“I’m not through with you yet,” he whispered and suddenly the weight of him was off of her. She dared not move and strained to hear his movements. Unbelievably she heard his steps receding. Hope flared in her. Was it possible that he had forgotten about her hands? Surely not. He’d just cut her bonds a few minutes prior, but then she heard the telltale squeak of the front door to the house and knew he’d gone inside. Frantically she reached up and felt around the block for the leather thong. It was wrapped about a hook of sorts and it took her several long moments to unwind it and free her head. As she worked, her ears strained against the sound of his return, but the door had not open by the time she was free. She immediately came up on her knees, pushed her skirts down and glanced at the house. The Executioner was nowhere in sight, so Samantha stood and looked about for a weapon, any weapon. Her eyes fell on his axe, but she knew instantly that she would not be able to lift it, let alone swing it with any force. She took a few steps to the right, then turned and moved a few steps back the other way. She was beginning to panic all over again, when she spotted the wooden handle Wellman had been working on for a smaller, much lighter axe. She ran to it. The handle was about three feet long, but when she lifted it she knew it would have to serve. Even though it had no head on it, it was heavy, made of strong wood, oak probably. She lifted it, then moved to the far side of the main door and waited, standing just as close as she could to the house. He would have to come out the door for her to have any chance. If he went out the back and walked around the house, she knew she was lost.
She stood very quietly, her body shaking slightly, but her arms were cocked and waiting…and still waiting, but he did not emerge. She was about to move when she heard the creak of the door. She swung just before she saw him, estimating where his head would be. She was not wrong. Even though he jerked at the last moment out of reflex, the handle struck him directly across the bridge of the nose. He staggered, but did not fall back into the house as she expected, instead he took a few staggering steps out in front of her. She swung again, hitting him on the back of the head this time and finally he went down. He lay at her feet unconscious, but she swung three more times, big overhead swings like when she’d killed the bull snake in the garden. Blood was coming from the Executioner’s nose and from behind his right ear. She started to turn away but then swung two more times, hard blows but poorly aimed, striking the downed man once on the top of the head and again on the right shoulder. She immediately dropped the ax handle and considered finding a knife to make sure the Executioner was truly dead. But she was afraid to get to close to him, afraid to touch him and then her hands started to shake uncontrollably and her mind began to shut down.
She turned, refusing to look at the body at her feet and entered the house. She moved mechanically without real thought and retrieved her father’s bow, all the arrows, which amounted to three sheathes of twelve, and his hunting knife. She then bolted up the stairs to where she and Arabelle shared a room and threw as many of her clothes as she could manage onto her bed, making sure to include the heavy workpants her father allowed her to wear while working with the animals in the winter. She wrapped them all up in one of her blankets and quickly tied off the ends and hauled them all downstairs, feeling slightly ridiculous carrying such a large bundle. Next she went to the kitchen and quickly packed all the bread and salted meat she could.
When she was finished, she took a quick peek outside, but the Executioner still lay unmoving.
‘He’s dead,’ she thought with disbelief but couldn’t make herself check, couldn’t make herself go near him.
Her arms full, she moved to the barn and saddled Bane, their big roan. Then she threw a pair of saddlebags on Nancy, their mule, also tying the clothes and food onto the mule’s back. She quietly led them out of the barn, grabbing several canteens as she went. She filled them with water from the trough, not wanting to waste the time to pump fresh water, and glanced at the Executioner but then her eyes found her father, and sisters and began to fill with tears. She shook them clear; saddened that she would not be able to bury her family. Then her eyes fell on the large black horse nibbling at the grass which grew under the oak.
She moved to Bane and pulled out the bow. She fought the urge to kill the animal but in the end her body moved as if it had detached itself from her mind and senses. She notched an arrow, pulled it back as far as she was able, and aimed at the horse’s chest, just where it joined with the neck. Her arms were still shaking uncontrollably and she fought against the involuntary movement…wanting a clean kill.
“Forgive me,” she whispered, feeling slightly guilty though days later she would not remember anything from this morning clearly. After several seconds she finally let the arrow fly. She’d always been good with the bow, a natural shot, her father repeatedly told her, and on this occasion it was no different, despite the tremors in her arms. The arrow struck true, and the horse bolted and screamed in pain. It ran off shaking its head as it went. Samantha glanced at the Executioner. He was lying prone, still bleeding and without thinking she notched another arrow but suddenly her shaking increased.
‘He’s dead,’ she thought, and was suddenly overwhelmed with fear that the Executioner would suddenly stand and chase after her and she would be unable to do anything but shake. In a daze, she removed the arrow and placed it back with the others.
Her mind went blank. She did not see the Executioner, did not see her dead family and without knowing how, she swung herself up on Bane and headed down the lane. Once moving she had no conscious thoughts of where she would go, her body just acted and guided the animals of its own accord.
When she got to the end of the lane, she did not use the road that led to Millvale; instead she crossed it and moved out into the field. She headed south first, before moving west toward Koshka. She was only dimly aware that she needed to avoid the Sergeant and all those men ahead of her. She had not ridden even a quarter of a mile before she was sobbing uncontrollably. Her grief was so complete that she neither knew nor cared which direction Bane headed.
XII
Gwaynn walked slowly with Elise back from the Observatory to their rooms. His leg was feeling much better and with the exercise he was getting with Nev most afternoons he felt sure it would be back to normal shortly. The night was clear and cool, perfect for viewing the distant stars and galaxies. Gwaynn was fast becoming as enthusiastic about the night sky as his small female companion. Kent and a few other students had joined them, but they’d all departed together around midnight, leaving him and Elise alone to wait for Orion to move higher into the night sky. Gwaynn was eager to see the Orion Nebula, and Elise was eager to show it to him. They studied it for almost an hour until the moon rose over the horizon and though it was far from full it shone brightly, as if competing for attention.