Ghostwalker - Erik Scott De Bie [58]
"Up!" Arya shouted to Walker. She dropped the lance and reached down.
Somehow, the ghostwalker managed to muster his strength and rise to one knee. He reached up, caught hold of her hand, and pushed himself up as she pulled. Together, they hauled him onto the horse. Arya gave a shout and the steed leaped through two rangers, throwing them to the ground, and sprinted away from the battle, south toward the center of Quaervarr.
"Strumpet!" came Meris's shout, and a light axe whirled end over end toward them. Arya got her shield up in its way and the weapon skittered off Everlundian steel.
"Wh-what are you doing?" Walker choked out, blood trickling down his chin.
"My turn to save your life!" the knight replied with cheery ardor. She flicked the reins again and the horse leaped into a full gallop.
"Head west…" Walker murmured. "My grove-"
Arya nodded and spurred the horse toward the outer gate of Quaervarr.
* * * * *
Meris's rangers were in hot pursuit, running full out as fast as their legs could carry them. Thus, when a rope suddenly came up between the two old gates, fully half a dozen were caught off guard, took it in the chest, and stumbled to the ground. The rope fell as two men dressed in tabards of the Knights in Silver stepped out from the sides of the gate.
"I don't know how you talked me into this one, Derst," the larger man rumbled. "Covering their escape-"
"The old duty and honor trick," his weasel-faced companion said. "Gets you every time."
Spinning the two light maces he held, Bars laughed grimly, conceding the point.
* * * * *
"Stay with me, Walker," whispered Arya, surprised at how worried her voice sounded.
They had burst out Quaervarr's main gate, not slowing as the stunned guards threw themselves into the mud. Bearing her two riders, Swiftfall leaped with a whinny into forbidding cold.
More than any pursuit, Arya feared for the wounded man who clutched her waist so fiercely.
That grip was inexplicably distracting, but as they rode, the arms slipped and the hug loosened bit by bit as Walker lost more and more blood. Thus, even as his touch filled her with an unexpected tingling, it also wracked her with a sense of dire urgency. She spurred Swiftfall on all the faster, heading south.
"Drink this," said Arya, handing him a potion from her belt. The vial was marked with the Dethek rune for healing. Walker choked down the milky liquid and nearly gagged, but the potion spread its healing warmth through his body. "It's not much, but Swiftfall can get us to Silverymoon this night-"
"No!" Walker hissed so sharply that Arya started. "No… I cannot… leave…"
Arya opened her mouth to protest, but shut it once more. "All right, all right," she said. "Where do we go then?"
"West," said Walker. "West to my grove…" He trailed off into silence.
Frightened, Arya started to ask if he were awake-or even alive-but at that moment, the ghostwalker leaned his head against her strong back, repeating his directions in a whisper.
Arya turned Swiftfall to the right, toward the Dark Woods. "We'll be safe, old lass," she said to the horse, stroking her mane. "No one will think we ran where you can't run."
They broke into the woods and left the road to Silverymoon- and safety-behind.
* * * * *
Greyt's rangers were up long into the night, pounding on doors and interrogating townsfolk, looking always for the two knights-one huge, and one tiny. After a short skirmish, the knights had disappeared, and try as the rangers might, the knights were nowhere to be found. Oaths, growls, threats, and even the clashing of weapons filled the air, and little of Quaervarr got any sleep.
Meanwhile, on the edge of town, beneath the eaves of