew nearly ready to eat hanging over it. Her sigh was mostly of contentment, tinged just a bit with loneliness.
The small three room cabin was set back from the market road and nearly two miles from the nearest village. She liked the solitude, for the most part, though not by nature shy or withdrawn she knew that others found her uncomfortable to be around. She was not ugly but she was far from beautiful, a fact she had been schooled in almost every day while young. She also had an unwelcome quick mind, boys had found her company intimidating, so avoided her. Solitude was better. Solitude was not cruel.
She stepped around the garden and walked toward the edge of the forest, stopping when she came to the grave. Old Metta's grave. Dear Metta, Mary missed her and loved her still.
Metta's accepting her as apprentice had been Mary's salvation. A healer needed a quick mind and a healer usually did not marry. Common folk were often uncomfortable around a healer, so they lived apart from the village. It was, in all ways, the situation that most suited Mary. And if the winter nights felt cold and long, it was a small price to pay.
Mary set the small bundle of flowers near the wooden marker, then took a few moments to tidy up the grave, removing the old flowers now wilted, and tossing aside a stick or two that had fallen from the big oak.
Mary said a few words to the goddess that Metta could rest after her long life of helping others, then sat on the nearby stump. Typically Mary began listing the latest news.
"Old Miller came by yesterday. I told him that cut would get infected if he did not keep it clean, but you know how he would never listen to such advise. I believe I can control it and he will not lose his hand. Pray that I do, it would be hard on him."
"Ruth is with child. It seems she cannot keep her hands off Stephan, despite my warning. So we will most likely see a wedding sometime soon, unless she asks me to end it. I told her the option was open if she did not wait too long. We will see what she says, but you know what a lack-wit she is. She has more bosom than brain, you said so when she was 15 years old.
"Greta is saying this will be the coldest winter in decades, and we will have more snow than we can measure. When I asked her how she knew she said she felt it in her bones. That is a gift I was not aware that bones possessed, so as you always said, I am still learning."
The wind rose briefly, which made the leaves rustle dryly. Mary shivered and wished she had brought a shawl.
"Metta, I know you always said that I would grow accustomed to being alone, but I do miss you. I even find myself missing the way you would smack me with a spoon when I made a mistake. 'Tis true, although it pains me to admit it."
"Oh, are you feeling lonely, girly? We can help with that." The voice was sudden and harsh. Mary fought down the shriek of shock as he jolted to her feet and spun around.
There were three men facing her, and it would be hard to imagine three more unsavory men.
Unshaven and dirty, all three bore wounds of one sort or another, hastily treated but obvious. All three wore leather jerkins sewn with rings of metal. Some type of armor perhaps. All three carried short swords at their belts, two carried pole arms and the third a cross-bow. All three were grinning cruelly and had a hungry look in their eyes.
Mary was instantly afraid. "You startled me, I did not hear you approach. Did you come down the road? I see you are injured, do you seek healing? I can offer it, and I have adequate food if you are hungry." Stop babbling, girl, she heard Metta say in her memory. Mary put her hands behind her back and twisted her hands together nervously.
The tallest of the three spoke, "Aye, we will take some food. We've been running for three days through the cursed forest and hot food will be welcome." He looked her up and down in a way that made Mary want to wash. "We'll be taking a few other things as well. You are an ugly thing, aren't you. Well, no matter, it isn't your face we want."
Mary took a step back, her body tensed as she braced to run. It was two miles to the village but if they had been on the run for three days perhaps she could beat them. Her hands tightened in her long skirt, preparing to lift it and run as fast as she could.
All three men leered cruelly. "Don't be thinking of running, girly. Run or fight us and we'll have to hurt you. Course, Grunt there will probably hurt you anyway, he's like that."
The one that smiled must be Grunt. He was big, broad and powerful looking, with a vicious set to his mouth and no intelligence in his eyes. Mary felt her jaw start to tremble and fought it back.
She took another step back as all three men lunged at her. She had not been paying attention to her surroundings and found herself falling backwards over the stump she had been sitting on. She hit the ground hard.
Rough hands grabbed her arms and jerked her to her feet. Grunt had her right arm in his enormous paw, digging his fingers in hard. The third man held her other arm and the leader stood facing them. The two steadied her on her feet as the leader approached with a dagger in his hand.
"Let's see what she's got to offer, eh boys?"
"No, please, you don't have to do this." Mary was startled to realize the words were coming from her mouth.
"Yes, keep begging, girly, we like that." The dagger was slipped almost delicately inside the high neck of her dress and with slow careful motions he sawed down through the bodice.
At her waist he grabbed the two sides of the slit and jerked her bodice down. There was a brief flash of pain in her shoulders as the material parted and fell away.
Mary knew she was barely passable in the face, but she also knew her body was very fair. Her breasts had always been a source of secret pride for her. Now she hated the firm rounded globes. Perhaps if she had teats like Metta's they would have abandoned their game.
"Well, well. What do you think boys?" The leader reached out and grabbed one breast, squeezing hard with one rough hand. "Nice, eh? Nicer than I've seen in awhile. Grunt, you are last, then you can chew on them all you want."
