Page 70 of The Princess Tied

These others didn’t hurry anymore.

Because they did not need to.

And it wasn’t even that she had a single thought to remind her she should be leaving, though she did have a memory of wanting to.

Memories of doing things wavered and sank.

Ruff, her fluffy friend, was making the oddest of noises and clinging to Shades’s ankles, circling him as if he were attached to the cyclan warrior by a string. For a second, she thought to go and comfort him but then, of course, she didn’t, because she shouldn’t.

The Thulians had bows up and strung, with arrows pointing her way, ready to loose.

The Storyteller strode among them—a shark surfing a sea of squid—far taller than the tentacled-mouthed soldiers. Far more imposing. His fair hair fell to his shoulders like twisted ropes. His coat was long and loose and brushed the floor. Stains showed at the hem. His eyes were pits of greenish fog.

Ahh, she thought, even in her weird stilled state. That explained it all—green eyes and bad fashion sense. He was going to kill them all, and she could do nothing. She barely even cared.

The soft light from the stairs created long, advancing shadows where the Storyteller and his small army blocked it from Po’s eyes. A forest of shadows, a seaweed of darkness.

He stopped five or six yards away and smiled. “Hello, my creatures. You are all mine. You, the big one, for your care of others. I will help you care. You, the killer, who I cast into Hell… I might throw you there again, mister heartless.”

The Thulians were getting tired or bored, and their bows drifted lower, aiming at the floor. One yawned.

The Storyteller looked at Po, and he sneered.

“And you are the princess who is too smart for her own good. You are the one I should have taken?” At that his meagre eyebrows rose.

“What a pity, Xander. False one. You, I will have thrown from the stairs as we leave. And you, big metal man… why can I not see your soul?”

Shades raised his head and though he shook terribly and his voice cracked with emotion, he said, “Have you stopped talking?” Ruff had run up his body to his hands, or maybe he’d picked up the bunny. He drew back his arm and flung Ruff straight toward the Storyteller, yelling, “Take this!”

The aim was bad.

Ruff bounced off the head of a Thulian, driving the soldier backward, arms flailing. The bunny ricocheted, twisted, realigned in mid-air. The next thing Ruff landed on was the Storyteller’s throat. His scream was abrupt and piercing as Ruff whirled like a child’s windmill toy, about his neck.

There were wet fleshy sounds.

Blood flew, spattering the warriors. Panicking, they raised their bows aiming here and there at the bunny and at Shades, Po, Ruth, or Xander. Her friends woke and threw themselves aside as strings were loosed from taut fingers, and arrows zipped about.

They all missed Ruff, a few went past the Storyteller and skewered fellow soldiers. Itwas difficult for them to shoot their master, accurately, when they really were aiming to hit the thing eating his neck.

Po had jumped sideways. She digested the horror of flying blood and gnawing floof machine, of screaming Thulians and toppling Storyteller, of John unholstering pistols and firing as he sprang to his feet. Of more arrows nocked. Of some of those being aimed at Xander.

Xander was sprawled on the stone and the only one unable to duck and run. Two Thulian bows swung his way, several more aimed at John, but the owners of the latter died in bursts of gun-flame and thudding bullet.

Po… not about to lose the man she had only just found, dived toward Xander, sliding across the stone and curling herself about him.

Something hard thudded into her back. Then another, and another, entered her back—arrows, three of, she catalogued.

Going to die then. Soon.

Yes. She coughed at the exuberant pain rampaging in. The shock and numbness came, but not all was numb.

Gods, it hurt.

PO

Her arms stayed about Xander for a few seconds before she simply had to cry out and let go.

Blood was creeping under her, wetting her clothes. The laundry girl was going to hate her.