Ring of Dreams

Be Quiet!

The sunlight was blinding. Jane tried to stop, blinking, but the tight grip around her wrist pulled her rapidly forward and she stumbled over obstacles that she could not see to avoid. She banged her foot against something hard - probably a rock - and she cried out.

"Ow! Hang on a minute! Where are we going?" She blinked a few more times, and the pale outlines of her surroundings swam into her field of vision. She had time to get a vague impression of the crowd outside before Edward grabbed her shoulder and pulled her around the corner of the tavern, dragging her behind a stack of barrels.

"Be quiet, my lady," he hissed, "if you wish to live another hour." He peered around the barrels, scouring the crowd for their pursuers. Apparently he saw something, because he ducked back into hiding, making motions to Jane for her to remain silent. 

Jane tried to breathe quietly, keeping a wary eye on her new companion. She was backed into the corner between the large wooden barrels and the mud brick of the tavern and couldn't see anything past Edward, who had flung back his cloak to reveal a sword hanging by his hip. He kept flexing his fingers and his hand hoverd by the hilt, as though he expected at any moment that he would need to draw it. He risked another tense glance around the barrels, then seemed to relax ever so slightly.

Taking hold of her wrist once more, Edward led her firmly around the back of the tavern and began weaving through some other buildings, obviously set on gaining some distance. 

"What's going -" Jane began, but after a cutting glare from Edward she lowered her tone to a whisper. "What's going on? Why are we running? Who are those guys?"

"Assassins, my lady." Edward flattened himself against a wall, peering around the corner before tugging her across the narrow alleyway that separated them from their next patch of cover. "Sent to dispatch me by my uncle." He laughed, a short, humorless sound. "My real uncle."

"What?"Jane cried, a little breathless. She was not physically prepared for mad escape dashes. "That's crazy! Why would your uncle want to kill you?"

Edward met her gaze for the first time since their conversation in the tavern. Out here in the sun, Jane could see that his eyes were a warm golden brown, flecked with amber. He seemed surprised. "Why, to legitimize his rule, of course. After all, I am the sole true heir to the throne." 

"What? I wasn't serious about that! I told you, I was joking!"

Surprise faded into sadness and he shook his head. "A most unfortunate and ill-timed jest on your part, my lady. I very much doubt the assassins will take the time to listen to your explanation, however."

With that, he pulled her forward again. They were nearing the outskirts of the village, and he seemed to be angling for the point where the houses stood closest to the trees. They paused again by another house.

"So what's the plan?" Jane demanded. "Where are we going?"

Edward answered her almost absently, peering around another corner. "Away from here," he said. "If we cut through the forest we should be able to lose them before we hit the western road, and from there it is only the journey of a week or so to the border."

"Hang on," Jane said. "Who says I'm coming with you to the border?"

Edward looked at her again, this time impatiently. "They have seen you with me, my lady, and they will not want to leave any witnesses to the unpleasant nature of my demise. Your life would not be worth a lead farthing if they find you. But do not fear," he said, smiling now. "I shall protect you."

Jane yanked her hand out of his grasp. "Listen. I didn't ask you to - "

She didn't get a chance to finish her thought, because at that moment the pair of assassins rounded the corner at speed. One wielded a sword and the other a knife - the one with the sword made straight for Edward, who drew his own sword with a yell and met his attacker.  The other man closed in on Jane. He didn't even bother to use his knife on her, just got his arm around her neck and started to squeeze, closing off her airway. 

Jane struggled as she choked, pulling at his arm futilely, kicking at him as hard as she could. Her lungs started to burn, then to scream for air and her struggles became more panicky. Spots swam before her eyes and the edges of her vision began to grow dark. She thought she heard him laugh. This is it, she thought. This is how I'm going to die. What she needed was something to hit him with. A stick, or a hammer, or - or a pan. One of the heavy cast iron skillets like her mom kept in the kitchen. She could see it in her mind, solid, black, and heavy. Jane flailed, no longer able to see, and her hand closed around something metal. Not caring what it was, she seized it and swung it above her head with the last of her strength. It connected with something solid; suddenly the arm vanished from around her throat and air flooded into her oxygen-starved lungs.

Jane collapsed to the ground, coughing, still unable to see. She felt sick, and weak, and like she might throw up, and for a moment she just laid there, not caring that the assassin was almost certainly going to finish her off at any moment, just content to feel the air moving in and out as she lay with her face pressed into the grass. 

The sound of the struggle intensified, and Jane heard a yell, then a heavy thump. She wrestled with her trembling limbs in an attempt to lever herself up, as her sense of self-preservation was starting to return along with her vision. A hand fell on her shoulder and she cried out, her voice rough and raw in her ears, and she lashed out in a panic.

"My lady!" It was Edward. "Lady Genevieve! Do not be afraid, it is safe now." 

Jane stilled, concentrating on breathing and blinking until her vision returned to normal. Edward looked worried, his hand still on her shoulder as though he feared she would tip over or faint or something. Stung by pride, Jane struggled upright and away from his support.  "What ha-" Suddenly her gaze fell on the body of her attacker motionless on the ground, not far from where the two of them were sitting. She swallowed, forcing down another wave of nausea. Jane wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel about what was clearly a dead body less than two feet from her, but right now all she felt was numb, and maybe a little sick. She forced herself to continue. "What happened? And," she said as she looked around, but saw no signs of the second assassin, "where's the other guy?"

Edward grimaced, lifting his pointed cap to run his fingers through his hair before he replaced it. "I injured him, but I fear he escaped when I turned to dispatch your assailant. They were more skilled than I had expected. That was quick thinking, hitting him in the head with your pan - I might not have been able to come to your aid in time otherwise." The admission looked as though it pained him.

"Wait." Jane stopped him. "I hit him with what?"

"Your pan," Edward said, spacing his words as though he thought she had suffered a head injury. "You hit him with your pan."

Jane looked; there, on the ground, was a cast iron skillet.  "That's not mine," she said slowly. "I don't know where that came from." 

Edward shrugged. "Someone must have left it there, then," he said. "And well for us that they did."

"Yeah," Jane agreed, but she was slowly turning some things over in her mind. 

"Are you hurt?" Edward swept her face with his eyes, looking concerned.

"I don't think so," Jane said. 

"Then we must hurry! It may not take long for him to return, perhaps with reinforcements."

"Yeah, about that," Jane said, pushing herself to her feet, "thanks for your help and everything, but I think I'm just gonna go my own way."

He stared. "You cannot be serious. He has seen your face - he would kill you without hesitation if he were to find you again."

"What, and I'll be safer walking around with the target?" Jane was starting to get annoyed.

"Well," he said, "unless you are able to defend yourself in a sword fight?" He just looked at her, one eyebrow raised archly, and Jane flushed.

"Fine. Which way are we going?"