In an instant, Mat was alert and tense, ready for whatever danger lie in wait.
"Wha—”
Gareth clamped a gloved hand over his mouth, eyes wide as he motioned to stay low and follow him. Mat’s hand reached for the dagger in his boot, every muscle taut and on edge. If only he’d brought his claymore with him that morning. Fast and silent, they made their way up the hill to peer below. Just as Mat opened his mouth to ask again, Gareth held up a single silencing finger, pointing to the scene unfolding below them. Immediately he knew what had garnered such a response from him.
A woman.
A beautiful woman.
She was of noble birth, as evidenced by her tattered silk dress; the fabric too rich for a peasant by far. Even torn and dirty, he could tell at a distance that she was not of common stock; it was something about the defiant way she held her chin. She was probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. In fact, the sight of her in distress had somehow knocked the air from his lungs.
She was being dragged, hands bound, behind a mountain of a man with a scar over one eye. A bounty hunter, or worse, an Eastern slaver who had wandered too far from the shore he pillaged and found a beautiful prize to steal away to market across the stormy seas. Her captor snarled and yanked on the dirty rope binding her hands. She stumbled forward, and he laughed as she fell to her knees in the mud. Mat’s jaw clenched as his mind whirred with the possibilities of rescue attempts, running through dozens of schemes. She smeared the dirt splashed onto her face with her bound hands, spreading it over her cheek.
At first, Mat thought she’d started crying. Her shoulders shook, and her dirty face was turned away. Then, a sudden southern wind carried her musical laughter to him. Tinkling and haughty, the sound forced a shiver down his spine. The bounty hunter snarled and the woman leapt, drawing blood down his cheek with her nails before he backhanded her roughly to the ground.
The sound of his blow thudded loudly enough to carry over the howling wind. Mat forced himself to breathe slowly and think clearly, the wind quieted and a plan formed in his mind. They had to do something. He couldn't watch this anymore. They were close enough to the river that the thunderous applause of the rushing titan would mask Mat's voice from the people below.
"If you draw them away, I can take the man holding her and help them escape."
Gareth's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "How in the bloody afterworld do you expect me to draw them away?" Gareth's fist clenched at his side annoying Mat to no end.
"You're good at making people want to punch you. Just do that." Mat rolled his eyes as Gareth nodded solemnly. He turned on his heel and, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like cursing under his breath, made off to create some kind of distraction. Knowing what little he did of Gareth, he didn’t imagine it wouldn't be subtle.
Mat turned his eyes back to the prisoner, transfixed by her every movement. He had never seen a woman like her before. She was stunning. Her hair was dirty and dark, tied into a plait behind her except for a few wild curls that had come loose and stuck to her face. Her intelligent blue eyes were bright and wide with, not fear, but anger. Righteous anger. It was then he realized she was standing protectively in front of another woman. The second woman seemed smaller somehow, nearly folded in half and cowering behind the fearsome woman.
"You'll pay for that!"
Her voice was bewitching and musical; the wind slowed and the howl seemed to echo the tone of her ire. Mat grinned once he understood. She wielded her anger as a weapon, to protect the woman behind her, drawing their focus. The four men circled around them, and suddenly a shout echoed through the space. Gareth appeared over the ridge; hands cupped around his mouth as he caught their attention.
"Oi! Tree bangers! You sons of witches can only get women you abduct? Of course! Look at those ugly mugs. Faces only a mother could love."
Mat bit down on his glove to suppress a hysterical giggle. Tree bangers?
“Kill him.” The bounty hunter scowled deeper than before, the white scar stretching taut for a gruesome moment. The others followed Gareth as he darted over the hill. The bounty hunter yanked hard on the woman's bindings, just as another man came up behind her and pulled the smaller woman away. She let out a blood curdling scream as she was wrenched away. The noble woman bared her teeth and threatened them all, much to their amusement.
"Our orders may keep you safe, but your little friend is fair game."
Mat saw his opportunity to strike as one of the horses broke free and the last of the bounty hunter’s men took off after it. The small woman was tossed unceremoniously away, stumbling she fell into the rushing water and struggled to stay afloat and not get swept away.
"Tia!"
Mat leapt from his hiding place and with long strides found himself face to face with the screaming woman in seconds. "Hi there," he said, grinning as the scar-eyed man lumbered towards him menacingly. "Hello, big guy. How about we settle this like gentlemen?" Mat ducked and barely missed a fist whizzing by his ear. "Or not." Mat landed a blow to the man's stomach, which had no effect. He tried again, this time bringing his fist down hard against the man's jaw. Again, nothing. A trickle of black blood dripped from the corner of his mouth. The grin slipped off Mat's face as he realized he might actually be in trouble.
"Gods be damned! You're a half-blood?" Mat unsheathed his dagger then, knowing he wouldn't be able to beat the man in a fair fight. Not when he had magick running through his veins making him impossibly strong.
With a roar, the bounty hunter swung at him, refusing to let go of the bindings holding his prisoner. Ducking, Mat struck swiftly, burying his dagger deep into the man's thigh. It stuck there, and with a howl, he dropped the rope. Mat wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her away from the fallen bounty hunter, now clutching his leg. She clawed at him as he pulled her further away from danger; he ignored her protests to drop his arm from around her waist. She did not relent, her nails drawing blood.
"Don't touch me. Tia! I can't leave her." She flailed and kicked at his shins, but he wouldn't budge. He couldn't see the other woman. She had surely been swept away by the froth of the river, the current too strong to resist for long.
"Don't touch me!"
Her wailing was going to do nothing but attract unwanted attention from the half-blood's friends, and they weren't yet a far enough distance to outpace them, especially not with her twisting and jerking like a wet cat. He brought his other hand up to cover her mouth; she slapped it away, so he covered her mouth again, holding tight to keep her screams muffled against his palm.
Beautiful, for sure, but definitely not worth the trouble.
Chapter Seven
Liz fought hard against the hunter pulling her farther from where Tia disappeared into the water. She'd lost everyone else; Liz wouldn't survive if she lost Tia too. As he tried to silence her with a hand over her mouth, her panic flared bright. As soon as his skin clamped down over hers, she would see things she didn't want to see. There was a vibration in the air, like a subtle harmonizing in the wind, the mists tugging against her mind. The threads of fate circled around the two of them, strong as steel bands, tightening around every inch of their struggling forms.