Seeker (Riders #2)(81)

I look around me. No backpack in sight and I'm outnumbered ten times over, but the soldier in me resists panic. The best I can do is slow them down to give Daryn a better chance at escaping. I search for the most immediate threat. 

It's all of them.

They come in a swarm-suddenly and together. Throwing chains through the air that arc above me like metal flares.

They hit us everywhere.

Riot roars.

My sword is hooked at the crossbar. My hands, at the wrist. My horse, around the neck. Then a chain falls over my neck, grazing my shoulders for a second before it's pulled tight.

Pain explodes in my windpipe.

Riot's front legs swipe out sharply, and we go down like a falling tree. Tipping in an instant that lasts forever.

He falls on my leg-his full weight. My bones snap like twigs. Femur, shinbone, foot. My vision whites out and pain becomes everything.

Riot blazes, lighting up like a bonfire. I'm stuck beneath him, but I can see that his hooves have been chained and that he's being pulled at unnatural angles.

"Don't touch my horse! I'll kill you!" The chain around my neck is constricting my throat. My voice sounds like an engine that won't turn over. My threats go nowhere.

As the Harrows close around us, Riot writhes and struggles, every movement grinding my leg bones to gravel.

I feel myself passing out, sounds receding. Vision tunneling.

A decaying stench floods my nostrils like an airborne poison as one of the Harrows leans over me. It has a pale white scar across one wrinkled cheek.

If it had eyes, it'd be staring at me.

And if I still had the power to speak, I'd tell it that when I get my revenge, I'll start with it first.





CHAPTER 31

DARYN

The gray mare's coat is lathered in sweat when Samrael stops her.

Samrael, too, is damp with sweat. Beneath my hands, his shirt is hot and stuck to his skin. He's breathing fast from exertion.

But I'm not sure I'm breathing at all.

I'm not even sure if my heart's still beating. I don't feel anything except a sharp stinging in my throat, like I drank acid.

We rode a long time, I think.

What just happened?

Samrael turns slightly. The dawn light traces his profile with a thin line. Long straight nose. High brow. Cheeks and jaw like a rock quarry.

"This will likely be no comfort," he says, quietly, "but we would only have gotten killed if we'd stayed any longer. There was nothing to be done. And he's a strong fighter. I know from experience. I'm certain he was able to escape."

I scramble off the horse, seized by the need to get away from him.

I take three steps before my legs give out and I sink to my knees. Sink into the terrible feeling that's curling into every particle in my body.

Regret. Regret at a subatomic level.

Never-not even when I ran away from home, or when I lost Bas to the Rift-never have I felt this internal alarm blaring at me, telling me I've done something that needs to be undone now.

Gideon is back there.

Gideon.

I pull myself up. "We-" My voice has left me. I swallow and try again. "We have to go back. We have to help him."

Samrael dismounts. He walks to me. His brow is furrowed with annoyance or concern. I don't know him well enough to know which. Holding his gaze feels like locking eyes with a cobra. "I don't want to crush your hopes-"

"Then don't. Actually, you can't. Even if you try."

"I was going to say, at the risk of discouraging you, now isn't the time to go back. We're not in a position to help him. The Harrows have numbers on their side. We will help. But we need to think logically about this. We need to strategize. If we go to Gray Fort-"



       
         
       
        

"Gideon is back there and he needs us now." How do I know? How am I so sure? I wasn't this sure when I lost Bas. I was too scared. Too terrified of trusting myself. Without the Sight, I felt unguided. I feel guided now. Trust, even when it's hardest. Especially when it's hardest. "We need to go back."

Samrael looks toward the mare. The set of his jaw is hard, decided, but I'm not backing down. "Sebastian said you helped him. He told us you saved his life and that you've changed your ways. If you have, you'll go back for Gideon. He was fighting to save our lives. He stayed back there so that we could get away."

"He stayed for your life, not mine."

"You're still here because of him." My gaze drops to his forearm. Through the rips in his sleeve, I see the gash the Harrow left, so like the cuts on my back when they were fresh. Blood drips off his hand, disappearing into the dirt. Every drop marks the time we're wasting. I try a new approach. "The orb was taken. The Harrow that attacked us took it."