The hunters stood around her, the leader wrapping the long chain around his clawed hand. He tugged it. “Up you go, Lady Veronica. Unless you prefer to be dragged.”
Nic forced herself to her feet, her body feeling as weighted as wet sand. She was more exhausted than she’d realized, the aftermath of flight and terror leaving her weak and shaking. Hopefully she hadn’t harmed the tiny life inside her. “Drink,” the hunter leader said, thrusting the flask at her.
Eyeing it dubiously, Nic shook her head. “I have my own.”
“No.” It flicked clawed fingers, and the hunters swarmed her, a stifling and invasive search of her person she was unable to stop. It ended with her hands tied behind her back and all of her pocketed supplies—including her hard-earned coin—in the possession of the loathsome creatures. “Drink,” the leader said again, yanking her head back by her hair and pouring the water down her throat, forcing her to swallow or choke.
She sputtered when it finally released her, shaking her head to rid her face of the spilled water, then spat the little in her mouth at the leader. “When I am in power, you will suffer,” she vowed.
It grinned at her. “Lucky for me, that day will never come, Lady Veronica Elal. You are nothing but a familiar. Bessidess, you and I sserve the ssame massterss—and they are not kind to thosse who attempt to esscape their reach. I have the better of you, now and always. Come. Walk.” It yanked her chain, forcing her to stumble forward, and they began the long trek back to the sea.
Gabriel left thebaffled coach driver behind. Securing Veronica’s bag to Vale’s saddle, he turned the horse back the way they’d come. How could he have missed her? He could only blame being overwhelmed by the enormity of her nearness, after following the thin thread of connection over that long distance of waves and days. Landing in Port Anatole had been like plunging into a vat of rose-scented red wine. Veronica was everywhere.
He set his jaw in frustration, trying not to give in to the fear. His barge had docked ahead of the ones the hunters had taken. He’d been sure of that much because he’d used all the water magic in him to make even that janky conveyance nearly fly through the waves. After that, it hadn’t taken long to triangulate on the inn where she’d stayed for several days. If he’d only landed one day sooner. Or even a few hours…
Still, he’d been confident of catching up to her coach quickly. Overconfident, apparently. She’d sensed him coming—which, had he been thinking at all, he would have realized, that she would be able to sense the silver threads of attention he’d fastened to her—and she’d fled. Running from him yet again. By herself, with nothing, not even her bag, into a trackless grassland of ferns and slight trees that the locals had sorrowfully suggested couldn’t be survived for long without plenty of supplies.
He considered taking a diagonal through the forest to intercept her, but thought better of it and walked Vale back to where she’d left the coach and the road. Vale needed to go at an easier pace for a while, and Gabriel could follow her physical trail better that way. Less chance of missing her by some ill luck. The grasslands weren’t unlike parts of Meresin, and he’d grown up hunting there. She was on foot, so he’d catch up to her eventually.
And then, once he got his hands on her…
He didn’t know.
“We’ll just cross that chasm when we pitch headfirst into it, eh, buddy?” he muttered to Vale, who swiveled his ears in solidarity. That’s what Gabriel told himself anyway.
He found the trail of bent and broken grasses fairly easily. If he’d been paying attention, instead of riding like a demon after the coach, Gabriel would’ve noticed the rather obvious trail angling away from the road. He had to admire Veronica’s determination, though what she’d planned to do to survive out here, he had no idea. Probably she’d simply panicked when she sensed his pursuit and ran. More afraid of him than of perishing out here alone.
And wasn’t that galling?
“I’ll talk to her,” he said as he mounted up to follow the trail, the horse keeping one ear swiveled back to listen. “I’ll give her a ride back to town. We’ll have a nice dinner, good wine, and we’ll have a conversation like normal—” He broke off at the exact moment that Vale’s ears shot forward.
