Chapter One
He Regained Consciousness To Find Himself sprawled on the
ground, dizzy and confused. He tried to sit up and a wave
of pain washed over him, so profound it made him feel
sick. He couldn't move anyway. Some enormous thing was
pinning him to the ground. That thing was screaming. He
didn't believe it. This was impossible; it couldn't be
happening.
His head was a jar of thunder, but he concentrated, trying
to block pain and force awareness. The last thing he could
remember was riding along the road, thinking about what
his father had said. There was much to think about. For
once the usual litany of complaints and demands made
sense. He hadn't been paying attention to the road, but
then he never expected to be pitched off his horse. He was
an excellent rider, it was a simple country road, and the
weather was fine too. In fact, he had left the highway to
enjoy the day and relax from the hard riding he'd done all
morning.
He found the perfect place: a quiet lane surrounded by
fields of vivid yellow blooming rapeseed. Scarlet cups of
poppies bobbed above green grasses in the meadows as his
horse ambled along peacefully. He half listened to
birdsong, feeling the newly warm sun on his upturned face.
He remembered the horse stumbling, and his surprise. Then
the way he'd gripped the reins, trying to hold up the
horse by sheer force. He had heard the crack of gunfire
too.
Gunfire? He blinked, scowled, his thoughts reeling. The
war was over, this was England, he was safe, he was home.
But he'd heard gunfire β afterward, as he felt himself
beingborne down to the ground. And then crushed into it.
The light seemed to be draining away now; he could hardly
see, much less think. He ran a hand over his eyes, and
recoiled. He stared at his hand. It was dripping red. He'd
spread blood all over his face, into his eyes. His last
thought was that he really should get up and help his
horse. Except his horse was lying on him and that made it
difficult. He smiled at the absurdity, and welcomed the
darkness.
Alexandria was washing the dishes after luncheon when she
heard a babble of excited voices at the front door. She
couldn't hear what they were saying, but there was too
much commotion for her to ignore. She knew her brothers
well. She quickly laid down the dish and ran into the
front hall. When she got there she found the boys taking
the front door off its hinges.
"Have you lost your minds?" she demanded.
Rob swiped a lock of hair back from his eyes and she saw
how they sparkled. He hopped from foot to foot in a fever
of excitement. "No, Ally, but we have to carry him on
something, don't we? We can't just drag him. And where are
we going to get a hurdle? The door's fastest. It's famous!
The most exciting thing!" he said as he avidly watched
Vincent and Kit trying to unscrew the hinges. "We thought
he was dead. I was sure he was. But Vin here put his hand
on his throat and he was alive! Since we're the closest
house, we're bringing him here."
"We are?" Vin muttered as he kept trying to unscrew a
hinge off the door. "I asked the little villain to stay
with him to keep ants or animals or such away, but he
insisted on helping us. Can't blame him for not staying on
alone, though. It's a bad sight."
Alexandria sighed. Another wounded creature for her to
tend to when the boys got tired of it. "Leave the door
alone," she commanded. "Go back and treat it where you
found it. If it's that big, you can't have it."
All three boys gaped at her.
"Where are you going to put it?" she asked in
exasperation. "The barn? There's scarcely room for poor
old Thunder. And how do you know the thing isn't diseased?
We can't have Thunder catching anything. Tend to it in the
wood, and then let nature take its course. "
"It's a man," Rob said, his eyes wide. "And he's half
dead."
"There's a horse, too,"Vin said, bending to his task
again, "but I think he's all right. He's trembling and
covered with blood, but it's only a graze because you can
see a furrow where the wound is. And he's sprained a hock,
we think. But the man looks almost gone. He must have hit
his head or something. We can't tell how much of the blood
is his and how much the horse's."
"Lud!" Alexandria gasped, untying her apron. "Why didn't
you say so? You boys get the door. I'll get towels, water,
some salts...Did any of you think to fetch the doctor?"
She saw their expressions. "I didn't think so. Rob, stop
standing and gaping. Be useful. Saddle Thunder and go
fetch the doctor." She cast a critical eye on the
door. "I'll get some lard. Those old bolts will take you a
year if you don't grease them. Now, where is he?"
It was only half a mile, and Alexandria ran all the way,
but when she got there she thought she might be too late
anyway. The man lay at the side of the road at the foot of
the hedgerows. She stopped in her tracks, breathing hard,
a hand on her heart. He was a tall man, well dressed, but
he was tumbled in a graceless heap, like a child's cast-
off rag doll. The dark head was flung far back, the long
face was gray.
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