Chapter 1 Azahara #2
Her gaze returned to her bag, but before she could move, the Gorruk seized a bookshelf and effortlessly yanked it down, causing a loud thud that made her jump.
His frustration was evident as he searched for a few seconds.
Impatient beast. She thought, seizing the opportunity created by his anger to retrieve her bag swiftly.
After giving herself a mental pat on the back, she cautiously maneuvered herself behind another set of bookshelves, out of sight. Finally exhaling the breath she had been holding, she considered her options.
Guess you should have thought of an escape plan before jumping down. She internally scolded herself.
If those four Gorruk returned while she was making her way out, her chances would be slim. Should she wait and attempt to run past them when they entered the library? However, that would leave the Monks in a perilous situation, not that they weren’t already in one.
The horse... She wondered if it had been a figment of her imagination.
If there truly was a horse, it could be her ticket to escape.
Horses were swift creatures, and with their agility, they could easily outrun the Gorruk.
Unlike her, they could navigate the muddy terrain without the fear of getting stuck or slipping.
With another deep breath, she cautiously peeked out from behind the bookshelf. To her surprise, the Gorruk was nowhere to be seen, and her heart skipped a beat.
“There you are.” She choked, her senses assaulted by the hot stench of the massive monster behind her.
There was only a moment of hesitation before she quickly sidestepped his hand reaching for her neck.
“Don’t run. You will only make it worse for—” Before he finished, a swift kick across his face shut him up.
Azahara was by no means stronger than any human, but over five hundred years of strengthened body mass meant she wasn’t a weak little girl.
The kick would hurt but would not subdue the beast. It only gave her a moment to get a head start.
Hoping that the four would not enter, she made her way outside into the pelting rain.
Please let that horse have not been a figment of my imagination. Please, Mother, please.
Her bare feet sank into the mud as she exited the monastery, feeling the cold, wet slush squish between her toes. She paid no mind to the sensation, quickly scanning her surroundings for the horse, hoping it hadn’t been harmed or frightened away by the monsters.
To her annoyance, the horse had a rider. Damn them, cursing me at every turn.
She wasn’t sure if the rider had noticed her. They were currently engaged in combat with the Gorruks. While grateful for the distraction, unfortunately it meant that the horse belonged to someone, and she would have to make a quick escape on foot.
Taking a deep breath, she prepared to dart off towards the fields when an inexplicable force compelled her to stay. Uncertain of the reason, she cursed under her breath and cast another glance at the person on the horse.
They shouldn’t stay to fight, and they likely knew that. There was a lot of trust going into this random person on a horse. However, there was no way what this person could do to her would be worse than what the Gorruk would do if they caught her.
Digging her foot deep into the mud, she propelled herself to the right—away from the beasts, but not from the action.
She put her bag around her shoulder as she picked up speed, surprisingly quick given the ground’s instability. Her hand reached in, pulling a silver dagger from it and flicking it through her fingers.
In front of her, down went one of the Gorruk, thanks to a well-placed arrow between its eyes.
Hoping the rider would start moving in her direction so they would intersect at an angle, she gripped the tip of the blade with her fingers.
With almost inconceivable speed, she hurled it directly at the eye of one of the monsters charging toward her.
The piercing scream erupted from its lips and provoked another Gorruk to hiss in anger, although she could barely hear it over the sounds of the rain.
She couldn’t help but grin as she tightly turned towards the beast, who was clutching its injured eye.
Utilizing her momentum, she leaped onto its back, stepping up and flipping over its shoulder.
Her hand grabbed the knife and wrenched it free.
Landing with a splash, she swiftly darted forward, heading straight for her only means of escape—the horse.
She raised her hand and pointed in the direction she was headed, increasing her pace.
The hot breath of the Gorruk at her backside pushed her harder to keep a stride. She was meticulous and minded every step she took as if she were avoiding glass.
Heavy rain pelted her face, her glowing sapphire eyes never once removing themselves from the horse, and the now clearly male rider approaching their waypoint.
They were close. Now she could hear the thundering of the horse hooves against the muddy ground. She watched as the man pulled his arrow and swiftly shot the closest Gorruk behind her. His aim and use of the bow were impeccable, and she was thankful for it.
“Ahh—” A small whimper escaped her lips, and a pinch of pain racked her shoulder. Though adrenaline kicked in quickly, her body ignored whatever had just occurred.
In that moment, they were coming together, and she heard the sweet voice echoing to help her. “Grab a hold!” And through the chaos, it sounded like a goddess had spoken. His hand reached for hers and without hesitation, she clasped them together.
There was no awkward swinging or flailing arms. Gracefully, she ran alongside the horse for a beat and positioned herself behind the rider.
One arm wrapped around the stranger’s waist and the other gave the horse a soft pat. “Thank you both,” she said, just loud enough to where they would both hear her.
She was trying to catch her breath while she adjusted and pulled herself closer to the man.
She turned her head, scanning the area to see where the Gorruks were. They had inflicted some damage, possibly killing two, but there were at least ten more of them gathering to assess the situation.
She trained her eyes on the tallest of the group of Gorruk as it stared back at them. They would go for the hunt, there was no doubt in her mind.
With a chill running down her back, she sighed and leaned against the man’s back. He instinctively straightened his posture, and she immediately retracted from the position.
“Are you hurt, Miss?” His voice, masculine with a gentle inclination, carried a hint of concern, though she couldn’t be certain.
“I think I’m okay.” She raised her voice to be heard over the pounding rain and the thundering hooves of his horse. Though, it hardly seemed necessary.
As she assessed her savior, she noticed his slightly elongated, pointed ears. An Elf. That meant he’d have no trouble hearing her.
“They are going to chase us. Likely until they catch us. I truthfully cannot see them giving up,” she muttered.
She swore she heard him curse. “I’m inclined to agree with you, Miss.”
“Azahara.” She hated being called ‘miss’. “You can call me Aza if you please.”
The Elf turned his head slightly to look behind at her, revealing his eyes, which were a shade of emerald. “Pleasure. You may call me Kaed Blackfyre, Miss,” he said.
Her brows furrowed. “It will please me if you do not call me miss.”
Kaed let out a low rumbling laugh. “As you wish, Azahara.”