occupied by St. Hèver , pressing firmly, as the knight ran off towards the fight.
At that point, Ellowyn was nearly hysterical. She was injured, bleeding, exhausted and ill, and truly wanted out. She began fighting the soldiers so badly that they eventually had to let her go or she would have probably hurt herself more. But they didn’t move far enough away from her, fast enough, so she screamed and kicked at them until they did.
The majority of the fighting was out on the road but there were dozens of men in the shelter of the trees as they had moved the wagons off of the road. There were many men protecting what they were carrying while the bulk of the army did the fighting. Trembling, on her knees, her right shoulder and arm virtually useless, Ellowyn watched the madness go on.
“What… what has happened?” she demanded, her voice cracking.
“We were attacked,” said one of the soldiers left to tend her. “M’lady, we need to wrap your shoulder. I promise….”
“Nay!” she snapped, struggling to her feet. Her right shoulder felt as if it weighed more than her entire body, dragging her down. “I am getting out of here. I am leaving.”
The soldiers followed her for a few feet as she backed away from them, eventually stumbling and falling onto her bum. Then she turned around and, on her hands and knees, tried to crawl away but her right arm wouldn’t support any weight so she ended up tumbling. A charger suddenly roared up and kicked dirt and rocks on her. As she tried to brush off the cloak that was covered with mud and blood, someone grasped her by the arms.
“My lady?” It was Brandt. St. Hèver had shouted to him of the lady’s wound and even though there was a fairly nasty fight going on around him, all he could seem to think of was her. He’d fought his way through a passel of determined Welshmen to get this far. Now all he could see was blood and her pale face. “Wynny, what happened? What are you doing?”
Ellowyn gazed up at him and, seeing his handsome and familiar face, burst into frightened tears. Deeply concerned, Brandt moved to pick her up but their safe haven of trees was suddenly overrun by the enemy, and Brandt stood up, fending off an onslaught of angry men with blades. There were at least three of them intent on harming him as he practically stood on top of Ellowyn in order to protect her, his heavy broadsword wreaking havoc against the enemy. But he knew, very quickly, that they were in a bad way.
He couldn’t maneuver with her on the ground at his feet and he very badly needed to. He’d managed to kill one man but there were two more, and perhaps even more. He wasn’t quite sure because it seemed as if they were everywhere. Slugging the nearest enemy soldier in the face and sending the man to the ground, he ducked low when someone slashed a sword over his head and tried to decapitate him. He turned to Ellowyn.
“Wynny!” he snapped. “Get up! I need you to get up !”
Ellowyn had been stepped on twice. She was overwhelmed by the chaos and fighting over her head but she heard Brandt’s voice, like a beacon in the darkness luring her towards it, and she grabbed on to Brandt’s leg with her good arm, using him to help her get to her feet. Once, he took a big step back and knocked her down, but she continued to struggle to her feet. Left hand pressed to the wound on her right shoulder, she tucked in behind Brandt and prayed they would survive.
She wasn’t the only one praying. Brandt was, too. He was using every part of his body to fight off the onslaught but trying to protect a wounded woman had him in a bad position. Fists met with jaws and feet met with bellies and groins. He’d already killed two men with blades through their chests. When he managed to disable the last man involved against him, he whirled to Ellowyn and put a big arm around her, battling his way out of the fight. He couldn’t pick her up because if he did, he
At that point, Ellowyn was nearly hysterical. She was injured, bleeding, exhausted and ill, and truly wanted out. She began fighting the soldiers so badly that they eventually had to let her go or she would have probably hurt herself more. But they didn’t move far enough away from her, fast enough, so she screamed and kicked at them until they did.
The majority of the fighting was out on the road but there were dozens of men in the shelter of the trees as they had moved the wagons off of the road. There were many men protecting what they were carrying while the bulk of the army did the fighting. Trembling, on her knees, her right shoulder and arm virtually useless, Ellowyn watched the madness go on.
“What… what has happened?” she demanded, her voice cracking.
“We were attacked,” said one of the soldiers left to tend her. “M’lady, we need to wrap your shoulder. I promise….”
“Nay!” she snapped, struggling to her feet. Her right shoulder felt as if it weighed more than her entire body, dragging her down. “I am getting out of here. I am leaving.”
The soldiers followed her for a few feet as she backed away from them, eventually stumbling and falling onto her bum. Then she turned around and, on her hands and knees, tried to crawl away but her right arm wouldn’t support any weight so she ended up tumbling. A charger suddenly roared up and kicked dirt and rocks on her. As she tried to brush off the cloak that was covered with mud and blood, someone grasped her by the arms.
“My lady?” It was Brandt. St. Hèver had shouted to him of the lady’s wound and even though there was a fairly nasty fight going on around him, all he could seem to think of was her. He’d fought his way through a passel of determined Welshmen to get this far. Now all he could see was blood and her pale face. “Wynny, what happened? What are you doing?”
Ellowyn gazed up at him and, seeing his handsome and familiar face, burst into frightened tears. Deeply concerned, Brandt moved to pick her up but their safe haven of trees was suddenly overrun by the enemy, and Brandt stood up, fending off an onslaught of angry men with blades. There were at least three of them intent on harming him as he practically stood on top of Ellowyn in order to protect her, his heavy broadsword wreaking havoc against the enemy. But he knew, very quickly, that they were in a bad way.
He couldn’t maneuver with her on the ground at his feet and he very badly needed to. He’d managed to kill one man but there were two more, and perhaps even more. He wasn’t quite sure because it seemed as if they were everywhere. Slugging the nearest enemy soldier in the face and sending the man to the ground, he ducked low when someone slashed a sword over his head and tried to decapitate him. He turned to Ellowyn.
“Wynny!” he snapped. “Get up! I need you to get up !”
Ellowyn had been stepped on twice. She was overwhelmed by the chaos and fighting over her head but she heard Brandt’s voice, like a beacon in the darkness luring her towards it, and she grabbed on to Brandt’s leg with her good arm, using him to help her get to her feet. Once, he took a big step back and knocked her down, but she continued to struggle to her feet. Left hand pressed to the wound on her right shoulder, she tucked in behind Brandt and prayed they would survive.
She wasn’t the only one praying. Brandt was, too. He was using every part of his body to fight off the onslaught but trying to protect a wounded woman had him in a bad position. Fists met with jaws and feet met with bellies and groins. He’d already killed two men with blades through their chests. When he managed to disable the last man involved against him, he whirled to Ellowyn and put a big arm around her, battling his way out of the fight. He couldn’t pick her up because if he did, he
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