Page 79 of The Courting of Bristol Keats
He lifted his hand to swipe the trees and shrubs away, to find hernow, but caught himself. She might be trapped in a snare inside the maze.
Instead, he ran, praying to Lugh that he wasn’t too late.
CHAPTER 54
The crash of swords, the yelps of beasts, the heavy thud of fallen bodies, and the whining clamor of things dying pierced the air around Bristol. Her throat burned as she helped Rose through the maze. Rose leaned on a pole they had yanked from the shrubs, her other arm tucked painfully to her stomach. Bristol gripped her by her waist, trying to steady her, knowing she was in terrible pain.
And then the noise around them stopped. They both froze, wondering at the sudden quiet. Bristol’s ears pounded with the eerie silence.
Except for a rustle. And then acrackle. Like bones. Or knuckles.
Something was in the maze with them.
The rustlings got closer.
Bristol held her finger to her lips and tried to convey to Rose with her eyes that they needed to move faster. Rose nodded, and they shot out, no longer mindful of the noise they made, racing down paths, brambles scratching their arms. Bristol pulled Rose along, sometimes dragging her, turning unknown corners out of desperation and hope. But the sound within the maze grew louder too.
Breaths.
The crunch of footfalls on leaves. It was stalking them.
Bristol hugged Rose closer to her side, almost carrying her, and then on the last turn, the exit was in sight. They’d made it. The open landscape behind the maze was visible through a narrow break in the hedge.
But then a shadow. A grunt. A thump—
A creature sprung into their path. Or a man. Bristol wasn’t sure. All he wore were tattered pants that barely went past his knees and a sword that was sheathed on his back. He was grossly muscled, his chest broad, with thick, bulging veins on the surface of his skin as if it had been turned inside out. His hair was wild and flaming red, and deep, dark sockets surrounded his burnished yellow eyes. His hand curled into a tight fist, the bones cracking with anticipation. But it was his expression that was the most frightening of all. A smile curled the edges of his thin gray lips, more distinctly human than the rest of him.
“Do you know me?” he asked.
It could speak. And its voice was strangely refined. Like the overeducated voice from some stuffy documentary.
Dread crept down Bristol’s back. She nudged Rose into position behind her, grabbing the pole from her hand in the process. The creature’s eyes narrowed as she held the stick in a blocking stance. “You need to step aside,” she told him calmly. “We’re on our way out.”
“Do you know me?” he asked again.
Should they turn and run in the other direction? But the entrance was too far, and Rose too weak. They would never make it. She whispered, “Can you run just a little farther past him—run for all you’re worth?”
“Yes,” Rose whispered back.
“On my signal,” Bristol said.
“Do you not have ears, girl?” the creature yelled. “I asked you a question! Do you know me!”
Bristol eyed him. Swallowed. Tried to make sense of his question and why it mattered. It clearly was very important to him. He was set on an answer. She had no idea who he was. “The cable man?”
“Braegor!” he snarled. “And I promise you’ll never forget my name again.”
He advanced toward them, and that was when Bristol’s attention jumped to a place just past his shoulder. “There you are! Maybe you can tell this creature—”
He barely glanced back, but Bristol used the split second to charge as she yelled to Rose, “Now!” She jammed the pole into his gut just below his ribs. Other than a slight grunt, it had zero effect except to enrage him. His huge arm swung, hitting Bristol’s stomach, sending her flying down the path. She slammed onto her back and struggled to draw a breath. Rose made it past him, but he reached out a long arm, grabbing her and lifting her by her throat. Squeezing. The crackling splintered through Bristol. Was it his knuckles—or the bones of Rose’s neck?
She gasped for breath and then screamed, “No!” scrambling for the pole, and then charged him again. When she had sparring practices with her sister, most body parts were off-limits, especially the head, but if you were fighting for your life, the head was fair game, especially the—
She hit his shoulder first—a feint so he would turn his head, and then, with every bit of strength she possessed, she plunged the end of the pole into his eye socket. He screamed and flung Rose’s limp body away. She fell with a thud not far from the exit.
Get up, Rose! Run.
But she didn’t move. Braegor stood between them as he thrashed and wailed. A foul gelatinous substance flowed from his socket.
