When its front hooves struck the ground, the beast wheeled and tore off toward the light. It was almost into the flames when it wheeled again.
“Damn!” I heard the rider say, as she worked almost frantically with the reins.
The horse turned again, neighing loudly. Bloody spittle dripped from its mouth. And by then the circle was closed, the smoke was heavy and the flames very near. I was in no position to help, beyond giving it a pair of sharp kicks in the flanks when it began moving in a straight line again.
It plunged into the flames to our left, almost screaming as it went. I had no idea how wide the band of fire was at that point. I could feel a searing along my legs, though, and I smelled burning hair.
Then the beast was roaring again, the rider was screaming back at it, and I found that I could no longer hold on. I felt myself sliding backward just as we broke through the ring of fire and into a charred, smoldering area where the flames had already passed. I fell amid hot black clumps; ashes rose about me. I rolled frantically to my left, and I coughed and squeezed my eyes shut against the cloud of ashes that assailed my face.
I heard the woman scream and I scrambled to my feet, rubbing my eyes. My vision came clear in time for me to see the chestnut rising from where he had apparently fallen atop his rider. The horse immediately tore off, to be lost among clouds of smoke. The woman lay very still and I rushed to her side. Kneeling, I brushed sparks from her clothing and checked for breathing and a pulse. Her eyes opened while I was doing this.
“Back’s broken I think,” she said, coughing. “Don’t feel-much. . . .Escape-if you can. . . . Leave me. I’ll die-anyway.”
“No way,” I said. “But I’ve got to move you. There’s a lake nearby, if I remember right.”
I removed my cloak where it was tied about my waist and I spread it out beside her. I inched her onto it as carefully as I could, folded it over her to protect her against the flames and began dragging her in what I hoped was the proper direction.
We made it through a shifting patchwork of fire and smoke. My throat was raw, my eyes watering steadily and my trousers on fire when I took a big step backward and felt my heel squish downward into mud. I kept going.
Finally, I was waist deep in the water and supporting her there. I leaned forward, pushed a flap of the cloak back from her face. Her eyes were still open, but they looked unfocused and there was no movement. Before I could feel for a carotid pulse, however, she made a hissing noise, then she spoke my name.
“Merlin,” she said hoarsely, “I’m-sorry-“
“You helped me and I couldn’t help you,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry I didn’t last-longer,” she continued. “No good-with horses. They’re-following you.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Called off – the dogs, though. But the – fire – is someone – else’s. Don’t know – whose.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I splashed a little water onto her cheeks to cool them. Between the soot and her singed, disheveled hair it was difficult to judge her appearance.
“Someone-behind-you,” she said, her voice growing fainter. “Someone-ahead-too. Didn’t-know-about that one. Sorry.”
“Who?” I asked again. “And who are you? How do you know me? Why-“
She smiled faintly. “. . . Sleep with you. Can’t now. Going . . .” Her eyes closed.
“No!” I cried.
Her face contorted and she sucked in a final breath. She expelled it then, using it to form the whispered words.
“Just-let me-sink here. G’bye . . .”
A cloud of smoke blew across her face. I held my breath and shut my eyes as a larger billow followed, engulfing us. When the air finally cleared again, I studied her. Her breathing had ceased and there was no pulse, no heartbeat. There was no non-burning, non-marshy area available for even an attempt at CPR. She was gone. She’d known she was going.