Sage: Medieval Romance Beauties With Blades Page 15

  Sage jerked to go to his aid.

  “Get her!” Guillume shouted.

  She froze as two of the soldiers broke away from the struggle with Marcus to race toward her.

  “Run!” Marcus called between clenched teeth. The soldiers pushed him to his knees and then to the ground, shoving his face into the dirt.

  Sage pulled her sword partially from the sheath when she spotted more soldiers emerging from the inn. There were too many for her to fight. Her father had taught her to know when to retreat. Still, every one of her instincts wanted to go to Marcus’s aid, wanted to battle her way through to his side.

  The soldiers raced toward her, closing the distance with their swords out.

  She met Marcus’s gaze. Desperate fear glimmered in his stare. She knew when she couldn’t win a fight, and this was one of those times. Reluctantly, she turned away from him. She had to remain free, so she could save him. She had to keep the book out of their hands. It was the only thing that would save Marcus’s life.

  She dashed around the side of the inn to her horse, shoving the book into her armor. As she snatched the reins free from a branch, the soldiers rounded the corner and charged toward her.

  She swung herself up into the saddle. She was an expert rider, but this was not her horse. She didn’t know if it would panic or rear at her hasty commands. Still, she could control horses and certainly knew how to escape some paid oafs. One reached her and grabbed her leg as she spurred the steed forward. She swung the horse around, knocking into the soldier, sending him to the ground. The second one reached her, but the horse took off, charging toward the road. She leaned over the horse’s neck, urging it faster.

  She hated to leave Marcus. She wanted to return to him and make sure he was safe, that his cousin had not harmed him. She grimaced. She had been right about Guillume. But that wasn’t important right now. She was certain his cousin would send men after her.

  As if on cue, she heard horses behind her. She twisted in the saddle to see two soldiers on horses chasing after her.

  She hated to be right all the time.

  Sage urged the horse forward, her body moving in cadence with the animal. She needed a distraction; she needed a crowd of people. She turned the horse into the clearing at the side of the road and headed back into town. She could never outrace them. Well, she could if she tried. The problem was, she wanted to get back to Marcus.

  They chased her through a farmer’s field. She heard one farmer shout angrily as the soldiers trampled over his crops. She guided the horse back onto the road toward the town and the market. As soon as she hit the road, she spurred the horse, driving it faster. She had to make it into the town before they did.

  Faster. She leaned low in the saddle. The wind whooshed in her ears in rhythm with the mad beating of her heart. Her mind drifted for an instant to Marcus. His face shoved into the dirt, twisting to watch her with concern marring his brow. He had been more worried about her than his welfare. Her jaw clenched. If they hurt him... She shook her head. Stay focused.

  The town came into view. The crowded street was her avenue of escape. She remembered when her father had taught her this move, years ago. It was difficult for Willow to learn at first. She didn’t like frightening the villagers. Sage had been shocked that her father would scare the townspeople to escape. But sometimes, it was necessary. Only now, when her life was threatened, did she truly understand how necessary.

  Closer.

  A thin merchant looked up at her from behind his brightly colored cart as she galloped full speed down the road, her steed kicking up dirt behind her.

  “‘Don’t be afraid,’” her father had said. “‘No one will get hurt if you control the horse.’”

  And if she couldn’t control the horse, there might be an accident, and the soldiers might catch up to her. And Marcus might be killed. Anxiety churned inside of her, tightening her stomach.

  A little bit farther.

  A villager yelled at her to slow down. Other villagers and merchants looked at her as she hurtled nearer. Someone ahead waved their arms. One of the merchants began scooping up his wares.

  Don’t worry about the soldiers. Keep going. Keep going.

  When she passed the house closest to the market, she reined the horse in hard, steering it between two houses. A sharp left. Her leg brushed the second house. Her father would have made it without coming that close. But it was good enough. Her horse slowed but didn’t stop, and for that, she was grateful. She kicked the horse to spur it faster. The mud and wattle house blurred by until she came to the rear of the house, where she turned the horse right.

