Page 14 of Feral Guardian
The driver is wailing quietly, his Seterian prayers filling my head with too much fear, too much pain. I reach for the handle again but my fingers are wet; they slip off without getting purchase.
There’s a thundering noise behind us and then a greatboomas ten claws dig into the top of the carriage. They begin to tear chunks of the roof away, revealing glowing red eyes and a massive horned silhouette. I scream my throat raw, reaching for my pocket with the stolen blade. A silver urictsa sword slashes overhead, catching the demon in the chest and sending it careening backwards.
The carriage bumps on as I pull my dagger free, securing it in one slick hand. The driver’s weak mumbles sound over my shoulder and I curse myself. I roll and grip a fistful of his pants, dragging myself on top of him. I slam my hand down on the ruined runes and beg for his life, to undo the damage done and fill him with blood made from my magic.
There’s a bang and pain radiates from the back of my head before I slump forward into darkness.
It starts with a throbbing at the base of my skull that makes me wish I’d died. I’m rocking side to side and something is dripping on my lips. I crack my eyes to see the ripped top of the carriage and the night sky pouring down on me.
I sit up sharply—to hell with the pain in my head—and reach for the driver. His eyes are open and glossy, rain falling in them with no reaction. I touch his pulse point to confirm it and curse.
My dagger is gone, and the driver has been stripped of his weapon, too.
So, foes it is.
I curse again. If Alastair could hear me now.
Alastair…
I need to get out of here. He’ll be able to track me with the necklace, which is still tightly wound around my neck. The carriage is moving at a much more reasonable pace, though the road is still rough. If I jumped I wouldn’t be too badly injured.
I wipe my hands on my soaking shirt and try to turn the door handle. It doesn’t budge. I look up at the rips in the ceiling. They’re not big enough to fit through, but I can fix that.
I stand on the bench and put both hands against the opening. I channel my transfiguration magic and order the boards to part for me. I’m not sure I have the strength to hoist myself out, so I create a ladder against the back wall with the extra material.
There’s a whooshing in my ears and I think it might be Nol’Ther calling. I take a step up the ladder and look over my shoulder. Strips of my wet hair that have fallen from my braid whip my cheeks, bringing a fresh sting to the cut under my left eye.
The top of the carriage driver’s head is obscured under a thick, black hood. There are two men wearing similar dark garb on horseback leading the way with torches.
“Oi!” A shout behind the carriage rings out and I turn back to see another two men on horseback behind us. “Get your pretty little head back in there or it’s comin’ off!” the man on the left yells in Seterian slang.
“She’s Fyn, you idiot! She can’t understand you!” the other man yells at him.
Leftie raises his hand and points down, then drags his thumb across his neck. “Get that, you dumb bitch?”
Yes. Yes, I do.
I drop down into the carriage and will myself to think.
Who wants me? Why?
No, those are the wrong questions.
How do I protect myself? How do I get out of this?
I have limited magic left before I’m exhausted. There are five grown men, probably more back at the battle, and they’ve abducted me from not only the queen’s royal guard, butmyroyal bodyguard, whom I’ve never seen defeated.
I will not be able to fight them off.
They don’t want me dead, or they would’ve killed me already. They’ll want me for ransom or trade. That’s what I’m good for. Or perhaps they’ve heard of my magus ability, and they want to lock me in a dungeon turning lead into gold until I croak. Either way, they want me alive for now, but that doesn’t mean they won’t hurt me.
I know what happens to young women surrounded by morally bankrupt men who have no love for them.
Protect myself.
Alastair is not dead. He will come for me. I only need to hold out and hang on. Remainunspoiled, or I will be well and truly useless to the crown.
I sit down on the bench and my eyes lock on the dead man lying across from me. Fuck me for what I’m about to do…
