Gabria threw her head back.
"Stop it!" she shouted. "Leave me alone."
"Leave me alone," Cor mocked. "Poor little worm is not so brave after all. He needs his mama. But she's dead and rotting with the other Corin." He rocked back and forth in front of Gabria, exuding wine fumes. His muscles seemed to bunch beneath his tunic.
Without warning, Cor slapped her. Gabria gazed at him speechlessly. "You brought the lion. It is your fault the mare died and I lost my duty. No one would listen to me . . . but you wil . You are going to listen to me until you are crushed beneath my boot." He chuckled at himself. Getting no reaction from Gabria, Cor hit her again savagely. She tried to avoid it, but she was too late. The blow sent her reeling, and blood spattered her tunic from her split lip. The other men looked on, neither helping nor hindering.
Cor came at her again.
"Stop it!" Gabria cried, stumbling away from him. "Go away,"
"Go away," he sneered. "Not for a while, my little man, not until you crawl at my feet and plead for my forgiveness." He swung at her again and smashed her in the face. Gabria crashed into the wall and collapsed on the floor, her head ringing with pain, blood pouring from her nose.
"Crawl, worm," Cor shouted gleefully. He kicked her in the side. Waving to the others in victory, Cor stood over Gabria like a conqueror, gloating at his prize. He reached down for her again.
Gabria was lying still, panting in shock and fear. Then she saw Cor's hand coming. Deep within her emotional prisons, the frustration and anxiety she had suffered the past few days fused together in a furious surge of power. Unbeknownst to her, an aura began to glow faintly around her hands as the white-hot energy of her emotions burst outward to every muscle and nerve ending, overcoming her pain and weakness. The, power ignited in her eyes. She screamed like a cat.
Without a conscious thought, Gabria reached behind her shoulder and grasped her new bow. The unseen aura in her hands flowed up the weapon. Before Cor could react, she rolled off the bow and, with both hands, swung it upward between his legs. The stave caught him neatly in the groin. Just for a second, there was a burst of pale blue sparks.
Cor howled in agony and doubled over. Gabria rolled away, stood up, and crouched, her bow held before her like an axe. But Cor could barely move. He slowly toppled to the ground and lay curled in a ball, moaning. As the warriors moved to him, Gabria backed into the corner, still gripping her bow and trembling with rage. Her green eyes glinted dangerously.
"Nicely swung, boy," one of the warriors said with a grin.
"Cor won't be riding for a day or two," added another man. "Especially the wenches." They all laughed uproariously.
Gabria stared at them speechlessly. The warriors shook their She heads and left her alone while they picked up their whimpering companion and tossed him unceremoniously on his blanket. Then, the sleepers returned to sleep, the chess players continued their game, and a subdued quiet settled over the hall—all as if nothing had happened. Only Cor’s soft moaning was out of place in the illusion of friendly peace.
Gabria stood in her corner without moving. Her anger and the pale blue aura that no one had noticed subsided, leaving her drained and empty. She dared not move for fear of disturbing the fragile peace.
Gabria knew fist fights and brawls happened constantly in the hal , often just for the fun of competition. But the violence and hatred of Cor's attack was not pan of the camaraderie. He blamed his disgrace on her and wanted his revenge. Gabria glanced at Cor, as if he might jump on her again, but he remained curled like an infant, whimpering and weeping. She dreaded to think what Cor would do when he recovered. He did not have the manner of a man who forgave readily.
Gabria shuddered and sank to her knees. Maybe she should accept Athlone's tent. At least he would not beat her. No, she reminded herself
"Stop it!" she shouted. "Leave me alone."
"Leave me alone," Cor mocked. "Poor little worm is not so brave after all. He needs his mama. But she's dead and rotting with the other Corin." He rocked back and forth in front of Gabria, exuding wine fumes. His muscles seemed to bunch beneath his tunic.
Without warning, Cor slapped her. Gabria gazed at him speechlessly. "You brought the lion. It is your fault the mare died and I lost my duty. No one would listen to me . . . but you wil . You are going to listen to me until you are crushed beneath my boot." He chuckled at himself. Getting no reaction from Gabria, Cor hit her again savagely. She tried to avoid it, but she was too late. The blow sent her reeling, and blood spattered her tunic from her split lip. The other men looked on, neither helping nor hindering.
Cor came at her again.
"Stop it!" Gabria cried, stumbling away from him. "Go away,"
"Go away," he sneered. "Not for a while, my little man, not until you crawl at my feet and plead for my forgiveness." He swung at her again and smashed her in the face. Gabria crashed into the wall and collapsed on the floor, her head ringing with pain, blood pouring from her nose.
"Crawl, worm," Cor shouted gleefully. He kicked her in the side. Waving to the others in victory, Cor stood over Gabria like a conqueror, gloating at his prize. He reached down for her again.
Gabria was lying still, panting in shock and fear. Then she saw Cor's hand coming. Deep within her emotional prisons, the frustration and anxiety she had suffered the past few days fused together in a furious surge of power. Unbeknownst to her, an aura began to glow faintly around her hands as the white-hot energy of her emotions burst outward to every muscle and nerve ending, overcoming her pain and weakness. The, power ignited in her eyes. She screamed like a cat.
Without a conscious thought, Gabria reached behind her shoulder and grasped her new bow. The unseen aura in her hands flowed up the weapon. Before Cor could react, she rolled off the bow and, with both hands, swung it upward between his legs. The stave caught him neatly in the groin. Just for a second, there was a burst of pale blue sparks.
Cor howled in agony and doubled over. Gabria rolled away, stood up, and crouched, her bow held before her like an axe. But Cor could barely move. He slowly toppled to the ground and lay curled in a ball, moaning. As the warriors moved to him, Gabria backed into the corner, still gripping her bow and trembling with rage. Her green eyes glinted dangerously.
"Nicely swung, boy," one of the warriors said with a grin.
"Cor won't be riding for a day or two," added another man. "Especially the wenches." They all laughed uproariously.
Gabria stared at them speechlessly. The warriors shook their She heads and left her alone while they picked up their whimpering companion and tossed him unceremoniously on his blanket. Then, the sleepers returned to sleep, the chess players continued their game, and a subdued quiet settled over the hall—all as if nothing had happened. Only Cor’s soft moaning was out of place in the illusion of friendly peace.
Gabria stood in her corner without moving. Her anger and the pale blue aura that no one had noticed subsided, leaving her drained and empty. She dared not move for fear of disturbing the fragile peace.
Gabria knew fist fights and brawls happened constantly in the hal , often just for the fun of competition. But the violence and hatred of Cor's attack was not pan of the camaraderie. He blamed his disgrace on her and wanted his revenge. Gabria glanced at Cor, as if he might jump on her again, but he remained curled like an infant, whimpering and weeping. She dreaded to think what Cor would do when he recovered. He did not have the manner of a man who forgave readily.
Gabria shuddered and sank to her knees. Maybe she should accept Athlone's tent. At least he would not beat her. No, she reminded herself
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