What skills did she have that could help?
Her eyes went quickly to the crock of bubbling soup that sat on the hearth’s stone a breath away from the flames.
“SURRENDER!” a man roared.
Another called out, “You cannot stop all of us at once. One of us will reach your wife and give the curse what it craves.”
“DEATH!” a man bellowed.
I never surrender.
That is what her husband had said to her. He would die trying to protect her and the thought sent a horrible ache through her. She hurried and with a slim log pushed the crock farther away from the flames. She padded her hands with wads of cloths and used them to lift the hot crock, wincing as she felt a sear to her wrist, but she did not let it stop her. She got the crock to the table, sat it down and waited.
“YOU KNOW WHAT TO DO!” one man yelled.
A roar split the air that shivered Bliss and fear had her heart beating wildly but determination kept her hands from shaking.
She heard the clash of metal and a painful scream ripped through the air. Her husband had taken down one man. A few moments later the door crashed opened, and a man rushed in. Bliss didn’t hesitate, she heaved the contents of the crock at him, the boiling soup catching him in the face and neck. He stumbled back screaming and grabbed at his scorched face, then passed out, collapsing outside the door.
She hurried to shut the door and secure it; confident her husband could easily handle the three men left. Before she could get it closed another man shoved it open sending her tumbling back, but she managed to stay on her feet.
The man laughed. “No place to hide.”
His smug laugh and pause gave her just enough time to grab the crock and fling it at him. It caught his forehead high up and as he stumbled she grabbed a log.
“You witch,” the man yelled, as he steadied himself and swiped his sleeve-covered arm across his brow several times to clear away the blood spilling down to pool in one eye. He threw curses at her, the bleeding growing worse, and lunged at her once again.
She threw the log and caught his head again and he fell back against the wall.
Anger got him to his feet fast and she reached for another log, but she wasn’t fast enough. His hands caught around her throat tight and squeezed.
She clawed at his hands, but his strength was too much for her, she couldn’t budge them. She tried for his gut and hit solid muscle and he laughed.
He yanked her close to him and he whispered harshly, “You’re going to die.”
He was right, life was draining out of her when suddenly he loosened his hold and dragged her across the room to slam her down on the bed.
“I will make you suffer before I squeeze the last breath from you,” he said with a sneer and tightened his hands at her throat.
She pushed at him, but her strength was waning, and her vision blurring, and her hands fell off him. She gasped as breath returned to her and she heard him laugh.
“Soon you will breathe no more,” he said and squeezed her throat again.
The slight reprieve returned a modicum of strength to her, and she did not waste what little time she had. With her hand dangling off the side of the bed she was able to grab the small, empty bucket and fling it at his head.
It caught the open wound on his head, and he fell off her with a yell, stumbling to stay on his feet, then with fury molting his face red, he launched himself at her.
He didn’t get far before he was yanked back and spun around to face the raging cursed lord.
Bliss cringed; her husband’s face twisted with such savagery that she thought she was looking upon the devil himself.
Rannick dragged the man outside and soon after, horrifying screams filled the air.
Bliss struggled a bit to sit up, her strength not having fully returned to her. She took low steady breaths, working sufficient air back into her body. She had come close to losing her life—her hand went to rest at her neck—and now thinking on it, she realized that the men had come after Rannick and her with a vengeance. They would not stop. More would come. They could not remain here alone.
“BLISS!”
She raised her head, not realizing she’d been staring at the floor. Her husband stood, as if frozen, in the doorway. She didn’t hesitate, she bolted off the bed and ran straight for him.
Rannick caught her around the waist with one arm, and her arms rushed around his neck to cling tightly to him. He kept his bloody axe clasped in his other hand, not ready to let go of it just yet. He hugged her tightly against him, relieved he had gotten to her in time. His heart nearly failing him when he saw the man easily fling open the cottage door as he fought the other men. But his fury knew no bounds when he had entered the cottage and saw the man lunge at his wife.