Wrath Of The Medusa (Book 2) Read Online Free Page A

uninhibited happiness, could tell her guard was up against the lancer’s murmured conversation.  She stroked the grey mare’s neck, more absently than before, her gaze darting ever towards the lancer whose intrusion was clearly less welcome than he supposed.
    Thom considered throwing off his illusion and coming to her rescue.   But then he thought, if the lancer was unwelcome, how much less appreciated would be the revelation that she had been spied upon however unintentionally.
    While he wrestled with this dilemma, there was a sudden move, a scuffle.  The lancer had seized Hepdida’s face in his two hands and was pressing his mouth against hers.  She struggled unheard as the soldier’s lips sealed hers closed .  Thom stood up sharply, shaking of his illusory cloak. “Hey!” he called out.  The lancer half turned at the distraction and in that moment Hepdida brought her knee up sharply between his legs. 
    The soldier crumpled to all fours with an airless gasp.  Hepdida and Thom exchanged a glance over her assailant’s crippled form.  The servant girl wide eyed, still shocked as Thom took a reassuring step towards her, stretching out a hand of support.  She took a step away.
    “It’s all right,” he said.  “Don’t be afraid.”
    She turned and ran, away from him, away from the horses, away from the copse.
    “Oh crap!” Thom exclaimed and ran after her.
    The thick clouds obscured the M oon and stars and the light of Tordil’s conjured fire was limited by intent to the illumination of their small camp.  Beyond the tree line all was black and Thom could see nothing and hear little of Hepdida.  He swept his hands in a swift spell flicking his index fingers across each eye.  Now as he stared out into the gloom he could make a blob dull red in colour, still moving in haste across the dark plain, brighter red sticks of legs pumped beneath a body made visible by its own warmth.  He glanced around, no other sources of heat.  The area was devoid of the night time prowlers, scavenging wolves or hunting orcs which might have posed some threat to the fleeing servant girl.
    Re-assured he set off in pursuit, hoping to catch Hepdida before some mischance, an ankle twisting rabbit hole, or a stumble over a rock, should cause her an injury.
    Behind him all was calm.  N o alarm was raised in camp.  Thom in his haste to pursue had expected the elven lookout at least to mark their flight and marshal some assistance.  But the keen eyed tree-top sentry must be asleep or looking elsewhere. Tordil would have words to say at such a failure.  In the meantime, it was Thom alone who ran after the startled fugitive, intent on keeping her safe from harm.
    He saw that she had stopped, crouched down looking back towards him. He slowed to a walk as he approached her. “Hepdida,” he called gently.  “It’s me Thom.”
    She didn’t move, didn’t reply.  She wouldn’t have realised he could see her glowing with her own body’s heat, her face towards him as bright a torch.  Her hand clenched something. It glinted softly, in reflecting the glow of her body. A long thin reflecting edge.  Crap it was a knife.
    “Hepdida,” his voice cracked with a little alarm.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”
    She shifted position.  Squatting on her haunches, poised to pounce, oblivious to how clearly he could see her. 
    “Hepdida, why did you run?”
    “Why did you chase me?” the question was fired back at him with venom.  “What did you and that soldier plan for me?”
    “Nothing – nothing, not us… me, I wasn’t part of it.  I was just there.”
    “Spying on me? Hidden by magic, just waiting for your chance?”
    “No, please, I just wanted to make sure you were all right. I saw what he did what he tried to do.  It’s not safe out here.  Come back to camp.  Please put the knife away.”
    From fifteen yards away he saw her tense at his words.  She was silent, motionless for a few seconds before asking ,