seemed to be succeeding.
Varian cut around a tree, then came to an abrupt stop. It wasn’t until he set her down to lie on the ground and her head lolled sideways that she saw why. There was a short, round kobold eyeing them through the trees. A cursed race of fey, the kobolds were more akin to trolls than their more fair cousins. Hairy, twisted creatures who could be kind or evil depending on their moods, the kobolds were best avoided.
Merewyn couldn’t tell if the creature was male or female. But it had bright blue eyes that were large in its round face. Unmoving, it stared at Varian.
“Friend or foe?” Varian asked.
The kobold licked its lips as if it were eyeing apiece of meat it intended to devour. “That depends.”
“On?”
“What ye be looking like without that helm. If ye be a fair creature, the Rosebold means you no harm. But if you’re not, you’ll…” Her words broke off as three darts struck her. She fell to the ground, every bit as frozen as Merewyn was.
Varian wasted no time pulling the sword from the kobold’s body and strapping it to his side. “Sorry,” he said in a tone that belied his words. “But I appreciate the sword.”
He turned and picked Merewyn up from the ground before he started forward again. “We don’t have much farther,” he assured her. “Over the next hill and we’ll be at the opening of the valley.”
Merewyn helplessly watched as more darts rained down from the sky. Luckily they glanced off Varian’s armor. She, on the other hand, wasn’t so fortunate, as several more found her. At the rate she was going, she would be a permanent pincushion. Something that wasn’t helped by the fact that she was starting to drool on herself.
I might as well be cursed again!
How she hated this. But Varian didn’t comment on the fact she was disgusting as he struggled to save both their lives. There was no scorn in his eyes as he looked down from time to time to assure himself that she was still breathing.
The only part of this that remained in their favorwas the fact that the mandrakes were still airborne, though to be honest, she wasn’t sure why.
That changed when they topped the hill he’d spoken of and she saw the open meadow that separated the forest from the valley.
That was bad. Worse was the black, boiling water in the moat that surrounded the valley, and worst of all, there had to be at least fifteen mandrakes in the air, circling above the meadow as if they knew what Varian planned.
Varian paused as he surveyed the distance over the exposed ground and the dark water that lapped angrily against jagged gray rocks. He’d never been to the Val Sans Retour before. Now he understood why no one came back from it.
Just getting into it would probably kill them. But what choice did they have? Either Camelot or Glastonbury was certain death for them both.
The valley was only probable death.
Panting from his sprinting, he could feel the sweat streaming down his back and face. Taste it on his lips. His muscles strained from the effort of carrying Merewyn. Even though she was slight of frame, he didn’t possess his full strength. True, Blaise had healed his injuries, but he hadn’t been able to take away Varian’s exhaustion. Or the fact that it’d been countless days since Varian had been able to sit down and rest.
Now his exhaustion hit him full force. All he wanted to do was find a nice, quiet place to sleep until his head and body ceased to ache.
He looked down at Merewyn and considered leaving her here for the others. If he could run uninhibited, he might be able to make it to the moat…
“ We are the champions of the weak. Because we are strong, we fight for those who can’t. ” Arthur’s words haunted him. His king had drilled morals into his head at every turn.
Merewyn had trusted him to see her to safety. She’d exposed herself to his mother’s cruelty to free him.
Now it all looked to be in vain.
Think Varian, think …
They were so close
Varian cut around a tree, then came to an abrupt stop. It wasn’t until he set her down to lie on the ground and her head lolled sideways that she saw why. There was a short, round kobold eyeing them through the trees. A cursed race of fey, the kobolds were more akin to trolls than their more fair cousins. Hairy, twisted creatures who could be kind or evil depending on their moods, the kobolds were best avoided.
Merewyn couldn’t tell if the creature was male or female. But it had bright blue eyes that were large in its round face. Unmoving, it stared at Varian.
“Friend or foe?” Varian asked.
The kobold licked its lips as if it were eyeing apiece of meat it intended to devour. “That depends.”
“On?”
“What ye be looking like without that helm. If ye be a fair creature, the Rosebold means you no harm. But if you’re not, you’ll…” Her words broke off as three darts struck her. She fell to the ground, every bit as frozen as Merewyn was.
Varian wasted no time pulling the sword from the kobold’s body and strapping it to his side. “Sorry,” he said in a tone that belied his words. “But I appreciate the sword.”
He turned and picked Merewyn up from the ground before he started forward again. “We don’t have much farther,” he assured her. “Over the next hill and we’ll be at the opening of the valley.”
Merewyn helplessly watched as more darts rained down from the sky. Luckily they glanced off Varian’s armor. She, on the other hand, wasn’t so fortunate, as several more found her. At the rate she was going, she would be a permanent pincushion. Something that wasn’t helped by the fact that she was starting to drool on herself.
I might as well be cursed again!
How she hated this. But Varian didn’t comment on the fact she was disgusting as he struggled to save both their lives. There was no scorn in his eyes as he looked down from time to time to assure himself that she was still breathing.
The only part of this that remained in their favorwas the fact that the mandrakes were still airborne, though to be honest, she wasn’t sure why.
That changed when they topped the hill he’d spoken of and she saw the open meadow that separated the forest from the valley.
That was bad. Worse was the black, boiling water in the moat that surrounded the valley, and worst of all, there had to be at least fifteen mandrakes in the air, circling above the meadow as if they knew what Varian planned.
Varian paused as he surveyed the distance over the exposed ground and the dark water that lapped angrily against jagged gray rocks. He’d never been to the Val Sans Retour before. Now he understood why no one came back from it.
Just getting into it would probably kill them. But what choice did they have? Either Camelot or Glastonbury was certain death for them both.
The valley was only probable death.
Panting from his sprinting, he could feel the sweat streaming down his back and face. Taste it on his lips. His muscles strained from the effort of carrying Merewyn. Even though she was slight of frame, he didn’t possess his full strength. True, Blaise had healed his injuries, but he hadn’t been able to take away Varian’s exhaustion. Or the fact that it’d been countless days since Varian had been able to sit down and rest.
Now his exhaustion hit him full force. All he wanted to do was find a nice, quiet place to sleep until his head and body ceased to ache.
He looked down at Merewyn and considered leaving her here for the others. If he could run uninhibited, he might be able to make it to the moat…
“ We are the champions of the weak. Because we are strong, we fight for those who can’t. ” Arthur’s words haunted him. His king had drilled morals into his head at every turn.
Merewyn had trusted him to see her to safety. She’d exposed herself to his mother’s cruelty to free him.
Now it all looked to be in vain.
Think Varian, think …
They were so close
Similar Books