  Calls and shouts rose from the street behind her as the soldiers neared.

  She drove the horse forward, but not quite as fast as before. She scanned the area for somewhere to hide. Houses and shops lined the street. A small garden was behind one of the houses. A blanket hung on a line to dry behind another. She spotted a horse tied to a tree branch at the back of one of the houses. She quickly rode over to the horse, dismounted, and flipped the reins around the branch, beside the other horse. She dashed between two of the adjacent buildings. One was a house and the other, a baker’s shop. The delicious scent of fresh bread wafted through the air.

  She patted her hair and took deep breaths to calm her breathing. She needed to appear like a patron. Just looking at the wares. Composed. Not running from killer soldiers. She swallowed as she emerged into the crowded street, stopping to gaze at a vendor’s stand of vegetables. She nodded to the woman with long dark hair and continued. Subtly glancing down the street at the spot where she had turned between the buildings, Sage saw one of the soldiers arguing with a merchant whose fabrics were strewn on the ground.

  Sage smiled to herself. That soldier hadn’t made the turn. Where was the other one?

  She moved through the packed market, crossing the dirt street. A cart full of hay came toward her, and she jogged out of the way. As it passed, she scanned the area. No soldier. Had he found her horse? It didn’t matter. She had the book, and she…

  And then, she spotted the soldier. One house down the street, sitting atop his horse, searching the mass of people with his eyes. She knew it was him by the direction he was coming from, and by the leather armor he wore.

  Sage advanced quickly to a vendor’s stand with a yellow awning over the top, pretending to look at the candles on display.

  “This one smells like lavender,” the plump merchant explained to her.

  She bobbed her head and shifted her gaze to the soldier who pushed his horse forward to enter the congested road. She lifted the candle to her nose and inhaled, all the while watching the soldier. Again, she nodded at the merchant, smiling. “Lavender.” She put the candle down as the soldier came closer. She stepped behind the cloth covering so the soldier wouldn’t see her and pointed to another candle. “Does that one smell?”

  The soldier stopped his horse in the street one merchant’s stand away from Sage. He bent over and grabbed one of the farmers by the tunic, pulling him near. “Have you seen a woman with short, dark hair?” he demanded.

  Sage touched her trimmed locks. She had never thought her hair would give her away.

  “This one?” the merchant asked, picking up the candle Sage was looking at. He glanced at the soldier. “No. No. This one is for light. It will last a very long time.” His voice trailed off as he watched the soldier shake the farmer.

  “No,” the farmer in the soldier’s grasp responded fearfully.

  The soldier shoved the farmer away with a grimace, and the man tumbled to the ground. He quickly stood and rushed away.

  The plump merchant glanced at Sage, his gaze pausing on her hair. “Ruffians,” he whispered in contempt. “That’s all those soldiers are.”

  Sage nodded. Her stare perused the candles. “I’ll have to ask my husband,” she said. She had learned long ago that asking one’s husband first was an acceptable answer to not purchasing anything. It usually enraged her, but now, it helpe
d her.

  She saw the belly and legs of the soldier’s horse below the awning as it turned and headed for the other soldier. The fabric vendor was gone, all the bolts of cloth gathered from the dirty street.

  Sage knew the soldiers were not going to give up that easily. She had to get out of that town. But she was not leaving Marcus behind. She needed to find somewhere she could observe the inn.

  Keeping an eye on the soldiers, she circled one of the shops. When the soldiers were speaking, she crossed the crowded street to move back towards her horse. She hesitated at the side of a brick building, watching Guillume’s men speak in the distance near the entrance to the market. She glanced at the vegetables on the cart before her, trying to blend in. She peered at the soldiers. The one on horseback scanned the street and Sage pulled back behind the brick wall of the house.

  She waited a moment and leaned out far enough to see the soldier on the horse galloping away toward the inn. The other guard was speaking to one of the merchants, continuing the search.

  Sage walked casually back to the rear of the house, so as not to draw attention to herself. Her horse was still tethered to the tree. Her plan had worked.

