Page 13 of Feral Guardian
A curse tumbles from my lips.
There’s a heavythunkon the carriage wall behind me and I spin with a yelp. An arrowhead protrudes through the black velvety interior. Another rips through, closer to the front and then I hear a distressed cry. The carriage shakes and the driver hits the ground beside my door, a feathered shaft sticking out of his chest.
His pained wail spurs me into action, and I throw open the door.
“Get up! Get in!” I yell at him but fear my words have been lost in the screams of panicked guards and thetinksof arrows deflecting off armor.
The driver is cradling his wound, eyes pinched shut as he gurgles his agony to the sky. I look left and right, then jump down. I grab him under the arms and he shrieks louder as I pull on him.
“Stand up! Get in!” I scream again and some part of him responds to my commands.
We crawl into the back of the carriage, and I close the door. He falls onto the seat on his back and I kneel beside him, my eyes going everywhere all at once. Blood is seeping slowly from the wound and turning his sweat-stained shirt red.
I grip the edges of the hole in his shirt and rip it wider to get a look at the wound, causing him to cry out again and grip my wrist in fear. His wound is deep and fatal. My magic alone can’t fix this.
“Please,” he sputters in Seterian. “I don’t want—want to.”
“You’re not going to die,” I say, my voice coming out with more conviction than I feel.
I’ve managed healing runes before, but not this intense. The damage is serious, and the types of tissue I’ll need to repair…
Shit, I need to get the arrowhead out if I have any hope of healing him.
“I have to remove this,” I say, grabbing the shaft of the arrow.
“No, no, no,” he whimpers, holding my wrist tighter.
“I’m royal blood, my magic is strong,” I assure him.
The carriage rocks violently and we both scream; I in fear, he in pain.
I vaguely hear bellowed commands from Alastair. He’s got this under control. He’ll protect me. I need to heal this man before he dies.
Without warning, I use my other hand to pull the arrow from the driver’s chest. His scream pierces the air and my thundering heart, but I don’t slow down. I yank my other arm free from his grasp and rip open his shirt wider.
His chest is pocked with old scars and a thin layer of dirt clings to his sweaty flesh. I dip my shaking fingers into his blood and draw the first rune, Yegress’s life bringer, Ina, upright and strong, at the top of the wound.
“Yegress, help me heal this man,” I say over the cries of my charge.
There’s a deep roar outside the carriage and fear shoots through me anew. It sounded like a monster. Could a beast of the Hollows come for us? No, there were arrows.
The driver’s cries are getting wetter. His lungs are punctured. I need to go faster.
I dip my finger in his blood and draw the next rune at the bottom, Nol’Ther’s eternal sleep, Hycin, inverted. “Stay far from us. It is not this man’s time.”
He begins praying in Seterian, blood spraying from his lips and hitting my tear-streaked cheeks.
I draw the last rune, Eyzanth’s luck, Phi, upright. “Give this man the chance he deserves.”
These are broad runes, with vague meaning. I know if I’d had time to think, I could’ve conjured something more specific, but it’s the best I can do. I hope it’s enough.
I press my palm over the open wound, my fingers touching each of the marks I’ve made, and pour my magic into him. Green light flows over his skin and the runes come alive. I feel his skin tighten beneath me and he screams louder. He tries to knock me away, but I hold firm, batting off his attempts with my other hand.
The carriage shakes hard, and I fall back. My blood-slick fingers slip off his chest and the connection to my healing runes is lost. The driver yowls in a fresh wave of pain. The carriage is moving chaotically, and my slippery hands can’t hold onto the walls. I get up just enough to fall again, hitting my head against the other bench.
Sound dims in a flash like I need to pop my ears, but I can’t. The carriage is moving at a breakneck pace, bumping along the rough road and throwing me from side to side. I lean against the door and grope for the handle. I need to know who’s driving: friend, or foe.
Another monstrous roar splits the night, and five thick claws drag through the carriage wall. I can’t move away fast enough and one of those claws rips across my face. I scream at the sharp sting and cradle my cheek.
