Barb Hendee: Rebel Fay

Freth was far enough away this time that Chap tried to close in.

Wynn groaned, and Magiere couldn't help but look. The sage rolled weakly in the brush, but the crossbow on her back caught on something.

"No!" Magiere shouted to Chap. "Guard Wynn."

The instant cost her. When her eyes shifted back, Freth was gone.

Blinding pain shot through her side.

Chap dashed toward Wynn thrashing feebly in the brush. Blood ran from her mouth and spread through her teeth. She could not get free of the crossbow tangled in the bush. He bit into its strap, tearing at it until it snapped.

Wynn rolled onto her face, trying to push up to her hands and knees.

Load and fire ! Chap shouted into her mind.

He was about to turn and pick an attack of his own, when Wynn faltered and fell to the ground again. Her olive face twisted in pain.

Chap dipped into her mind, calling up her memories of contented moments.Quiet nights sleeping by campfires or in the quilt-covered bed of an inn.Two kittens purring in her lap. Hot mint tea and spiced lentil stew.The smell of fresh parchment and the feel of a quill in her hand. Her fingers curled in his fur.

Wynn lifted her head, clutching at the crossbow.

Chap pulled an unbroken quarrel from the quiver with his teeth and dropped it beside her. She rolled onto her knees, heaving the crossbow's string back with both hands. With the string locked in place and the lever cocked, she grasped and set the quarrel.

Wynn looked up and hesitated, gaze shifting between the two conflicts.

Chap turned about.

Leesil fended off En’nish as she slashed madly at him. He did not fight with the same quick instinct and brutality that Chap had seen in the past.

Then Magiere stumbled as Freth stabbed her from behind. They were too close together now for Wynn's questionable aim.

Chap panicked, shouting into Wynn's thoughts: En’nish!

He heard the crack of a quarrel leaving Wynn's crossbow as he charged at Freth's exposed back.

Magiere felt Freth's arm wrap around her neck and jerk tight. Then the blade slipped out of her side.

Hunger ate away the pain. She rammed her elbow back, but it never connected.

A bloodied stiletto came over her shoulder for her throat.

Magiere wouldn't release her sword. Unable to whip it back, she tried to grab Freth's wrist before the stiletto touched her skin.

Fear should have taken Magiere as she struggled for air. Instead, rage whipped hunger into fury. She would not let Freth win… or she would make her pay dearly for it.

Freth's weight increased sharply as if her whole body lurched and slammed inward upon Magiere. The arm around Magiere's throat loosened as she toppled forward under the sound of snarls.

Magiere hit the ground face-first. Freth's weight rolled off with an angry scream. Her voice was quickly drowned in growls and tearing cloth. Magiere spun on her hip, pulling her legs under as she twisted to a crouch.

Chap darted away from Freth's wild slash, his teeth parted in a shuddering growl and fur bristling on his neck and shoulders. Freth scrambled to regain her footing. The back of her cowl was shredded, and she ripped it off, sidestepping to keep her two opponents in sight.

Magiere rose up, her mind hazy with the heat welling in her body.Hunger fed on the tingling shiver the forest pressed upon her.

Instinct drove her to attack… to stop at nothing until Freth was dead. This one had come at her and those she cherished, time and again, and now brought En’nish, who served only one purpose-to kill all of them where no one would see.

Magiere held her place. A little reason remained and stirred inside her.

Each time she swung, Freth came in behind the falchion's passing. The woman closed to advantage for her shorter blades and hampered Magiere's use of the longer and heavier weapon.

Magiere didn't need a weapon.

She could mangle this bitch with her bare hands. All she needed-wanted-was for Freth to come in one more time. Magiere made the barest feint with the falchion's tip and then loosened her grip, ready to drop it.

Freth's attention remained on Magiere, but she didn't come. Her left hand whipped to the side-and flung a stiletto straight at Chap.

The shudder in Magiere's body sharpened. Her grip clenched tight on the falchion. She lunged as Freth took her first charging step.

Magiere caught Freth's other stiletto in her free hand. She felt nothing as she wrenched the blade aside and rammed her falchion straight in. The sword didn't even jump in her hand as its tip sank into Freth's gut.

It happened too quickly. Freth's eyes didn't even widen until Magiere clamped her bloody hand around the woman's neck.

She squeezed until she felt Freth choke, and then shoved hard.

Freth's body arched backward, sliding off the falchion as Magiere jerked it loose, and Freth hit the earth, writhing on her back.

Magiere raised the falchion to finish her.

A shout vibrated through her bones."Stop!"

En’nish lurched and stumbled before Leesil. A quarrel seemed to sprout suddenly from the back of her right shoulder. She didn't cry out, and only dropped one stiletto as her right arm went limp.

Leesil spotted Wynn kneeling in a flattened bush with the crossbow still against her shoulder. The little sage dropped the weapon and crumpled.

En’nish lunged at him with her remaining blade.

Leesil slipped aside, again and again, staying beyond reach. Then he saw Freth fling a blade at Chap, and the dog tried to duck away.

The blade missed his face and the handle clipped his ear as the weapon tumbled across his back. He snarled sharply.

The next thing Leesil saw was Freth on the ground, holding her belly. A dark stain was spreading quickly through her tunic and between her fingers.

Magiere raised her falchion.

En’nish lunged at Leesil again, throwing her whole weight to take him while distracted. He tried to deflect and brought up the punching blade on instinct.

Its edge sliced the back of En’nish’s hand and down her forearm, splitting her sleeve open. She cried out, jerking away, and tried to swing again.

Sgaile appeared, folding her tightly in his arms from behind and pinning her.

Sgaile ran hard toward the sounds of screeching steel and voices.

Brot'an'duive was on the ground, attempting to push himself up. A bludgeoning arrow lay near him. Blood dripped from Wynn's mouth down her chin. En’nish, with a quarrel in her shoulder, still kept at Leesil.

And Magiere ran Freth through with her sword.

Sgaile didn't hesitate. He folded his arms tightly around En’nish from behind, pinning her up against his chest, and shouted at Magiere."Stop!"

She wavered.

"Leshil, do not let her take Frethfare's life."

Leshil was already running around Magiere to stand in her way. He spoke too softly for Sgaile to hear. Magiere slowly lowered her sword.

Gleanneohkan'thva caught up, trying to get his breath. He faltered at the sight before him.

"Grandfather, see to Frethfare first," Sgaile blurted out.

En’nish still struggled in his arms. He thrust his knee into the back of hers. When her leg buckled, he threw his weight on her. She dropped, and he held her down.

"Enough!" he barked, pressing hard on her until she finally lay still. "What is this? What have you done?"

"Most Aged Father ordered us to dispatch them," En’nish snarled. "And you interfere in our purpose! They deserve to die!"

"And Brot'an as well?" Sgaile snapped. "No! Father would never…"

He looked at Frethfare, blood-stained and curled upon the earth. He did not believe En’nish.

Sgaile had seen the way Frethfare went after Brot'an'duive before the council, all for a challenge of truth as Most Aged Father's advocate. But the patriarch of his caste would not violate his word. No, this had to be Freth-fare's doing-and hers alone. Why else would she bring only En’nish, in the woman's anguished state, in coming after so many with Brot'an'duive?