Abigail turned as quickly as she could, scrambling in the loose dirt, nearly falling but regaining her footing and sprinting back toward Magda, drawing an arrow as she ran.
The rats swarmed over Magda, biting and clawing while she tried to roll away from them, killing several with her body, but leaving others scurrying after her with single-minded viciousness. She staggered to her feet before unleashing her quickest spell, a force-push, into the midst of the few remaining rats, blasting them away, killing the last of them before she collapsed.
Abigail loosed an arrow at Peti, but it bounced harmlessly off her shield. Dropping her priceless bow, she drew the Thinblade and ran toward the witch with all the speed she could muster. Peti’s dark eyes widened, realization of what she faced ghosting across her face. Abigail was closing fast, gaining speed with each stride.
Peti didn’t cast a spell, but instead withdrew a jar from her bag and tossed into Abigail’s path. It tumbled through the air, shattering on the road and releasing a dark and squirming mass of something unnatural. In that same moment, a ballista bolt drove into the ground not three feet from Peti, sending her scrambling away and snarling at the ramparts above.
Before Abigail could react, the squirming mass of darkness that Peti had cast before her grew into a patch of black tentacles rising up out of the ground, flailing about in search of a victim. Several tentacles wrapped around her legs, then her waist, all of them trying to pull her to the ground. She struggled against them, slashing this way and that, desperately trying to cut her way free, but with each severed tentacle, another grew to take its place.
A second ballista bolt nearly impaled Peti, disrupting the spell she was attempting to cast. She growled, barking in fury before grabbing Torin by the collar and pulling him toward the river.
“I’m going to kill you, witch!” Abigail shouted, still hacking at the tentacles, freeing herself just as Peti and Torin reached the riverbank.
She cast about looking for her bow, racing around the flailing tentacles to retrieve it, but when she looked back, Peti and Torin were both on the opposite riverbank … how they’d gotten there she didn’t know. She took careful aim, loosing her arrow into that moment of stillness that always accompanied a perfect shot, but the arrow was turned aside by Peti’s shield. They fled on foot into the farm fields along the other side of the river.
Abigail froze, caught in a moment of indecision. Rage compelled her to give chase, but the river was moving too swiftly with early spring runoff to hope to cross safely. And more importantly, Magda was still down.
She went to her friend’s side, rolling her over and catching her breath at the sight. The High Witch, Triumvir of the Reishi Coven, was stricken with some magical ailment beyond Abigail’s understanding.
At each bite mark, her skin was black with tiny veins of darkness spreading from the wound.
“Oh Magda, what am I going to do?”
Several men approached, surrounding her on all sides; she ignored them, focusing on her worry for Magda.
“Stand away and answer for your crimes,” one man said.
Abigail felt ice-cold rage spread from her spine out to her hands and feet, calm settling over her and filling her with resolve. She stood, drawing the Thinblade in one fluid motion, leveling it at the man who had spoken.
“Attack and I will kill you all,” she said with deadly calm.
The man looked at her sword, a frown furrowing his brow.
“A Thinblade-how?” he said.
Before she could answer, another ballista bolt struck near the road, startling the men, drawing all eyes up toward the ramparts of the castle.
“Are you the lord of that keep?” Abigail asked.
“I am,” he said, still filled with confusion.
“My name is Abigail Ruatha. The creature you saw as a beautiful woman, the one you fought for, is actually a half-breed demon witch. She charmed you-took your free will and used it as her own. She put your life in jeopardy and discarded you when it suited her. I, on the other hand, am offering you choices: You can help me, you can get out of my way, or you can be my enemy. Choose!”
“Ruatha? You’re Lady Abigail, Commander of the Reishi Legions, those who saved our homeland from Zuhl’s horde?”
“Yes, I am. Now make your choice … I’m pressed for time.”
His confusion and the Sin’Rath’s charm seemed to break at once.
“I’m Sir Raban, at your service, My Lady.”
“Outstanding. Have your men carry her to the castle,” Abigail said, pointing to Magda. He nodded and several men gathered around and carefully picked her up.
“Do you have a wizard?”
“No, My Lady, but there is a shaman who lives in the wilds. He practices the arcane arts.”
“Send for him immediately,” Abigail said. “Do you have any women who know how to fight?”
“None. But why would you need women? I have many strong men who would serve you.”
“Never mind. Gather your men and send a rider ahead for a wagon to carry Magda.”
“Lady Abigail, if I knew more, perhaps I could be of greater help.”
“Do you know anything of magic?”
“No.”
“Then you can help me best by getting my friend to your castle so your healers can attend to her and by sending for this shaman you speak of.”
Raban seemed to struggle with his curiosity for a moment before he turned to his men and started shouting orders.
***
“How are you feeling?” Abigail asked.
Magda worked her tongue in her mouth before shaking her head, struggling to open her eyes, then clenching them shut.
“Here’s some water.”
Abigail trickled a few drops into her mouth, letting her work it around before offering more. Magda rubbed the crusted tears from her eyelashes and tried to sit up.
“Easy … here, let me get you another pillow,” Abigail said, helping her sit up against the headboard.
“How long?” Magda asked, her voice breaking.
“Five days,” Abigail said, offering a cup of water.
“You should have gone on without me,” she said before gingerly taking a sip.
“Nonsense, you almost died. I wasn’t about to leave you in this condition.”
“Peti?”
“She escaped with Torin.”
Magda closed her eyes and shook her head. “We failed.”
“Not yet,” Abigail said. “I sent riders north with a letter for Anatoly. Help should be on its way soon.”
Magda took another drink, draining the cup slowly.
“What else has transpired?”
“Sir Raban, the lord of the keep, has taken us in. He summoned a shaman from the nearby mountains, a strange little man … I think he’s been on his own for a very long time, but he knew enough to make a poultice that drew out the poison. I used the last of my healing salve on your wounds and we’ve been waiting for you to wake ever since.
“Aside from that, I’ve had a few conversations with the people who live here. They’re starved for information about the war and afraid for their children. I can’t say I blame them.”
Lady Raban entered quietly, smiling brightly when she saw that Magda was awake.
“Oh, thank the Maker, we’ve been so worried about you. You must be hungry, let me get you something to eat,” she said without taking a breath and then she was gone.
“They seem eager to please,” Magda said.
“Yes … it took a few days for the truth to sink in for the men, but once it did, they became very repentant. Many have expressed shame and guilt for succumbing to Peti’s charms. I tried to explain but I don’t think my words did much good. Since then, just about every man in the castle has come to me and offered to help when we resume our pursuit. And the women were so grateful to have their men back that they’ve been almost annoyingly helpful.”