I stood there, staring incredulously after him, as yells came from rooftops on all sides. Heidar ran up the next moment, sounding breathless. His lips, looking strangely bloodless in the moonlight, were parted in shock. "What have you been doing?"
"Surviving! Where the hell were you?"
"Stealing a horse."
I stopped, mid-rant. "Good answer."
Little points of light from the guard's lanterns were starting to converge on our position. "Well, they know where we are now," Heidar said grimly. "Run!"
We ran.
Chapter 4
After half a dozen buildings, we dropped to the ground via an outdoor staircase Heidar had discovered. We spent long, tense minutes slipping through dark alleys, watching lanterns flicker in and out of the shadows above us. The Fey seemed to think we were still on the rooftops, at least for now.
Heidar had stuffed the horse behind a cart piled high with barrels. It blocked the only exit to a small alley, creating a makeshift pen. He moved the cart slightly to the side to let the horse out, while I stared at it dubiously. My feet were killing me, but a fact was a fact. "I don't ride, you know."
"What do you mean, you don't ride?"
"I mean, I don't ride. As in, never been on a horse in my life." The very large animal snorted loudly. It didn't seem to appreciate getting rained on any more than I did, or maybe it was me it didn't like. It rolled its eyes and whinnied unhappily every time I came near.
Heidar was looking at me like I'd told him I didn't know how to walk. "Everyone can ride."
"Can you drive a car?"
"No."
I shrugged. "Different worlds."
He grasped me around the waist and tossed me onto the horse's back. "Yes, but we're stuck in this one, at least for now. Hold on." He vaulted up in front of me and I clutched the soggy fabric of his tunic in a death grip. Then we were off.
The horse didn't come equipped with a saddle, and its back was wet and slippery. It took most of my concentration not to slide off one side or the other as we went pelting down a maze of tiny streets, splashing through puddles and constantly changing direction. The sound of hooves striking cobblestones echoed off the surrounding buildings, seeming to come back at us from every direction at once. I could hear shouts and see wildly swinging lanterns, both above us and flickering in and out of dark alleyways. As the minutes passed, more and more of them were on our level. The Fey had figured out that we were no longer on the rooftops, but couldn't quite catch up to Heidar's crazy horsemanship.
Those above us kept shouting to the ones in the street, giving them directions, I suppose, about which way we were headed. One somehow reached a wooden structure that formed a bridge over the street just before we did. When we passed underneath, he pushed a large barrel down almost on top of our heads. It missed, splintering into pieces on the cobblestones right beside us, but the gush of water it threw out hit me like a fist. The force of it knocked me sprawling, but Heidar somehow caught me before I hit the ground, grabbing the waistband of my soggy gown just before I slammed face-first into the hard road.
The wet chiffon stretched across my chest, leaving what felt like welts behind, but amazingly, it didn't rip. Heidar managed to control the rearing horse, which had been reigned in too abruptly for its liking, and maneuvered it back under the bridge for cover. He pulled me up in front of him as the guard overhead started shooting at us.
"Are you all right?" he asked, sounding almost as breathless as I was. I nodded in response, not having enough air left in my lungs to speak. "We have to risk it," he said simply.
I pushed wet hair out of my eyes and saw what he meant. The guard on the bridge had a bad angle, and none of his arrows were connecting, but his shouts had been answered from several points behind us. Half a dozen lanterns swung into the street as I watched, some of the fuzzy shapes running flat out for us, others dropping to their knees to nock arrows. Staying where we were definitely wasn't an option.
I spit out a mouthful of dirty water and nodded. Heidar got a better grip on me, maneuvered the horse to one side of the street, then dug his heels into the animal's flanks. We shot out from under the bridge, racing down the covered arcade to one side of the road. The arcade's roof kept the guard's arrows from hitting us, but enough baskets, covered carts and barrels blocked the way to serve as an obstacle course. I almost got beheaded by an empty clothesline, but Heidar pushed my face down into the horse's mane just in time. And, less than a block later, we left the town behind, bursting out into what looked like endless acres of pastureland.
I foolishly thought we were home free, but although the Fey didn't follow us, the storm certainly did. It actually seemed to be getting worse as we left town. The trees whipped wildly back and forth on either side of the road, and the horse began bucking every time a flash lit the sky. Heidar finally had to get down to lead it into the face of the driving wind, slowing our pace to a crawl.
After what felt like a couple of miles, we stopped in front of a black shape that rose suddenly out of the dark. "It's a barn," Heidar yelled. I thought that was a very optimistic assessment, but any shelter sounded good at the moment. He broke open the door and I dragged my sodden self inside. It was very cramped, made even more so by the horse that was trying to push in after me.
"Leave the animal outside!" I yelled.
Heidar stubbornly led it the rest of the way in, then closed the door behind us. "It would tell anyone who passes where we are."
I didn't think too many people were likely to be passing on a night like this, but said nothing. With the door shut, it was pitch-black, without even the brief lightning bursts to give a clue where anything was. I stood motionless, not wanting to bash my head, while he searched around and somehow made a fire.
The small, flickering flames highlighted the fact that we were definitely not in a barn. It would be a stretch to call it a toolshed, although that seemed to be its main purpose. A pile of gardening equipment was stacked near one wall, which was all of ten feet away. On the other was a drying rack for herbs, a small table, a chair and a bucket. That was it.
The storm was right overhead; sounding like a great battle was taking place outside. It made the structure creak and groan alarmingly, but it had to be sturdier than it looked, because it didn't spring a leak. I stopped contemplating the high-beamed ceiling when the horse nuzzled against me, trying to make up for almost tossing me in a puddle earlier. I wrinkled my nose at it, both because of the smell and the fact that it had grabbed the best position by the fire. I sat down at the table and resigned myself to a long night.