The Enchantress of Ingley Ch. 14

She had slept almost the entire day away, yet Marissa was still weary to the very core. It didn't help that the late afternoon had found that damnable Isolde rousing her from bed, and handing her yet another task that she wasn't entirely sure could be managed. Whatever fleeting good will the discovery of Marissa's powers had earned from the woman had faded during the day's rest, if Isolde had truly ever been impressed at all.

Instead, Marissa found herself sitting on an old stone slab overlooking the path from the village to the manor. She was tasked with delaying whoever might come from town, at least long enough for Isolde to finish her chat with the Prince. Marissa hated the woman with a passion, but little could be done about it. Even having seen Marissa's newfound powers, Isolde was fearless, more amused than anything. She was as arrogant and confident as ever, and that fact alone made Marissa wary of testing her patience.

One day, though, one day she would see that harpy burn.

Things weren't entirely bad, however. The weather was clear and cool, and though the shadows grew long under the fading sun, her chosen perch offered a lovely view of the village environs with a minimum of exposure. And of course there was her companion in misery.

The powerful figure who knelt behind her worked her shoulders and upper back with a firm touch, just as she had instructed. Marissa didn't know what influence Isolde held over the Black Dog, but he had thus far obeyed the younger noblewoman without question, just as Isolde had commanded him to.

Rufus might have been as old as her own father, but he was still frighteningly fit, and rather handsome in a grim, brooding way. Perhaps once their business was done, she could delay returning to the manor long enough to see just how far the knight's obedience would run. Marissa's body warmed at the very thought.

It was such a pity they had to remain vigilant.

Truthfully, Marissa wasn't certain how they were expected to keep watch much longer. Once the sun finally disappeared below the horizon, and twilight engulfed the land below, she'd be unable to see much of anything. Throughout the afternoon, the sounds of some sort of commotion had been echoing across the landscape from the village. Perhaps a half hour prior, it had died down and given way to the lazy whisper of wind over the fields, and the chirrups and squeaks of the earliest risers among those nocturnal creatures that would soon be out in full force.

Sulking, the noble woman leaned back into Rufus's hands, knowing he'd have to hold her to keep her from falling back entirely. She was not disappointed, his powerful hands soon grasped her shoulders, supporting her easily.

"I don't see why we have to keep watch out here. Surely if anyone was going to come from the village, they would have by now. And why could we not watch from the comfort of the keep?"

"I'm certain the Lady Isolde has her reasons for wanting this path watched. Besides, from the looks of it, the keep's walls are in such disrepair that a stiff wind very nearly risks leveling them." Rufus's tone was at once weary and disapproving.

She was certain she didn't like it.

Marissa glanced back over her shoulder at the older knight, only to find him scanning the twilight expanse before them with a hawk's eyes. She followed his gaze outward, about to chastise him for paying more attention to empty fields than to her comfort. What she saw there in the growing darkness stilled her tongue.

There in the distance, a rider made his way along the path leading toward her father's manor. He certainly wasn't one of the King's Men, for he wasn't wearing their colors, and his mail shone even in the twilight. It was new, unmarred by the rigors of the road or battle. He had a sword at his side, and a long spear held in one hand, braced against one of the stirrups below. The rider's mount looked vaguely similar to those the King's Men had ridden, but she wasn't particularly learned in judging horseflesh.

Marissa froze up, uncertain what she should do. Should she order Rufus to charge? Perhaps it was best if they waited until the rider was closer, so they might have the element of surprise.

Her hesitation made the decision for her, for the stranger continued his approach. As the rider neared, she could make out a second figure on the horse behind the first, clinging to the warrior before her. It was a woman, with a long, loose dress and hair the color of night.

The woman was Jenrea. It had to be.

As recognition dawned, Marissa's expression hardened. Whatever that strumpet was doing with this strange knight, it was just another example of the girl vexing her at every turn. The aristocrat's hand fisted at her side, and little arcs of electricity danced over her knuckles.

"Kill them," she hissed, expecting Rufus to obey her whim as he had been commanded. "Slaughter both of them."

"I cannot kill the girl."

As that answer rumbled forth, Marissa whipped her head about to glare at the looming knight behind her. "Why not?! Lady Isolde was quite clear, you were to follow my orders."

