Of course, she’d paid no attention at all to the rest of their party. Despite their proximity, they simply did not intrude upon her awareness.
Fortunately her patient mare, Arian, was used to bearing a distracted rider upon her back. ’Twas ever thus for Alys when she rode—her head would settle firmly into some tale or another, and she’d lose sight of all but the glorious world she carried hidden away within her imagination.
Her fingers itched to at least make note of the bits and pieces, the details swirling through her brain, to record them before they faded from her mind, but she was aware enough to realize now was neither the time nor place to do so.
She bit back a growl of frustration; it might be days before she’d the privacy and the opportunity to write down all that she had spinning about in her mind.
How could she sort through the tumult of thoughts, the sheer chaos setting her mind akilter, otherwise? To be so close to attaining her heart’s desire, and to find herself so easily tempted from her long-held dreams… She needed to concentrate, to refocus her attention where it needed to be.
Patience, she reminded herself. She ought to have developed a bottomless fount of that virtue by now, for she almost never had the chance to write when she wanted to…nay, when she must.
To use her tales to settle her mind.
’Twas a compulsion as strong as the need for food or sleep at times, a siren’s call she could not ignore.
In the peace of the cloister she’d be free to—
The wind whipped round her, startling her from her musings, tearing loose her veil and sending her unbound hair whirling about. She caught the gauzy fabric before it flew away and slipped it off, finally clear-headed enough to pay heed to her surroundings.
Cool air nipped at her skin, a shocking change from the earlier warm damp.
When had it become so dark? Surely ’twas not nightfall already?
They were trotting along at a rapid pace, the gait jarring, too swift for the narrow, rutted track. She hadn’t understood what Padrig had shouted earlier, but he must have been urging them on. Despite her distraction—or perhaps because of it—Arian had gone faster to keep pace with the others.
The wind gusted hard now, tearing loose leaves and small branches that battered at them, making it difficult to sit upright in the saddle. The sky grew ever darker, filled with a strange dusky half-light that sent an icy chill of foreboding down Alys’s spine and dragged her firmly into the present.
The road widened. Padrig shouted again, his words muffled, barely audible in the howling storm. However, his intent was clear when he spurred his mount to even greater speed.
Everyone did the same, until they were all thundering along the track. Alys tightened her legs and hung on, wrapping one hand in her mare’s mane and clinging to the reins with the other.
The rain began then, a cascading deluge that made it nigh impossible to see or hear. Water pooled on the hard-packed road in a matter of moments, concealing the uneven surface and forcing them to slow their headlong pace. ’Twas as though the clouds had opened wide overhead, a frigid, pounding torrent that drenched them to the skin at once.
They slowed, then halted; the horses, tense and uneasy, sidled about. Alys could hear the others, but though she knew they were close by, she could scarcely make out where they were in the murky gloom.
Arian twitched and sidestepped, demanding all her attention. The leather saddle was slick, and Alys’s clothing a sodden, heavy weight to drag her out of it. She tightened her grip on the reins and murmured soothing nonsense to the poor mare, who shifted, soaking wet and quivering, beneath her. It did no good, however, for surrounded as they were by the squalling storm, ’twas doubtful the animal could hear her—or would have cared if she could.
Lightning blazed overhead, a volley of thunder rolling over them almost at once. Alys’s mount squealed and reared up. Hooves sliding in the mud, the frightened beast flailed sideways. Alys caught a brief glimpse of Marie’s pale, terrified face beside her as their two mounts crashed into each other.
Arian, panicked beyond any hope of restraint, began a maddened dance, bucking and slipping on the muddy track. Praying aloud, Alys fought for control, but ’twas all she could do to remain in the saddle.
Lightning split the sky again, so close the flash was blinding. The thunder was a force itself, a pummeling wave that shook the ground, and sent Alys lurching sideways to cling, shaking wildly, to the slick leather seat.
Her heart pounding hard in her chest, she tried to right herself. Muttering a curse, she dragged herself upright just as, with an ear-splitting crack, a massive tree fell toward her.
“Go!” Alys shouted to Arian, slapping the reins against the mare’s neck and digging in her heels. Hooves scrambling for purchase, Arian gave a valiant leap forward, only to come crashing to the ground beneath the tree’s weighty branches.
Bright pain shot through Alys’s head, and she knew no more.
Chapter Four
Her limbs leaden, her vision a blur, Alys came to her senses, sprawled flat on her back beneath a veritable thicket of fallen trees and the icy lash of rain. She opened her mouth to call out, but gasped and choked as a torrent of water poured over her, carrying with it bits of bark and leaves that clung to her face and filled her mouth. Coughing, she tried to rise, but her strength was no match for the mass of branches and debris pinning her down.
Last she remembered she’d been in the saddle, riding hard as the storm raged around them…urging on Arian to avoid a falling tree….
She blinked her eyes to clear her vision, yet still she could see naught but a deep, shadowed darkness all around her.
Where was Arian?
And the others? They’d been riding close together, racing to outrun the storm’s fury. How many trees had come down? It felt as though she were buried beneath a veritable forest!
By the sainted Virgin, what had happened?
Marie had been nearby, her own mount frightened, out of control. There might have been still others as close to them—she hadn’t been able to see much of anything through the rain-filled gloom.
Pain washed over her, emanating from her back and shoulder and radiating outward, pulling her firmly into the present with a vengeance. It hurt to so much as breathe. She could tell she’d any number of scrapes from head to toe, for each one stung like fire beneath the force of the pelting rain. A dull throb from her ankle told her she’d at least one other injury.
Taking shallow breaths, she sought for calm and focused her senses. She tried to free her right arm; she could not make it move, though the attempt sent a surge of stomach-roiling pain washing over her. Swallowing back a gasp, she wriggled her other arm from beneath the branches and shifted it enough to push aside her sopping hair and wipe her eyes.
The deep, harsh rumble of thunder mixed with the sound of horses squealing in terror and voices sharp with alarm surrounded her. She could see little through the rain-filled darkness until a flash of lightning split the sky, giving her a moment’s glimpse of chaos.
It seemed as if
