Chapter 20 TWENTY
The world narrowed to the pounding of my heart and the slap of our boots on the cobblestones. We moved against the tide of shouting mercenaries who were all rushing toward the blazing supply depot. Their confusion was our cover. We ducked into the shadows of a blacksmith's forge just as a squad of armed men ran past, their faces illuminated by the growing fire.
"The stables are on the far side of the main yard," Roric breathed, his voice tight. "It is a suicide run."
"Staying here is suicide," I shot back, peering around the corner. The main courtyard was a chaotic swirl of men, fire, and panic. "We wait for the moment."
The moment came when a burning section of the depot's roof collapsed in a shower of sparks, sending a wave of heat and embers across the yard. The mercenaries recoiled, shielding their faces.
"Now!" I said.
We broke from cover, a tight knot of shadows sprinting across the open ground. I expected a cry, an arrow, at any second. But the chaos was our ally. We reached the relative darkness on the other side, pressing ourselves against the cold stone wall of the barracks. The stables were just ahead.
We slipped inside. The air was thick with the smell of hay, horse, and leather. The animals were restless, stamping and snorting, sensing the turmoil outside.
"Quickly," I urged. "Saddle the strongest-looking ones. No time for bridles, just lead ropes."
The vampires moved with an efficiency that was breathtaking. In less than a minute, we had six powerful horses ready. I chose a tall, dark mare with a nervous eye, hoping her energy would translate to speed.
"The postern gate is our only chance," Roric said, handing me a rope. "It will be guarded, but it is our closest exit."
We led the horses out of the stable, staying in the shadows. The postern gate was a small, reinforced door in the outer wall, used for sorties and, hopefully, escapes. As we approached, I saw two guards standing watch, their attention fixed on the fire lighting up the sky behind us.
Roric gestured to two of his men. They melted into the darkness. There were two soft, sickening thuds, and the guards slumped to the ground.
"Open the gate!" Roric ordered.
Two others threw their weight against the heavy iron bar. It groaned in protest, the sound horribly loud in the relative quiet of our corner of the keep.
"Faster," I urged, my eyes scanning the battlements above.
The gate swung open, revealing the freedom of the dark forest beyond.
"Go!" Roric commanded.
We mounted, digging our heels into the horses' sides. They surged forward, bursting from the confines of the keep into the open night. The cold air whipped past my face, and for a glorious moment, I thought we had made it.
Then a shout rose from the wall above. "The gate! They're escaping!"
A crossbow bolt whistled past my ear, embedding itself in a tree trunk ahead. Another struck one of the vampires in our party. He grunted, slumping in his saddle, but somehow held on.
"Ride! Don't stop!" Roric yelled.
We plunged into the woods, the horses crashing through the undergrowth. The sounds of pursuit were immediate—shouts, the baying of hounds, the thunder of more hooves. They were on our trail.
We rode hard, branches whipping at our faces and arms. The forest was a dark, confusing maze. I trusted the horse to find its footing, focusing only on staying low in the saddle and following Roric's lead.
After what felt like an eternity of frantic riding, the trees began to thin. We broke out onto a rocky ridge overlooking a wide, shallow river.
"The Serpent's Run," Roric panted, pulling his horse up. "If we cross, we can lose them in the marshes on the other side."
"We'll never all make it across before they're on us," I said, looking back at the torches bobbing through the trees behind us. They were closing fast.
"We have to try."
" No," I said, a sudden, desperate idea forming. "You take the men and cross. Get the intelligence back to Kaelen."
Roric stared at me. "What are you talking about? We are not leaving you."
" You have to. I'm the slowest rider. I'll hold them here, just for a minute. Create a distraction."
" That is a death sentence!"
" It is a tactical decision!" I fired back, my voice sharp. "The mission is the priority. The information about the army is more important than any one of us. Now go!"
For a moment, I thought he would argue. But I saw the grim understanding in his eyes. He was a soldier. He knew I was right.
" May the night protect you, my lady," he said, his voice thick with something that sounded like respect.
Then he turned his horse. "With me!"
The five remaining vampires kicked their mounts and plunged down the steep bank toward the river. I watched them go for a second, then I turned my mare to face the oncoming torches.
I was alone. The sounds of the pursuit grew louder. I could hear the harsh breaths of the dogs, the curses of the men. I slid off my horse and gave her a sharp slap on the rump, sending her galloping off along the ridge. One less thing for them to chase.
I stood my ground in the small clearing, the dagger Kaelen had given me feeling pathetically small in my hand. This was it. This was how it ended. Not in a grand battle, but in a desperate, lonely rearguard action.
The first of the pursuers broke through the tree line. A mercenary on a lathered horse, his sword drawn. He saw me, a single figure standing in the moonlight, and a cruel smile spread across his face.
" Well, what do we have here? A lost little bird?"
More men emerged, surrounding me. I counted ten, maybe twelve. I was vastly outnumbered.
I didn't answer. I just stood there, waiting, my heart a wild drum in my chest. I would take as many of them with me as I could.
The lead mercenary dismounted, stepping toward me. "Looks like the fun's not over after all."
He lunged. I sidestepped, my movements fueled by adrenaline and a lifetime of suppressed instinct. I slashed with the dagger, catching his arm. He roared in pain and surprise.
But there were too many. Another came at me from the side. I ducked, but a third grabbed me from behind, pinning my arms. The dagger clattered to the ground.
I struggled, but it was useless. The lead mercenary, clutching his bleeding arm, stalked toward me, his face a mask of fury.
" You'll pay for that, you little—"
His words were cut off by a sound that froze the blood in my veins. It was not a sound any of them had ever heard. It was a roar, deep and primal, that seemed to shake the very trees. It was the sound of a dragon.
Every head snapped toward the ridge. Silhouetted against the moon was a massive, scaled form, wings spread wide. It was a creature of legend, of nightmare.
Before anyone could react, a jet of blue-white fire, hotter than any forge, erupted from the ridge. It wasn't a raging inferno; it was a precise, controlled stream. It struck the ground between me and my captors, not touching us, but creating a wall of superheated air and molten rock that forced them back with screams of terror.
In the confusion, the grip on me loosened. I broke free, stumbling back.
The dragon on the ridge folded its wings and leaped, not into the air, but down the slope toward us. It moved with a speed that was impossible for its size. It landed in the clearing with a ground-shaking thud, its long neck snaking down, its head stopping just feet from the terrified mercenaries.
Its eyes, glowing like embers, fixed on the lead mercenary. It let out a low, rumbling growl that promised annihilation.
The mercenaries didn't need a translation. They broke, scrambling back into the woods, their cries of fear echoing through the night.
In seconds, the clearing was empty, save for me and the dragon.
I stood, trembling, staring at the magnificent, terrifying beast. It turned its great head toward me. The ember-like eyes held mine, and in their depths, I saw not a monster, but a profound, ancient intelligence. And something else. Something like recognition.
Then, it began to change. The scales receded, the form shrinking, folding in on itself. In moments, where the dragon had stood, there was now a man.
Lord Kaelen stood before me, his chest heaving, his clothes torn, his skin shimmering with a faint, fading heat.
"I told you to retreat," he said, his voice a ragged whisper.