Red kept moving back until she came up against the wall of the stable, the pain ebbing just enough so that she could see.
Blood covered the cobblestones until at last all was silent. The guards were down and those not dying had been torn apart, with flesh and blood scattered everywhere. The animals were around her, breathing heavily, growling under their breaths, their heads held low, their muzzles stained with blood. Odd though. They weren’t eating the bodies.
Suddenly a few of the creatures lifted their heads and looked toward the manor house.
More men spilled through the doors, weapons and bows at the ready. Five, ten … Red snarled as she readied her weapon. That dicer had much to answer for.
The vores growled, their heads low, intent on the enemy. But Silver, the big one with the ruff, glanced off toward the wagons, and then back at the gathering force.
Red heard it then—the faint rattle of a key in a lock. She glanced over to see a pair of bare human feet at the back of the second wagon. And a larger dark shape leaping down and darting into the shadows. Followed by another … and another.
More vores. They had to be.
The growls around her deepened. Red turned and saw more bows being brought to bear.
“Scatter,” she commanded, more from instinct than anything else.
To her surprise, the vores obeyed. The entire pack seemed to disappear, loping off into cover, under wagons, behind barrels, into the stables.
What were those creatures?
No time to worry about that. Red threw herself between the wagons and the stable, Silver at her heels. Arrows thunked into the wagon.
“Muck,” Red grumbled under her breath as she pressed herself against the wagon. She rammed her dagger into the side of the wagon, then worked the arrow in her shoulder all the way out. It came free, at the price of pain. Red pressed her head against the wood, woozy and sick to her stomach.
More arrows thunked into the wagon. The guards were advancing.
Red swore. “Best I run for it now.” She glanced down at the animal at her side.
Silver looked up at her, and the intelligence in those eyes struck her hard. It waited for a moment and then shook its head in a negative gesture.
Red’s skin crawled. The movement looked unnatural and wrong. “You got a better idea?” she whispered.
Sliver moved his head up and down with an odd deliberation.
Her stomach clenched. “Fine,” she snapped.
Silver barked and darted back into the courtyard. He—and Red had no doubt he was a “he”—moved fast.
Shouts from the men. They had crossbows now. Bolts clattered on the flagstones. Red heard cranking as the weapons were reloaded. She glanced around the wagon. The men were moving, slowly coming closer, the bowmen toward the rear.
Two more vores darted toward the men, then away. Bolts and arrows rained down, but none hit their targets that Red could tell.
Silver came across the courtyard at a run, then whined and half collapsed. Shouts rang out as he dragged himself toward her. Red reached out with her good arm and hauled him into cover. She knelt and ran her hands over him, searching for …
The big animal stood and shook himself. And gave her a toothy grin.
“Faker,” Red growled in admiration. “Still, we—”
Screams.
Red was up and moving, but Silver was faster. They both broke out from cover to see that the new vores had come up from behind and targeted the crossbowmen.
Silver howled, and a fierce joy filled Red. She charged—
“Return to me, my Red,” The High Baron’s voice rang in her head. “Don’t let your bloodlust overrule your common sense.”
She took a few more steps, then stopped. No sense in being stupid. Besides, the beasts had them down. There was no need.
A slim man made his way down the side of the wagons, wearing a tattered tabard around his waist. The cloth bore the crest of the young Queen, the white dagger-star on a red background. “Are they all dead?” the young man asked, his ribs sticking out, with whip marks on his chest and face. “Are all the slavers—”