Soul of the Fire

"I'm not warning you boys again," she said, this time in a growl that lifted the hair at the back of Fitch's neck. "Give it over, and give it over now."

While she was glaring grimly at Fitch, Morley moved on her. He swung his big fist to punch the side of her head. As hard as he swung, Fitch thought he was going to kill her with the first blow.

The woman didn't even look Morley's way. She caught his fist in the flat of her hand, yanked it around, and in a blink spun under it, twisting his arm around behind him. Her teeth clenched, and she drove his arm up. Fitch was shocked to hear Morley's shoulder let out a sickening pop. Morley cried out. The pain dropped him to his knees.

This woman was like no woman Fitch had ever seen before. Now, she was coming for him. She wasn't ru

He stood frozen, not knowing what to do. He didn't want to abandon his friend, but his feet wanted to run. He didn't want to give up the sword, either. He blindly groped the crenellated wall behind him as he started backing along it. Morley was up. He rushed the woman. She just kept coming for Fitch-for the sword. Fitch decided he might have to take the sword out and stab her-in the leg, or something, he speculated. He could wound her.

But then it didn't look like he was going to have to; Morley was closing on her, an enraged bull at full charge. There would be no stopping the big man this time.

Without even turning to the onrushing Morley, she smoothly sidestepped-never taking her glare from Fitch- and brought her arm up, ramming her elbow squarely, into Morley's face.

His head snapped back. Blood sprayed out.

Not even breathing hard, she turned and seized Morley's good left hand. With her fingers in his palm and her thumb on the back of his hand, she bent it down at the wrist until Morley's knees were buckling as she backed him toward the wall.

Morley was whimpering like a child, begging her to stop. His other arm was useless. His nose had been flattened horribly. Blood gushed from his face. It had to be all over her, too, but with her red leather, Fitch couldn't tell.

She backed Morley steadily, mercilessly, to the wall. Without a word, she seized him by the throat with her other hand, and, calmly, indifferently, shoved him backward through the notch of a crenellation, out into thin air.

Fitch's jaw dropped. He never expected her to do that- for it to go that far.

Morley screamed his lungs out as he dropped backward down the side of the mountain. Fitch stood frozen, listening to his friend from the flat place of Anderith plummet down the side of a mountain. Morley's scream abruptly ended.

The woman wasn't talking anymore, making any more demands. She was simply coming for Fitch, now. Her blue eyes fixed on him. He knew without doubt that if she caught him, she'd kill him, too.

This was no Claudine Winthrop. This was no woman who was going to call him "sir."

Fitch's feet finally got their way.

If there was one thing about Fitch that was better than Morley and all his muscles, it was that Fitch could run like the wind. Now, he ran like a gale.

A quick glance back shocked him; the woman could run faster. She was tall, and had longer legs. She was going to catch him. If she did, she'd smash his face, just as easily as she smashed Morley's. She'd throw him to his death, too. Or take the sword from him and cut out his heart.

Fitch could feel tears streaming down his cheeks. He'd never run so fast. She was ru

He flew down steps, falling more than ru

Fitch, clutching the Sword of Truth to his chest, sailed through a doorway, caught the edge of the thick door with his free hand, and slammed it shut. As the door was still banging closed in its frame, he toppled a big stone pedestal across the floor behind the door. It was heavier than the white marble columns, but his terror gave him strength.

Just as the granite pedestal hit the floor, she crashed into the heavy oak door. The impact drove the door open a few inches. Dust billowed up. Everything was still for a moment; then the woman let out a dazed groan and Fitch knew she'd been hurt.

Not wasting the chance, he ran on through the Wizard's Keep, closing doors, pushing things over behind them if there was anything handy. He didn't even know if he was going the right way. His lungs burned as he ran, crying for his friend. Fitch could hardly believe it had happened, that Morley was dead. He kept seeing the image over and over in his mind. He almost expected the big dumb fool to catch up and grin and say it was a joke.

The sword in Fitch's arms had cost Morley his life. Fitch, had to wipe at his eyes so he could see. A look over his shoulder showed a long, twisting, empty hallway.

But he could hear doors crashing open. She was coming.

She wasn't going to quit for nothing. She was an avenging spirit come to take his life in return for him removing the Sword of Truth from its place in the Wizard's Keep. He ran on, faster.

Fitch burst out into the sunlight, disoriented for a moment. He twisted around and saw the horses. Three. His and Morley's, and the woman's. Saddlebags with her things hung on the fence.

In order to free his hands, Fitch ducked his head under the sword's baldric, setting the leather strap over his right shoulder and diagonally across his chest to let the weapon hang at his left hip as it was designed. He caught up the reins of all three horses. He seized the saddle of the one closest and sprang up.

With a cry to urge them on, he gave his horse his heels. It was her horse; the stirrups were adjusted too long and his feet wouldn't reach them, so he hugged his legs to the horse's belly and hung on for his life as the big animal galloped through the paddock gate with the other two horses being pulled along behind.

As the horses hit the road at full speed, the woman in red stumbled out of the Keep, blood all over the side of her face. She clutched a black bottle in one hand. It was the bottle from back in the Keep, the bottle that had fallen but not broken.

He bent forward over the horse's neck as it raced down the road. Fitch glimpsed back over his shoulder. The woman was ru

Fitch tried to push thoughts of Morley from his mind. He had the Sword of Truth. Now he could go home and use it to help him prove he didn't rape Beata, and that he did what he did to Claudine Winthrop to protect the Minister from her ruinous lies.

Fitch looked over his shoulder again. She was a lot farther back, but still ru

She wasn't going to give up. She wasn't going to rest. She wasn't going to stop. If she caught him, she'd tear his heart out.

Fitch thumped his heels against the horse, urging her to run faster.