Believing Your Eyes
Chapter 1 - Page 2

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"A bronze bracer," cried Ian, jumping forward and reaching for the glowing object. The metal band was finely worked and glinted brightly as the clouds opened for a moment.

"Wait!" shouted Stephen in alarm, knocking Ian off balance enough that the blonde fell sideways into a mound of snow under a tree. Stephen sighed and smiled fondly at his friend. "It is red hot - you would have burned your hand off!" He shook his head as Ian ruefully climbed out of the snow bank and brushed himself off. "But do look at it," Stephen remarked, kneeling near the object to get a better look. "I have not seen lettering like this for years. An old language, but the bracer is new." He sat quietly for a few minutes, examining the markings.

A muted horse's whinny reminded the men of the dangerous reality of their situation. Ian and Stephen sprinted towards the trees, coming alongside their own mounts to steady them. A hush fell over the woods again; both men concentrated to hear any noise that seemed out of place. Several full minutes went by without a sound. Ian began to wonder if it had been one of their own mounts that startled them, and started to relax again. The light snow continued to fill their prints, melding them with the landscape.

Then, growing in intensity, the distinctive crash of hooves on dead branches approached from the north. Stephen and Ian drew slightly back, staying hidden in the shadows. The noise grew louder until two bearded men with wolfskin capes galloped thunderously into the clearing, broadswords held high. The redheaded man in front trampled through the edge of the cairn as he twisted the reins forcefully to slow his mount. He turned to snarl angrily at the second, who quickly spoke up.

"See, she ain't here," whined the smaller man, a greasy, unkempt redhead in a makeshift uniform. "We killed off her escorts, we did. Just like you ordered. Then Barney, yeah - it was Barney! He tried to wing her horse with an arrow, see, to make sure she didn't get away, I think. But she was near the beast and the arrow got her in the side." His eyes furtively slid from side to side as he related his tale in a quick staccato. "It was poison dipped. It was an accident! He panicked and ran. I came back to tell you what happened. You wanted me to face her alone? Anyway, she didn't get far, it's sure. She's gone to her maker by now. What a tigress she was. Yeah, she put up a fight!" He licked his drooling lips, and his eyes glowed with some obscene thought.

The leader's face became red with fury at this news. "Your orders were to bring her in alive, fool," stormed the heavyset man. He cuffed the smaller man across the head, throwing him off his horse. "Is every one of my men incompetent? She is needed at camp. Master won't be very pleased. I'll send you in to give him the news. You were in charge of the ambush, after all." He paused and sheathed his sword, staring down at the cringing man. "Maybe you'll die more quickly than Barney did." He chuckled to himself. "You'd better hope so," he added with a sneer.

He looked around the clearing for a moment, then up at the sky. His face became more serious. "With the storm, she won’t last long, if she is even still alive. We’ll come back and find her corpse after it passes." He glanced up at the sky again, then nodded. "That will have to do." Wheeling his shaggy mount, he galloped out of the clearing. Gulping, the other scrambled onto his horse and spurred it after his leader.

After the hoof beats had completely faded into the forest air, Ian let out a deep breath, creating a cloud of frost. "We had better get back to town," he whispered nervously, noticing that his hands were shaking, but too worried to try to stop them. "There could be more of them searching for that woman." He glanced over his shoulder quickly, half suspecting that they were already approaching in a stealth attack.

Stephen had retied his horse to a limb and began circling around the edge of the clearing, his eyes carefully scanning the ground. "This woman, whoever she is, is obviously wanted for a reason. She could be a great help to us. Search around to the west - see if you can pick up her tracks." Ian made as if to protest, but seeing the set look on Stephen's face, he instead turned and began hunting for any sign of the mysterious person. After several minutes of fruitless searching he began to despair that there was ever a survivor of this battle. Perhaps the weaselly one had dreamt her up during an ale-sodden victory party.

"Here, to the east," called Stephen softly. Ian ran to join him. The snow looked undisturbed, but he could see where Stephen pointed to blood stains on the snow and faint marks made by the sweep of a pine branch. "Whoever she is, she has talent at covering her trail," commented Stephen quietly as he carefully moved forward. "Get our horses and follow behind me." Soon they were tracking the faint path through the wilderness, a light snow falling about their shoulders.

After an hour, they had traversed quite a distance. Many times the trail seemed to disappear in a stream or rocky area, but with diligence either Ian or Stephen was able to recover the path. Still, as twilight began to descend on the forest Stephen began to worry that they might lose the trail under the gently falling snow. Then, all at once, the way became clear and obvious. The pair came over the crest of a hill to find quite distinct footprints heading down the slope, ending under an ancient willow tree by a frozen stream.

Stephen and Ian stopped to survey the scene. Beneath the tree lay a roan stallion who turned his head protectively at the appearance of the strangers. Curled up against his flanks was a sleeping woman wrapped in a thick, black cloak, the hood pulled close around her face. She had apparently been there for a while; the snow had already begun to cover much of her body with a fine layer of white. The tree provided partial protection against the wind, and the heat from the horse appeared to have kept the snow away until now. The sun was setting behind them, and shadows were beginning to fall across the hollow.

Stephen motioned Ian to stand guard, and handed his own horse’s reins over. He glanced around the hill, then worked his way down the snowy slope carefully. The horse watched him steadily, but there was no other sound or movement. Stopping a moment at the foot of the hill, Stephen then slowly moved towards the tree, careful to keep his hands away from his weapons so as not to frighten the woman. He grew concerned as she didn't stir at his approach, and, reaching her, he dropped easily to a knee at her side. He gently began to brush off the snow to find a sign of the arrow the Grays spoke of.

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Believing Your Eyes - a medieval romance Leslie's homeland has been overrun by bandits. Desperation drives her to plead for assistance from a neighboring noble and his son, Ian. Ian's wenching ways and arrogance stand in sharp contrast with the quiet nobility and honor of Stephen, their best swordsman. Leslie's heart is broken when she discovers that duty has bound him in an engagement to another woman. Once Ian decides that Leslie must be his, Leslie is swept into a conflict of honor. One where death seems to be the only possible outcome ... Believing Your Eyes - a medieval romance on Amazon.com

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