Only the Worthy Read Online Free PDF Page A

against it with all his might and it
opened with a scraping sound, releasing ancient air. A burst of cold air rushed
into the fort.
    Barely had it
opened than he pushed her and her baby out the back.
    Rea found
herself immersed in the snowstorm, stumbling down a steep, snowy riverbank,
clutching her baby. She slipped and slid, feeling as if the world were
collapsing beneath her, barely able to move. As she ran, lightning struck an
immense tree close to her, lighting up the night, and sent it crashing down too
close to her. The baby screamed. She was horrified: never would she have
believed that lightning could strike in a snowstorm. This was indeed a night of
omens.
    Rea slipped
again as the terrain grew steep, and this time she landed on her butt. She went
flying, and she cried out as the slope took her all the way down toward the
riverbank.
    She breathed
with relief to reach it and realized if she hadn’t slid all this way, she
probably could not have made the run. She glanced back uphill, shocked at how
far she had come, and watched in horror as the knights invaded Fioth’s fort and
set it ablaze. The fire burned strongly, even in the snow, and she felt an
awful wave of guilt, knowing the old man had died for her.
    A moment later
knights burst out the back door, while more horses galloped around it. She
could see they’d spotted her, and without pausing raced for her.
    Rea turned and
tried to run, but there was nowhere left to go. She was in no condition to run,
anyway. All she could do was drop to her knees before the riverbank. She knew
she would die here. She had reached the end of her rope.
    Yet hope
remained for her baby. She looked out and saw a tangle of sticks, perhaps a
beaver’s nest, so thick it resembled a basket. Driven by a mother’s love, she
thought quickly. She reached over and grabbed it and quickly placed her baby
inside it. She tested it, and to her relief, it floated.
    Rea reached out
and prepared to shove the basket into the calm river’s waters. If the current
caught it, it would float away from here. Somewhere down river. How far, and
for how long, she did not know. But some chance of life was better than none.
    Rea, weeping,
leaned down and kissed her baby’s forehead. She leaned back and shrieked with
grief. Hands shaking, she removed the necklace from around her neck and placed
it around her baby’s.
    She clasped her
hands over both of his.
    “I love you,”
she said, between sobs. “Never forget me.”
    The baby
shrieked as if he understood, a piercing cry, rising even above the new clap of
thunder and lightning, even above the sound of approaching horses.
    Rea knew she
could wait no longer. She gave the basket a push, and soon, the current caught
it. She watched, sobbing, as it disappeared into the blackness.
    She had no
sooner lost sight of it than the clanging of armor appeared behind her—and she
wheeled to find several knights dismounting, but feet away.
    “Where’s the
child?” one demanded, his visor lowered, his voice cutting through the storm.
It was nothing like the visor of the man who had had her. This man wore red
armor, of a different shape, and there was no kindness in his voice.
    “I…” she began.
    Then she felt a
fury within her—the fury of a woman who knew she was about to die. Who had
nothing left to lose.
    “He’s gone,” she
spat, defiant. She smiled. “And you shall never have him. Never .”
    The man groaned
in anger as he stepped forward, drew a sword, and stabbed her.
    Rea felt the
awful agony of steel in her chest, and she gasped, breathless. She felt her
world becoming lighter, felt herself immersed in white light, and she knew that
this was death.
    Yet, she felt no
fear. Indeed, she felt satisfaction. Her baby was safe.
    And as she
landed face-first in the river, the waters turning red, she knew it was over.
Her short, hard life had ended.
    But her boy
would live forever.
     
    *
     
    The peasant
woman, Mithka, knelt by the river’s edge, her