Tags:
Historical,
Coming of Age,
Fantasy,
Action & Adventure,
Epic,
Science Fiction & Fantasy,
Sword & Sorcery,
Teen & Young Adult,
epic fantasy,
dark,
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fast enough to outrun a storm of arrows.
Ahead and to her left stood the beginning of the plum tree tangles the village was named for. Those thickets would stop a mounted rider, but they wouldn’t stop the dogs. In fact, the dogs would probably gain the advantage there. She needed terrain that would eliminate the advantages of both the horse and the dogs. She needed to get to moving water.
The Lion River was close, just over a mile away. If she immediately cut through the woods at the edge of the fields on her left, she could slow the horses. Her path would take her to the trail that led to the shacks of the river folk. She knew the river, and there wasn’t a ford for a few miles in either direction. Which was perfect.
With her next step, Sugar slowed, then took one leap, flying up over the lip of the sunken lane and into the field on her left. The field had been mown, and the stubble was hard. Sugar rarely wore shoes, so the calluses on her bare feet were thick. But she was running faster and harder than she was used to, and before she’d taken a dozen strides, the hard stubble stabbed her on the inside of her toe where the callus was thin.
Behind her, the dogs leapt up out of the road and onto the field.
The field was a few hundred yards wide, and Sugar raced across, the hard stubble stabbing and cutting her feet. Just before she exited the field into the wood, she trod upon a sharp rock that surely broke something in her foot. She cursed, favored her foot for a stride, then continued to run despite the pain. Obviously, her calluses weren’t sufficient for these speeds. But she couldn’t stop. She crashed through the woods toward the main trail leading to the river folk. And then had to slow, for while this wasn’t a thick wood—the villagers felled trees for firewood here, as they did in all the woods around the village—there were still stray branches that could poke out her eyes, thicker ones that could skewer. There were rocks and uneven parts.
The dogs entered the woods behind her. They were not barking now, just running with deadly intent. She knew if the dogs were going to catch her, this is where it would happen. Fear rose along her back, but she couldn’t increase her speed.
Sugar kept to the clearest parts where the moon could give some illumination, but the dogs with their galloping strides and awful breathing were coming closer. She risked another glance back. They saw her fear and increased their speed.
A branch whipped her, and she snapped her attention back to her path ahead. Through the trees she thought she saw a break, a lighter ribbon of moonlight cutting through the woods. As she ran, the ribbon of light grew larger. It was the main road to the river folk snaking its way through the trees. Just a little farther, she told herself. Just a little more. She sprinted for the road, but the dogs closed the distance behind her. One growled deep and low, anticipating the first bite. Then Sugar broke from the wood onto the trail.
Now , she thought. Now! And she put on a burst of speed. Despite the risk, she flared her Fire.
The ground was hard, the way clear. A dog snapped at her heels. She thought she’d flared too late, but then a surge of power coursed through her limbs, and she lengthened her strides. The dogs were right behind her, snarling at her heels, wanting to rip and tear.
She pushed herself harder. A wet muzzle brushed her ankle, but in the next stride she pulled ahead of the dogs and their teeth. Two more strides and she gained another few yards.
If I have to die tonight , she thought, I will do it with joy . Better that than being dragged down, a dog on her leg and another ripping her throat out. Her Fire blossomed, and she flew down the trail, the sounds of the dogs slowly receding behind her.
She knew Solem’s dogs were fast, but they couldn’t sprint at top speeds forever. And sure enough, they slowed to a lope. She kept her pace just a little longer, and then pulled her
William R. Forstchen, Andrew Keith