D. A. Houdek

Deb Houdek Rule

Web designer - Science Fiction author - Civil War historian - Genealogy researcher

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Of All the Western Stars

by Deb Houdek Rule

Chapter 24

Lisette crept cautiously from tree to tree, taking care not to let the firelight shine upon her face or the white of her gown. Though she felt she must be making a frightful noise, the revelers by the bonfire heard nothing of her, so drunk and rowdy were they.

A motley band they were, the sort of which all honest folk are taught young to avoid. Thieves, a dozen in number and a pair of their doxies, some with brands showing on their cheeks, signs of previous offenses against the laws, and others with ears missing, all gathered around a fire in the small clearing. Lisette cowered against a tree and watched them divide their booty. One bragged he had stolen a length of cloth from the hedge on which the farm wife had spread it to dry. Another has picked the pocket of a priest, stealing the alms he’d been taking to the poor. They shared out the ill-gotten shillings amongst them. Lisette could bear to watch no more. She’d not meant to come this way, but the lay of the land, of the streams and swamps and forest lands forced her to it. Then night overtook her and she sought out the welcome firelight when she saw it flickering in the distance.

Now she wished she’d not ventured out at all. If this unsavory band caught her, with her fine clothes and jewels… well, Lisette shivered. She couldn’t bear to think on it.

There was no way around. Already she teetered on the edge of a deep, fast-flowing stream. She needed to go back and find another way around, losing precious time in the process.

Cursing her fortunes, she eased her way back the way she came. Her eyes, dazzled by the firelight, didn’t see the path as clearly and she stumbled several times, nearly falling into the brook. Were her husband at her side, as he ought to be, he’d guide their feet and protect her. But he was not. Though, she thought darkly, she’d not be off to join Ashur at all if Geraint had minded his proper place. Peering upward, Lisette tried to see the sky, to orient herself by the positions of the stars, but the thick trees hid them.

She stifled a sigh and moved on again. Her foot caught on a root and she stumbled, dropping her basket. Lisette halted in place, barely breathing, straining to hear if any of the bandit band had been disturbed by the noise. No change in the clamor of drunken voices came to her.

With relief, she moved onward.

"How now, wench." A deep voice directly before her said. Before Lisette could move or do more than gulp in a deep breath to scream, a filthy hand clamped over her mouth. An arm of steel wrapped around her waist, dragging her through the trees and undergrowth toward the fire.

"See what I’ve found lurking yon," the voice announced as they emerged into the yellow glow of the clearing.

"What have you there, Johnnie? Oh, my word! It’s her grace, the Queen herself," a slattern woman cried sarcastically. Her frizzy, red hair was loose, her bosom bare and the hem of her skirt hitched up and tucked in her waistband as she danced before the men.

"Peace, now, Annie," a tall man with hard, cruel eyes commanded. "Thieves and cutthroats we may be, but I’ll hear no treasonous talk about the Queen."

Annie scratched herself and toed the ground sullenly. "Ah, Will, I didn’t mean nothing by it."

Will moved closer to her and Lisette felt his stare burning into her, a look that left no doubt of his intentions. "Why, Johnnie… What fine morsel is this you’ve brought me to nibble on?"

Laughter and tawdry comments resounded through the company. Lisette struggled harder than ever. As she did the big man’s grasp tightened. Gathering her wits, rather than her muscles, Lisette fought down her impulses and relaxed in the man’s arms. Immediately his grip slackened. Repulsive though the filthy thing was, Lisette clamped her teeth down on the man’s hand as hard as she could.

Yowling, Johnnie shoved her away from him. Lisette ran, but there were too many around her and the hard-eyed Will caught her by one arm, a sallow-faced trollop by the other. The woman ran her rough, dirty hands over the smooth green silk of Lisette’s dress, making cooing noises in her throat as she did. Her hands moved over Lisette’s bodice, stroking in an intimate way. Revolted, Lisette tried to pull away from the unwelcome touch, but the man tightened his grip on her arm so that she winced in pain.

