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<title>Spellbinder - Chapter 5</title>
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<h1>5</h1><p>A sharp crack of sound startled her from a deep, dream-troubled sleep.</p>
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<p>She came instantly awake, but it took her a few seconds to remember where she was, as the awful images fragmented and drained away; images of Jack Flint tumbling into the searing brimstone; images of that hideous creature swooping towards them, twisted and contorted with rage.</p>
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<p>Corriwen Redthorn shook her head, trying to shake them all away. Out beyond the trees, the crack split the air, like a snapping branch, followed by a high yelp, the sound of an animal in pain.</p>
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<p>She rolled on the dry leaves, got to her knees, feeling in the gloom for her knives and the ash stave she'd cut from a sapling. In a hole under the spreading roots of a wide beech tree, a hole dug and abandoned by some animal, she had found a shelter of sorts, out of the rain that had drenched the forest last night.</p>
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<p>Hooves thudded in the distance and she scrambled out into a sparkling morning, fearful of the sound of horses and the cries of men. She had been alone and hunted before, and she knew how to hide.</p>
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<p>The high cry came again and she got to her feet, scratched and sore and already hungry. Beyond the beech, a wall of juniper hid her from view from the open field at the edge of the forest and she approached it cautiously, paring back the dense leaves to peer out.</p>
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<p>The field ran down from left to right, curled right in against the trees at the north end. Clumps of gorse and broom dotted the grass where animals had grazed once upon a time, but there were no cattle or sheep here now.</p>
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<p>Two men on horseback rode through the brushwood, flattening it under heavy hooves. One of them shouted, deep and hoarse. His arm raised, flashed down, and the sharp crack jarred her ears. On his flank, another man in helmet and greaves wielded a lance. He brought it down in a slow arc and its tip flashed in the sun. </p>
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<p>Something darted from one gorse bush to another, avoiding the spike by a hair. All Corriwen saw was a blur of grey, and it was gone.</p>
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<p>The man shouted again, spun his horse and crashed through the bush in pursuit.</p>
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<p>"Hunters," she thought. They had not trailed her here. Just two men out for sport. They had probably flushed a boar from a thicket. They would eat well tonight, while she scrabbled for berries and set spike-traps for small coneys at the edge of the trees.</p>
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<p>Corriwen was about to turn back to her hide when the whiplash cracked again and the thin cry came again. She peered out and for a confusing moment she saw the animal lurch under the horse's belly and scamper between two thorny bushes. The lance swung and almost impaled it as it twisted and came dashing towards her.</p>
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<p>Her first thought was to wish the man had spiked the thing, because it was coming straight for her, racing for the shelter of the trees, and they would no doubt follow. She didn't want to be seen again, not since the first time when horsemen had veered from the road and hunted her like a fox before she lost them in thick trees. That had been a week ago and miles away, but it was enough to make her want to stay hidden.</p>
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<p>The creature came on fast in a lurching run and she pulled behind the stubbly trunk, just in case it snicked her in the passing with its tusks.</p>
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<p>The whip-man turned his horse fast and came powering after it, trying to reach it before it made the trees.</p>
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<p>And that was when Corriwen saw it was no boar, no animal at all.</p>
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<p>It was a boy, running fast as he could, face pale with fear. It was clear he was running for his life. Running, but limping badly as if he'd already been hurt.</p>
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<p>The black whip lashed out, fast as a snake, and curled tight round the boy's ankle. The horseman hauled the reins and the horse came to a skidding halt and the sudden drag on the whip jerked the boy backwards, only a yard or so from the forest edge. His feet went up in the air and his body came down with such a thud she heard all the air whoosh out of his lungs.</p>
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<p>"Got him," the man growled.</p>
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<p>"My turn now," the other replied. He came in fast, leaning over the roan's neck with the lance tucked under his right arm. It glinted once again, sharp and deadly, and drove downwards, set to spear the boy where he lay.</p>
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<p>Corriwen felt a shout leap unbidden from her throat, but before she could make a sound, the boy twisted, shoved out with one foot and rolled out of danger. The man cursed, swung the lance high, and stabbed it down.</p>
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<p>The boy yelped again while the other man dragged him back with the whip.</p>
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<p>"Lie still and take it like a man," the lancer grated. </p>
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<p>He stabbed again at the twisting shape on the ground, intent on running it through.</p>
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<p>"No!"</p>
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<p>Corriwen's cry blurted out before she realised.</p>
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<p>The nearest horse, startled by the sound, reared and pawed the air. The rider stayed fixed in the saddle, but the motion dragged the boy along the ground by the leg, smearing his face through the jagged thorns. </p>
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<p>She was out of the tree-line, running fast, despite all her senses urging her to stay away, out of trouble, back in the shadows and safety.</p>
