Phony Potions

Chapter 6

CHAPTER SIX

The sun-dappled tree tops crashed by like waves on either side of me as I rode toward the Avalons. My entire body bounced with each stride. Flatchert strode forward, her hooves hitting dirt and spraying it into the air. She was neither a racer nor a war horse, so she must have sensed my anxiety because she moved quicker than I ever thought she could. Perhaps, she knew as well as I did, that although we were safe, Mallow was not.

As I crested the hill, I could see the Avalons on the other side of the steep slope. The road was a strand of compacted brown dirt flanked by tall grass. They were trotting along, as ignorant as I thought they'd be of the crisis occurring just a few minutes' ride away. The flag was held aloft with magic; no gloved hand wrapped around the pole. It levitated at a great height. One Avalon's laugh caught on the breeze and met my ears.

I didn't stop to catch my breath, but kept riding, knowing my words couldn't reach them from this far away. They were mere glints of silver, three stones in a brown river beneath the summer sun. As the indistinct shimmer of their armor became clearer the closer I got, they saw me as well. Their postures became rigid, the darkened eyes of the helmets locked onto me. The Avalon that was riding a little bit ahead of the other two reached to the side of her horse.

She drew out a bow, not quite as tall as me. It was shapely silver, more expensive than the yearly taxes most villages paid. She said nothing, warning me by aiming. The other two that were with her glanced toward her, and then reached for their own weapons. Now that their chatter and laughter had gone, the sounds of Flatchert's heavy breathing and straining legs in the empty space was too loud.

"Help!" I screamed. She reached behind her to her quiver. I was close enough to see the fingers, articulated and wrapped in white leather, searching to grab hold of the feathery fletch of an arrow. I continued. "We're being attacked by bandits!" I roared, flecks of spit escaping my lips. They continued to stare at me, only breaking the glower to throw sidelong glances at one another.

Then the one in front, her face shrouded by the obtrusive silver helmet that made all Avalons indistinct, gave a slight nod. She lowered her bow. Her companions, both men larger than her, sheathed their weapons.

Their horses, twice as big as my wheezing Flatchert, were thoroughbred. Without straining, they were on me in half the time it would have taken me to reach them. I yanked Flatchert's reins hard, her hooves struggling to find purchase in the dirt. I wordlessly guided the Avalons back toward the attack. I could heard the Avalons following me. If they could help, make sure we all made it out of this in one piece, then I could forgive Avalons for their usually annoying tendencies.

We crossed the peak of the hill together, but on the descent the Avalons pulled ahead of me.

The woman rode in front. She shouted something I couldn't hear over the four sets of hooves thundering in the dirt. She drew out her bow. I surveyed the scene, searching for the other bandits. The one Mallow was now holding by his hair several feet off the ground wasn't a threat, so I wondered if the bandits had somehow gotten down from the trees. The lady loaded a feathered arrow into her bow, pulling back her arm. Her horse came to a stop, as it recognized the shifting of its rider's weight when about to attack. The other two stopped beside her, short swords revealed from their scabbards and held at their sides.

There was just the gibbering of the man, the weak panting of Flatchert, and the drowsy singing of birds in the afternoon. The bow released, a fwicking sound, and the arrow sailed toward its target. My breath stopped as I charted its trajectory, not toward the tree line, not even to the dangling bandit with his helpless kicking legs. The arrow would find its Giant target easily. There was the wet sound of punctured flesh, and then Mallow's booming, animal-like scream.