Confessor: Chainfire Trilogy Part 3

The knife was hers now. Chase had taught her to take the enemy's weapons whenever possible and be prepared to use them, especially if the weapon was superior to what she had. He had taught her that in a survival situation she had to use whatever was at hand.

Gulping air, she ran under the horse's nose, snatching up the loose ends of the reins, but they were tied to a branch of the fallen log. Her fingers worked frantically to undo the tight knot, but they were numb with cold. They slipped on the leather as she clawed at it. She wanted to scream with frustration, but instead she kept tugging, working the knot. It seemed to take forever to get it loose. As soon as the reins were free she gathered them together in one hand.

It was then that she noticed the saddle not far away. She glanced up as the man yelled again calling her a name. He was coming fast. She wouldn't have near enough time to even think about saddling the horse. Saddlebags-probably full of supplies-leaned against the saddle.

She slipped her arm under the flat piece of leather connecting the two halves of the saddlebag and ducked under the startled horse's neck.

Rounding the far side she grabbed a fistful of mane and hung on tightly to help her vault up onto the animal's bare back. The saddlebags were heavy and she almost dropped them, but she held on tight and pulled them up behind her. Even though the horse hadn't been saddled, at least it had on its bridle. Somewhere in the dim recesses of her mind Rachel relished the warmth of the animal.

She laid the hefty packs across the horse's withers in front of her legs. There would be food and water inside. She would need both if she was to be able to continue for long. She just assumed that it would be a long journey.

The horse snorted, tossing its head. Rachel didn't take the time to gentle the animal as Chase had taught her. She laid the reins over as she thumped the horse's ribs with her heels. The horse danced sideways, not sure about its strange new rider. Rachel glanced over a shoulder and saw the man almost there. Holding a fistful of mane tightly with one hand and the reins with the other, Rachel leaned forward and again thumped her heels into the horse's sides, farther back. The horse bolted into a dead run.

The man, cursing, made a frantic dive for the bridle. Rachel jerked the reins to the side and the horse followed. The soldier flew past them and landed on his face, grunting with the force of the impact. Suddenly seeing the thundering hooves so close he cried out, his anger switching to fright as he rolled out of the way. He missed being trampled by inches.

Rachel felt no sense of triumph. She felt only the compulsion to hurry, to run southeast. The horse obliged.

She guided the racing mare to the stream at the far side of the grassy clearing. Trees closed in around them as they ran up the wide swath of shallow water, the man disappearing far behind. Water splashed as the horse ran. The gravel bottom seemed to suit the horse's gait.

Chase had taught her how to use water to hide her tracks.

Every galloping stride was one stride closer, and that was all that mattered.

CHAPTER 7

When the soldier walking past the wagons tossed the hard-boiled eggs, Richard caught as many as he could. As soon as he had scooped the rest of them up off the ground he gathered them all in the crook of his arm and crawled back under the wagon to get out of the rain. It was a cold, miserable excuse for a shelter, but it was still better than sitting in the rain.

After having collected his own booty of eggs, Johnrock, pulling his chain behind, scurried back under the other end of the wagon.

"Eggs again," Johnrock said in disgust. "That's all they ever feed us. Eggs!"

"It could be worse," Richard told him.

"How?" Johnrock demanded, not at all happy about his diet.

Richard wiped eggs on his pants, trying to clean the mud off the shells as best he could. "They could be feeding us York."

Johnrock frowned over at Richard. "York?"

"Your teammate who broke his leg," Richard said as he started peeling one of his eggs. "The one Snake-face murdered."

"Oh. That York." Johnrock considered a moment. "You really think these soldiers eat people?"

Richard glanced over. "If they run out of food they will turn to eating the dead. If they are hungry enough and run out of dead, they will harvest a new crop."

"You think they will run out of food?"

Richard knew they would, but he didn't want to say so. He had instructed the D'Haran forces not only to destroy any supply train from the Old World, but to destroy the Old World's ability to provide for their massive invasion force to the north.

"I'm just saying that it could be worse than eggs."

Johnrock looked at his eggs in a new light, finally grumbling his agreement.

As Johnrock started in peeling an egg of his own, he changed the subject. "You think they'll make us play Ja'La in the rain?"