The Mansions of Idumea (Book 3 Forest at the Edge series) (65 page)

Several more shouts shut her mouth. One
glimpse out the windows told them the coach was surrounded by men
on horseback, all in black, perhaps as many as ten.

Jaytsy screamed and ducked down again. Peto
looked like he would be sick. Mahrree tried to pray, but all that
would come out was, “Please, Creator! Please!”

She watched out the window—this time trying
to be discreet about it but likely failing—as another figure on
horseback who proved to be her husband came into view with his
sword drawn. In the dark it was hard to be sure, but Mahrree
thought it was dirtied. She felt Peto and Jaytsy come to her side
to watch, but she was too engrossed in what was going on to tell
them to get back down.

Perrin slashed at a rider nearest their door
and the man fell from his horse without a sound.

“
That
was quick,” Peto breathed,
genuinely impressed.

Another rider pulled out a sword and then
fell from view.

“No, I wanted to see that!” Peto moaned. He
leaned out the window to see his father fight the Guarder behind
them, but they were lost to the night.

Before Mahrree could yank her son back to
safety, a strange rocking motion shifted the coach, and Mahrree
twisted to look out the other side. A dark rider had leaped onto
the coach and was climbing up past the window.

“What do they want with us?” Jaytsy
whimpered.

“They don’t want us, just the coach,” Mahrree
said, not at all sure of her assessment. Now she wanted to cry out
for Perrin, too. But she couldn’t let panicked win. Not yet.

The coach bounced erratically, suggesting
that the dark man and the lone driver were fighting on the top. The
horses kept their gallop and Mahrree wondered if there was anything
she could do.

Poke the Guarder through the coach wall?
Throw an apple at him? Mahrree’s bravery was woefully
uncreative.

The swaying stopped and a strange whoop came
from above them.

Mahrree looked out the window to see the body
of another soldier falling away.

That was it. The end. They’d lost control of
the coach, and she and her children were now at the mercy of people
who weren’t know for mercy . . .

She sat down, sure that the terror on her
face was evident even in the dark.

“Mother, who’s driving the coach?” Peto
asked, not too steadily.

Mahrree just shook her head. Another yell
came, and she looked out the window to see her husband nearing.
With a swipe of his sword, a Guarder riding right behind their back
wheel fell from his horse, then another slash from Perrin caused
the last Guarder on that side of the coach to vanish as well.
Mahrree looked to the other side, but didn’t see anyone in view.
The other riders must have gone up ahead.

“Mahrree!” Perrin yelled.

She stuck her head out the window.

“Good—you’re still there.”

Before she could ask him where in the world
he thought she might’ve gone, he said, “You’re going to have to
help me gain control of this coach.”

“What?!”

Perrin glanced up at the driver in black and
shook his head. “No time!” He nudged his horse closer to the coach
and leaned over.

“I hate doing this,” he muttered as he tried
to match the speed of his horse to the coach. “Always messed up in
training. Never could get the timing . . . just . . . right.”

He leaned, grabbed the handholds on either
side the door, and left the horse successfully.

“Ha! When it matters, I guess,” he said as
his feet scrabbled to find the step.

Mahrree and her children couldn’t even
breathe.

“Mahrree, watch how I go up, count to
fifteen, then follow me. Have Peto hold the door so it won’t come
back and hit you. You’ll have to take the reins while I secure the
coach. Are you watching?”

Mahrree spluttered for a moment before she
managed a panicked, “Are you serious?”

But Perrin was already inching his way to the
front of the coach. He reached for the same holds the soldier had
used a few minutes ago to climb up to the driving bench. Soon he
was out of sight, and the coach swayed unpredictably again. A loud
grunting noise above them fortunately didn’t sound like Perrin. It
did, however, sound like Perrin punching someone in the gut.

Mahrree sat with her mouth wide open,
stunned, as Peto slowly counted.

The coach bounced again.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered.

Jaytsy squeezed her hand, if in support or
agreement, Mahrree wasn’t sure.