His dark eyes settled on hers with a steely gaze. "She also commanded I bring the woman Jenrea to her, if she should show up. And she was very insistent that the girl be brought in alive."

The red haired witch bit her tongue to keep from screaming in rage. Stymied again! At every turn it seemed that the little barmaid would deny her what she wished, even when she wasn't around! "Fine," Marissa spat out. "But we must intercept them."

"Might I recommend the bridge over the brook? They will likely cross there, and we'll have the advantage of surprise."

Marissa nodded, and glanced back to where the Black Dog's steed foraged amongst the shadows. She had experienced how fast the beast was, and was glad Isolde had at least seen fit to return it to Rufus's care for this mission. They could easily get there before the brat and her escort. With one last sigh, she extracted herself from Rufus's hands and lead the way.

They needn't have rushed. Once they arrived at the little stone bridge, she'd been left hidden at the edge of the woods, atop a small hill overlooking the crossing. Rufus forged ahead, ready to challenge the rider as soon as he reached the bridge, hidden only by the rise of that stone arch.

After the two were in position, it was a lot of waiting, and this time, Marissa didn't even have the idle comfort provided by Rufus's physical proximity. Miserable and chilled by the night air, all she could do was huddle into her cloak and lean back against one of the twisted tree trunks. She glared at the bridge for so long that she very nearly decided the rider wasn't coming after all. How the older knight could bear all the boredom was beyond her.

She was just about to call down to Rufus about the time they'd wasted, when she caught a movement rounding one of the outlying farmhouses. It was the rider, and that accursed barmaid. She wanted to rush down to confront them, or fling flame from afar and toast them where they stood. The idea of facing Isolde's wrath was all that stayed her hand.

As the two began to cross the bridge, Rufus drew his sword and rode toward them slowly. Marissa leaned forward, thinking she would have to strain to hear what might transpire. She was mistaken, for both men's voices cut the silence of night.

"Halt!" Rufus challenged, raising his own sword. "By order of the Squire of Ingley, this road is barred!"

"Sir Rufus?" The strange rider's voice was familiar, and it was only after he continued that Marissa managed to place it. "What is going on? Is the Prince well?"

It was that smith's apprentice, Hafred. But where had he acquired arms and armor of such quality? Now that he was closer, it was clear that they were not merely taken from one of the King's Men. They were suited to a proper knight, not just a footman.

"That is none of your business, boy." Rufus's tone had an edge to it, "By order of the Squire of Ingley and the Lady Isolde, I command you to turn over the woman Jenrea into my custody."

Marissa wasn't certain why the old knight would bring Isolde's name into it. If he wanted to make it an official challenge, her father's name should have been enough. He had given up their element of surprise, or most of it. She was fairly certain that neither Hafred nor Jenrea had noticed her among the trees.

"Mister Rufus," Jenrea called in her melodic voice, "Please, tell us what has happened."

The Black Dog grew silent, and even Marissa could feel the tug of compulsion on her mind. It was not dissimilar to when Isolde commanded her, and the effect made her hate the other young woman even more vehemently.

In the end, Isolde's existing orders seemed to mostly withstand Jenrea's voice, for Rufus answered with grim determination, "If you truly wish to pass, you have to defeat me." And then, with more authority, "Let the woman down, boy, and come at me."

Marissa seethed. This wasn't how the confrontation was supposed to go at all! What had happened to the idea of an ambush? Rufus should be mopping the floor with the boy and subduing Jenrea, not issuing a knightly challenge! As her anger grew, the grass about her feet began to sway and coil. The familiar tingle of power coursing through her veins split her lips into a sadistic grin. Oh she would wait, and let her energies build. Then she would settle this herself.

Hafred lowered Jenrea to her feet atop that bridge, despite her protests. He said not a thing more, but rather raised that steel-tipped spear of his, grasping the lance firmly, if a little inexpertly. Marissa scoffed at the commoner play-acting as a knight, but otherwise remained silent.

"Please, you don't have to do this. Mister Rufus, help us find the Prince! It's all we came out here for."

Jenrea's pleas did not seem to move the Black Dog. The knight simply raised his sword in hand, and calmly sat astride his charger.