Hunters. Their distinctive twisted magic oozed across his wizard senses. They were coming his way from up ahead. He cursed viciously under his breath. They’d been on one of the slower-moving barges. How had they outpaced him?
Dismounting, he led Vale into a thicket of trees, gave the steed the signal to be silent, and drew moonlight around them. He made this shield thicker, enough to force the sunlight away so they couldn’t be seen—and that they hopefully couldn’t see through this time. He nearly violated his own command of silence, though, when the hunters came into view—dragging Veronica along by a chain attached to a metal collar around her neck, her hands bound behind her back. Barely swallowing his outrage, he forced himself to wait and watch. All this time, he’d looked forward to laying eyes on her again, to drinking in the sight of her bright beauty and shimmering magic. It killed him to see her brought so low, sagging in dejection as she shuffled along, defeated and clearly exhausted.
Then she lifted her head—and turned her head to look straight at him. The fiery fury in her sharp green gaze did his heart good, though he silently begged her not to reveal his presence. The hunters thankfully hadn’t detected him—he didn’t know howshehad—but he’d rather not take on the pack of them without some preparation. After giving him a good, long glare, making it very clear she blamed him for her situation, she turned her gaze forward again, dismissing him with regal indifference.
Absurdly enough, he found himself smiling. They hadn’t crushed her spirit yet—and at least he was in time to rescue her. Five-to-one odds weren’t the best. He supposed he could figure it as five to two, if he counted Vale. Maybe five to three if Veronica would help him—though from the look she’d drilled in his direction, she’d just as soon knife him.
He’d have to take advantage of the element of surprise, and the circumstances wouldn’t get better than this. No witnesses and a nice, clear road nearby to gallop down to escape any hunters he didn’t manage to kill.
Better to kill them all, though.
Wishing he had spells to muffle sound, he stewed over how he might construct that kind of enchantment, which gave him something to do while he waited for the slow-moving group to wade through the ferns and tall grasses far enough that they wouldn’t hear him emerge from his hiding place.
Once the trudging group had passed out of easy earshot, Gabriel gave Vale the signal to release, and the horse snorted in relief, stamping his displeasure. “Don’t worry, boy,” he muttered, leading the horse out of the tangle, “you’ll get to burn off that energy in a moment.”
Mounting, he held Vale to a stealthy walk, keeping to the softest grasses, until he had eyes on the group again. Looping the reins onto the hook of the saddle, he drew his silver blade in his right hand and the sword in his left, silently thanking the arms master who’d made his adolescence a misery and enabled him to fight with either hand. He was better with the sword in his dominant hand, but he strongly suspected he’d need the enchantment-banishing properties of the silver dagger, so dexterity with that took priority.
Gripping with his knees, he whispered to Vale to charge.
The sudden velocity nearly snapped his neck back, and he forced himself down against the wind of their passage, laying as low as he could. The hunters scattered, hearing him, and Gabriel dropped the reflection spell as a needless waste of energy. In such close quarters, the hunters could likely smell him. They spun to face him, two falling into a four-legged lope, barreling straight for him. The leader threw Veronica to the ground, and the remaining two took defensive poses before them.
Without breaking speed, Vale galloped straight for the snarling hunters racing toward them. Gabriel signaled him to take the right-hand target, using their momentum to sweep the sword like a scythe at the left, cleaving the creature nearly in half with the force of it. Vale struck out with sharp hooves, crushing the skull of his target.
With a leap to clear the body of his kill, Vale sped on, bearing down on the two hunters protecting their leader and captive. These had drawn weapons—spike-edged wheels they could grasp with clawed hands. They’d had time to gauge Vale’s speed and were ready.
One dropped into an impossible bend, spinning to slice the sharp wheel at Vale’s hamstrings. Acting without thought, Gabriel brought the sword over to that side, needing the reach, and sliced off the thing’s arm. Vale added a cow-kick to knock the hunter away, but the hunter on the other side leapt onto Gabriel’s unguarded left side like a mountain cat.