that good. Still …
“You’re not one of them.” The sound was so soft that she had to strain to hear it. “They’d be … is it … are you?” The voice paused, then rushed on, heavy with hope. “Rescue?”
“Quiet,” she breathed. The snuffling continued for a moment, the animals taking in her scent.
“We can help,” the whisper continued, pained and excited. “Unlock the—”
“Gar?” The door to the stables opened, slamming against the wood. “You finish that—”
Light spilled out onto the courtyard. The bottle sparkled.
Then a muffled voice, from the guardhouse. “Help! A woman warrior. She’s killed—”
Red grimaced. So much for showing mercy.
The guard in the doorway uttered his curse, and started to call for his fellows.
Red leapt up and ran for the door, both daggers in hand. She surprised the man standing there, peering out into the darkness. She lunged, going for his eyes, more to force him back then anything else.
The blade caught the bone, and sank deep within. He sagged, and she pushed his body back as it fell. She stood in the doorway, and brandished her two blades with a laugh as another charged.
She kept herself back just enough that the doorway hindered their movements. The man’s sword swings hit the wood, and he was forced to use his sword to block her blows. Her blades were swift and small, and she didn’t hesitate to go for any target he offered. The shouts from behind him were a relief; she’d feared another exit. If she could keep them coming at her one at a time …
But that mucking dicer was still yelling in the guardhouse. Then shouts came from the main house. From the corner of her eye she saw a door open and movement, and knew she was done.
She focused back in time to see a spearhead thrust at her.
She dodged, but too late. The blade sank deep into her shoulder, and the wielder twisted it as he forced her back, out into the courtyard.
Red clamped her jaw against the pain and pulled away, getting herself off the blade. The pain was bad, but she could still grip the dagger. She skipped back, conscious of the shouts and pounding feet from the main house. Her foe came after her, and the spearman right behind, all spilling through the stable door, spreading out.
Red charged right into them, using the daggers to feint at their faces, dodging the few that managed to swing swords. Her speed and their confusion allowed her to pass through the group. She’d some vague idea of running into the stables but the body in the doorway changed that plan. So she turned as she passed the last man and lashed out with her strong hand.
She caught the guard’s upper arm and cut deep, enough that he cried out and dropped his weapon. But now the others were focused on her as their target, and they started to move, spreading out to surround her.
Breathing hard, Red ran for the wagons, and darted down between them and the wall of the stable. The shelter was fleeting; they’d box her in at any moment. She could go for the wall, try to get up and over—
She ran to the back of the last wagon, thrust the larger key in, and twisted. The lock clicked open, and she lifted the bolt.
The enemy of her enemy, with any luck.
The door burst open. Red fell, landing hard on her back, the wind pushed from her lungs. Her daggers went skittering away.
A huge
Red fumbled around, trying to find her daggers, staring at the jaws of the monster. It was as big as a bear; she couldn’t see much past the teeth. Hot breath stung her eyes. It sniffed the air … paused—
—then spun off, charging toward the guards.
Red flipped onto her chest, grabbing up her daggers as a seemingly endless stream of the creatures jumped out of the wagon. Their huge paws were all she saw, landing around her and then past her, off into the darkness. Screams started then, of men fighting for their lives.
Red scrambled up to her feet, not questioning her luck. If the beasts could draw off a few, she could take down the rest.
She rounded the wagon on the other side and saw two men, their backs to her, fending off one of the creatures. Softly, holding her breath, she ran up behind the one, grabbed his hair, yanked back, and stabbed at his throat.
He screamed, blood spurting from his neck. She jerked the dagger free, letting him fall to the ground. The other guard was fending off the animal, shield high, eyes hard. “Here! She’s here!”
Red snarled, pulled her blade free.
An arrow slammed into her shoulder, the pain driving her to her knees.
The flagstones swam before her eyes. Blackness swirled as well, but Red fought it off, forcing herself up, her one hand still grasping a blade. But two hits to the same shoulder—that hand wasn’t going to grasp much of anything anytime soon.
“Bitch,” one of the men growled as they started toward her. “Don’t crowd, boys. Disarm her, then we’ll have some fun.”
Red grimaced, not really seeing much more than heavy boots, drawing close. Enough men to take her, that was sure. Provided they were willing to pay the price.
A scrabbling sound came then, of claws on stone. Deep snarls from behind the guards, who lost all interest in her, fast.
Red used the distraction to force herself to her feet. The arrow in her shoulder shifted as the tip grated on bone.
Dark, swift forms leapt out from the wagon’s shadow, claws scraping on the flagstones.
“Vores,” one of the guards cried out, no longer focused on Red.
The others cried out as the animals leapt forward, fangs gleaming white. Huge wolflike creatures, but these were no wolves. These were nightmares out of the darkness with teeth and fangs and savage fury in red eyes. No matter. The enemy of my enemy …
Red launched herself at the man who’d screamed, bringing her dagger into play. He was swift enough to parry her. She had a quick glimpse of grim eyes under the helm, and a sword swinging for her neck. She blocked, but not before the blade caught the arrow and tore the tip partway out of her shoulder. Red staggered back as her arm went numb and useless.
A big vore with silver on his ruff darted in behind her opponent. The man cried out as he fell, hamstrung. Red heard the beast growl, and then the screaming stopped.
Red kept moving back until she came up against the wall of the stable, the pain ebbing just enough so that she could see.
Blood covered the cobblestones until at last all was silent. The guards were down and those not dying had been torn apart, with flesh and blood scattered everywhere. The animals were around her, breathing heavily, growling under their breaths, their heads held low, their muzzles stained with blood. Odd though. They weren’t eating the bodies.
Suddenly a few of the creatures lifted their heads and looked toward the manor house.
More men spilled through the doors, weapons and bows at the ready. Five, ten … Red snarled as she readied her weapon. That dicer had much to answer for.
The vores growled, their heads low, intent on the enemy. But Silver, the big one with the ruff, glanced off toward the wagons, and then back at the gathering force.
Red heard it then—the faint rattle of a key in a lock. She glanced over to see a pair of bare human feet at the back of the second wagon. And a larger dark shape leaping down and darting into the shadows. Followed by another … and another.
More vores. They had to be.
The growls around her deepened. Red turned and saw more bows being brought to bear.
“Scatter,” she commanded, more from instinct than anything else.
To her surprise, the vores obeyed. The entire pack seemed to disappear, loping off into cover, under wagons, behind barrels, into the stables.
What were those creatures?
