Once Upon an Autumn Eve Read Free Page B

Troll!
    Jerking the broken sword from the dead Goblin, unclothed Liaze leapt into the saddle, and, crying out “Yah! Yah!” she heeled the horse in the flanks, and, blade in hand and swinging low and wide, she charged through the recoiling Goblins and past the oncoming Troll, and then galloped in among the willow branches, the limbs lashing her naked form as would whips.
    Out from the grove she raced, her still-damp red hair flying, the wounded man bellydown before her across the steed. Toward Autumnwood Manor she hammered, crouching low in the saddle in case the Redcaps had bows. And toward her came running a warband from the mansion, weapons in hand, horns sounding. And from behind charged the Redcaps and the Troll.
    As Liaze galloped by she called out, “Rémy, ’ware, they have a Troll among them!”
    “Oui, madam,” cried Rémy in return, the rangy, rawboned armsmaster grinning in relief to see his princess alive and well, no matter that she was naked, “and we have a large crossbow.”
    Across the sward and toward the forecourt raced Liaze, where she could see in the moonlight armed men gathered on the lawn and the walkway before the mansion door.
    “Healers, healers!” cried Liaze, dropping the grume-slathered sword in the grass as she haled the horse up short among the assembly. “I have a wounded warrior.”
    As she sprang from the steed and began to pull the man from the withers, two of the men leapt forward to help her; “Here, Princess,” said one, “we’ll take care of him.”
    The doors flew open and a ginger-haired woman—Margaux, a healer—bearing a shielded candle rushed out. Zoé, unable to contain herself, came running out as well.
    “Lay him down,” Margaux barked to the men, even as Zoé wrung her hands and hovered about Liaze and asked if she were all right.
    From the doorway a scandalized matron called out in the old tongue, “Princesse, vous ne portez pas de vêtements!”
    Even as Zacharie, steward of Autumnwood Manor—a tall thin man in black—cast a cape ’round her shoulders, and she pulled it tight about, Liaze replied in kind: “Tutrice Martine, c’est pas comme si j’avais le temps de revêtir mes vêtements quand des lutins me soufflaient sur le goulot!”
    The men lowered the chevalier to the lawn. Margaux took a moment by candlelight to examine the man, and then turned toward the door and cried “Litter!”
    Several more women came rushing out, a stretcher among them, even as the matron in the doorway called for Zoé to come back in.
    “Take care,” commanded Margaux, as the men placed the chevalier on the litter, and then took him up to bear into the house. As they stepped away, Margaux, leading, called out, “We’ll need unguents, needle and gut, and bandages.”
    Horns sounded in the near distance, along with the cries of battle and death.
    At the sound of combat: “A bow,” said Liaze, stepping toward the circle of men. “I need a bow and full quiver. There are Goblins and a Troll out there.”
    “Princess,” said Zacharie, wrapping an arm about her to halt her movement, “Rémy and the warband will take care of them.”
    Wild-eyed, Liaze started to push away, but then she looked into Zacharie’s face and the fire left her gaze. She sighed and nodded and said, “The warband, yes.” She glanced at the black and said, “Someone should care for the horse.”
    A lad—a stable boy—stepped forward to take the skittish steed, only to be met with flattened ears and bared teeth.
    “ ’Ware, son,” called out the stable master. “ ’Tis trained for war.” He stepped toward the animal and frowned in thought, then commanded “Calmes-toi!” and the horse settled and permitted himself to be led away by the man.
    “Rub him down well and feed him an extra ration of oats,” called Liaze after. “He performed with merit.”
    Without turning about, the stable master raised a hand of acknowledgement and continued on ’round the mansion.
    Zoé and the