Kingmaker's Sword (Rune Blades of Celi) by Ann Marston Read Free Book Online Page B

trampled. The other horses, confused by the fire, bewildered by the terrifying howling behind them, churned about among the startled mercenaries for a second or two, then veered sharply and thundered off downstream. I caught a glimpse of Cullin, plaid billowing behind him, leaping onto one of the horses and wheeling after the fleeing animals.
    The reaction of the Maeduni was all I had wished for. They dived for their weapons, shouting orders to each other, and ran downstream after the horses. I scrambled forward and put my hand gently over the mouth of one of the prisoners.
    “Don’t cry out,” I said softly as the man gave a hard start of shock. “I’m here to help.”
    The man rolled over and stared at me, his eyes showing only as dark pools in his pale face. He nodded, and I cut the bonds on his wrists and ankles. The blood rushing back into feet and hands after being bound so tightly must have been painful, but he made no sound. Seconds later, all three were free, but the youngest, the one who lay between the two men, didn’t move.
    “My daughter is badly hurt,” the first man said.
    “Not dead?” the other man asked quickly.
    The first man put a hand to the young girl’s throat, then shook his head. “She’s alive….”
    “Can you carry her?” I asked. “We don’t have much time before those Maeduni come back to make sure you’re still here.”
    “I can carry her,” the first man said. He scooped the girl up into his arms, cradling her gently against his chest, then nodded. “Where to?” he asked.
    “This way,” I said. We didn’t bother with stealth as we splashed through the stream and scrambled up the bank on the other side. I could still hear the Maeduni shouting to one another as they tried to round up the panicked horses, but Cullin no longer warbled that strange war cry. I don’t know how far he chased the horses, but there was a lot of noise downstream. With luck, it would be a while before the Maeduni returned to check on their prisoners. We would be long gone by then.
    The man rose straight up out of the ground itself just ahead of me, roaring in a language I didn’t know. The naked blade in his hand whistled as he swung it at my neck.
    I leaped back and nearly stumbled on the uneven ground of the hillside. The wind of the sword’s passing ruffled my hair as I went to one knee.
    “Run,” I shouted to the others, then the hilt of my own sword was in my hands, the blade raised in defence.
    The Maeduni crouched in front of me. He flexed his wrists, his sword describing purposeful little circles in the air as he sized up my stance. He leaped at me. His blade met mine with force enough to knock me to the ground, and he staggered past me. The sword in my hands seemed to quiver with eagerness as I lurched to my feet. The Maeduni swung his sword again and somehow, my blade was there to meet it. Steel rang on tempered steel, then the Maeduni stepped back and swept his sword in a vicious stroke for my legs. I thrust my blade down and across and caught the other squarely. My follow-through snap of the wrist ran my blade slithering upward along his until it caught against the cross-guard. It jerked the Maeduni off balance and he stumbled. I lunged forward, the sword held balanced in both hands. The point of the blade thrust home in the Maeduni’s belly, just above his hip bone. His weight nearly pulled me down with him as he fell.
    The breath rasped in my throat as I tugged to free the blade. As it came free, the Maeduni’s body rolled down the hill. It finally came to rest, bent forward around a rock, and didn’t move.
    I scrambled up the hill, still panting, and stood for a moment to sheath my sword. The others waited for me there. “This way,” I gasped, and began to run.
    Cullin was already at the alder copse when we came stumbling up. He was mounted on his stallion and held the reins of three other horses. Seeing one of the men carrying the girl, Cullin bent forward and held out his