Free Full Circle by Pamela Freeman Page A

hands.
     Just as well, he thought — time to clear a path out of here. He whistled the signal Gorham taught all his horses that meant
     “Run! Follow me!” — praying to all the gods that Bramble had taught her horses the same way.
    He whirled Cam and set her straight at the woman who had called out. She didn’t believe he would ride her down at first, standing
     there grinning and waving a knife — a carving knife, big enough to disembowel Cam if she got in the right blow. Flax yelled,
     screamed as he picked up pace, no words, just anger and hate making a sound to raise the dead. The woman’s face changed as
     he came towards her. He knew he was moving fast, but to him everything seemed to move slowly. She’ll be dead if she don’t
     move, he thought, screaming, and the red-head jumped out of the way just in time.
    Mud followed immediately. They left the village at a gallop, with a thrown axe whistling past Rowan’s ear, clattering on the
     ground under Cam’s heels. She kicked backwards and kept going, Flax urging her on. He had stopped screaming, his throat raw.
     He wouldn’t be able to sing for a while.
    “Dark-haired bastards!” the red-head yelled after them. “Don’t bother running! We’ll get the shagging lot of you!”
    As though they understood her words, the horses increased their pace, Mud coming up level with Cam. They rode at a good pace
     for another half mile, until they were sure no one in the village had a horse to follow them on, then slowed.
    “Walk them,” Flax said. “Let them cool down and catch their breath. We may need them again later.”
    “Gods of field and stream!” Rowan gasped. “They would have killed us.”
    “Reckon they know the enchanter are a Traveller,” Flax said grimly. “Have you got a hat?”
    Rowan bit his lip; Flax could see he didn’t like the idea of pretending to be one of Acton’s people. But he wasn’t a fool.
     He fished a knitted cap out of his backpack and slid it on, covering his hair and ears. Odd in full summer, but by the time
     someone started to wonder about that they would be gone.
    Flax wished it were winter: the long summer twilight seemed to make them more conspicuous. So much for his cheerful mood of
     the morning.
    “I know another way,” Rowan said. “It’s longer, but it avoids most of the towns between here and Baluchston.”
    “You’ve convinced me!” Flax said, trying to sound encouraging. Ash was depending on him to look after Rowan, but it was more
     of a responsibility than he had realised. The older man looked very tired, and he squirmed in the saddle, making Mud roll
     his eyes back and flatten his ears. Flax clucked reassuringly at him and he settled down.
    “We should travel at night,” Rowan said.
    “Certain sure. And find a place to spell the horses.”
    It was a long time before they came to the small path that led off to the left, towards Baluchston. The track was rocky under
     the horses’ hooves, and Cam picked up a stone. Flax noticed almost immediately and dug it out, but she still went lame for
     a while, slowing them to the point where Flax wanted to scream — in his highest register — in frustration.
    They stopped to rest themselves and the horses at a tiny clearing where deer were drinking from a rill. The hinds startled
     away, bounding off into the shadows.
    Flax realised with satisfaction that it was almost dark. “An hour,” he said, loosening Cam’s girth and motioning Rowan to
     do the same for Mud. “We’ll give them an hour.”
    “I could use more than that,” Rowan said, sitting on a flat rock at the water’s edge. He looked up at Flax seriously. “Thank
     you, lad. I’d have been hacked to pieces if you hadn’t come back for me.”
    Flax grinned at him, feeling buoyed up and as strong as an ox. All right, they were in the wilderness with everyone’s hand
     raised against them, but it was still better than trailing around behind Zel from inn to inn, singing to clods who