Page 4 of Brimstone
“No,” I snapped.
“Lorreth showed me!”
If he wanted congratulating, he was going to have to wait. A mile of ankle-deep ash and loose shale stretched out between us and the fox. Normally, the horses had to pick a path carefully over the loose, dead ground, but there was no time for that now. Bill snorted and blew, charging at the oncoming feeders; he didn’t even flinch.
“That’s it. Keep going,” I whispered under my breath. “Thank you.Thank you.”
I should have made Carrion stay behind. There were more feeders sprinting after the fox than I’d first registered. Twenty of them? Thirty? More than I could face down without access to my magic this side of the Darn, and the male was a smuggler, not a blooded warrior. The sun had fallen below the horizon, though. And if the light was dim enough for the feeders, then it wouldn’t be long before the high bloods of Sanasroth were awake. Without an escort back through the palace, the moron would have been dead in a matter of seconds . . .
We were gaining ground.
But so were the feeders.
They were ever hungry, and it had probably been an age since a living creature had dared to cross into Sanasrothian lands. The mindless foot soldiers of Sanasroth wouldn’t allow this opportunity to pass them by for anything.
I could see Onyx properly now.
His black-tipped ears were pinned flat to his head as he ran for his life. He launched himself from a rock, soaring through the air, a streak of white against the growing dark, and then his paws were back on solid ground, kicking up a trail of ash as he sprinted.
“Come on,” I hissed through my teeth. “Come on.Run.”
Less than a mile now. The gap between us was closing . . . but so was the gap between the feeders and the fox. He was tired, I could tell. His tongue lolled from his mouth, waving like abanner. The whites of his eyes were showing. The little fox was terrified.
I hadn’t noticed Carrion was clinging to the back of my armor. With no saddle to grip, he really had no other choice. I bit back an annoyed curse, leaning forward, urging Bill on. Faster he went, faster, never faltering. Not once did he break his stride.
“We’re almost there!” Carrion bellowed.
I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw cracked. “Hold on!”
There was no stopping. If we stopped, we died. I grabbed a fistful of Bill’s mane and prayed to the gods I hated for the second time in less than a week.
Save the fox.
Save Bill.
Save the fox.
Save Bill.
Please . . .
White spittle foamed at the feeders’ mouths. Their mindless baying filled the air as we drew closer, closer, closer.
Save the fox.
Save Bill.
They were right on top of Onyx now. Only a hair’s breadth away. The fastest among them, a male with a filthy, torn shirt, lunged forward, reaching for his prize. Bill pulled back, rearing, whinnying in terror. His hooves slipped on volcanic glass as he desperately tried to turn away from the approaching threat. The feeder’s jagged claws grazed the little fox’s fur, and the foxleaped . . .
Carrion caught him.
. . . And then promptly came off Bill, sliding backward over his haunches.
Gods andfuckingmartyrs!“On your feet, Swift!”I roared. The copper-haired prince clutched Onyx tight, scrambling to get up. He moved quickly, but it wouldn’t be fast enough. I drewBill around, reining him in a tight circle, facing him toward the feeders, and dropped from his back.
“Steady, friend. Whoa. Wait for me,” I whispered to him. Then I drew Nimerelle, and the killing began. The god sword bled black smoke as she scythed through the air. Where I swung her, necrotic flesh and brittle bone parted like wet paper in her wake.
“Draw that weapon, Swift!” I bellowed over my shoulder.
