Seeker (Riders #2)(38)

I'm still in my follow-through when Riot surges up. I know what he's doing-facing an attack from the front-but I'm twisted, shoulders turned like I'm loading up to swing a bat. I have no chance of staying on him. I fly back, lifting off the saddle.



       
         
       
        

The harness of my prosthetic yanks against my elbow, and for an instant I'm sure I'll lose my entire arm this time, but then the reins slide free. I somersault and land on the flats of my shoulder blades, sword thudding away as I tumble ass-over-head.

Finding my feet, I scramble for my weapon.

Riot is trampling the Harrow under his enormous hooves. As I run up, the thing's legs are mashed. I pin its neck with my prosthetic and stare into empty eyes.

"Where's Sebastian?" I growl, pressing the point of my sword into its armpit. "Where is he?" It breathes heavily through yellowed fangs. The brackish stench of its breath almost makes me gag. "Answer me! Where's Sebastian?"

It snaps at me, fangs scraping my metal hand.

I push myself up and Riot moves right in, finishing the job he began.

Then he looks at me, fire rolling up his broad chest. Did he bite you?

He didn't.

Get on.

No. We're two fighting if we stay separate, Riot. We can do more.

Riot's eyes flash as he stamps his hooves. I can tell he doesn't like this, but he lowers his head and tears after a Harrow.

The creature reverses so fast that it skids out and lands flat on its back, standing no chance.

Firming my grip on my sword, I think through my next steps as I sprint to Cordero's group. We need a secure position first. We'll be annihilated if we can't regroup somewhere.

"Suarez! Fall back!" My voice is drowned in the noise, but Suarez and Maia hear me. I point. "Cabin a hundred yards that way."

Maia is stemming the tide of howling oncoming Harrows with steady, deadly accuracy. Jode has concentrated his shots to one area. The woods there are glowing red and roaring.

"We're not mobile," Suarez says as I reach him. Cordero's hand is pressed to her neck, and blood flows through her fingers. She looks white as bone. Ben's shirt is covered in blood but I don't see a wound. "Someone needs to help Low. We need those horses."

"We need the orb," Cordero says. "None of it will help if we don't get the orb."

I don't want to believe what I just heard. "You don't have it? Where is it?"

"My horse's saddlebag. We heard trouble-we were trying to leave but the horse spooked."

I look at Suarez. He looks at me. There are no words for this shit sandwich.

"Gideon, I'll go!" I look up at Daryn, mounted on Shadow. "I'll get it!"

"Daryn, wait!" But Shadow lunges away in hungry strides.

This plan has serious flaws. Daryn has no weapon and we need her as much as the orb to get out of here. And I just need her alive, period. 

I look for Riot but he's deep in the fight, biting and kicking anything that comes near. Too far for me to reach quickly. "Marcus!"

He looks at me, sees Daryn leaving, and then peels away from the clearing to follow her. As Ruin opens up her stride, a Harrow leaps into her path. She jumps and clears the Harrow easily. As she lands I see the flash of the scythe arcing, then the sickle hooking into the Harrow's back. Marcus drags it a few feet before he releases it.

Low thunders up on one of the Arabians. He jumps off and grabs the reins with one hand, waving at Cordero and Maia with the other. "Come on come on come on," he says. "Up up up."

I run over and hold the horse so he can boost Maia into the saddle. Cordero doesn't move.

"Cordero, let's go!" I yell.

She's swaying on her feet, and her eyes have gone distant. She'll bleed out if we can't get her help. "No," she says. "Send Ben. I'll go last."

Shit. This is no time to act noble.

But Low immediately adjusts. "Ben, get over here!"

Ben doesn't hesitate. He throws himself into the saddle and lands half on top of Maia, who scoots back.

"How far, Gideon? Which way?" he asks, taking the reins. "Is it close?"

"Easy, Ben. Head that way. Follow our tracks. You good?"

"I'm good," he says.

Maia loops an arm around his waist and pulls a 9mm from her leg holster with the other hand. She digs her heels into the Arabian's flanks, and the horse shoots away.

Low and I give each other cover as we sprint back to the three remaining Arabians. We need a horse for Cordero and Suarez.

"The red, Blake." He points to a chestnut mare that looks slightly less crazed than the other two. "Cut her loose."