With fear in her eyes, Jenrea turned her attention to Hafred instead. "Please, don't kill him. Beat him if you can, but I don't think he is himself right now."

Hafred seemed invigorated by her words, and smiled down to her. "I won't. I'll do my best, my love, but I won't try to kill him."

Marissa was skeptical of the boy even posing a mild threat to Rufus, but there was something about Jenrea's words that put her on edge. The bar wench was exhibiting a voice that she'd only heard Isolde speak in, but she'd never heard the old harpy give anyone a positive word. What would happen, if such words had magic behind them as well? Could Hafred seriously expect to match the older knight?

It seemed she would soon find out, for the young man readied his spear, and set his sights on Rufus. Marissa noted his form, and was unimpressed. Even she could see that the youth was inexperienced with mounted combat. He might've been able to hold his own on foot, but horsemanship and the knightly arts were a nobleman's purview.

Jenrea still stood at the apex of the stone bridge, and the idea that she would soon be alone did not escape Marissa's notice. It would be the perfect time to deal with her, if only she didn't have to worry about Rufus's reaction. It was perhaps a little too likely that he had been ordered to defend the brat, if Isolde really had told him to capture the girl.

Cowardice kept Marissa from acting on that golden opportunity. But for fear of Rufus, and more importantly fear of Isolde, she might have been rid of Jenrea once and for all.

The sudden cry of Hafred's mount shattered that moment of tension, as he kicked it into action. From her position atop that wooded rise, the youth's charge was perfectly visible despite the dim lighting. He couched that gleaming spear under one arm, and lowered the sharp point toward Rufus. He rode low within the saddle, but visibly put his weight on the stirrups, leaning into the charge. His form was imperfect, but at least was not hopeless.

For a moment, it appeared as if his amateur attempt would strike true. His aim was on point, and Rufus had no spear with which to threaten the charging rider in return. Furthermore, the older knight had yet to move. The Black Dog just sat astride his own horse expectantly, his gaze fixed upon that razor sharp spear point.

When he did move, it was with a sudden violence that startled even Marissa. From a guarded stance, Rufus swept the blade of his sword up and out. At the same moment, he spurred his own steed to act. The charger leapt forth, and sparks burned in the twilight as Rufus's sword caught the spear head, just along where it was bound to the spear's shaft. With a twist, that sword blade followed the thick, wooden haft, and shoved it away from its intended course.

The edge of that steel spearhead still grazed Rufus's mailed shoulder, but the glancing edge merely slid off the iron rings of his armor, and continued onward to open air. The knight guided his charger with his knees, leaving his free hand ready, and leather clad digits soon wrapped about the subtly flexing shaft of the outthrust spear.

Between Rufus's strength, and the forward motion of his mount, Hafred was forced to release the weapon. Marissa was inwardly pleased when the young man nearly fell from his horse. Of course the Black Dog was the superior combatant. She had been worried for nothing. As Hafred drew his own sword, however, she knew that the fight would continue. Her gaze snapped back to Jenrea.

The barmaid stood alone on the old stone bridge. A cool breeze stirred her dark hair and flattened her dress against her figure. She was beautiful, and Marissa hated her for it. Concern clouded Jenrea's face as she watched the two men. She was kind, good hearted, and it drove Marissa to her wits' end.

Her loathing of the girl was irrational. Instinctual, perhaps. Marissa knew it. She accepted it, and embraced it. Jenrea had to die.

As Hafred wheeled about to face Rufus once more, the witch broke from the trees and descended toward the tall grass near to the stream. She sprinted fast as she might, her precipitous flight took only a dozen seconds at most, and then she flung herself to the ground amongst the tall grass. Her dress was undoubtedly ruined with mud, and the sharp stones dug into her body as she lay there, listening. There was the sound of horse's hooves, the ring of steel against steel, but as far as she could make out, none had approached.

Marissa lifted her head, but could see nothing but thick grass between her and the bridge. The stream was to her left, she could hear the water coursing through its gravelly bed, and so she crawled toward it.

The tall grass gave way to a brief shore of mud and round pebbles, just a few precious feet away, the dark water rushed by. There was no way of telling how deep it was in that light, and Marissa honestly hadn't paid much attention to the usual water levels during her many crossings in the past. Such details had been beneath her. She could just spy Jenrea, still stood upon the bridge, absorbed in watching the smith's apprentice clash with the Black Dog.

