Chapter Twenty Nine
Three notes into the song she had been longing for for days, Argent broke off to listen to a distant bugling.
“Fath – Simon’s in trouble!”
Argent grabbed Martha’s hand and pulled her behind him. After rushing forward off the main trail for a dozen paces she dug in her heals pulled her hand free.
“Where are you taking me? What’s going on?”
“Weirs, more than a hands worth,” Argent held an open palm up towards Martha. “He needs help. We need to move now.”
“What good can we do?”
Argent gawked at her like she was the one that was crazy.
“How can we know until we arrive? When ones in distress you don’t hesitate. Either Ferus will deliver us or He’ll take us home. We can’t ignore the call!”
“What about my parents? What happens to them if I don’t make it to town? … Simon and Bildad are armed and trained, I’m not. I’m not going to throw away my life before I get the chance to – come back here, you can’t leave me alone! I’m defenseless!”
That last part … probably wasn’t a good thing to have yelled. Something fell to the ground near Argent’s feet and his silhouette melted into the evergreen’s shadows.
“Argent!” She whispered hoarsely “Argent … come back. Doesn’t my distress count?”
Martha scampered up to where he had disappeared. His belt lay there, with water skin, dagger, pouch and sentry horn attached. Martha stepped into it, pulled it up and cinched it tight. She drew the dagger and held in front of her. What sort of boy was this? A disapproving glance from Simon or Bildad makes him cower, but he runs unarmed towards an unknown number of weirs. Did he operate on instinct? There was certainly no logic to it.