Page 55 of Evil Hearts

My heart pounds in my chest, as I struggle to release my daggers. This isn’t a game anymore.

Out of sheer desperation, I reach into my pouch, looking for something, anything to help me. I try thinking of what Aelia had in her inventory before I went under, but my mind comes up blank. My fingers, rooting around in the surprisingly spacious leather satchel, close around something solid. I pull the small glass ball out, watching as the red liquid inside sloshes around.

A health potion.

A health potion?

The lead bandit stalks closer now, and with no other option, I uncork the vial. I gag as I down it in one swift gulp. Why couldn’t they have made it fruit-flavored? Warmth spreads through my body, healing the aches I’d grown accustomed to. The dizziness from the earlier shock fades, and my hands steady.

Out of the woods, a second bandit joins the leader, with an arrow knocked and ready in his bow. Centered directly at my chest.

My eyes widen in panic. I have to act now. But how? It’s not like I could use any spells, and I don’t have a plan.

Then, something in my brain just seems to click.

I’m a rogue. I know how to do this.

My body is moving before I even have time to think it through. I unhook my daggers with grace, holding one firmly in each hand. Not in defense, but with purpose. The bandit chuckles as I narrow my eyes, and steps forward to swing his axe again. But this time, I’m ready for him.

I sidestep, missing the blow by inches. With a grunt, I spin bringing my daggers down in an arc that catches him acrossthe arm. He howls in pain, stumbling back, before falling to his knees. My daggers have sliced clean through.

It’s enough. The bandit with the bow hesitates, sparing his boss a glance. I don’t waste time, lunging forward, daggers raised high. I run for the man with the bow, screaming a blood-curdling scream of war, and just as I reach him, I trip over a pebble. I fall forward, my daggers missing his chest with my flailing arms and stabbing him in the balls.

It’s too late to stop my forward momentum as I continue the tumble, taking him with me. My daggers slice through his skin like butter, traveling down the entirety of his crotch and into his legs.

The ground meets up with a hard thump, and I gag as I push myself off of the now unmoving bowman.

It’s done.

I stand there, dagger in each hand, breaths coming in short pants as I try to ignore the smell of death. Adrenaline courses through my body as I take in the aftermath. How the hell did I just survive? A part of me wonders if I should be worried. Is my body changing to match the game?

But I don’t have time to dwell. I can’t. The forest is still too quiet, and there are likely more bandits waiting for their friends to return. I doubt four bandits could take down an Orc, no matter what he does for a living. My quest, my purpose, is still waiting for me.

Ganesh… is still waiting for me.

Footsteps pound behind me and I twirl around, barely evading the sword swinging for my neck. Bandits explode from the forest, wasting no time checking on their dead friends. I do what I can to take each one down as they reach me, but it’s no use. I’m a flurry of movement, but they just keep coming. They close in around me until there’s nowhere to run. And God knows I can’t rely on any Rougish tricks.

A scarred man with a solid white eye steps forward with a sneer. “Looks like we gots ourselves a little fighter, men.” He mocks me, eyeing my daggers hanging limply at my side. My chest heaves with each breath, and it’s taking everything to ignore the shallow cuts peppering my body. “But youse all alone in the big dark forest, and we not.”

I scan my surroundings, trying to calm my racing heart as I scramble for a plan. There have to be eight or nine of them still left, outnumbering me. I’m just a barista in the woods with no skills, no magic, and no idea how to escape.

Before I can react, one of the bandits moves quicker than I can track. A rough hand grips my arm, yanking me backward. I swing my other arm, stabbing my dagger into his eye. His mouth opens in a terrible scream, spittle flying into my face as chaos erupts around me.

“Feisty,” the seemingly newly appointed leader yells out. “But that won’t save youse now.”

I grit my teeth, twisting and ducking to get free from the crowd, but every time I dodge past one, another closes in. One of them knocks me to the ground with a well-aimed strike to my side, forcing the air from my lungs. Pain blooms in my ribs and I cough, crawling onto my hands and knees, disoriented.

“Get her up,” the scarred leader bites out through clenched teeth. A rough hand tightens around my arm, bruisingly, as another bandit yanks me to my feet. He shoves me away from him and I stumble.

My knees shake but I bite back against the pain of the struggle. I refuse to let them see me as weak. But the bandits don’t care, weak or willing, all they see is opportunity.

”Youse comin’ wif us,” the leader grins maniacally. “I’s got a plan fer ya’s.”

My heart sinks at the implications written all over his face. It’s clear he won’t find robbing me fun. No. He plans to take me farinto the forest, somewhere no one will hear me scream… and he plans to break me. The thought of losing my will to this man makes my stomach churn, and I desperately try one more last-ditch effort to escape.

The men hoot with laughter as I make it a yard or two before a thick, heavy rope is thrown around my neck, pulling me up short. They drag me through the forest, stumbling over roots and rough terrain for who knows how long before my legs give out.

I fall slowly, smashing my head into a rock, and blissfully fall into the darkness.

---