7 #2
The terrain over which we’re sailing is mostly open farmland, which makes me nervous.
My gaze keeps darting to each point of the compass.
We’ve been in the air for less than an hour when I spot the thing I feared—another carpet.
No, two of them, off to the east, and another flying object in the west, too far away for me to discern what it is.
“We need to get out of the sky,” I tell the carpet.
“We are nearly to the Farrow Foothills,” Severin says. “I can stay in the shadows of the copses and windbreaks until then.”
It’s risky, especially since, without magic or ranged weapons, we’ll be at the mercy of anyone who spots us. But if we roll up the carpet and travel on foot, our progress will be painfully slow, and that pace poses a risk of its own.
If it were a cloudy day, I’d suggest rising as high as the carpet can manage and staying within the cover of the clouds. But the day is clear and bright, with only a few flecks of white fluff in the sky.
“Keep to the trees when you can,” I say.
“Once we get to the foothills, stay in the valleys and we’ll weave our way through.
I still think Zeletas is our best bet for finding work, clothes, and supplies.
If the people behind this coup know the prince well, as I suspect they do, they might guess that he’s headed for Anyssir Castle, and possibly to the northern border.
Zeletas is not on the main road to Crowfang Pass, nor is it directly on the way to Anyssir Castle, so they might not expect us to stop there. ”
“It’s a day’s journey out of the way if you’re heading to Crowfang Pass,” comments the carpet. “Zeletas is a destination you visit for trade or tourism, not a city you travel through on the way to somewhere else.”
“Exactly. And with fashion so highly prized there, we might be able to pawn a couple of your less notable pieces of jewelry, your Highness. Glyph paint and varnish will also be plentiful since the Rauveron Guild headquarters is located there. It will still be expensive, though. Maybe I can do a touch pod at the Blue Feline to pay for it… although taking a couple clients to bed would be far more lucrative—”
“No.” The word is a dangerous snarl, straight from the prince’s throat.
I had no real intention of letting any strangers inside me, but his swift command stirs my rebellion. “It’s my choice, not yours.”
“I’m your prince, soon to be your king, and I will not allow it.”
I clench my jaws to hold in my sharp retort. So far, Vawn has given me ample liberty in the way I speak to him, but when he reminds me of his rank in that tone, my training compels me to submit.
We’re skimming the edge of a strawberry field, gliding along a fence line, winking in and out of the shadows of the occasional trees. Something shivers in the air near us, a sparkling crackle of energy that lifts the hair on my arms.
It’s the aura of attack magic that barely missed its target.
Without bothering to look behind, I wrap my hands around the carpet’s grips and scream, “Go!”
Vawn grabs my waist just in time as the carpet shoots forward, leaping from his traveling pace into the same breath-stealing speed he used when we fled from the Lyre I should treat him with more respect.
The carpet shivers as fiery magic crackles along his edge. The odor of burning fibers sears my nostrils. I crush my hand over the spot, smothering the flames that threaten to erupt. It stings, but it works.
We have to stay in the air. If the carpet is downed, we’re fucked.
Cautiously I raise my head. Across a freshly plowed field lies a high stone wall, and beyond that, the forest that clings to the slopes of the Farrow Foothills.
Twisting around, I catch a glimpse of our pursuers. Two magic carpets and—fuck me, a wyvern. It’s a small one, about the size of a cart horse with wings, but still a panic-inducing sight.
“Get us into the trees,” I yell to Severin.
“I cannot fly in there. This forest is too dense,” he warns.
“I know,” I reply. “We’re going to force them to dismount and follow us in there on foot.”
Vawn tenses, and his voice thrums against my back. “They’ll kill you.”
“My knife skills aren’t dependent on glyphs.” But despite my reply, my stomach is knotted with dread. There are two riders on each of those carpets and another on the wyvern. That’s five to one.
“I still have that extra knife,” the prince says. “I’ll help you fight them.”
“No. You’ll take the carpet and run.”
“Don’t be an idiot, Syth. I’m not helpless.”
“That’s not the impression you gave me at the Lyre his limbs go lax, and he crashes to the forest floor.
A crossbolt bolt whizzes past my neck, nearly slitting my skin. I slam both of my claw knives into one hand, yank a small throwing knife from my belt, and send it at the archer. It sticks in the back of their hand. Through their helmet comes a muffled yell of fury and pain.