"I think our little Jen’s taken a fancy to that gown, have you girl? Than you shall have it and be a fine, grand lady," he said. Will leaned close and whispered in Lisette’s ear harshly, "And you shall have me, pretty one." With his other hand he seized Lisette’s chin, forcing her to turn toward him, her face inches from his. He pulled her closer, while Jen’s hands continued their covetous roaming. The man opened his mouth, touching Lisette’s lips with his tongue.

"Let go of her," a strong voice with a flat, foreign accent commanded from across the clearing. Lisette decided it must be the voice in which the angels themselves spoke so welcome was the sound.

"Ashur," she whispered, a thousand prayers of thanks in that single exhalation.

The highwayman, Will, released her. He strode toward the intruder. He drew his sword in a smooth motion. Freed, Lisette turned toward Ashur, his black-clothed shape almost invisible in the night. God’s blood! Was he alone? He couldn’t take on this entire band alone. Ashur would be torn to pieces. Easing away from the half-witted woman’s roving fingers, Lisette cast about in search of a weapon. Her eyes came to rest on the bonfire, and a stout branch sticking out of the flames. She edged toward it.

The highwaymen focused on Ashur as he strode into the circle of light, his movements casual and slow. He moved like a lion, Lisette noted. His stance said hunter, fighter, but… At his waist his sword remained sheathed. His hands weren’t even near the hilt.

The gigantic oaf lumbered forward. "Let’s get him," Johnnie slavered.

"No," Will commanded. He shifted his blade from hand to hand in a practiced gesture. Lisette didn’t need a warrior’s eye to see that he was trying to intimidate Ashur with his obvious skill. Ashur didn’t appear impressed, continuing his slow movement forward, moving toward Lisette’s left. Though his stare never wavered from the man with the sword, Lisette sensed that Ashur saw and marked the position of every person in the clearing. He alone noticed her movements and discerned her intentions, though he didn’t betray her with so much as a flicker of his eyes. Slowly, he circled to the left, drawing their eyes with him, away from Lisette.

Ashur stopped. "Let the lady go." His voice demanded obedience.

"Or what, fancy boy?" Will taunted. He moved forward a menacing step.

Ashur shrugged. "You chose your own day to die."

Peels of laughter sounded from the band, the women’s high and shrill. Lisette stepped closer to the fire.

"You think to kill us all?" Annie shrieked between laughs. "All by yourself?"

They moved toward Ashur enmasse. Will waved his knife at them. "Stay where you are." He turned toward Ashur. "He’s mine. Prithithee, sir, your name before you die."

Lisette almost screamed when she saw Ashur pull at the buckle of his swordbelt, letting the weapon fall to the ground. The highwaymen muttered. Ashur laughed, low and dangerous. "Ask those I sent to Hell before you. You’ll be joining them in a moment."

The man’s face darkened. "Defend yourself, dead man." Will lunged forward. The sword plunged toward Ashur’s midsection.

Ashur sidestepped the blade by a hairsbreadth in a move almost too fast for Lisette’s eyes to register. He caught the man’s arm and pulled him in a half circle. With blinding speed, Ashur reversed the movement, bent Will’s wrist backward, still locked around the sword’s handle. Ashur drove Will to the ground. Terror flashed on Will’s face as the blade plunged into the base of his throat. Ashur hadn’t even touched the sword.

For a split second the now-leaderless band froze, staring at their dead ruler. Lisette and Ashur seized that precious moment and acted in such accord that it must have seemed rehearsed to the cutthroats.

Snatching up the blazing branch by its unburned end, Lisette heaved the stout piece and crashed it into the side of Johnnie’s head. He went down, stunned by the blow and pawed frantically at the red hot coals in his hair and down his shirt. With her backswing Lisette slammed Jen in the side, setting her ragged dress ablaze.

With incoherent, animal howls Jen plunged into the bushes, thrashing at her flaming garment with her hands. A splash came from the creek, then Lisette heard no more of her.

Lisette spun about, holding the burning branch before her like a sword. In the scant seconds she had been occupied Ashur had dispatched three more and, as she watched, snapped the neck of one man with strange, seemingly effortless, moves.

The remaining half dozen came on more cautiously, blades bristling in their hands. There was no way, no way at all, that Ashur could hope to defeat them all, not even with his mystical movements.