Marissa crawled forward through the mud and muck near the shore, half hidden amongst the grass. If it had been day, her approach would have been hopeless, but the deepening darkness obscured her amongst the shadows of reeds and grass, and the repeated clash of steel on steel distracted from the rustling of her progress. Closer and closer she crept, as her dress soaked up the water. Soon, the layered fabrics clung to her figure, chilling her to the bone.

But her victory was ahead, and would soon be within easy reach.

At last Marissa broke from the reeds just in time to see Hafred sweep his sword toward Rufus on one pass. For a heartbeat, Marissa couldn't believe what she saw. The boy was evading the Black Dog's defenses! His blade whistled in toward the older knight's neck.

And then the swing stop. Hafred pulled the blow before it could connect. Marissa's confusion lasted but a few seconds. Rufus's was even shorter lived, for he struck back while Hafred was recovering. Rufus's sword caught Hafred's, locked against it, and with a twist the King's knight disarmed the commoner. That new blade was flung far, and as it tumbled, Rufus's mailed fist slammed into Hafred's side.

The youth grunted, and slid off the far side of his horse, to land heavily upon the ground.

It was only when Jenrea cried out in horror, and began to descend the bridge toward Hafred's fallen body that realization dawned. The stupid girl had told Hafred not to kill Rufus. It had cost him the fight.

The bar wench didn't have Isolde's grasp of how to use her voice, if it was indeed a similar ability. No, Isolde would have never made such a mistake. There was no mercy in Isolde's heart. As such thoughts mulled through Marissa's mind, she couldn't help but notice the similarities between Jenrea and her father's lover. Both were beautiful, almost regal, with long, dark hair, lush curves, a certain allure.

That was why she hated Jenrea. Marissa realized she'd been blind to it the entire time. She didn't hate Jenrea because of what the girl did. Marissa hated the other girl because she reminded her so much of Isolde.

And in that moment when she should feel triumph at Hafred's defeat, Marissa felt only anguish. Rufus was no longer distracted, and Jenrea was quickly running out of range.

Range. Did her abilities have a range, really? Marissa's brow knit as she followed the raven haired beauty with her eyes. She didn't want to use lightning, for fear of zapping herself. Fire might be a little difficult to aim at that range, but there was something else. Something which the chill of the water as it soaked her to the bone brought to mind.

The noblewoman sat up in that water, clapped her hands together, then slammed them down onto the earth. With a sharp crackling, a sheet of ice spread out from her hands, across the damp ground in a narrow wedge. Jenrea didn't notice it at all, not until that slippery ice coated the ground under her feet. Shoes not meant for a wintery hazard slipped out from under her, and Jenrea fell unceremoniously to the ground. Her head hit the earth hard, and she moved no more.

Marissa couldn't take the chance that the barmaid had survived. As impressive as the ice sheet had been, she was certain it hadn't frozen the ground solid. She had to finish the girl off. Marissa staggered to her feet, and began to concentrate once more.

Her focus was shattered when a glowing knife blade whizzed through the air before her eyes. It was close enough that a few strands of hair fell, cut loose from her bangs. The noblewoman watched the thrown knife slow, then reverse its arc, swinging back toward her.

She abandoned her next spell, and leaped from the shallows, onto the shore proper. As she landed, Marissa whirled about and stared at the knife, following its progress back to the hand of a lean, leather clad, redheaded bandit on the far shore, near the village side of the bridge.

It was Cordelia. The hateful wretch that had so tormented her. She caught her enchanted blade easily on its return, and her eyes fixated on Marissa. She was a hunter, Marissa the prey.

Heavy footsteps beat a swift course across the stone of the bridge, and a quick glance confirmed they belonged to Zara Blade. The powerful, tall blonde was in a full charge, her own armor straining over curves more generous than a woman of her athleticism had a right to possess. As the Bandit Queen charged across the expanse, Marissa turned and raced toward Jenrea, hoping to reach her before Cordelia could line up another throw.

"Rufus!" The noblewoman's cry seized the Black Dog's attention. He must have correctly assessed the situation at a mere glance, for he left Hafred to his groaning, and spurred his mount to intercept the Bandit Queen.