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Teigra launched forward just in time to yank Aurelius from the snapping jaw.
She twisted around in the confined space, kicking blindly and knocking great streams of drool from the harpy onto her feet and legs. To her relief, the beast didn’t turn and bite her. Its wings were tangled in the roof, the hemp tearing with each thrash as it tried to break free.
“Go!” she yelled at Aurelius, grabbing his arm and diving out the door, the sharp teeth snapping at their heels.
She landed hard on the grass, knocking stars into her eyes. Despite her disorientation, she pushed Aurelius into the narrow space between the road and the carriage, making sure he was safely concealed before ducking underneath herself.
She looked around desperately for Jaspar, spotting him on the ground beside the bucking steeds. His huge body was still, but she couldn’t see any obvious injury.
Then, with a sickening sensation, another harpy emerged into the clearing. Then another one, from the other side.
And both eyed Jaspar.
“What do we do? What do we do?” said Aurelius from by her elbow. “Do something, Tiggy!”
Teigra looked at her cousin. He was a noble of parties and decadence. He could outwit anyone she knew in the game of power. But she’d never seen him down in the dirt and mud. She’d never seen him throw a punch.
And in the horror of his eyes, she saw the mission—the reason Aurelius was coming to Ardora. He could save their homeland from invasion and ruin.
Only he could do that.
And right now, only she could save Jaspar.
She racked her mind as Aurelius whimpered beside her, trying to remember the stories. Harpies were beastly personifications of the storm winds, weren’t they? Of the powerful squalls and gales that drenched Ardora?
Didn’t Journius the Brave face a harpy when he was lost in the Illhas Sea? How did he fight them? Think!
The memories roiled just beyond recollection, hundreds of mornings in the predawn library blurring into one. The illuminated bestiary she’d so often read was glinting in the light. The little stories of their weaknesses were whispered just out of earshot.
It was all right there! Come on!
Then it snapped into place.
Fishing nets.
The beasts were savage and swift, but they were easily caught in nets or the rigging of sails, just like they’d become caught in the shreds of the roof.
And the carriage was covered in nets.
She gulped as the harpies closed in on Jaspar, her heart slamming against her ribs.
But there was no time left. She had to act!
“Hey! Over here!” she yelled, scrambling from beneath the carriage and grasping the nearest net, heavy with their possessions. The ropes were already shredded and slightly loose from the initial attack by the harpy on the roof, threads fraying off here and there.
One beast turned from its path towards the minotaur. The one still tangled in the carriage roof snapped at her through the open door.
She yanked at the rope as hard as she could, a frantic, lurching tear. Arms that had spent a lifetime hoisting saddles and dragging feed tensed and strained. The already broken bonds started to tear further.
One bag tumbled out of the growing gap, then another. Then they came from all sides of the carriage as she wrenched with all her might—clothing and equipment strewn everywhere with each snap of rope.
They were snapping, but not giving way fully!
One beast was right beside her now.
It bared its teeth.
Its rancid breath was hot.
