Mary fumbled at the leather strap securing her left wrist. She forced herself to ignore the pain
pulsating in both of her hands. She had just narrowly missed the Mayor smash a sword down
against the altar she had been, only moments earlier, securely fastened to. She could not
understand why the Mayor of Kirkfale had strapped her to a stone table or why he was now
fighting her husband with swords, of all things. She had to free the band around her left wrist
before the Mayor attacked her again, but her strength was waning, her nails were broken and
blood oozed from the tips. Her wrists were red raw and blistered. The lace from her sleeves
stuck to her skin in the seeping blood. She stopped struggling; her strength all gone. What"s
the point, she thought, and as she rested her head on the stone slab, defeated, its coldness
provided a momentary distraction. However, behind her she could still hear the grunts and
clangs…
She wanted to peer over and see what was happening, but feared to in case she saw
something that would break her heart. The last thing she wanted was to watch Michael die, she
loved him too much. No! I have to get out of here and get help.
She spotted a glint of light; it looked like a dagger and reaching her hand out she realised it
was too far out. Sighing, she closed her eyes knowing what she must do. One, two, three…
she jerked toward the dagger and felt a clunk in her shoulder as it dislocated. Wincing with
pain, she hoped it did not signal a long term injury. When the pain became bearable, she
reached for the dagger again.
Eventually her hand came across the dagger"s handle and she grabbed it as quietly and
quickly as possible. Bringing the dagger round, she reached up to her bound wrist and began
moving the blade back and forth as if it was a saw. Slowly, the dagger began cutting through
the leather.
