As they rode, Socair asked her frank questions about the size of the forces they had and the state of things and for each question she answered, Rianaire asked another about some inane, private facet of the Binseman’s life. How many lovers she had been with, if she had seen her father naked in her youth, how she trimmed the hair on her privates. The questions were fair enough, she figured, as she gave honest answers to the ones asked of her. Even when her answers were honest, they did not seem to satisfy Socair. “Not nearly enough” as an answer to the strength of her standing forces nearly drew a sigh even. It was a delightfully fun game and much better than coaxing talk from Inney and Síocháin for hours on end.
They had passed the edge of the forest by a half hour at least when the horses cried out and the carriage jerked. Socair moved to the door, placing her hand at the lever to open it and scanning the trees. Rianaire heard light footsteps on the top of the carriage. Inney was moving as well. She heard the driver call the horses to a stop and Socair opened the door, dropping to the ground. Rianaire joined her, looking ahead to see the other carriage stopped as well.
“What is it?” Rianaire scanned the trees but heard nothing, saw nothing.
Socair turned her ears to the wood, shifting back and forth slowly and smoothly. A look of recognition came to her face and her mouth fell open for a half second before she whipped to the side.
“Rionn!” She screamed at the man driving the carriage ahead of them. “Drive! Now! Don’t let up until you’ve cleared the trees!”
The front carriage driver slapped the reins on the backs of his charges and they tore off. The second hoof beat had hardly sounded on the road when a high pitch scream rang out. Rianaire’s eyes widened. Satyr.
“Back in the carriage, Treorai, go!” Socair put an arm out to direct her back, Rianaire slapped it away.
“I’d walk in the Fires before I let myself be killed by muleborn in a wood box.”
Rianaire took a step to the side and tore at the base of her dress. It was not so tight but she could not have it twist around her. At the very least the boots she wore would not likely impede her movement. Inney called from above, offering a sword to Socair from the stores atop the carriage.
“Have you fought them before?” Socair asked the question, a forcefulness to her voice that Rianaire found enthralling, even in the moment.
“No. I’ve read some.”
“It is nothing like books. I make it four of them. Two at the far side.”
“Then the song they write for us will not be a slow one.”
The horses behind them stirred again and bucked as the sound of hooves thumped against the floor of the forest. She saw them for only a second before it seemed they were upon them. The first lunged for Rianaire but had misjudged its own speed. It came past her wide and slammed sidelong into the carriage, smashing the glass window.
“They’re starved,” Socair called as she turned to face the one behind it who had come to a stop at the edge of the road, away from the trees.
The one that had made for Rianaire clattered to the ground, losing its footing among the snowy rocks that made the road. Rianaire formed a wedge of air as quickly as she could and plunged it at the side of the beast. The skin under the air buckled and popped, spilling blood onto the ground. It let out a terrible noise and writhed, swiping at her feet. One of its hands connected as she heard the sound of steel on steel just away from her where Socair had been. They were in it now and she would not have help. She felt the air around the satyr and pushed hard at it. The jerk pulled her leg free and she pushed the air again, harder now. Her attacker slid away, its head catching the wheel awkwardly, pushing its face into the rocks. The primal scream it had bellowed cut short with a grunt and turned to a sickly whine. It had already begun righting itself at Socair’s back. Rianaire scrambled to her feet and forced the air away from its mouth. She looked up briefly to find Inney and saw nothing. She had fled the top of the carriage, there was no time to find her now. Rianaire returned her attention to the satyr that had attacked her. It was swinging wildly, one of its eyes dangling from the socket. It was making for Socair as best it could and there was little more Rianaire could do but wait for it to fall. The struggling goat was almost at Socair’s back now.
“Behind!” Rianaire called the words and Socair twisted to see the satyr behind her. The move gave the one with a blade enough leverage to topple her and the other dropped to its knees.
Had she not been so frantic, she might have noticed it. The snow stopped dead in the air, just for a moment and Inney walked from behind the carriage covered in blood. A horrible squealing sound began to play in the air, like a pipe blown far too hard. The horses bolted, dragging the carriage along with it. A half second later, the satyrs ceased their struggles as a wide smile came over Inney’s mask. The whistling ceased. And they popped. Each of the two that remained, as if bubbles full of blood and bone.
Socair rolled herself onto her stomach and immediately gave up the breakfast they’d eaten a few hours before. She stammered, confused, and
