Thornhold - Elaine Cunningham [161]
Bronwyn dug both hands into her hair and clenched her jaws to keep from screaming with frustration. Not Algorind, not again, and surely not now! The paladin could ruin everything.
She kicked the mare into a run and took off for the north. Leaning low over the horse’s glossy neck, she raced down the hill and around the path that led to the High Road. There she might have some small hope of outpacing the paladin’s steed. The paths that wound through the hills were uneven and treacherous, and every frantic pace was a gamble that the horse would not stumble on the scattered stone.
The mare shied suddenly and violently to the right. Bronwyn clenched the horse’s sides with her knees and clung to the chestnut mane in a desperate attempt to hold her seat, but she could not. She fell painfully, rolling several times across the rocky ground. As she hauled herself up, her eyes fell on the source of the horse’s fright. Several snakes, newly awakened from their winter’s slumber, were sunning themselves on the flat rocks ahead. Had the horse not stopped she might have run right through them-with deadly consequences.
Bronwyn regarded her torn sleeve and the deep, painful abrasion that ran from wrist to elbow. “I owe you thanks,” she said softly as she walked toward the skittish mare, “but you’ll excuse me if I wait a while before expressing them.”
Behind her she heard the thundering approach of the paladin’s great white horse. She was almost to her horse, was just reaching for the reins, when the mare turned and bolted. Bronwyn dropped and rolled as the paladin thundered by.
He dismounted in a quick, fluid leap and strode toward her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. “I have no desire to fight a woman. If you will yield peacefully, I will bring you safely back to stand judgment.”
Bronwyn pulled her knife and fell into a crouch. As she did, a plan began to formulate in her mind. “Why would you content yourself with performing only half your duty?”
“Half my duty?” The paladin drew his sword and circled in. “What trickery is this?”
“None. You want the child. That, you have made plain. I’m on my way to Thornhold to fetch her back.”
“No longer,” Algorind said. He lunged in, with a quick hard stroke designed to knock the knife from her hand.
The force of the blow flung Bronwyn’s arm out wide, but she kept her grip. ‘We could both get what we want, if we work together. I could get Cara. After that, we will take her to Waterdeep. Together.”
Algorind was clearly skeptical. “Why would you do this?”
“Would you want to see a child turned over to the Zhents? And what of the coming battle? She has seen enough fighting, thanks mostly to you and yours.”
“It is a paladin’s duty to fight for good,” he said.
“And I’m offering you a chance to do just that,” she said impatiently. “Do you think it will be easy to get Cara out of Thornhold? You’ll get your chance to fight.”
She circled closer and noted that Algorind did not retreat. He seemed to be giving her words careful consideration.
“How would you get the child?”
“I am Dag Zoreth’s sister. He has been looking for me, just as you and your fellow paladins have been. Apparently, I have some value because of who my ancestors were.” She gave an impatient shrug, to indicate she had little knowledge of or interest in this notion.
“So you would surrender to him.”
“In a manner of speaking. They will let me into the fortress, and I doubt they would worry overmuch about my companion.”
The paladin’s face clouded. “Speaking of such, where is that horse-stealing dwarf?”
She shrugged off the question. “They would view you as a far more likely companion. In fact,” she added wickedly, “Master Laharin was giving thought to what young paladin might be chosen to help me continue Samular’s line. Perform well in today’s task, and perhaps I’ll recommend you for the job.”
The young man looked flustered, as Bronwyn hoped he might. “You believe the Zhentarim would allow a paladin into their stronghold?”
“Why not? You’re good with that sword, but you’re still one man.