Was it just her, or was he extra crabby? Fine. She could be quiet.
The forest eventually grew thinner before giving way to an open field. It was at that point that Slaide proceeded to direct Phillip with obvious caution.
“Is something wrong?” Hazel drew in a breath, readying herself for whatever unseen thing troubled him.
“Other than this gigantic open field with nowhere to hide? No,” Slaide responded.
Point taken.
“I don’t want to get picked off crossing here, so you’d better hang on,” he warned before spurring Phillip into motion.
It happened halfway across the field.
A rumble sounded somewhere behind them, reminiscent of an approaching storm. But one look at the sky indicated it wasn’t a storm at all. Her locket warned her of what she already feared.
As Hazel turned to glance past Slaide, only to find riders approaching, churning dust in their wake. It was to her horror, then, she ascertained they were no ordinary bandits or bounty hunters.
Six Raven Blade Knights were hot on their trail.
And they’d come for her.
She could see the whites of the horses’ eyes, the sheer frenzy they’d been worked into in their pursuit. The riders would be upon them in seconds.
And because the Fates were cruel beings, Phillip’s foot found a divot mid-stride, tossing Hazel to the ground as he struggled to maintain his footing. Hazel tumbled and rolled while Slaide kept his seat and careened on by.
She scrambled to her feet, palming her dagger. The orange cat draped over her shoulder, an unwilling participant in the ensuing battle, but she wasn’t leaving him behind to be slaughtered.
She didn’t see the first assailant.
Someone grabbed Hazel by the hair and yanked her backwards. She landed on her back; the wind knocked out of her body. She rolled over, gasping for air. Hoofbeats thundered all around her.
She heard the approaching footfalls, the clink of metal armor as they approached.
The Raven Blade Knight stood over her, and in that moment, she knew his imposing figure marked the last thing she would see. This was it. Her time was finally up, and really, it was a gods-damned miracle she’d even made it this far. She was, after all, just a simple woman from a backwater town.
The commander hefted his broadsword high, the onyx eyes of the detailed raven-head hilt gleaming in the sunlight. And then the sword began its descent, falling in slow motion to end her. She closed her eyes and awaited the blow, hoping the sword was razor sharp and that the commander would strike true. A mercy that she wouldn’t feel a thing. The world would just cease to exist.
The telltale whine of metal rang out, followed by a meaty squelch. Hazel was showered with hot blood, her eyes flyingopen to find the commander still standing above her, mouth agape as though he was frozen in time.
And then his head toppled off his shoulders, falling to the ground and rolling to a rest beside her. His lifeless eyes were wide in terror. Then the rest of him crumpled to the ground in a bloody heap, blood spurting from the remaining stump of his neck. She scrambled backwards, only to slam into another set of legs. But when she looked up, it wasn’t another knight waiting to dismember her.
A gloved hand reached for her, and when she took it, Slaide hefted her onto her feet. He broke into a run, hauling her behind him.
Horse hooves thundered behind them, and Hazel stupidly chanced a glance over her shoulder, losing her footing and toppling to the ground once more.
Despite his firm grip, the force of her fall tore Hazel’s hand from Slaide’s. He spun to retrieve her, but the mounted knight was already upon her, blade poised to strike.
Hazel outstretched her hands before her, and her palms began to glow. But something was wrong. She grimaced, working far too hard to pull her magic forth.
The well of power was there, but the harder she pulled, the more it resisted. Instead of feeling empowered, the magic was sucking the life out of her. Perhaps she was too tired or too beat up… or just flat out too inexperienced.
Slaide raced to her, wiping out anyone and anything in his path.
He looked fierce, and she thought if Slaide in battle was the last thing she laid eyes on, she might be alright with that.
Before Slaide reached her, Hazel’s hands went limp, and she slumped over, conscious, but unable to move.
“No. Hazel, no!” Slaide shouted. Why did he sound so far away?
