Post by Brandwyn on Dec 13, 2009 11:19:01 GMT -5
Farmer Compton heard screaming coming from the little cottage where his wife and daughters were canning pickled beets. He ran around the corner of his barn and saw 6 strange horses saddled and breathing heavily in his front yard. One man wearing green and white livery was holding the horses and watching the front door of the house with a smirk on his face. He saw the farmer running toward him and hollered into the house, “Here comes a nuther one.”
Two men came out of the house dragging Anyia by the hair and one arm. She was screaming and kicking them. She bit the hand clamped to her arm and tore free of his grasp, loosing a lock of hair in the process. She ran towards Compton, tears streaming down her face, an angry red welt already appearing on her cheek where one of the men had obviously struck her.
Compton growled in anger and charged forward, not sure what he could possibly do against 6 armed men. “Go hide! You know where!” he said to Anyia as she ran up to him. She nodded and kept running toward the barn.
Compton had a pitchfork in his hand and he charged right up to the man who’d had Anyia by the arm and attempted to spear him with the tines of the fork. The man laughed in his face as he swatted the pitchfork aside with his long sword. The fork shattered and so Compton brought the handle up to try to smash the man’s head with the broken end of the fork.
Unfortunately Compton was getting up in years and didn’t move fast enough, though he did have the physical strength of a man who’d spent his life plowing fields, working the land and raising animals. He managed to strike the man on the head, but it was only a glancing blow as the man spun away. The second man, who’d was still holding the lock of Anyia’s golden hair, brought the hilt of his sword down on the side of Compton’s head.
As Compton sunk to the ground and his vision faded, he could see Arielle being shoved up onto a horse and a man mount behind her. He heard hoof beats following in the direction Anyia had gone and felt the ground shudder beneath them. Then everything faded out and he was unconscious.
…
Compton woke abruptly to a splash of cold water in his face. He sputtered and cursed, wondering why he was being so rudely awakened. One look at his wife’s tear stained, bruised face brought back everything in a rush. He sat up groggily, rubbing his aching head, “The girls?” He croaked.
His wife couldn’t answer at first, choking back sobs, she finally managed to blurt out, “They took them both.”
Compton struggled to his feet and picked up the broken pitchfork to lean on as the ground spun under his boots. “Got to get help. Those men were from Ash’s father. They had Thornbury livery on.” He tottered toward the barn. “Help me get ole’ Bess saddled up.”
“Yer not leavin me here alone!” Margery sputtered. “I’ll hitch up the buggy.” She picked up her skirts and sprinted to the barn, Compton looking after her in amazement that the old girl could still move that fast.
In record time they had the team hitched up and were thundering down the road to Castle Redmont for help. Compton couldn’t get the thought out of his head that his adopted son, Ashton, would kill him for letting the boy’s real father get his hands on the twins. Ash would never forgive him. He had to get the girls back.
Two men came out of the house dragging Anyia by the hair and one arm. She was screaming and kicking them. She bit the hand clamped to her arm and tore free of his grasp, loosing a lock of hair in the process. She ran towards Compton, tears streaming down her face, an angry red welt already appearing on her cheek where one of the men had obviously struck her.
Compton growled in anger and charged forward, not sure what he could possibly do against 6 armed men. “Go hide! You know where!” he said to Anyia as she ran up to him. She nodded and kept running toward the barn.
Compton had a pitchfork in his hand and he charged right up to the man who’d had Anyia by the arm and attempted to spear him with the tines of the fork. The man laughed in his face as he swatted the pitchfork aside with his long sword. The fork shattered and so Compton brought the handle up to try to smash the man’s head with the broken end of the fork.
Unfortunately Compton was getting up in years and didn’t move fast enough, though he did have the physical strength of a man who’d spent his life plowing fields, working the land and raising animals. He managed to strike the man on the head, but it was only a glancing blow as the man spun away. The second man, who’d was still holding the lock of Anyia’s golden hair, brought the hilt of his sword down on the side of Compton’s head.
As Compton sunk to the ground and his vision faded, he could see Arielle being shoved up onto a horse and a man mount behind her. He heard hoof beats following in the direction Anyia had gone and felt the ground shudder beneath them. Then everything faded out and he was unconscious.
…
Compton woke abruptly to a splash of cold water in his face. He sputtered and cursed, wondering why he was being so rudely awakened. One look at his wife’s tear stained, bruised face brought back everything in a rush. He sat up groggily, rubbing his aching head, “The girls?” He croaked.
His wife couldn’t answer at first, choking back sobs, she finally managed to blurt out, “They took them both.”
Compton struggled to his feet and picked up the broken pitchfork to lean on as the ground spun under his boots. “Got to get help. Those men were from Ash’s father. They had Thornbury livery on.” He tottered toward the barn. “Help me get ole’ Bess saddled up.”
“Yer not leavin me here alone!” Margery sputtered. “I’ll hitch up the buggy.” She picked up her skirts and sprinted to the barn, Compton looking after her in amazement that the old girl could still move that fast.
In record time they had the team hitched up and were thundering down the road to Castle Redmont for help. Compton couldn’t get the thought out of his head that his adopted son, Ashton, would kill him for letting the boy’s real father get his hands on the twins. Ash would never forgive him. He had to get the girls back.