Lisette clutched the branch tightly, prepared to do her best unto the end. Then a strange thing happened. Ashur backed away from the approaching mob, reaching into his tunic. Recover your sword, she wanted to shout. Make good account of yourself then let us die in each other’s arms.

Instead of sword or dagger, Ashur pulled out a small… Lisette had no words for it. Black and shiny, the thing was no larger than a spindle. A red light shot out from the object in Ashur’s fist. His face set and grim, he played the light over the six bandits. They crumpled to the ground without so much as a whimper. Their eyes remained open and staring though death had clearly taken them. Ashur turned to Johnnie and ended the oaf’s struggles with a scant flicker of red light.

Lisette opened her hands and let the branch fall to the ground.

In the sudden silence, Lisette heard distant calls. "Ho, there! Lord Ashur!" the cries echoed through the night. "Where be you?"

Not answering, or even appearing to notice the calls, Ashur turned to Lisette. "Is that all of them?" he demanded. Numbly, she nodded.

Ever more absurd in his actions, Ashur now pulled out his sword and began hacking at the unmarked bodies, slashing throats, piercing hearts. Lisette stared at the carnage, feeling as though she were watching some strange dream.

As the last corpse was killed for a second time, men with torches appeared at the edge of the clearing. There they stopped and stared at Ashur and Lisette standing unharmed in the midst of a slaughter. Lisette opened her mouth to speak, but no words came.

"Milady!" a small man cried and Lisette suddenly recognized her aunt’s faithful retainer.

"Bobbin," she answered, then her voice choked.

Ashur, his sword gory and dripping, approached the staring, stunned group of servants. "These are the men," he said. "And to make their crimes worse, they had seized Mistress Weston… Stafford," he corrected himself, "and meant to… well, you can imagine."

"God be praised. They’re well dead." Hats came off the heads of Agnes’ men as proper thanks and prayers for the dead were offered. Lisette witnessed it all from a stupor, not even moving to cross herself when the others did.

Eyeing Ashur suspiciously, Bobbin asked, "You did this all by yourself, milord?"

Sticking the sword point into the ground, Ashur answered easily, "With good help from that brave lady…" He paused and added, "God fought with me in her defense." That brought murmurs of approval and agreement from the gathered men.

Bobbin kicked at one of the bodies. "See here? It’s that poor lad’s coat, her ladyship’s crest still upon it." He spat on the corpse.

The men moved among the corpses, turning them over, going through their pockets. Mumbling among them reached Lisette’s ear. "Not much blood." "Nay, not even from cuts to the neck." The mutterings grew more fearful. They pulled out amulets and crosses murmuring words of warding and prayer.

Lisette shook herself. She didn’t feel particularly brave right now. The swell of unhesitant, fearless action had drained away, leaving her knees weak. Gulping, she forced her voice not to quiver as she asked, "What lad? The messenger?"

"Must be," Bobbin answered, turning a body over and searching through its pockets. "His horse came in riderless. We found the boy’s body, stripped bare, not far from here. Every bone in him was broken." He spat on another corpse. "Master Ashur there was on horseback. He lit out like a banshee when he spotted this band." He shook his head. "I’ll tell you true, we’d have been afeared to take on the likes of this bunch, all of us together, and here the Master does them all, all by himself, in the time it took us to catch up." He cast a quick glance heavenward.

Ashur pulled the bloody sword up from the ground. "I better take Madame Stafford back to the house. You tend to this lot."

"Ha! Leave this carrion to rot."

As he helped lift Lisette up to sit upon his horse, she cringed from his touch. Ashur leaned close to her ear and whispered. "I can explain what you saw. Please, trust me a little more and I’ll tell you anything."

Sitting sideways on a big, white stallion, as Ashur led them into the dark, Lisette clutched the saddle with one hand, the other she kept on the hard shape of the enchanted crystal beneath her gown. Mysteries, wonders and magic, she thought. Then one more was added to the list. As soon as they were out of sight of the clearing, on the dark road, a beam of radiant illumination, beyond the light of a hundred candles, shone out lighting the way before them. It came from a tiny object in Ashur’s hand.