  Now, it was up to her to figure out how to save Marcus.

  Chapter 24

  The punch resounded through the main room of the inn.

  Marcus’s head snapped to the side with the movement. He shook it to clear the throbbing in his mind and turned his head, spitting blood. His hands were tied behind his back; his lower lip, fat from a blow one of the soldiers delivered; his eye, swollen closed.

  The soldier who had hit him stepped back, and Guillume leaned close to Marcus. “Where did she go?”

  Marcus sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know,” he admitted. Not that he would tell them, even if he did know. He waited for another blow. “It doesn’t matter how many times you hit me. I can’t tell you what I don’t know.” He met Guillume’s detestable glare with one of his own. Hate boiled in Marcus’s blood. Traitor. He had believed in his cousin. He had trusted him. But Sage had been right.

  Sage. His entire body ached for her. He was sorry for getting her involved in this. Lord, he hoped she’d got away. He hoped she took the book and ran. He hoped she would not come back. He almost laughed out loud. Just when he thought his future looked bright, just when he believed his luck was finally changing, it was all taken away from him. Now, he simply hoped to survive.

  Still, his mind dwelled on Sage. The thought of never seeing her again caused him more agony than all the beatings the toothless soldier had delivered.

  The back door opened, and another soldier entered the room.

  Guillume walked over to the man. “Where is she?”

  Marcus turned his head and bent in slightly to hear what the guard said. He held his breath, waiting for another soldier to haul Sage in.

  Instead, the soldier shook his head. “She eluded us.”

  “Eluded you?” Guillume said from between clenched teeth.

  Happiness and pride erupted inside Marcus, and he couldn’t help the grin that formed on his lips.

  “Yes, m’lord. She escaped. She entered the village and...disappeared,” the soldier explained.

  Sage had got away. She had the book, and she had disappeared. He was proud of her, and he was relieved they had not been able to capture her. She was clever. And well trained. For that, he was grateful.

  “Disappeared?” Guillume roared. He shoved the soldier back, furious. “Find her. Find her now. I want that book. Do you understand? Find her!”

  “Yes, m’lord,” the soldier said and hurried out of the inn.

  Guillume stood stiffly with his fists balled, glaring after the soldier.

  Marcus could almost see the steam rising from his flesh. He smiled around his fat lip, relishing Guillume’s defeat. If they hadn’t found Sage by now, she was long gone. Hopefully, she was traveling back toward le Bezu to meet with her sisters. Marcus’s joy faded as the realization hit him that he wouldn’t be there when she finally decoded the book. He wouldn’t be there when she saw her family again. He wouldn’t be there, ever.

  His heart ached to see her one last time because he knew his future looked grim.

  The sun was setting as Sage walked through the forest to locate the perfect place to observe the inn. She had left her horse tethered behind a group of tight trees nearby in case she needed to make a quick escape. She moved cautiously around the bushes and trees; her booted feet softly crunched on fallen leaves and twigs. She slowed as the inn came into view. She crouched down, studying the front of the inn. When she saw no movement, she carefully dashed from tree to tree until she could also see the stables at the rear of the inn.

  When she came to a spot where she could observe both the stables and the inn’s back door, she knelt in the brush behind a tree. She scanned the area; the yard was empty, and there was no sign of Marcus. I should move closer, she thought and was about to step from her hiding place when a soldier emerged from the cover of the stables.

  She squatted behind the brush and watched him until he disappeared into the inn. Then, she looked back at the wooden stables. She could make out the rumps of the horses in their stalls, but she couldn’t see all the way inside. Was the soldier tending to his horse, or was that where they were holding Marcus? She had every intention of releasing him. But there were too many soldiers for her to battle. She had to be patient and wait for the right moment, even though every one of her irrational senses was telling her to run in and fight them all to free him.

  A fleeting thought crossed her mind. What if they had killed Marcus?

