Just breathe, Teth told herself. She stared at the dusty road before her, studied each pothole, every loose stone, searched for anything that might catch her toe or disrupt her balance. The beginning would be a sprint, she knew that. They’re out for blood now, she thought. If they catch me, they’ll get it.

  In confirmation, a hand shoved her from behind. She stumbled slightly toward the white line across the road. An elbow caught her shoulder as she rose, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Bitch,” a voice whispered, “you’re goin’ down and every one of us is gonna take a piece of ya as we go by.”

  “. . . . over Cat’s Back Hill and across the old wooden bridge,” the booming voice of the governor droned, explaining the course they were preparing to run. Teth already knew it by heart, so she let his voice fade into the back of her mind. She pushed her short, fine hair behind her ears, adjusted the rolled-up sleeves of her silk shirt, a gift from Ipid meant for something very different from running.

  “You’re an Order-cursed witch,” another voice whispered. “We’re gonna find ya after this. You’ll get yirs.” A fist struck her left shoulder blade, nearly sent her to her knees.

  “Just start the damned race,” she hissed at the governor. But he was taking his time. He was no more fond of her than the boys, was just as embarrassed by the four first-place coins she had already taken, by the antics they had pulled to keep her from winning more. For his own sake, he’d do what he could to keep them from hurting her too badly, but he would do nothing about the jostling, the name calling, the trampling she’d receive if they caught her once the race started.

  “No one’s ever gonna join ya. You’ll be an ol’ witch hag just like yir aunt.” A thumb in the kidney.

  “Not even a girl.” An elbow to the ribs.

  “Should be in a travelin’ show, freak.” A boot to the calf.

  “Too bad ol’ man Ronigan’s protectin’ ya. We’d be rid of ya and yir witch aunt.” A push in the back of the head.

  “Does everyone understand the course?” the governor asked. “It’s five thousand paces. Take it easy, now. Most of you have never run anything close to that, and it’s a hot day. I know you all want to win, but it’s not worth hurting yourselves.” Teth was bouncing between the boys at the front of the line like a bean in a rattle. The insults had stopped, but the boys were only getting bolder with their assaults as no one moved to stop them.

  The governor looked straight at Teth. “Does anyone want to bow out? There’s no shame in it. It’s a long race, a lot of road to cover, and no help along the way.” His eyes almost pleaded. He knew what Ipid Ronigan’s wrath would be if the boys got their way. Ronigan & Galbridge owned the lumber rights for the whole damned district, owned every man here. It wouldn’t look good if the last remaining Galbridge was killed in a foot race.

  An especially strong shove put Teth on her hands and knees. She shot back up, wiped the dirt and blood from her hands onto her pants. “Just start the race,” she snarled.

  “Very well,” the governor sighed, “just remember, you brought this on yourself.” He raised his hand and looked down the line. Teth studied the burly young men on either side of her, the Durry brothers. They’d try to take her down before she got off the line. She was ready. “Everyone set?” The governor paused, drew a deep breath. Teth followed suit. “Go!”

  Teth placed a hand on a shoulder of each Durry brother and pushed off to hurl herself above the feet that swept toward hers. She leapt forward, ducking below an outstretched arm, and ran for all she was worth. She had already won the sprint earlier in the day. She knew that no boy here could catch her in the first two hundred paces, but she had to save enough strength to complete the rest of the race. If they caught her halfway through, it would be ten-times worse, there would be no one to stop them, no one scrape what was left of her from the road.

  From ahead and to the side, she saw Ben Tullow shooting toward her. Where had he come from? She anticipated his arrival, watched his arms stretching out to catch her. He wasn’t even being subtle. He was going to tackle her. As he hurtled in, reaching for her, she shifted, caught his arm and spun around him. He lost his footing and fell in a tangle, taking down the three boys that were closest to her. She landed smoothly, did not miss a stride. She barely felt her doeskin shoes hitting the packed-dirt road. They were used to forest trails. This was easy, mindless.

  Certain of the road now, Teth spared a glance behind. The boys were fading. The first threat was past, but she felt her heart hammering, her lung struggling to keep up with the demands of her body. She slowed, allowed herself to recover. The next wave would be upon her soon.

  When she had arrived at the district games that morning, the boys had jostled her, teased, laughed, but they hadn’t taken her seriously. No girl had ever competed in the games before, but as Teth had pointed out, there was no law that said she couldn’t. The men seemed to think it an opportunity to put the uppity girl in her place. They laughed and let her line up for the sprint.

  When she won by five paces they stopped laughing. When she won at a thousand paces, took both archery competitions, then lost climbing on a made-up technicality and tracking to blatant cheating, they became angry. She did not enter the brute force competitions: tree felling, log lifting, axe throwing, and the officials drew the line at wrestling. That left this as their final chance for revenge. She had heard them plotting before the race, knew what they planned: trip her, then kick her as they went by, leave her bloody, make sure she’d never run again.

  The thought gave her another charge of energy. She looked behind her and saw the boys who had saved themselves from the sprint pacing behind her, waiting for her to tire. She had fifty strides on them, but she wasn’t gaining any longer and her legs were straining. Coming into this, she had known that the boys wouldn’t like it, but she had never expected this kind of vitriol. Humiliation was their usual tactic, she was used to that, knew all their insults, all their pranks, but this was something new. She was not even sure if Ipid’s name could protect her now.

  Around a bend, she saw the first big hill in front of her, Cat’s Back Hill. A rope line ran along the side of the road to ease wagons down so they did not overrun their teams. It was that steep. They would try to catch her here. A look back showed six boys breaking into a sprint. Teth met their pace, hit the hill, and felt her momentum stop. Damn it’s steep. Her toes slipped on the loose dirt, she sprawled forward, caught herself, and leapt forward, but that did not stop the whoop from behind her. Her legs burned as her feet dug for purchase. She spread her legs, used the inside of her feet to improve her grip. A boy, she wasn’t sure who, closed to a few feet. His big strides propelled him up the hill. Teth gasped. He was going to catch her. She leapt forward and caught a glimpse of his outstretched hand as it swept past her ankle and fell back down the hill.

  Her desperate strides launched her up the steepest part of the hill, leaving the boys well behind. She slowed and drew gasping breaths. The cramp in her side nearly doubled her over. Her heart felt like it would leap from her chest if it didn’t explode first. Just have to get to the top, she told herself. She struggled to the crest and stopped to catch her breath. She could run for hours through the forest without stopping but not at a sprint.

  She took a deep breath, spit in the dirt, and started down the other side. It was just as steep and almost more treacherous going down, but she had a plan. If the boys could cheat, so could she. She pulled a leather strap from the pocket of her pants and wrapped it around her left hand. She angled toward the tow line, threw the strap over it, wrapped the free end around her right hand, and pushed off. She pulled herself up, held her legs out straight, and slid down the rope, mere inches from the dirt. The smell of burning leather filled the air as she flew down the hill. She watched a huge tree approach where the rope was tied at the bottom. If she hit it at her current speed, they’d be scraping her off the bark. She planted her
heels, felt the road ripping through her shoes. She barely slowed. Desperate, she unwound the thong from her hand, planted her outside foot, and rolled. Her shoulder hit the ground with a shock, and she spun violently for twenty paces before her momentum died. Rubbing her shoulder, she rose, shook the cobwebs from her head and ran.

  The race was halfway through. A glace behind her showed the first of the boys cresting the hill. They did not start down after her. Instead they began pulling on the rope. A new set of fresh legs had yet to come, and the race was only halfway through. She ran on.

  Chapter 2

 
H. Nathan Wilcox's Novels