“Sure. This is…” An existential sigh. “Suboptimal. But I’ve handled worse—”
A rustle of loam was her only warning. Without so much as a “thanks, goodbye,” Cardigan grabbed his assistant and fled into the forest. Fi gawked after them. That useless coward.That husk of moldy pine needles. She hissed several more curses as two wardens broke away in pursuit, leaving two to deal with her.
“Fionamara Kolbeck!” one called. “You’re wanted on charges of tax evasion, illegal territorial entry, illegal possession of hazardous substances—”
She banged her head against the cart again, harder. Fuck Fi in the Void, of course they recognized her. One of the perils of rainbow hair. And her glowing personality. Not to mention her all-around iconic approach to the profession of—
“—blackmailing, trespassing, and harassment of livestock. Surrender now!”
She peered out from cover. Two men entered the clearing, uniformed in scarlet jackets with a double row of gold buttons—colors of this territory’s governor. One wore the badge of the regional police, but the one with the trade warden bars on his chest… Fi vaguely recalled that wiry mustache tilted in equal displeasure a year ago, when she’d passed a shipment of Summer Plane cinnamon trees under his nose. What a quaint reunion.
Both men raised crossbows, metal constructs with bolts of silver energy Shaped onto the tracks. Standing next to several crates of volatile capsules was the last place Fi wanted to be if those bolts went off. She stepped out of cover with hands raised.
But not before popping an energy capsule off her glove and into her palm.
“Afternoon boys,” she greeted with a smile. “How’s the bounty looking these days?”
The warden twitched his moustache, finger itching for his trigger. “Five chips.”
“Five?” Fi scoffed. “Territory next door is offering eight. Get your shit together.”
She clenched her hand, crushing the glass capsule in her palm.
Fi had started charging her own capsules at age twenty-five, after a bootleg one exploded and nearly took her eyebrows off. She spent too much time sculpting those eyebrows. Basic Shaping drew energy from her own muscles, but mortal reserves only lasted so long before needing rest and food to replenish. Pre-charged capsules created an external energy bank to draw from. A handy power boost, when jobs turned sour.
That, and Fi adored the shock on the warden’s face when the glass cracked in her hand, releasing a pulse of silver energy.
She seized the magic before it could dissipate, fingers curled to Shape the external deluge. As she clenched a fist, the energy condensed, flashing a shield in time to catch two crossbow bolts fired at her thigh and shoulder. The air hissed where magic hit magic. Fi’s shield extinguished with a snap.
Her attackers pressed palms to their crossbows, a delay as they Shaped energy into new bolts.
Fi yanked the sword hilt from her belt. She popped another capsule off her glove and cracked it into the base of the hilt. As energy pulsed into the conductive metal, Fi Shaped it to form a silver blade, crackling ozone at the edges.
The warden fired first. Fi dodged. The graze of his bolt stung her shoulder, but her silviamesh diffused most of the energy. She caught his thigh with her blade, a slice that sent him howling to his knees. The second man hadn’t fired yet. Afraid to hit his superior?
His mistake. Fi swung her sword, striking the crossbowwhere an energy capsule was embedded into the stock. His eyes widened as glass cracked, but no time to react before—
BOOM.
An explosion shook the clearing, rattling leaves from maple trees. Even with another shield in place, Fi careened backward from the impact. Three energy capsules exhausted on a single meetup. What a waste. She caught her footing in the loamy soil, ears ringing. The trade warden slumped in the dirt, clutching his bloody leg. The second man sprawled face down. Unmoving.
He might have been dead. Fi avoided that outcome when she could, but survival came first. Especially when the alternative meant getting dragged to a daeyari. Her retirement plans included a cabin in the woods and a century-old bottle of whiskey, not being eaten alive.
Shouts sounded from the forest, a slurry of voices and splintering branches. Fi had precious seconds to appraise her escape route, the vanished Cardigan, the crates ofbombshe’d loaded onto Aisinay’s cart. Abandoning the load would be easy, and though she grimaced to think of sacrificing a lucrative payout, she could stomach lost funds if it meant saving her neck.
The damage a forfeited job would do to her reputation, however? Unacceptable.
Only the worst cowards let fear get the best of them.
Fi closed the metal compartment of her cart with a latch. More shrapnel, if the load exploded, but at least nothing would tumble out. When she vaulted onto Aisinay’s bare back, the Void horse snorted and stomped her hooves. Fi lay a hand on the beast’s neck, accompanied by a gentle pulse of energy. Reassurance that she was there. Eyes for both of them.
Aisinay charged forward, the cart rumbling behind. Fi guided her not with reins, but soft hands on either side of her neck, flicks of energy to urge the blind horse left or right asthey dodged between trees. Impossible to gauge the number of voices swarming the forest, but she wouldn’t stay long enough to find out.
She’d chosen this meeting spot for a reason.
They skidded into a ravine. Deep mud dragged the cart wheels, exposed tree roots lashing Fi’s shoulders like grasping hands. At the end of the ditch: salvation. A distortion rippled the air, the translucent folds of a Curtain, barely visible amidst slanted Autumn sunlight.
At Fi’s urging, Aisinay charged straight in.
