Iron and Magic

The warrior must’ve realized it. He launched a counterattack, bringing his sword in a wide arc from the left, blindingly fast. Hugh parried before the sword could bite into his side. The warrior reversed the swing and cut at him from the right. Hugh stepped into it, blocking the swing, his sword pointing down. The warrior lunged at him, closing the distance. The two men struggled, locked, face to face, Hugh’s sword on top of the warrior’s, both pushing, blades immobile.

Hugh planted his feet and shoved.

The warrior stumbled back.

Hugh sliced his opponent’s arm from left to right. The warrior jerked back and clamped his left hand over his shoulder. Blood seeped between his fingers. He passed the sword into his left hand and gave it a light swing, his eyes fixed on Hugh.

A furry shape tore out of the bushes. The warrior tried to turn toward it, but it was too late. One hundred and twenty pounds of hound hit him in the chest. Canine teeth flashed and bit down. The warrior toppled over, Cedric on top of him, snarling and biting.

“Damn it,” Hugh swore.

Blood wet the dog’s mouth. He bit the man again, ripping chunks of flesh from the ruined throat.

“Enough,” Hugh ordered.

Cedric ignored him, tearing into the body like he was rabid.

“I said enough!” Hugh grabbed the hound by the collar and hauled him back. Cedric strained, snarling, bloody foam dripping from his jaws. She’d never seen the dog that upset.

Cedric gave up on snarling and howled.

Hugh jerked him upright, stared into his eyes, and said calmly, “Shut up.”

The massive dog struggled a moment longer, then closed his mouth and sat back.

The three corpses lay on the forest floor in their identical armor.

“You were right,” she said. “There is an army out there.”

And they had just killed three of their soldiers. Someone would come looking.

They moved at the same time. Hugh ducked behind the tree where they’d left Alex and picked him up like he weighed nothing and whistled. Bucky pushed through the brush.

Elara grabbed the fallen man’s sword. The man’s neck looked like raw hamburger. Acid shot into her throat. She swallowed it back down and stepped over to the first corpse. Elara brought the sword down in a sharp chop. The blade severed the thin shred of muscle and skin that attached the head to the body. It fell with a thump. She picked it up, helmet and all. If the army came to retrieve the bodies, at least they would have something. You could do a lot with flesh and a little magic.

Hugh threw Alex over the saddle.

A stray thought came to her. Elara froze.

“What?” Hugh asked.

“Us. When he…” Prayed to me. “He said save us.”

Hugh turned, studying the woods. Bushes trembled to the right. He snapped toward it. She put her hand onto his forearm and stepped forward.

“It’s alright,” she said softly. “We’ll protect you. We’ll keep you safe. You don’t want to stay here in the dark all alone.”

The bushes lay still.

“It’s okay,” she said. “It will all be okay.”

Something moved within the bushes.

Elara stepped forward and gently parted the branches. A child. Seven or eight, covered in mud and blood. She reached in and scooped the child up. He or she, it was too hard to say, hung limp in her arms. Wide eyes stared at her, unblinking. Like a baby rabbit shocked into playing dead.

Hugh took the child from her arms. The girl – she guessed it was a girl – clung to him on pure instinct. He was huge and scary and covered with blood, and she needed a protector. Hugh held her for a long moment and slid her into Bucky’s saddle. “Hold on to Alex.”

The child just stared.

“Hold him,” Hugh said, his voice calm and reassuring. “So he doesn’t fall.”

The girl reached out and clenched Alex’s shirt.

They hurried from the clearing, Cedric in the lead.

“Will he live?” she asked under her breath.

“Yes.”

“Will you?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t die on me, Preceptor.”

“I’m touched you care.”

“I don’t,” she told him. “I’m worried your Dogs will riot if you don’t come home.”

“Then you better take good care of me. We’re going to run now. You got it?”

“Yeah. I got it.”

“Good. You get tired, tell me.”

They broke into a run.

Elara stumbled out of the woods into grass. Baile rose before them, backlit by moonlight, its main tower tall and reassuring. She bent over. Fire drenched her lungs, red-hot spikes of pain shot through her right side, and her stomach was trying to empty itself, convinced she’d been poisoned. A dozen small cuts covered her legs. If she never saw the inside of the woods again, it would be too soon.

A warm hand rested on her back. “Almost there,” Hugh said. “One more push and we’re there. You have it in you.”

She straightened and bit a groan in half.

The child was still holding on to Alex, her knuckles white even under the layer of blood and grime. If she could hold it together, Elara had to do the same.

They ran through the grassy field to the road and up the hill. She never realized before just how far it was from the castle walls to the first tree trunks.

The castle gates opened in front of them and a dozen Iron Dogs poured out, Stoyan and Felix in the lead, followed by, Savannah, Dugas, Beth, and half a dozen of her people. Relief rolled through Elara in a cooling rush. They made it.

Savannah ran up and took the child out of the saddle. “Micah, Rodney, take the boy from the horse. Beth, get Malcom.” The witch turned to her. “Are you hurt?”

“No.”

Savannah’s eyes blazed. “I’ll deal with you later.” She turned and hurried toward the keep. Micah followed her, carrying Alex over his shoulder.

“What happened?” Stoyan asked under his breath.

Hugh jerked the saddlebag off Bucky’s saddle and marched across the yard. She struggled to keep up. Everyone followed, looking at them, waiting for answers.

“Redhill has fallen,” Hugh said. “We may be next.”

Stoyan nodded, as if Hugh had told him they were having bologna sandwiches for lunch.

“How are our guests?” Elara asked.

“Sleeping in the left wing,” Dugas said. “We put several guards around it. They’re not doing anything without us knowing.”

“Good,” Hugh said.

They reached the kennel. He pushed the door open. A long hallway stretched before them with dog stalls on each side. The hounds looked back at him. He tossed the bag onto the floor. The warrior’s head rolled out.

The dogs bared their teeth in unison. Vicious snarls rose. The hounds lunged at the stalls, biting the air.

“Double the patrols,” Hugh ordered to Stoyan. “Here and in town. Bring the dogs.”

Stoyan took off at a run.

“Felix, take a small force and get the bodies,” Hugh said. “Bring wolfsbane and whatever else you’ve got that would throw off the scent. Stay safe. If you spot a force coming back, draw them back to the castle. We’ll deal with them here. Corpses aren’t worth dying over.”

Felix nodded.

“It’s just north of Squirrel Hollow,” Elara told Dugas. “Go with them, please.”

He nodded, and he and Felix left. Hugh scooped up the head, tossed it into the bag, and offered it to her. She thrust it at Johanna. The blond witch nodded and ran out.

Hugh turned.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Elara asked him. “You’re bleeding.”

“I have things to do.”

“No. There is nothing more you can do right now. You asked me to run, I ran. Now you will come with me and get patched up.”

For once Hugh didn’t argue.

The water ran from Elara’s body, first red, then pale pink, then finally clear. Elara turned off the shower, stepped out, and wrapped herself in a white towel. She’d scrubbed the blood and forest off her skin. Her legs had been cut in a dozen places, nothing more than scratches, the pain more annoying than sharp, and now they burned. Her whole body ached, sore. Every time she closed her eyes in the shower, she saw the three men stalking through the woods to her. In her memories, their eyes glowed with blue light, unblinking.