Chosen (The Warrior Chronicles #1)(6)

The girl mewed like a lost kitten, thrashing in Xavier’s thick arms. The large boy flexed, keeping her pinned, not daring to drop her like Rachie had yesterday. He didn’t want a bruise on his chest the same size and shape as Sanders’ fist.

Chapter 3

Shanti’s consciousness emerged through a deep haze. Pain seared her body, almost as if someone had reached in through her stomach and pulled everything inside out. She forced her eyes open, trying to scrabble her way out of the darkness that trapped her. What she saw next terrified her.

A man held her, and judging by the bulging biceps and length of the arms, a large man. He had her pinned against his body in an unbreakable squeeze, rocking and swaying. Her legs were closed at the moment, which was a good sign, but for how long? He was taking her somewhere, and he was crushing her painfully as he did.

The scent of boot polish tickled her nose. Peeking out from behind his mangy, curled hair were the fletching of arrows and the tip of a bow. On the other side of his massive shoulders a shiny, metallic hilt peeked out.

Closing her eyes again, she listened, immediately hearing a chorus of breath and heavy footfalls. More large men, then. And in her experience, it was often that a group of soldiers would make a prize of a lost and alone girl.

Fear coursed through her, then determination. She had no more than a trickle of energy, but she would bloody well fight. The only consolation was that he was touching her skin. The more skin contact meant the less energy required to attack his mind. Still, she didn’t have much to throw.

Building the dismal amount of power she had at her disposal, she lashed out. His burly arms constricted, crushing her into his chest as a scream of pure agony strangled his throat. His resistance was strong or she was weak, probably both, but in the end it worked. With a long wail, he let go, clutching at his head and dropping to the ground.

As Shanti’s body fell, she tried to unfurl. She tried to prepare to roll away upon impact. She tried to do something besides thump to the ground like a log and immediately pass out.

Tried, and failed. She’d be worse off than before, completely left to their devices.

Fabulous decision-making, as always.

Chapter 4

“GET DOWN!” Sanders screamed.

In two strides he was standing over the woman, sword in hand, sweeping the landscape with an experienced gaze. He glanced at Xavier, didn’t see the fletching of an arrow or the hilt of the knife, so looked back up. “Where did the attack come from? What caused this?”

Xavier rolled around, kicking up puffs of dirt.

Marc stood next to them, frozen. His mouth hung open and he stared down at the lifeless girl.

“Cadet! Get down!” Sanders grabbed Marc’s shirt and yanked him to the ground. “Attack? Where from?”

The boy stared.

Seeing no movement, Sanders bent to Xavier. They needed to get this parade marching. Carrying wounded with no cover, they might as well just roll over and expose their bellies. That’s how easy it would be to pick them off.

Except…the enemy didn’t have any cover, either... It would be another hour of hiking before the lush forest of their land spread out in welcome. The Mugdock had only burned land Sanders and his men didn’t regularly patrol.

Still no movement.

Sanders swatted Xavier’s hands away, looking for wounds. All he found was a face pinched in pain and bloodshot eyes. “What hurts?”

“The girl’s eyes,” Marc mumbled, still staring. “They glowed. Purple.”

Perfect. They were being attacked, in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to take cover, and the one guy that was supposed to patch them up was losing his mind. Sanders was living his worst case scenario.

“Marc, grab the woman. Rachie, Garcas, grab Xavier. Head north. Find cover. The rest of us will flank.”

“It was her,” Marc gurgled softly, waving a flaccid pointer finger.

Sanders reached out with a quick hand and yanked Rachie to him. He thrust the kid at the woman like a rag doll. “Rachie, grab her. Marc, get moving. You’re no good to me.”

Both boys stared, hunched over and blinking.

“MOVE!”

Sanders hopped to Xavier, swiping the young man’s hands off his head again. “Let’s go, son. Gotta move.”

“Huh?” Xavier stared up with blank brown eyes.

“Can you walk, man?”

“Yes. I think so.”

“Good. Rachie, would-you-grab-the-woman?! Shoulder hold will do. Let’s move!”

The whole band was up and moving at record pace. It wasn’t until halfway through the flight home, when no other attacks came, that Sanders realized his internal battle alarm was silent. The pressure of impending doom was gone. It felt like the danger had passed.

They didn’t slow. Sanders had an excuse to head home, and he wanted to get there and get these numb-nuts dispersed to some other babysitter.

The ground started to change slowly as they neared home. Hard, cracked dirt turned into fertile land, rich in nutrients and life. The burnt, cracked trees gradually morphed into huge, lush green monsters. The air sweetened, the shade deepened.

Three leagues from the gate and the sentries started, sparse at first, with their sound devices and their lights, able to signal others should unwanted persons wander too far into their land. As the band continued, more sentries dotted the trees overhead, watching them pass. The Captain had an efficient and organized system that had never let them down. Which was why a runner met them not long after they crossed into the lands.