“Thirteen . . . fourteen . . . fifteen.
Mother, fifteen? I know I said otherwise, but Father’s waiting for
help.”

Peto sat up and swung the door open, then put
his arm through the window to hold the door. “If you won’t go, I
will,” he said, and Mahrree could tell he meant it.

The mothering instinct finally took over,
easily defeating panic that tried to take a stand against it. “Oh
no you won’t, young man!”

Another violent sway threw Mahrree toward the
open door.

“All right, all right! I’m going!” She
cautiously turned to back out the door, feeling for the grips
above. Firmly grasping the leather handles, she stepped out to the
side of the coach.

“Be careful, Mother!” cried Jaytsy
unnecessarily.

Even in the dark Mahrree could tell two men
were wrestling on top of the coach. She focused instead on finding
the holds, ignoring the cold wind and rocking that tried to toss
her from the side. She put her foot on the first hold—a small block
protruding from the side—and reached for the next one.

“Not made for short women!” she yelled at the
coach. As if in response, the coach hit a bump and propelled her
upward enough to grab the block above. Not sure if she should feel
grateful or disappointed, Mahrree firmed her grip. She knew she was
going to make it up there; it was just a matter of actually doing
it.

She refused to look up to see what was
happening with her husband, but took the next hold up and placed
her boot again, glad that the wind was blowing her skirt out of the
way, then climbed again and again until she saw the empty driver’s
seat in front of her. She crawled onto it and sighed in relief.

“The reins!” she heard Perrin yell. Then she
heard him grunt.

Don’t look at him
,
don’t look at him,
she told herself. She saw the ends of the reins just below her
where the drivers’ feet were to rest. Laying down on the bench and
reaching out her shaking hand, she snatched them with a triumphant,
“Ha!”

She sat up in the seat and the coach shifted
again. Startled, she spun around to see her husband on all fours on
the roof, grinning down at her. “Good job!”

Mahrree exhaled and held the reins up to him.
He shook his head.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine,” he said, a little winded.

“Then why aren’t you standing?”

“Do
you
want to try to stand on a
swaying coach? I’ll trade you!”

She held the reins up to him again with a
challenging smile, until she saw— “PERRIN!”

He turned just in time to see another Guarder
climbing up the side of the coach. Perrin’s swift kick in his face
sent the dark man into the air and made Mahrree wince.

But another Guarder was climbing up the back,
and still another on the side. Perrin stayed on his knees, drew his
sword and Mahrree pivoted to the front. She couldn’t bear to watch
him use the sword, or worse, see something used on him.

Just keep control of the horses, she thought.
Never mind this was only the third time in her life she had ever
held the reins of horses, and that she really didn’t know what else
to do but hold them firmly. She focused ahead at the teams in front
of her, still in full gallop. In the dim light of the moons she
could just make out the full and awful scope of the attack.

The scenario playing out on the coach was
being repeated two wagons in front of her, and, by the amount of
horses she saw overtaking her, would be happening on nearly all of
the wagons as well. Guarders and soldiers fighting for control of
the caravan.

“Dear Creator, will we lose everything?” She
tried to concentrate on the wagon ahead of her to see who was
controlling the horses. It occurred to her that if it were
Guarders, they would have left the caravan by now. She prayed it
was Hili or the relief driver of their coach holding the reins.

Behind her she heard the furious clanking of
steel, and worried tears washed down her face. As long as someone
in black didn’t suddenly land next to her, her husband was
prevailing.

She chanced a look behind her just in time to
see Perrin run his sword through another man, who fell ungainly
from the coach. Mahrree thought she would retch, especially when
she saw another Guarder who climbed up the side hit Perrin solidly
in the jaw with his fist.

“No, no, no, no!” Mahrree whispered to the
horses as she turned quickly around.

She felt a presence above and behind her,
then suddenly next to her.

It was a man. Wearing black.

She screamed and the body flopped limply on
her lap, unconscious, or worse.

