Warrior

“… Maagy heard a familiar voice moaning in pain. Her heart pounded even harder, as she flashed a panicked look toward Mary who frowned and gave her a scolding shake of her head. One false move could have meant disaster for the mission. Maagy pulled herself together. The last two guards no less greedy than the others grabbed their portions, unlocked the cage, and turned their attention to the food which had been prepared particularly well so as to keep them occupied. They, too, swilled the wine like water. The women entered the cell and moved toward King Henry. One guard and then the other fell over quickly into a deep sleep. “Daddy! Daddy, can you hear me? It’s Maagy,” she whispered, as she fell to her knees beside him. “Please, Daddy, say something.” All he could do was groan in delirious pain. His skin was hot and dry, his face flushed. It was obvious even in the dim light of the torches. “Here, Maagy, give him a drink of water. He’s dry as hay.” “Dear God, look at him! He’s black and blue all over his face and neck. His eyes are swollen shut. Oh, Daddy!” “That isn’t the worst of it, Maagy. Look at his leg.” The bone was protruding through the skin. It was black with dried blood. Yellow pus oozed from around the wound. It was swollen twice the size it should have been. “We’ll need to stabilize it before we move him,” Mary said with authority. “Hand me those tea towels to pad it. Tear off the bottom of your petticoat. We’ll use it to tie this piece of wood snuggly against his leg. Hold him still so I can use the rest of this wine to wash the bone before I do this. This is going to hurt like bloody hell.” “Mary! What are you doing to my father?” “I’m splinting his leg,” she answered firmly, as Henry let out a cry in pain, as the alcohol drenched the wound. “Otherwise, we cannot get him into the box.” “I’m not sure we will anyway. Look at how small it is. My father is not a small man.” “We shall get him in there if we have to fold him in half, by god! We are getting him out of this damnable dungeon if it’s the last thing we do!” “Maagy… Mary… is that you? What are you… doing here?” “Yes, Daddy! Oh Daddy, we’re here to rescue you!” “Maagy, give him these herbs Constance gave me to ease his pain. Give him a bite of bread and some water. Sir, this is going to be the worst pain you’ve ever experienced, and I apologize for it.” She took hold of his ankle below the break and gave it a hearty yank. The poor man screamed in excruciating pain. Maagy burst into tears and Mary couldn’t breathe for a moment. But the bone popped back into the skin. She wrapped it with clean towels against the stake and secure it with the petticoat remnants. We’ll let him rest for a moment before we load him into the secret compartment.” Maagy cradled him in her lap, as she broke off bits of bread and fed him. She slipped the herbs in his mouth and gave him several sips of water. “You… shouldn’t… be here,” he struggled to say. “Zinrahwi… it’s what… he wants. You… here. Get out, Darling… whilst you can. Mary… take her… out.” “I shall, Sir, and I shall take you as well.” … Just as they were about to escape, their plan began to unstitch. Eight to ten mercenaries, some of those Heath had warned were rumored to be deep in the ruins, came swarming out of nowhere having heard Henry’s blood curdling cries. They saw the two women with the food cart but not the king. “Where is the prisoner?” One demanded. “Prisoner?” Mary repeated searching for a plausible story. “We don’t know, kind sir. We just arrived… with food… and… found the cell empty.” “Why are these guards sleeping?” “We wondered the same. We found them that way,” Maagy offered. “Like hell you did! Hey, that one has blue eyes! You’re not the tavern wenches. Who the hell are you?” With that, both women knew their ruse was unraveling. Mary was the first to go for her dagger just as one of the men drew his sword. She lunged forward and sliced his hand nearly off. The fight was on. Maagy took to the air with a mighty whirl, her foot flying straight into the throat of the next one to fall. She drew her dagger and was quickly caught up in chaos. The fledgling Knights did not have time to think about strategy or form but were moving on pure instinct and training, as they fought for their lives. One after the other, the mercenaries fell bleeding and broken to the ground. Maagy’s dagger found a soft spot in the belly of the last man. He looked her in the eye as he went down. The women had prevailed. They were left standing, stunned, with no other sound than their own panting breaths and pounding heartbeats. “Holy Hell, where did they come from?” Mary gasped, as she tried to catch her breath. “Surely… they must have bubbled up… from the depths of the netherworld.” … Maagy wiped blood off her blade and sheathed it. Mary slammed the cell door and locked it in case any of the men were still alive then tucked the key into her blouse. The box was considerably heavier being pulled uphill the whole way. It was all they could do to keep it moving forward with Maagy pulling and Mary pushing with all her might. They called upon every god and spirit in the Universe for help. As they reached the light of day and picked up speed on the flat surface practically running, they realized the draw bridge was up.”…