Chapter 7
Brandon sent his own personal guard to collect the king’s men and Izzie didn’t know where he took them and she didn’t care.
Because now they could carry on with their job rather than babysitting; she hoped it wasn’t going to be like this every time they stopped the guard.
Maybe they should kill them; send a message to the others but Izzie’s thought was left unspoken as they hit the road again.
Thomas looked haggard and Iagan was singing in his rough voice so none of them could understand what he was saying but the tune was upbeat and the Jarred and Dermot soon started to hum along with him.
“Ye alright laddie?” Iagan chuckled up to Thomas who was almost asleep on his horse.
Izzie looked back at Iagan.
“You probably kept him awake with your snoring,” Drystan called back at him.
“Verra funny,” Iagan mocked laughed at them all.
Izzie felt her lips twitch but she didn’t go all the way and burst out laughing; it was funny but she didn’t know them and she was still thinking of the woman who had shot at her with an arrow.
She hadn’t seen her since but she knew she hadn’t imagined it so either she had given up her quest to kill Izzie, which Izzie still didn’t understand why, or she was still following her.
Izzie keeps her eyes glued to the forest tree line, expecting an arrow to come at her from any side but she would know when she was going to be hit so Izzie kept herself calm as to not alert the others.
Izzie was pulled out of her thoughts when a figure burst out of the trees in front of them, causing their horses to rear up from the shock of a sudden object being thrown at them.
“Oh, help us, please! Please, you have to help us! My father . . . he’s being attacked, please you have to help!” A young girl with brown hair pleaded up at them dressed in a simple cloth dress and cloak.
Izzie had a flashback to her own past as she stared at this young child and Izzie couldn’t help but notice the resemblance to herself.
Jarred and Drystan were the first to hit the ground and follow her into the forest. Izzie ordered Thomas to remain with the horses whilst she and the others followed Drystan into the forest, following the sounds of their footsteps.
Izzie knew when they were getting closer because the screams grew louder.
When they reached a small clearing they found a group of men hauling a family off of a small carriage and looting their belongings.
Izzie stared at the men who weren’t royal guards and seemed more like common thugs when a girl’s high pitched screams rented the air and she turned to see that she was being pressed against a tree with a man hitching her skirts up over her waist.
“Hey!” Izzie screamed, feeling a wave of emotion churning up inside her, as she charged up behind him and launched herself onto his back, slicing her dagger across his throat and feeling his warm blood soak over her fingers.
Dropping back to the floor she pushed him to the side and watched his body fall to the ground; dead weight.
“Are you okay?” she asked the girl pulling her up straight when she heard the small hiss of air made by a sword and she pulled them both out of the way, the sword falling into nothing but air to the right of her.
“Go!” Izzie ordered the girl as she twirled out of the way and removed her own sword from its sheath, circling the man who had attacked from behind.
The man looked like he’d been living in the woods for years with black teeth and a growth of beard that looked like it hadn’t seen a bath let alone a brush.
“Come on, girlie,” He grinned at her, his tongue darting out as his eyes roamed over her body.
Izzie let out a disgusted growl as she got tired of his antics and booted him directly in the face, dropping him onto his back.
Stalking up the side of him she kicked his sword away and hovered the tip of hers over his chest with the intention of making him suffer, “Who’s a girlie now?” she snapped at him as she pushed her blade through his stiff chest until she could feel it exit his back and enter the earth beneath him.
Planting her boot on his chest she went to heave her sword back out of his body when she looked up and noticed someone crawling around the back of the carriage and sneaking up on Drystan.
He was too far away for her to chase after him so instead she removed the dagger from her boot, grabbing the blade end in her palm, and threw it through the air.
The moment her dagger landed solidly in his chest an arrow landed in his throat, spraying blood of Drystan causing him to turn and stare at the body of the man that had come within a foot of killing him.
He stared at Izzie who had shot the dagger before they both turned their heads in the direction the arrow came from and she found none other than the mysterious woman in red.
With a growl vibrating in her throat she pulled her sword out of the man under her boot and headed straight over to the woman.
“Who are you?” Izzie growled at her, aiming her sword at her throat and backing her up against a tree trunk before she could let off another arrow, “Why are you following me!?”
“I- I’m not,” the woman shook her head and did her best impression of a terrified maiden but Izzie didn’t buy any of it; she knew it was the same woman who had tried to kill her.
“Don’t,” Izzie pressed her sword in closer, “lie to me,”
“Isadora,” Iagan came up behind her, “What are you doing?”
Izzie tilted her head, “She was at the whorehouse yesterday before you turned up. She shot at me,”
“I didn’t!” The woman pleaded, defending herself.
“Isadora, wait,” Dermot stepped in front of her and tried to persuade her to back off, “How do you know it’s her?”
Izzie frowned at him, “I’m not blind! I know who she is,” Izzie opened the quiver at her side and removed the arrow that had been shot at her, “This is her own arrow that she shot at me. And missed,” Izzie added onto the end.
“Would someone please get this crazy man off of me!” The woman screamed.
Izzie narrowed her eyes at the woman as she called her man and went to kill her.
“Isadora, wait!” Jarred shouted, “Look!”
Izzie reluctantly drew her eyes off the woman and looked at Jarred’s hands where he was holding up two arrows.
In his left was the black arrow with red feathers that had been shot at her yesterday and in the right was the woman’s arrows from her own quiver; they were a pale colour with white feathers.
They were different.
“She wasn’t the one who shot at you,” Jarred concluded from the evidence that even Izzie couldn’t wrap her head around. She was sure it had been this woman.
But as she looked up she realised that they were all looking at her with pity which only made her angrier and she wanted to rip the woman’s throat out even more.
Izzie dropped her sword and stepped back, letting the others get in front of her.
“Forgive us,” Jarred murmured to the woman, “What is your name?”
“Dawn,” The woman made an act of being upset by Izzie’s attack but Izzie still didn’t trust her.
“Dawn, I am Jarred and this is Dermot,” he pointed to Dermot on his left with the long straight blonde hair, “What were you doing here?”
“I was just travelling when I heard the commotion,” Dawn paused for drama, “When I arrived I saw the man going for . . . you,” she nodded at Drystan, “So I shot him.”
“Yes, thank you for that,” Drystan walked up to her and squeezed her hand. Izzie stared between the two with disgust; she had saved him just as much as this Dawn woman had and yet he didn’t thank her!
But Izzie didn’t need a man’s compliments to do her work.
“You look shaken, lassie,” Iagan piped in making Izzie look to the sky in disbelief, was everyone going to be fooled by her beauty!?
Men, Izzie sighed in her head.
“Y- yes, I am a bit,” Dawn nodded her head returning to the frail creature.
“Come, we were due to make camp anyway,” Iagan pointed the way whilst Dermot and Jarred collected the family that they had saved and led them away from the scene.
Izzie followed behind, keeping an eye on Dawn because she didn’t trust her for one minute, when she passed the body of one of the robbers.
Kneeling beside his body she saw that the arrow was in fact white before she noticed something on the inside pocket of his jacket and the colour of her face matched that of the arrow.
Removing the man’s outer jacket she saw that he was wearing two in the cold weather and on the left breast pocket of the second was the unmistakable sign of the army that had pillaged her village almost ten years ago.
It was the symbol of a simple dagger surrounded by thorns and a pool of blood dripping off it.
Wrenching her dagger from the man’s chest she removed the insignia and gave it one last long look before she stuffed it in her pocket and slipped her dagger back in her boot before she caught up with the others.