The knight’s eyes widened. She glared at him fiercely and he looked hastily back at the priest, who hadn’t turned around, Bright Ones be praised.
“It isn’t her at all,” said the knight, his quiet, intense voice designed to hold attention. Good lad. Keep it up.
Jeriah stared at her, wide eyed above the gag, but he didn’t make a sound, and she thanked him with a nod as she crept forward.
The crossbow was the problem. If she hit the priest on the head as she’d planned, and his finger tightened on the trigger, he could hardly miss hitting the knight. But if she used her first blow to knock the crossbow up, the priest would have time to shout, and one yelp was all it would take to bring the guards to kill them all.
The knight asked Lazur why Regg’s spell failed when they entered the tent, and Makenna marked his warning—though with this cursed net clinging to her arm, it hardly mattered. The knight braced himself as she drew near—nothing obvious, just a small shift in posture, but she knew she’d best move before that sharp-eyed priest noticed it, too. Now!
She stepped forward and kicked the bow up. Even as the bolt whizzed harmlessly overhead, the knight sprang, his hands closing around the priest’s throat before he could do more than gasp.
The momentum of the knight’s leap carried them both down, with the knight on top. She grabbed the priest’s hands, pinning them so he couldn’t break the knight’s grip or gouge at his eyes. He was already turning purple, his face contorting. She felt a moment’s fear that her champion would weaken, but one glance at his grim face assured her. A moment later the priest’s straining muscles went limp.
“You gag, I’ll tie.” His shaking voice contrasted oddly with the brisk commands. “And don’t forget to put that net around him. How did you get it?”
“Erebus. That’s how he was hurt, going back for it.”
He worked rapidly and efficiently and she followed his example, tearing strips from her shirt for the priest’s gag, just as he had. “How long will this one stay unconscious?”
“Not very long. And you can make a lot of noise through a gag. We’d better get out of here fast,” he said.
She yanked the final knot tight. “Then maybe you’d better finish what you started?”
There were some humans, perhaps even most, who should be spared—but Makenna wasn’t sure this man was one of them. The net seemed eager to leave her arm, curling around the priest’s limp body like a cat. At least he wouldn’t be freeing himself with spells when he woke.
“Don’t push it, hedgewitch.” The knight glared at her with the eyes of a man who was rapidly reaching his limit, and she was too experienced a commander not to recognize it.
“As you will,” she said soothingly. Then a thought struck her. “How did you know I’d go for the bow instead of hitting him over the head?”
“I didn’t. Grab those cursed books, will you?” He pulled a large bag from the pouch on his belt and tossed it to her.
Her fingers lingered on the spines, stroking them despite the need for haste. Here was true magic, complex, codified, complete. This was what her mother had wanted for her.
“Hurry, will you!”
She stuffed the last of the books into the bag. But instead of coming to help her, he went to Jeriah, who sat in silence, watching. She saw him search for words.
“I love you,” he said finally, and pulled his brother into his arms, kissing his head. “Tell Mother I love her. Tell Father…tell Father it was the right thing to do.” He let Jeriah go and stepped out of the tent ahead of her, pulling his cloak around him.
She glanced back and met Jeriah’s tear-bright eyes. “I’ll watch out for him,” she promised. “And you’d better keep an eye on that one.” She jerked her head at the motionless priest. “It’s a trap, you know, thinking all the right’s on your side, and none on the other. A trap of the mind, more vicious than steel spikes. Heavier than chains. And he’s in so deep, he’ll never even see it. Bright One’s grace, I swear, I pity him. Win or lose.” Was there a flicker of understanding in the boy’s eyes? Makenna couldn’t be sure. She pulled up her hood and followed her ally into the night.
He was waiting for her, trying to look confident as he scanned the quiet camp. “Do you have a plan for getting us out of here?” He took her arm, leading her in the direction of the horse lines. How long had it been since a human had touched her, in friendship?
“I was hoping you’d have one,” she said.
“This is no time to develop a sense of humor. What about the goblins?”
“I told Cogswhallop to get the lot of them to the gap in the wall, and wait for us. I’ll try to cast the spell when we get there, though I still don’t think—”
He came to a stop and stared at her. “You sent them on ahead? You said you thought I couldn’t do it!”
“I still don’t.” She took his arm and pulled him along. “But if by some miracle we bring this off, having the goblins scattered from one end of the wood to the other would be like having a cow with a full udder and no pail. Shh! Don’t laugh like that. Someone’ll recognize you and we haven’t the time.”
“Then you’ll all be leaving as soon as you cast the spell.” He sounded thoughtful. Wistful? “I wish—”
Muffled shouting came from the tent behind them, and several late-awake guards started cautiously in that direction.
The knight grabbed her hand and ran for the line where the horses were tethered. Makenna flung herself at the nearest beast, but when she put her foot in the stirrup and started to step up, the saddle rolled off the horse’s back and fell on top of her. She sat on the ground and looked up at the knight, who was gazing blankly at the limp bridle that had fallen off the horse’s head when he grabbed it. Then she understood and began to laugh, full, free, and joyous, and no thought of danger could stop the sound. Goblins! How she loved them.
The knight cursed, dragged her to her feet, and tossed her up to the horse’s back.
“The books,” she gasped. He thrust them into her arms, yanked the reins from the useless bridle, wrapped one around her mount’s neck, and handed her the ends.
He took the other rein for himself, pulled off the other horse’s saddle with one quick jerk, and leapt to the beast’s broad back, compact and easy as a house cat leaping to a window sill. He kicked his horse to a gallop, and Makenna followed.
She wasn’t trained to ride bareback as the knight was. She dropped the rein and wrapped both hands in the horse’s mane, the awkward bag of books clutched in front of her. She was glad her beast followed his, for as they rode through the seething settlement she had no thought to spare for its guidance.
Freed livestock darted, bawling, hither and thither, with the owners in pursuit. Half a dozen flapping chickens, followed by a man with no boots on, made her mount shy, and she wobbled dangerously on its slippery back.
The alarm bell started ringing, and the confusion intensified as some ran for the church and others looked for weapons that were unaccountably missing. She passed a tent that bulged and bellowed furiously and laughed again when she saw that its flaps had been sewn shut.
Other horses appeared, running unbridled through the chaos with goblins clinging to their broad backs, two or three or four to an animal. For a moment Miggy rode beside her with Regg hanging on to his belt, his face alight with pride and terror. “I did it,” he cried. “I was in command! I’m the one that did it!”
When they reached the perimeter the guards leapt for them and fell flat. Someone had tied their bootlaces together. Makenna was still laughing when they reached the road and set off toward the wall, galloping into the darkness after the knight.