Master of Mayhem (The Enchanted Well #2)

Chapter Twelve

A man dropped a length of fabric on the floor next to Sabine’s crumpled body.

“Roll her up,” Darren ordered his companions.

They knelt down, wrapping and rolling Sabine in the fabric. It was coarse fabric, the sort used for shrouds.

“Good. Anyone who sees her will think she’s on the way to the common grave. Now get her out the other door before those Lindsey retainers come looking for her. Dump her in the river like the guild master ordered.” Darren nodded with satisfaction.

One of the men was squirming. “She is nae dead.”

“How long do ye think our monopoly will stand if the laird thinks to bring in tailors as well as knitters?” Darren had no compassion.

“The laird did rebuild the town. Even this building had to have a new roof,” Grady argued.

“The laird has his rents. Can ye nae see that he is being greedy to bring in a knitter? And an English woman, as well.” Darren crossed his arms over his chest, his mind set. “The laird is due rents. We are tradesmen. There must be balance.”

The other man reached for Sabine and hefted her unconscious form over his shoulder. He headed for the stairs without argument. “The English have taken enough from me and mine. Woman or not, I will get rid of her.”

He shuffled out of the door, disappearing from sight. “Get on. The guild master charged ye with safeguarding our guild. Do nae disappoint him, Grady.”

Grady’s lips were pressed into a hard line, but he went without further protest. Darren nodded with satisfaction before he disappeared down the steps that ended in the kitchen so that the Lindsey retainers wouldn’t know he’d been above stairs.

He was relieved to know that the knitter was gone. Three of his own sons were in the knitting guild. A father had to help protect their futures.

*

Grady and Ronald hauled their burden to the very edge of the village. Above them, thunder rumbled. Rain began to pelt them. The drops were fat and frigid, proving that the season was still very new.

They tossed Sabine onto the ground near a steep embankment. The river was roaring, the current so powerful, the water was eating away at its banks to expose the earth. With the snow melting, the river was at peak strength. Getting caught in its grip could easily prove deadly.

“What are ye doing, Ronald?” Grady demanded.

Ronald had a large rock in his hand. He’d raised it up above his head when Grady demanded to know what he was about.

“What does it look like?” Ronald answered. “I am going to finish her off.”

“The lass is out cold,” Grady insisted. “It would be murder to hit her now. Do ye never listen when the priest talks about the deadly sins?”

“Defending me home is not a deadly sin,” Ronald argued. “Arden Preyor is right. This woman will teach others and then all the men in the knitting guild will have no way to provide for their families. She is another English who come here to take what is ours. I can kill in defense of me own home. She is like a rat. A pestilence.”

“She isn’t a rat. This is murder.” Grady lifted his foot and kicked Sabine.

Inside the cloth shroud, she gasped.

Ronald brought the rock smashing down. Sabine rolled just in time, franticly fighting to free herself from the fabric.

“Ye will nae get away from me…,” Ronald promised.

Sabine looked at the river with its white water and back at Ronald. He was reaching for her, his hands large and his shoulders more than powerful enough to snap her neck.

The river it had to be.

She rolled over, leaving the fabric behind and scrambled to her feet, running headlong toward the river. Sabine turned to look over her shoulder, hoping she might be spared, but what she saw was Ronald’s furious expression as he reached out for her.

She jumped.

*

Eachan was getting anxious.

He paced one way and then the other, stopped to look up at the steps where Sabine had gone.

“She must have had to remove her dress,” Fintan offered an explanation for how long their charge had been above stairs.

“It’s been…a long time.” Eachan wasn’t in the mood to be placated. “The laird will have our hides if we lose the May queen.”

“Aye, ye are right about that,” Fintan agreed.

Eachan squared his shoulders. “I am going up there.”

He took the stairs at a brisk pace. He rapped on the door at the top. “Mistress Sabine? Mistress? Are ye there lass?”

No one answered. Eachan pushed the door open, heading inside. His forehead furrowed because there was no one on the second floor. All of the work stools were empty. He ventured closer because it made no sense to him. Standing in front of one stool, Eachan clearly saw a cuff for a shirt. It was as though everyone had been sent out in a hurry.

Something beyond the window caught his attention. He could see between the building to the riverbank. Sabine was running toward the edge of the bank and then she jumped.

*

The water was freezing.

Sabine gasped, fighting her way to the surface. Her head broke through after what felt like an eternity, allowing her to draw in a deep breath. But her lungs didn’t want to inflate. Her entire body felt tight because of the cold.

The current was dragging her. Like a thousand hands pulling on her soaked skirts. She went tumbling down the riverbed, colliding with rocks and pieces of broken trees, before slipping around them to continue racing downstream into the next obstacle.

Pain became a constant. There was no time for the impact with a rock to fade before she was enduring another collision. Water always appeared soft, but reality was very different.

Get out of the water!

Her inner voice was correct. The only way to survive would be to get out of the river. Sabine twisted, rolling onto her back so she might see where she was going. She crossed her ankles so that she floated more smoothly.

The water still slammed her into another outcropping of rocks. But she flowed smoothly around them and plunged into a deep pool. The water was churning here, going round and round. Sabine floundered, using her arms to try to pull herself back up to the surface.

Above her the sky didn’t help. There was no bright sunlight to guide her. The clouds were dark, and thunder boomed loudly. She had no more significance than a broken limb. In no time at all she’d be tossed onto the bank, just a mangled broken lifeless lump.

She wanted to live!

That desire pounded through her. It was like a battle drum, the sound stirring her need to live. She’d felt it before when the soldiers had been attacking Ruben and her. The need to take a hand in her own survival made her heart beat harder. Deep inside of her, the desire to survive flared up. The strength she’d thought she didn’t have was suddenly flowing through her, enabling her to fight for her life.

She flipped over and fought against the current.

Her skirts were so heavy! She strained to reach a tree limb. The bark was rough, but she welcomed the sting. She gripped it and pulled hard. It felt as if the water tried to keep her. Sabine twisted and kicked. One foot found something hard to push off of.

She shot forward. Now she could grab more of the tree. She winced but closed her hands around the limbs, using the tree like a ladder. Her shoulders rose out of the water and then her waist. She kicked harder, straining to lift herself out of the water with her arms.

Every muscle she had was burning. But she got her hips out of the water. She rolled over, lying on the tree branch and panted. Her heart felt as if it was nearly bursting.

But you are out of the water!

She was. Victory was the sweetest reward even if exhaustion threatened to maroon her there.

No, she was not beaten!

She would not be dispatched like some rabbit. Sabine rolled over, fighting with her water-soaked skirts and started to crawl toward the bank of the river. A large collection of broken limbs and trees had collected in the bend of the river. She crawled over the jumble, making her way to the edge where thick mud presented her next obstacle.

She sat up, staring at the bog. Every muscle she had felt spent. Above her, the clouds were dark and ominous. Fat drops of frigid rain were starting to hit her, the wind making them fly nearly sideways.

She had to find the strength.

But even as she attempted to renew her determination, one of her calves cramped up. She gasped, gritting her teeth while agony held her in its grip. The pain left her panting, but she was still determined to live.

“Sabine?”

She turned her head, trying to see who was calling out to her.

Was it Grady and his companion Ronald? Were they searching for her to make sure they finished the job they’d been given?

She hugged the tree, grateful for how drab her dress was for it blended in with the bark of the tree.

“Sabine?”