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Blind Salvage: A Rylee Adamson Novel(13)

By:Shannon Mayer

The slam of the giant’s foot into the ground scooted us forward faster yet, and my ribs protested yet again, stealing my ability to breathe. We were just twenty feet from the open arch of the castle entrance way. Pamela pushed herself off Liam’s back and turned to face the giant. The look on her face was one I was beginning to know all too well.
Eyes narrowed, chin tipped up, she lifted her hands and flung them toward the giant. Two fireballs erupted from her fingertips, hitting the giant in the chest.
Damn, I wish I’d thought about that … nope, never mind. The giant patted the fire out, almost calmly, and then snarled at us. His jagged teeth had hunks of flesh and armor clinging to them, and from between them protruded a thick, long tongue that he used to clean his own face with in single lick.
“Fuck, that is nasty,” I spit out, along with a gob of blood. “Move it, Pam. Your fireballs are just pissing him off. Just get inside. I don’t think he can follow.”
“What? Why not?”
“Giants aren’t real smart and as soon as we’re out of sight, we’re out of mind.”
Gods, I hoped that my memory was right. Grabbing her by the arm, I ran as fast as my labored breathing would allow into what I hoped would be the safety of the castle.
Right, I’d forgotten for a moment about the creatures we’d not been able to identify, a part of me hoping Pamela had taken them all out.
The creatures that had been firing on us were not trolls or ogres.
They were gods-be-damned big ass red caps. I did a fast count. There were at least twenty red caps. Two arms, two legs, built like a man, but their faces looked as if they had been smashed with a shovel, flat with just slits for noses and no lips to cover their blocky square teeth. Each of them was close to seven feet tall, carried a wicked iron pike, had heavy iron boots, and then there was their namesake. On each of their heads was a cap made of some sort of viscera, blood from the organ poured down the sides of their heads, and stained their skin a rusty brown.
“We can’t outrun them,” I said, as I slowed to a stop.
Liam grabbed my arm. “Yes, we can—”
“No, we can’t,” I snapped. “They can’t be outrun, not on their own turf, at least.”
The red caps started pounding the butt of their pikes into the ground at their feet, each thump bringing them a step closer. They had ringed us. From what I knew of them, which wasn’t a lot, we were in for a fight. Trained warriors who bathed themselves in the blood of their victims. Yeah, not really how I wanted to start my week. Freaking stupid Mondays.
“Pamela, to my back.” Thank the gods I’d been training her. She responded without question, pressing her back into mine. Alex tucked his butt in next to mine.
Liam didn’t question, just slid his back against ours.
“Head shots, people,” I said, my words calmer than I felt. Twenty red caps was no small feat to take on at the best of times.
As if in response, as I steadied my stance, something shifted inside of me, and one of my ribs pressed against my right lung. Shit, this was about to get tough.
Their pikes still thumping into the ground, the red caps were twenty feet away in all their blood and viscera glory. This close they looked like Dox on steroids, all muscle and small beady black eyes, bloodstained skin, with armor stretched taut over their bodies. My guts churned; injured, I was going to be more of a liability than a help in this particular situation. As if to drive the point home, pain rippled sharp and intense through my chest.
Four red caps engaged us, and I spun my swords out, crisscrossing them to catch the downward blow of a pike. The red cap forced me to my knees, the stone biting through my jeans. Alex leapt forward, snagging the red cap’s belt and yanking him off balance.
The red cap spun toward Alex, giving me his back. Thinking I was the weaker of the two of us. Perfect. He snapped his pike back in order to drive it into Alex’s side, but I beat him to the punch.
I drove my sword through the base of his neck, then yanked the blade to the left, beheading the big fucker before he could complete his swing.
“Good job, Alex.”
Alex blew a raspberry at the red cap. “Bloody stupid messy bugger.”
Yeah, he’d definitely picked up the local lingo.
A roar came from outside. The giant was still stomping around, and pissed as all get out. He gave me an idea. A bad idea maybe, but it might be the only chance we had.
“Pamela, knock out that arch.”
She spun, clapped her hands together and then flung them apart. The arch over the entryway blasted apart with the force of her spell, and as the dust settled, a loud, booming laugh floated down to us.
Garbling his language, whatever it was, the giant stomped into the courtyard, scooping up the closest red cap and jammed him, pike and all, into his mouth.