Foretellers (The Ydron Saga Book 3) Read Free Page A

limit. “I can’t do it.”
    She began to despair and a sob welled in her throat.
    “Mother. Don’t stop. Please, you’re almost here.”
    Something warm touched her wrist and Roanna gasped at the contact.
    “By the gods! Is that really you?”
    “Come on, Mother. Just a little more. You can make it.”
    Roanna choked back her tears and took a breath. Then, despite how much her hands hurt, she pulled hard and pulled again. When one hand touched wood, she grabbed and held onto it. She released the rope, and grasped the gunwale with both. As she struggled to pull herself aboard, her feet scrabbled against the hull, slipped, then found purchase. Resting her forearms on the coaming, she caught her breath, then wrapped one arm around one of the rail’s stanchions before Pandy grabbed her collar and tugged. Two more rasping efforts and she lie gasping on the deck. Pandy fell on top of her and mother and daughter embraced, laughing and crying at the joy of having succeeded.
    Eventually, Roanna remembered the hunters. She rolled onto her face, then climbed to her knees and peered shoreward, afraid to rise too high lest one of the men see her.
    Lanterns shone through the building’s windows and shadows moved within. She cast her sight forward, but they were no longer part of her future. With the release of her fear, her body sagged and she let out a sigh. She returned to the railing, tested the rope and smiled when it resisted. As she and Pandy began hauling up their packs, a wolf howled from the shore and Roanna curled her lips in defiance.

2
    A hand on Roanna’s shoulder jerked her awake. Fingers dug into her collarbone and wrenched her to her feet. She shrieked and her knees buckled, but before they gave way, a second hand grabbed her and yanked her upright.
    “What are you doing here?” the man demanded, shaking her.
    She was struggling to comprehend when she heard her daughter’s shriek.
    “Pandy!” she cried, unable to make out what was happening.
    “Get the waif,” shouted the man who was holding her, his eyes on something behind her. A second later, he nodded and returned his attention to her. Taking Roanna’s chin in his hand, her brought her face close, pinching her mouth and cheeks between his fingers.
    “I asked what you are doing here.”
    “Mother! They’re hurting me.”
    Her daughter’s voice tore at her, drawing her attention.
    “Leave her alone,” Roanna shouted, then sank her teeth into the flesh between the man’s thumb and forefinger.
    He howled and tore back his hand. Backhanding her with the other, he sent her careening into a bulkhead. Stunned by the impact, Roanna almost sat. Knees bent and her back against the boards, she planted both feet and braced herself. With a shake of her head she struggled to rise. Once she was standing, she tried again to make sense of what was happening.
    The smell of brine and planking overhead, the boarded floor and walls all served to remind her this was the ship’s hold where she and Pandy had taken refuge. Timbers creaked and the floor shifted, suggesting they were now underway. Scant light filtering through the cracks provided the barest visibility, but she made out two men holding Pandy. The one who had struck her seized her arm, this time with a grip she knew she could not break. She realized she had reacted badly, and things would not go well because of it. Even so, she met his eyes and shouted, “Tell your men to let my daughter go.”
    “Are you giving me orders?” he growled as droplets of saliva spattered her face.
    He shook his hand and regarded the tooth marks she had left. His face soured and he struck her again, then turned to another man standing near the stairs.
    “Help me with this bitch.”
    Roanna struggled to break free, but the second man seized her other arm.
    “Think you’re smart?” asked the man holding her, jerking her toward him. “Try explaining yourself to the captain.” He forced a smile and softened his voice in