Would it be enough, she wondered? The ferry bumped a post set a few feet out in the river to keep it in alignment, but with the rope untethered it began to turn, and started to drift. There was another long rope, extending across the river to some unseen post on the far shore. It would be used to guide the barge and help prevent it from being swept away in the flow during the crossing, and there were several wooden poles on the weathered deck that could be pushed into the silted river bottom to assist. But the ferry was empty now, with no human hands to hold the rope or use the poles.
The barge glided by the shore. Oh, take it, she seemed to plead inwardly to the river. Take it and be done with this! But it lingered near its mooring site, and she finally knew she would not get off so easily. Her complicity would be complete, undeniable, unforgivable, for she now had to give it one more strong push to nudge it out into the stream and set it free.
“In for a penny, in for a pound…” She remembered Paul quipping about the mission and realized she had to finish the job. Then she placed her foot on the edge, and pushed hard. It was enough force to ease the ferry out into the river, and now the current began to grasp at it, pulling it away from the shore.
She moved slowly, as though numbed with some powerful drug, listless and forlorn, backing away from the tree stump as she watched the mooring rope slide off into the water. Then, still holding the reins of her horse, she turned and walked slowly away, heading for a shadowed glen not far from the water’s edge.
So it was that she saw the frantic arrival of the Bishop, riding the old gray mare and witnessed his desperate effort to get down off the horse and wade out into the shallows. But the ferry had been taken by the powerful stream of the river and was long gone by the time he reached the shoreline.
She heard the cries of lamentation, the frightened weeping in the night. A thought passed that she could go to them, to offer aid at the last extreme, returning the gentle kindness they had extended to her just moments before. At the very least, she could save the children. Yet a stern voice within her would not permit it. Her own steely logic told her that these were all meant to perish, and their death, though painful and cruel, was an absolute necessity. Leaving even one alive would introduce changes in the stream of the flow that could have dramatic repercussions.
So she watched in horror as Dodo came riding with his men at arms, full of bluster and harsh throated words. She did not labor to translate, for the hard edge in his voice was enough to make his meaning plain. Here now is death; heed now my vengeance; here I am satisfied that payment has been made for the wrong you have brought upon my family.
The rasp of swords flashed in the moonlight, and thunder rumbled in the distance. There, on that dark and muddied shore, Time fell in a swoon when silence finally enfolded the scene again. Lambert had been slain, along with all his household. The cry of the boy, his voice cut suddenly short, was the last thing she heard.
Maeve stood, forcing herself to witness the crime she had made possible, wanting to turn and flee, but riveted to the spot, dogged with reproach and remorse. Then one of the assailants turned, his eyes still wild with violence, and pointed to the place where she lingered in the shadows.
“Quisnam est illic?” The man turned, squaring off, as he peered in her direction, his sword at the ready.
Then something in her mind snapped and her body moved. She leapt up, barely able to mount the skittish steed again, and her pulse raced as she saw two, then three men start towards her, stopping when they saw she had mounted.
“Ad Equos!” One man shouted, and they ran to secure their horses, preparing to mount and give chase.
Maeve was up, finally shifted into riding position as the rush of adrenaline chased the emotion from her mind with pulsing fear. Her sudden movement caused the Arabian to rear up, turning its head to cast a wide eyed glance at the oncoming soldiers. At that moment she heard a taught snap and the leather rein gave way, suddenly slack in her hands. The tumult of the horse’s movement almost threw her free, but she leaned forward to hold on to the horses neck and mane. Kuhaylan regained his balance, came down, and thundered away, gaining speed even as he ran up the low embankment of the river, a silvered blur in the night.
It took all her skill, but she was able to steer him west across a grassy field towards the old Roman road by using her legs and reinforcing every desired direction with her voice. She could hear the sound of riders behind her, laboring up the embankment to give chase, but no horse in the land was the equal of Kuhaylan that night, and he ran full out, galloping away, drinking the wind as his powerful body carried her out onto the road. The clatter of his hooves and the wind in her ears was all she could hear now, and she rode north, a cold rippling wave of chaos in the night.
Chapter 21
“I think we’ve got her!” Kelly was jubilant as he completed the retraction sequence. “Let’s get down to the Arch. I want to make certain she phased in properly. Come on!”
The three of them rushed to open the heavy metal door and make their way down to the Arch. When they arrived they found Maeve sitting there, legs crossed, though her hooded outer cloak and robe were missing.
Kelly was the first to her side, extending a hand to help her up with a warm smile. She seemed somewhat disoriented, and her eyes were swollen and red, as though she had been crying. He put his arms around her, guiding her back across the thick yellow event horizon to the safety of the inner chamber where the others waited.
She blinked at them, and Paul was the first to speak. “I know we asked a great deal of you, Maeve,” he said.
“Thank God,” she sighed with obvious relief. “You got me out just in time. I made it to the entry point well enough, with Dodo and his men in hot pursuit, though they were well behind me. But I was about to have company! There were also men waiting there, out on the road, and a cleric as well. It was all I could do to steal up and get close to that tree stump, but they saw me and one of the men came running at me just as I felt the shift begin. I slapped the Arabian’s rump as hard as I could, and the horse bolted. That bought me just enough time I suppose…”
She nodded sullenly, still taking comfort in the warmth of Kelly’s arm. “That apple was a good idea,” she said at last. “I fed it to the horse.”
“And the note?” Paul asked, still not certain she had been able to decipher the message and take any decisive action.
“Oh, I got the note,” she eyed him sternly. “I read it and then ate the damn thing. Couldn’t risk a piece of that nice lined paper floating off into the 8th century in a careless moment. But that was the least of my worries. Alright… I killed the bishop, saved the realm, and rode off to glory. What’s next?” She smiled wanly, but they could see she was still shaken with emotion.
“Sounds like a good game of Darkspawn Chronicles,” said Kelly smiling. “Let’s get you upstairs and get some coffee. Then we can check the Golems and see if you actually did save the realm.”
Nordhausen was too impatient to wait. “What did you decide, Maeve? What did you do? Anything?”