  Anguish and desperation paralyzed her, but before it could consume her, she shoved the feelings aside and used her rational mind to think. Guillume would keep him alive until the book was returned; she was certain. Marcus would be useful either to discover her whereabouts or as bait. At least, that was what she would do if she were in Guillume’s shoes. She had to believe Guillume would do the same thing.

  The back door of the inn opened, and two soldiers dragged a man out into the yard.

  Marcus! Sage sat up straight, straining to see. Anxiety filled her. Her heart pounded.

  Marcus stumbled, and the soldiers held him tightly, one at either side, pulling him across the dusty yard to the stables.

  He looked hurt. Possibly beaten. Fury boiled her blood, and she clenched her jaw, vowing revenge. They must have questioned him and not liked the answers.

  She watched through the leaves of the trees as they ushered him into the stables. She shook her head. She had tried to warn Marcus not to trust his cousin. She sighed softly. But she couldn’t blame him. She would never have doubted her family. What kind of man was this Guillume to betray a family member?

  Ruthless. Greedy. Power-hungry.

  The soldiers walked out of the stables without Marcus. Sage scowled. Had they killed him? Distress bubbled inside her, but she firmly pushed it down. She didn’t know what they had done to him. But the image of them beating Marcus made her feel angry. And helpless. Shaking with the thought of the soldiers harming Marcus, she took a deep breath to calm her emotions. She knew she had to wait for the right time. It would do her and Marcus no good if they were both captured.

  One soldier took up a position in front of the stables, and the other moved around the side of the inn. If they were guarding the stable, Marcus was not dead. Relief swept through her.

  Her gaze centered on the stables and the one soldier. How long would Guillume wait here before he took Marcus somewhere else? When should she act? And how was she going to get Marcus away from them?

  She observed the inn until the sun was at the edge of the horizon before settling in at her hiding spot behind the trees. She pulled the book from her armor and stared at it. A simple leather-bound book. She had seen many at le Bezu. This was what Guillume wanted. Why? What was so important that he would betray a family member? That he would try to kill Marcus? Frustrated, she shook her head. And why couldn’
t she crack the code?

  She had to keep busy. Occupy her mind. Come up with a plan.

  And yet, the book called to her. As if an itch she couldn’t quite reach, it annoyed her. She should be able to figure out the code. What was wrong with her? She knew exactly why she couldn’t decipher the book. Her mind was distracted with kisses and touches. The way Marcus’s lips moved over her skin and the way he looked at her.

  She glanced at the stables again. Nightfall would be her best chance to sneak up on them. She would have to delay any action until it was dark.

  She pulled the parchment with the code from her boot and studied it. She straightened the parchment out on the ground, running her hands over it to smooth it. She focused with a frown, gazing at the list of letters she had written on the parchment. Beside these letters were letters she and Marcus had decoded or believed they had. A dash was drawn through some letters and a new letter written beside it because they had discovered their first guess was wrong.

  She scanned the list. So many letters were still to be decoded. So many... And then something caught her attention.

  Three of the letters in the center of the list that they had deciphered correlated to X-Y-Z. They were consecutive. X-Y-Z. Just as in the alphabet. What if the other letters were in alphabetical order?

  Damn it. Her quill was in the saddlebags on the horse. She glanced longingly through the branches of trees in the direction the horse was hidden. Then, she looked back at the stable. She couldn’t leave in case they moved Marcus.

  The sun was setting. Her light was fading. She didn’t have a lot of time.

  She glanced back at the parchment with the code on it. Her pulse quickened in excitement. Could she be right? She focused on the first word in the text on the parchment. They had decoded three of the four letters but had not figured out the final one. The undeciphered letter was a Q. T, A, blank, E.

  She went through the code on the parchment and mentally said the alphabet until she got to the Q. If that letter made a word... But she couldn’t jump ahead of herself. She forced herself to relax by taking a deep breath. She drew her finger down the letters on the parchment, mumbling the alphabet. Q would be...K. When she substituted the K for the Q, the word formed T-A-K-E. Her lips moved to form the sound of each letter. She had to sound it out a couple of times quietly. “Take,” she said out loud. Take what?