A Soul For Trouble

Chapter 8

For once, she's listening and not giving me any sass about it. Dev paused from strapping a dagger to his thigh to watch Trouble. Her pinched face spoke volumes. She sensed the danger, too, but he doubted she knew what it was.

He pulled a slim blade out of his boot. "Here, take this."

Her eyes widened. "I don't know how to use a weapon."

"I figured as much, but I want you to at least have something in case we can't avoid the undead."

"Undead?" she squeaked.

Great. She's certainly living up to her name. Getting her out of this alive might be more than I bargained for.

Satisfied he had an adequate arsenal attached to his body, he armed himself with a short sword and lowered the ward on the door. "Stay close to me, and don't speak until I tell you to."

He opened the door and peeked out into the dark hallway. Every muscle in his body tensed, ready to spring into attack if necessary. Silence greeted him. After checking both ways for any shadows, he stepped out of the room and motioned for Trouble to follow him. The wolf padded silently ahead, scouting out the back staircase.

Much to her credit, she knew how to sneak out of a building without being heard. That was one thing he didn't have to teach her. But based on the awkward way she gripped the knife, she'd be more likely to stab herself than anything else. He paused in the kitchen long enough to adjust the handle and give her a brief, wordless demonstration on how to use it.

The aura of dark magic almost threatened to smother him by the time they made it to the stable. He saddled his horse and pulled her up behind him.

At first glance, the streets looked deserted, but he knew better than to trust his eyes. The necromancer had to be close by to cause the twisting in his gut that made him want to double over. He nudged the horse forward, aiming for stealth rather than speed.

A shadow slithered out of the corner of his eye, and he barely had to time tell Trouble to duck before an arrow sailed over their heads. So much for avoiding a confrontation. He dug his heels into the horse's side.

Another arrow shrieked past him, bathing his cheek in an icy breeze. He veered the horse down a side street toward an open field. Normally, he would have preferred having a wide area to fight, but the three arrows that sank into the side wall of the last building in town reminded him that he'd be a prime target. He pulled on the reins, turning the horse sharply to the left and back toward the main road to Boznac.

Five pairs of glowing red eyes stared back at him from the shadows of the building, the stench of undead filling his nostrils. Trouble's arm squeezed his waist, easing his own terror and reminding him of his duty. She was his only priority. He urged the horse to run faster as a volley of arrows danced around them.

Strangely enough, no more arrows followed. He listened for the sounds of more hooves but only heard the ones beneath him. Unease knotted his shoulders. It was almost too easy to escape.

The horse's sides heaved from carrying the weight of both of them during the wild gallop, and he was forced to slow down before he killed the beast. An empty plain dotted with boulders stretched out in front of them under the light of the three moons.

Trouble loosened her grip around his waist. "Do you think we lost them?"

His skin still crawled, but he wanted to test her ability to sense dark magic. "What do you think?"

"I can still smell them."

"What do they smell like?"

She shifted behind him. "Like something even vultures refuse to eat."