Light My Fire

“Where you go, pretty man?” a female voice said from behind him. He glanced back and saw what he could only call a very large female Rider standing there, leering at him.

With his hands grabbing hold of the rope, he looked to the tent and saw a woman walk out of it. And gods. What exactly were they feeding these women? This one was unbelievably huge! Celyn came from a family of She-dragons who were known for their substantial size when human . . . and he’d guess this female was bigger than any of them. She was tall and wide, muscles straining her deerskin shirt.

And this behemoth was coming at Elina.

All work stopped, and the Riders stood around staring. Not helping, just waiting to see what would happen next.

Celyn couldn’t do the same. He jumped forward but was yanked back again by the rope around his throat. The rope that, in his shock, he’d forgotten about. He was reaching to remove the damn thing when additional ropes by other women were looped around both wrists, yanking his arms away from his body.

Two additional Riders now held onto him. “Leave it, pretty man,” one of the Riders told him. “It is too late for Elina Shestakova. But not for you. You will make fine husband for one of us. You will give us very fine, large girls to carry on our names. Perhaps it will be me,” she growled at him. “But do not worry. I will give you fine ride, then pretty things to make you happy.”

Dammit. Celyn had been right all along. He would be doing very bad things today. . . .

Desperate and terrified, Elina struggled backward, using her elbows and feet as Glebovicha bore down upon her.

“You fail me!” Glebovicha roared. “You continue to fail me! And now you tell me what you are going to do? As if you have a right!”

“Please,” Elina begged, still trying to get away, but unable to get to her feet fast enough. “Please!”

“You are nothing! Nothing! Do you hear me, Elina Shestakova! Simply a mistake that will now be corrected so the mighty horse gods can drag your worthless carcass to the next world—and out of mine!”

Elina raised her hand to ward Glebovicha off. “Gods, don’t!”

But it was useless. Completely useless. All the begging, all the attempts to get away. She knew that as soon as Elina saw Glebovicha raise her arm, the blade she was holding glinting bright in the suns, seconds before it slashed down at an angle and cleaved across Elina’s face.

Elina screamed out in pain and shock, one hand slapping over the left side of her face while her free arm still tried to drag herself back. Her desire to live overriding her need to be brave.

Glebovicha came at her again, but Kachka charged out of the tent and landed on Glebovicha’s back with one arm around her throat. Her sister raised a blade but before she could strike it home, Ivanova yanked Kachka off and threw her a few feet away.

Free from Kachka’s grasp, Glebovicha came at Elina again. This time, however, Elina scrambled to her feet, even though she was now blinded by the blood pouring down her face. It didn’t matter. All she could think about was getting away or at least fighting until her last breath. She knew she should welcome death. She’d never beat Glebovicha in a fight. But she couldn’t. She simply wasn’t ready for that last horse ride home.

She swung wildly at Glebovicha, punching her in the face. It was a good, solid hit, but it did nothing more than piss the larger woman off. Glebovicha caught hold of Elina’s long hair and yanked her around, nearly pulling the locks from the root.

“Elina!” she heard Celyn yell. She’d forgotten about him, but she could barely see where he was through the blood-covered haze.

“Elina!” he yelled again, but this time his voice was lower, more powerful. And there were screams and cries of warning from her tribesmen as the winds of her beloved Steppes increased tenfold and flame surrounded Celyn and all those close to him.

None of this would deter Glebovicha, though. She was too determined to kill Elina. She forced Elina to her knees and pressed her blade against Elina’s throat.

“Dragon!” someone screamed out. “Get the defenses! Move!”

“Don’t hope, pathetic worm,” Glebovicha warned Elina. “This demon you brought will not save you.”

Elina already knew that. So she closed her eyes and, finally, waited for death not to find her well.

Kachka Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains looked up in time to see the male that Elina had brought with her suddenly surround himself with flames, burning the tribesmen who held him back from protecting her sister.

But as Kachka got to her feet, she saw that the flames were not the work of a warlock of some kind. Instead, the man turned into a dragon, with big wings and a long, thick tail, swiping a clear path around him, tossing off and away the tribesmen who had not been burned.

Yet as he took to the air, she knew he’d never reach her sister. Not fast enough. So Kachka ran at Glebovicha again.

Ivanova stepped in front of their leader, who had Elina on her knees and that blood-covered blade about to open her throat. Still, Kachka ran straight at them both, her own dagger in her hand. But, as she neared, she moved one way and, when Ivanova moved the same way to block her, Kachka quickly jerked in the opposite direction. Her body spun to avoid Ivanova’s grasping hands.

Kachka quickly tossed her blade into her other hand and cut her bitch cousin across the gut as she did so.

With Ivanova temporarily out of the way, Kachka was able to ram into Glebovicha before she could draw the blade all the way across Elina’s throat. They hit the ground and Kachka punched her leader in the face three times.