Warrior Reborn by Melissa Mayhue Page B

the riverbank and the rigging broke free, allowing the horses to stampede on, leaving the broken wagon behind.
    “Christiana!” he yelled as he jumped from his horse and squatted beside the wreck, reaching into the small, dark opening between the seat and the wet ground. His touch grazed something soft and he tightened his fingers around his find, the edge of her cloak.
    “Christiana? Can you hear me?”
    He waited, holding his breath, praying for a response. A noise sounded from the dark—a groan perhaps? It was all the encouragement Chase needed.
    He was up, his back against the side of the wagon, straining to lift it off her.
    “Halldor!” he called, shifting position to put his shoulder into his effort. He couldn’t do this alone; the wagon was far too heavy. “Help me, Hall. Hurry!”
    “On three,” the big man said, landing at his side as he leapt from his horse. “One, two, three!”
    Together they pushed the bed of the wagon a few feet up off the ground.
    “Move a barrel there.” Halldor motioned down with his head. “I can balance this.”
    Trusting his friend to know the limits of his own strength, Chase reached inside to drag one of the barrels under the edge of the wagon bed.
    With the side propped up he could see her clearly now, making not even the slightest movement. On his hands and knees he moved to her side, slipping two fingers along the warmth of her neck.
    The pulse he felt there, strong and steady, rocked him with relief.
    Short-lived relief, as a crunching sound came from the barrel supporting the wagon’s weight.
    “Get out of there,” Hall ordered.
    Ideally he’d check any victim of an accident for broken bones before moving them, but this situation was about as far from ideal as he could imagine.
    On hands and knees, he hooked his hands under Christiana’s arms and began to back out, but something was holding her firmly in place.
    Another splintering crunch from the barrel.
    “Hurry, little brother. Our brace is not going to hold for much longer.”
    “She’s stuck.”
    Chase methodically felt along her body, tucking her arms up onto her chest and following lower to her legs, at last finding the problem. One foot was trapped between two barrels, both of which were firmly lodged under the lower edge of the wagon.
    “Goddammit,” he growled, ramming his shoulder against one of the barrels without result.
    Light blocked out behind him as Hall, on his hands and knees, backed into the opening.
    “Back up against the wagon bed. If we push together, we can lift this wooden beast onto her side.”
    Chase slid into position and, giving it everything he had, pushed, straightening his legs as he lifted up.
    Another splintering crack and the wagon rocked back over onto its side. With the weight of the wagon lifted off the barrels, it was now a simple matter to move them and free Christiana’s foot.
    “She lives?” the big man asked, hovering over them.
    As if in answer, Christiana groaned.
    “She lives,” Chase confirmed, kneeling at her side to brush away the hair splayed across her face.
    Another groan and her eyes fluttered open.
    “You’ve had yourself quite the little adventure, haven’t you?” he asked, smiling down at her.
    “I’m no at all fond of adventure,” she managed through gritted teeth, clutching the hand he offered. “I must reach Orabilis.”
    “She wants her wit—” Hall bit off the word before starting again. “She wants her wise woman. That one will be able to heal our lady’s pains.”
    “In that case, I’m taking her to her wise woman.”
    “I’ve captured the runaway team,” Ulfr called as he rode toward them, leading the panting animals behind him. “They tired of their escape at last.”
    Chase was already in his saddle, leaning down to take Christiana from Hall’s arms by the time Ulfr reached their side.
    “Here now, what’s this? What do you think yer doing with our laird’s sister?”
    Chase had no time for Ulfr’s questions.