Page 32 of Bloom
He’d never manage his bow on a horse who was out of control. She ran like the entire Soleilian army was chasing her down, and trees flashed by as he clung on. A few rabbits burst out of the undergrowth and fled in terror. Behind him, three sets of hooves pounded the ground as the men tried to catch up. The underbrush grew thicker as they went, and a wrong step could send them both to their death.
He chanced a glance behind him. The hood of the nearest had been blown back by the wind as his horse gave chase. Aleric still couldn’t make out his features thanks to some sort of dark grey cloth covering his face. A mask.
Whoever they were, he highly doubted they were from the court or even the city. Gautier had taken a great risk to hire three mercenaries who’d likely be passed off as outlaws by everyone else. They’d be long gone by the time Aleric was found dead in the woods. They’d steal his horse, his sword, and maybe even his clothes and boots to make it look like a convincing robbery.
Everyone would say poor Aleric shouldn’t have gone off alone even though the area had always been safe before. A lone man had been too tempting.
He tried to be smaller as Mighty ran and sweated. Forget trying to guide her in her condition. He could only hope the three horses behind him flagged first. He ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch and contemplated trying an arrow despite the movement.
Too risky. An arrow whizzed by his head and missed him by a couple of inches. It’s a lot easier to aim and release when the target is ahead and doesn’t require the archer to twist around. He jerked on the reins, trying to force Mighty to go right around a couple of thick trees growing near each other, which would keep him a little too close to the forerider.
Mighty neighed and followed her chosen course anyway.
Pain pierced his back through his vest and shirt and made him grunt at the suddenness as a barbed arrow spun into his flesh.
“Fuck…”
His first instinct was to rip out the thing hurting him. One had nailed him to the right in his back. He clutched the reins instead since a freely bleeding hole was the last thing he needed. He had to remain calm. One arrow didn’t mean death, and he was sure it hadn’t pierced a lung. The pain was enough to make him grit his teeth.
If they’d hit him once, they could do it again. How he wished he’d been born a fairy who could throw fire or lightning instead of needing to channel it through a damn weapon.
Mighty let out a scream, and he wasn’t sure if she’d been hit too or not. Every single movement made the arrow hurt worse as he told himself to suck it up and deal while his heart thudded. If he had any chance to survive, he would, and he wasn’t dying as a sniffling, crying mess.
If they reached him, he wouldn’t beg either. He’d fight them until his last breath no matter what they did to him. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the forerider creeping up on his charger with his sword drawn. Lightning crackled around the blade.
He was like Aleric which would even things a little. If he preferred to do things directly…Aleric drew his sword and switched it to his left hand so he wouldn’t have to lean, twist, and possibly further open the wound in his back. The damn barbed arrow was more painful than he’d ever expected since he’d never been shot with one, and it made him hyper-aware of every bump in the ground as Mighty continued galloping despite frothing with sweat and heaving for air. Lightning formed around his blade.
The rider, with only his eyes showing through holes in the black cloth mask that covered his face, struck out.
It wasn’t a neat blow with the movement of his mount, and Aleric managed to parry it despite using his left hand. He hadn’t been neat either, and the clashing sent jarring pain throbbing through him. It was better than being sliced and shocked by the enemy’s magic.
The rider switched hands, jerked his horse closer, and reached over.
Mighty screamed with the other horse being so close, and Aleric grunted as his hair was yanked. For a moment, he thought he’d be pulled off and trampled. He blindly slashed to his left, and the pressure vanished as his sword struck something, although he wasn’t sure if he’d inflicted a mortal wound or not. Mighty jerked aside to avoid a clump of bushes, and another arrow missed him.
Far ahead through the trees, he caught sight of a clearing and tiny flashes of color. People. They were far but near enough to where the other three would surely flee. They wouldn’t risk themselves against so many. He just had to make it.
Something entered his back with such force, it went all the way through. All he felt was pressure until he noticed the metal sticking out of his front and gleaming with his blood. A spear. One had thrown a spear and hit his mark. The agony came so swiftly, he almost blacked out.
Mighty’s sides heaved as she sweated. The forerider was suddenly gone. Aleric dropped his sword as he clutched at the reins and struggled to stay upright. Mighty flew into the clearing. Several of the riders were on one side, and a man was holding up five rabbits by the ears. A woman screamed, and the proud hunter turned.
Aleric gritted his teeth as the end of the spear sticking out of him sagged and seemed to pull on his insides. Hot blood wasdribbling down his front. The physician was among the group, and he realized their intent might not have been to kill him in the woods. If they failed, there was another way.
Father was in the group, and if Aleric could tell him-he wouldn’t listen. The thought started unraveling, and his heart ached while thudding as if it couldn’t cope anymore. Blood was seeping into his trousers.
Mighty, pushed beyond her limit, bucked as if to throw him and be rid of the weight. The movement jerked the spear and arrow lodged in his torso. He barely managed to hold on as the courtiers shouted, and several came toward him. The physician yelled, and he caught sight of Gautier who yelled to calm the horse.
“Get him off!” Father’s voice came through quite clearly for a moment before Mighty finally got her wish.
“Dear Elira! He’s been hit.”
Mighty must have jerked or bucked. He didn’t remember. One second, he was clinging on and trying to stay upright and conscious. In the next, the ground slammed into his side. The agony pulled him completely under. Bits made it through. Shouts sounded far away. The ground was cold under him. Or he was cold. He wasn’t sure. His torso throbbed nonstop, and he was sure he tasted blood.
Someone grabbed his arm. “Aleric!”
Jaime. He couldn’t be a part of this, right? He was too new. Other voices spoke, and he heard something about holding him so the physician could remove the spear.
And give him medicine. A tincture for blood loss. Another to calm and sedate him. He might not ever wake up. He had to tell Jaime, Father, everyone. He couldn’t quite make his mouth work, and everything was fading. Colors and things he couldn’t define bled in and out of his vision. Jaime’s face was suddenly quite close and clear enough.