With a noise Mahrree remembered making only
once before when she found a large centipede creeping through her
little girl’s dinner, she flailed and kicked until the heavy body
slumped to the other side of the bench. As she cowered on her end
of the seat, she watched in horror as the man in black slowly, much
too slowly, slid off the other side and into the darkness. A
jolting of the coach’s back wheel suggested they’d run over him.
For the third time in her life Mahrree made the same noise, which
used every vowel sound in the alphabet, followed by a severe
shudder.

“Perrin!” she whimpered and saw another body
tumble off a wagon further up ahead, seemingly dressed in
black.

There was another sway of their coach,
another clang of steel behind her, and the suggestion of one more
body falling off the side.

“Wasn’t me!” Perrin shouted.

One morbid side of her mind wished she was
keeping tally of her husband’s kills. The other part of her mind
recoiled at the word ‘kills.’

Another body fell off another wagon somewhere
ahead, but she kept her eyes forward. A distinct slicing sound
behind her sent a spray of something onto her cloak and the seat
next to her. She glanced down to see liquid shining in the dim
moons’ light. Grimacing, she chanced a look behind her.

Her husband cringed down at her and gestured
with his sword that dripped again on the driver’s bench and her
cloak. “Sorry about that. But it’s not mine. You’re doing well, by
the way.” He turned and Mahrree saw him thrust with the sword again
at someone just out of view.

She looked straight ahead and tried to ignore
the moaning sound that fortunately didn’t sound like her husband,
followed by another muffled thud.

I should’ve said that to him, she thought.
You’re doing well
. What I am doing but sitting here
flinching and weeping?

She felt a presence next to her again, but
before she could cry out she realized this time it was her
husband.

“That’s the last of them back here,” he said
as he positioned himself on the bench next to her. “I can’t see
anything else coming up. But I need to get to the other
wagons.”

Mahrree fought the urge to throw her arms
around her husband’s neck, because they weren’t out of trouble yet.
“How? We can’t go any faster, and we can’t leave the road or we’ll
end up in those freshly plowed fields that are now turning into
freezing mud.”

“I know, I know—let me think.” Perrin took
the reins from his wife and scanned the dark scenery for any
abandoned horses.

The distant horn blast startled them both.
They looked at each other expectantly, then heard the second long,
loud tone.

“The fort at Pools!” Perrin breathed.

Cheers rose from the wagons ahead as Guarder
horses came rushing back past the coach, with fresh soldiers and
horses in close pursuit. Perrin joined the cheer, but Mahrree just
held her head in relief.

A few moments later an officer rode up to the
coach and turned his horse to match their pace.

“Colonel Shin? I’m Captain Lebs. We’re here
to escort you to the fort and attend to your wounded.”

“Thank you, Captain!” Perrin saluted
cheerfully.

Mahrree patted her chest to catch her breath
before turning to call down to the coach. “Are you two all right in
there? We should be at the fort soon.”

There was no response.

“Peto! Jaytsy!” Mahrree screamed. “Answer
me!”

Perrin looked at her, alarmed.

“Fine, Mother! We’re fine,” Peto’s muffled
voice finally came back up to them. “Just a little, um, buried.
Seems the crate of dresses Grandmother packed wasn’t secure. Just a
small nightmare, covering me in silks . . .”

Jaytsy’s nervous laugh rose up. “He looks
lovely, Mother. Peto in pink. I wish there was more light in
here.”

“Dresses?” Perrin asked Mahrree. “With the
need for food you packed dresses?”

“Your
mother
packed dresses,
and
lots of food,” Mahrree clarified. “She thought women in
Edge might need some new clothing. Quite a gesture on her part when
you think about it. I think she gave us nearly everything she
owned.”

By the time they reached the fort, Peto and
Jaytsy had managed to pack most of the dresses back into the crate
that had been perched on the seat opposite of them. As the coach
pulled through the fort’s gates, Colonel Snyd was waiting with a
lantern in one hand, and his sword in the other. When he recognized
the Shins, his stance relaxed and he sheathed his weapon. The wagon
drivers pulled over to the stables to inspect the condition of the
horses and wagons, but Perrin stopped the coach in front of the
command office, slid off the bench and helped Mahrree down.