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<p>But she was running now, hackles up, a knife in her left hand, stave in her right. The horseman wheeled again, turned to face her and in a moment of confusion she darted in between him and the fallen boy and with one swift swipe, sliced through the fine end of the whip. The boy scrambled on all fours, desperate to get away.</p>
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<p>The lancer turned towards her.</p>
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<p>"What do you think you're doing?"</p>
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<p>She jinked to the side, grabbed the boy's arm and dragged him to his feet just as the lance came swinging round, whooping in the air, point bright in the sunlight. She ducked away from it, still hauling the boy through the gorse towards the trees.</p>
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<p>The lance snagged in the briar and that gave her a vital second or two, a vital few paces, and they were moving fast, the boy hobbling his ungainly lurch, but still able to make headway.</p>
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<p>"Run," he gasped. "They'll take you too."</p>
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<p>She kept tugging at him, urging him to go even faster, while the hooves thudded behind her, louder with every second.</p>
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<p>The whip sang through the air and lashed across her back, a white sear of hurt that dug deep to the bone and a cry blurted from her heaving lungs.</p>
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<p>"Get them," the man roared. The trees were twenty yards away, fifteen running paces, but even this close she realised it was not close enough. Instinct made her push the boy to the left, a hard shove which sent him out of the path of the horses she knew were right on her heels, and just as instinctively she threw herself to the right, using the stave as a vaulting pole, and just in time as the lance stabbed in and raked a line across her shoulder, just enough to tear her hood, but not enough to wound. </p>
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<p>Corriwen swivelled, darted between two bushes and saw the whip-arm rise fast, snap down and the lash curled through the air, aimed straight at her face. She thrust the stout stave up to save her eyes, spun away as the whip curled itself around it and the horse went bulleting past in a flurry of hooves and mud. </p>
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<p>Old Seumas Mayo, the Redthorn arms master had taught her well, taught her since childhood and she had forgotten nothing of his lessons. They had saved her many times when she was on the run from Mandrake and his Scree hunters.</p>
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<p>The whip snarled round the stave and the horse was past her, wheeling about on a tight rein. Corriwen jammed the pole right into the hard earth and fell backwards, putting all her weight into it, both hands clasped around the stout wood.</p>
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<p>The whip-man snatched his arm back, tugging on the lash, using the horse's weight to drag her down. Corriwen grunted, straining hard. The roan's momentum carried it forward and she felt the whip tense like a harp-string. Something had to give.</p>
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<p>The sudden jolt on his whip arm dragged the horseman right out of the saddle, tumbled him backwards, feet in the air. He hit the ground with a heavy thump and all of <em>his </em>breath came out in one hard punch.</p>
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<p>Corriwen slashed the whip again and the leather parted with a snap, and just as quickly she spun again as the second horseman came charging in, the boy now forgotten. The lance was tight under his arm and he brought it down like a jouster, viciously heeling the horse.</p>
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<p>"Now you pay, outlaw," he roared, and she could see by his expression that he meant it. </p>
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<p>The horse leapt over the gorse, but the lance-tip never wavered. It was aimed right at her heart, but Corriwen stood her ground, feet planted apart as Seumas Mayo had taught her, forcing her breath to be slow and easy, eyes fixed only on the lance-point.</p>
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<p>It was only an arm-length from her when she twisted on her feet and slammed the stave down just behind the spear-head, putting all her strength into the swing, turning then on one foot to jam the point right into the ground.</p>
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<p>The horseman bawled again as the weapon jarred into his armpit and threw him backwards in the saddle, but Corriwen was still moving, still turning on one foot, with the stave gripped in both hands, one end thrust on the grass and when she completed the motion, her feet were in the air as she used the stave as a fulcrum. Her heels caught the man straight on the ribs as he was moving backwards. The blow merely added to his imbalance and slammed him back off the saddle.</p>
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<p>Corriwen landed square on her feet again, raised her blade and in one diagonal slash she cut the lance in two pieces, leaving the point buried in the ground before she turned back to the man who was on his back in the middle of a thorn-bush.</p>
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<p>He was struggling, trying to get to his feet. Beyond him, the first man was groaning on his knees, holding one arm which was twisted at an odd angle, enough to tell her the jerk on the whip, or the fall from the horse had dislocated his shoulder, perhaps even broken it.</p>
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<p>"I'll kill you," the fallen lancer bawled, trying to free himself from thorns which clung like hooks. He threw the broken lance to the side, drew a short sword and started hacking at the branches.</p>
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<p>"Obstructing a Wolf's Man in pursuit of a felon. You'll hang for this. Hang and bleed!"</p>
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<p>He took a step forward, snagged his foot on a root, and fell headlong into the briar, cursing as the thorns took their toll. Without a word, Corriwen turned away and ran for the trees, just as the stumbling boy pushed through the juniper cover and disappeared from view.</p>
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<p>In seconds she was on his heels and both of them ran deep into the trees where they grew thick and close and where a horse could never follow.</p>
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<p> </p>
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