ANotEntirelyWelcomeVisitGodwynGodwyn shrugged without looking back. "You can take the cart trail," he said, gesturing off to one side. "It's longer, but it's relatively flat. And no doubt it's the ladylike thing to do." He spurred his mount to a run, and charged towards the woods. It was a few minutes before he realised that he was alone - that Syndra, his usual shadow, had chosen to ride with Edlyn instead. "Hmph." He said to himself. "Fine, then." Of course, there was nothing to worry about. He had, after all, ridden alone through the forest before now. Well, twice - and then there had been that time when Hunstman Grieff's horse had gone lame, and he'd sent Godwyn on ahead. Of course that hadn't been quite so long a way, and he'd had the lights of Holdfast to guide him but ... this was really a very short ride, after all. And so he told himself, until the man dressed in black leather rose up seemingly from the leaves almost under the gelding's feet and attempted to seize the bridle. Godwyn acted instantly, kicking his horse's sides to urge him to a gallop, shouting, "Go!", and slashing at the man's face with the reins. Never for an instant did it occur to him that the man could be anything other than a brigand or an enemy of the Hardys', a man with good intentions would have announced himself, not leapt out of concealment. The man held on grimly for a moment, and he shouted aloud, something that sounded like "Forge!" The horse's head was being dragged again, and Godwyn was aware of movement through the trees, to his right. Another slash of the reins, and the man dropped back - but he pulled out a dagger, and even as Godwyn spurred forward, he felt a sharp slash of pain in his left thigh, and the horse screamed in fear or pain. Godwyn spurred his horse again. While being on horseback armed with a sword gave him an advantage over a man on foot with a dagger, even if he was full grown, there was no telling how many of them there might be. All he wanted to do now was get away safely. He could already imagine his father's anger when he learned that Godwyn had been wounded while riding alone in the forest, and That Woman's icy laugh, he wouldn't compound the shame by being killed, or even worse, captured and ransomed. He was pacing them and, although he saw two figures racing parallel to him through the trees, his gelding knew the woods and, terrified, was as anxious as his rider to escape. If they carried on in the direction they were going, they should reach the main carriage track soon ... And suddenly his horse leapt and Godwyn saw beneath his what was clearly a concealed camping place, something one would miss very easily unless one was, like him, immediately above it and able to see the bedding rolls, the weapons and a map spread out beside the fire - a map not of the forest, but of some other area ... a plain, and water. But before he could make out any more, his horse had landed the far-side of the camp with a jar that shook his bones and made his leg throb more than before ... Another couple of minutes and he should make the carriage track - if no-one prevented him. Godwyn bent low the horse's back, concentrating on his riding. He had to make it back to the carriage track, to protect his cousin and That Woman's daughter and to bring guardsmen to find and capture the bandits. It was his duty. Closer - and closer - and they suddenly he had thrust through the last of the bushes and was on the carriage road. Shortly to his left, a fallen log blocked the way - and a hound was growling as it ran towards him. (Back to A Not Entirely Welcome Visit) Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs |
