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Teigra froze.
She was unsure if she should pull harder and hope that the final strands of the strong rope might snap, or if she should turn and run. Unsure if she should swing something at the beast or recoil in fear. Unsure if she should move or stay.
And as it stepped right up to her, she was left doing neither, stuck fast with indecision.
Just as the beast made to lunge toward her, a deep note resounded across the grove, followed by a swoop of air and the thunder of hooves.
And the nearest harpy turned just in time for a stampeding blur to slice its head clean off its body.
21
AURELIUS
The feathered head hit the ground like a melon, rolling under the carriage and coming to a stop by Aurelius’s arm. He flinched in revulsion as its eyes flickered with a last moment of life, then stopped.
The bloodshed, however, did not.
He could only see to knee height from beneath the carriage, but it was enough. There was another blur of blood in the grove. Then a figure of red and leather leapt from a pegasus, hit the grass, rolled through the impact, and ran toward the carriage.
Tiggy dove out of their way, and the cabin bounced overhead as the swordsman leaped inside.
There was a monstrous shriek, the sound of splintering wood.
Then, silence.
Moments later, there came a torrent all around him—a rain of filthy blood dripping through the slats of the carriage floor.
The figure jumped down, dragging the harpy’s corpse into a wet heap. Aurelius rolled out and scrambled to his feet, as much to escape the bloody shower as to see their savior.
He tried to steady himself in standing, but his legs felt like a sapling in a storm. The sight and smell of the monstrous corpses made the revelry of last night rise in his throat. Stars filled his eyes in shock and disbelief.
That shock came not just from the hideous signs of the slaughter. But also at the sight of the lead soldier.
It was a woman, six feet tall and dressed in a military uniform of blood-splattered leather, wrapped in a woolen cape the color of wine. Two other women, still mounted atop fine-looking pegasi and leading a fourth in tow, came around and joined her.
One of the women was wider and taller and far more muscular than any human he had ever seen, with a faint gray-blue tone to her skin; the other was far shorter, and sharp-featured, with darting little eyes that seemed to take in everything.
On the lead soldier, the plunging cheek plates of her helmet showed little but a set of intense, kohl-lined eyes, topped with the largest plume Aurelius had ever seen. She removed it, revealing a cascade of midnight-black hair, framing a face of high cheekbones and full, rosewood-colored lips.
She stood with easy, all-encompassing sensuality. She couldn’t have been older than twenty-five.
“These roads are not safe for those unfamiliar with a sword, southerners,” she said, her voice dark and resinous. “We will assist you to recover, but you must turn around and make for Prasni Zorio at once.”
“Nnnf,” came a voice, as Teigra shook Jaspar back to consciousness. “What happened? Oh, Mesti, did I crash again? Ms. Securia will kill me.”
Aurelius made meager offers to help with the cleanup, his voice shaking and filled with nervous laughter. But thankfully the soldiers rebuffed him—whipping around and gathering possessions, retying shreds of mesh and packing the bags while he tried not to think about the filthy, reeking blood that covered him.
Or of the dead bodies just feet away that the blood had come from ...
By the time Jaspar was back on his hooves, the women had already remounted their steeds, hitting the air with a swoop of wings, off in search of the monsters’ nest.
And then they were alone, surrounded by bodies and blood.
And the smell.
Teigra hurriedly conducted her own inventory of their possessions.
“There is no... no need, darling,” he said with a gulp, trying to block his nose and force the bile down from his throat. “They did it all for us. Rather a good welcome to Ardora, isn’t it! Kill some monsters and help us clean up, too!”
