Chapter 1
Ginnie’s lungs burned and her side ached, but she knew she and Henry had to keep running. If only they could make it to the protection of the forest, perhaps they could escape the terror chasing them.
Harsh
laughter echoed behind them, and her heart accelerated. Gasping, she struggled
to flee from their pursuer.
She
raced on, desperate to escape. Her mind swirled through the events of the past
few hours. A stolen kiss, a prison cell, the horrific fire, and Henry, helping
her, pulling her away from the demon now hunting them. They mustn’t become his
next victims. They had to survive to tell of his atrocities
or his chain of terror would continue, ripping other lives apart as he had
theirs.
Her
chest ached and her legs threatened to give out, but she knew she had to
endure. She had to fight. She had to live.
Despite
her efforts, the man caught up to her. She felt icy breath on her neck, then
blinding pain as his sword caught her in the side. She screamed and collapsed.
Agony
pulsed from her wound as he loomed over her. How had she ever loved him? Surely
he was not the same man.
“So
this is how it ends, my beautiful Lady Virginia.” His blade inched forward.
Get up! Fight,
her mind screamed, but her body refused to obey. She watched helplessly as he
raised his sword to strike again.
Then
Henry stepped in front of her, his own sword drawn, and shielded her with his
body. “Get up, Ginnie! Get out of here!”
She
blinked to clear her vision, then scrambled to her feet. The world slanted
crazily, and she staggered. Warm blood covered her fingers as she placed her
hands on her battered side.
“Ginnie,
go!” Henry bellowed.
“How
brave of you, Henry, but you know you are only delaying her death, not stopping
it. I will get her soon enough . . . after I have finished with you.”
With
a grunt, Henry charged the man, swinging his sword in a mighty attack.
The
man blocked the blow and struck out with his own sword, pushing Henry back
several steps before Henry could counter again.
Ginnie
stood motionless, her eyes riveted on the battle before her. She could not
leave Henry to certain death at their attacker’s hand. The fiend had wreaked
too much havoc in her life already—killed too many people she loved. He couldn’t
have Henry too. She pulled a small knife from inside her boot and brandished it
toward him. The effort nearly dropped her to her knees. The man laughed at her
pathetic attempt.
“No,
Ginnie!” Henry yelled. “Just get out of here! You are no match for him. You
have to run!”
The
fight between the two men grew fierce. Sweat poured from Henry’s forehead, and
he grunted each time his blade collided with his foe’s. Wide-eyed, Ginnie
watched until she realized she had to leave.
Either
Henry would be all right and catch up to her, or . . . she could not think it.
But if he did not make it, she had to live to testify against this horrible
man. So, with one last look at Henry, she fled into the trees, tightening her
shawl around her as cold sweat broke out across her body.
She
hadn’t gone far when Henry’s piercing cry brought her to a halt. Her heart and
stomach, and probably everything else within her, dropped to the ground. She
scrambled back to the edge of the forest, stumbling and tripping as she ran,
and peered through a clearing in the trees. A scream tore from her throat and
mixed with Henry’s dying cries as she watched the man brutally murder him.
Paralyzed
with terror, she could not pull her eyes away. Then she fell to the ground and
vomited. Though she buried her face in her hands, she knew the horrific scene
would remain forever etched in her memory.
Henry!
Her poor, beloved Henry!
With
his business completed, Henry’s murderer turned his eyes toward the woods, as
though he knew she watched nearby. “Take a good look, Virginia, because you are next.”
Fear
nearly suffocated her. She could not move, but she knew she must. Gathering her
willpower and strength, she stood and ran through the trees. Branches whipped
at her face and tore at her clothes. Darkness blurred the edges of her vision.
The
man’s footsteps pounded through the woods, gaining on her. She forced herself
to move quietly, then turned off to the left, listening as his footsteps
continued past her.
She
did not allow herself to rest, though her body groaned in agony. He would soon
realize where she had gone and turn to follow again.
Stumbling
through the woods, she struggled to remain awake. Then, not forty yards ahead,
she saw a farmhouse through the blur. Two workhorses stood in a pasture beside
the home. One, tethered to the fence, lifted its gaze in her direction.
She
approached the animal, her hand outstretched. Its ears pulled back and she
hesitated, talking softly to gain its trust. “Please . . . I am injured and
need your help.”
As
though it understood, the horse’s ears righted themselves and its head bobbed.
She grabbed the reins, climbed onto its back, and galloped off before the owner
took notice.
Each
hoof beat jostled her tortured body, but on she pushed. She had to reach the
palace in Tarenhaven to seek help from the Grand King. Only he could help her
now, but would he believe her? She had no proof except—yes! Her heirloom. Henry
had secured its safety before he died. She had it hidden safely with her,
tucked away where no one would find it.
At
the thought of Henry, her heart shattered again, and the scene of his death
replayed itself in her fevered mind. The last bit of strength slipped from her
body as she finally gave in to the madness of it all and sank forward, sobbing,
onto her horse’s neck.
***
On
and on she pushed her horse, whether through city or country, she knew not.
Then, when she could go no farther, they arrived in Tarenhaven, and the great
gates of the palace of Armodell loomed before her like a beacon of hope and
safety.
“Help!”
she tried to yell, but little more than a breath escaped her lips. “Please! Let
me in!”
Her
horse slowed, then stopped. She dismounted with a moan and staggered, unable to
hold her body up properly, as the door to the great iron gates creaked open.
A
dozen armed soldiers greeted her.
She
reached a trembling hand toward them. “Please help me . . .” She stumbled
forward, no longer able to fight the pain.
A
soldier caught her as she tumbled into darkness.
