Cornucopia (Half-Breed Book 3) by Debra Dunbar

Author:Debra Dunbar [Dunbar, Debra]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-01-11T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

We arrived in the desert, a city about a mile off. Libertytown was a speck in the distance. The sun was golden-pink on the horizon, and I had a cart with no lizards. Or horses.

“Can we leave it here?” I asked Rutter. “We can send someone from Libertytown to retrieve it up in the morning.”

He shook his head. “It will be picked clean. Or burned. If the sand wyrms don’t get into it, a roving group of demons will.”

I didn’t go all the way to the mountains to have my supplies stolen, so I picked up one end of the wagon shaft, braced myself against the yoke, and pulled. Rutter did the same on the other side and slowly we moved the wagon forward. It was only a quarter mile to Patchine. Once there I could bribe some demons to help haul it to Libertytown in the dark. If they didn’t take my cash, then hopefully Kirby could step in to compensate them.

We were moving at a painfully slow pace, due to the soft, sandy dirt, the weight of the wagon, and the fact that neither Rutter nor I were experienced at team pulling. I was sweaty and exhausted after we’d gone only thirty feet. The city seemed even farther away, and I caught sight of something moving closer – something that looked like a group of…creatures.

“Rutter? Who’s coming towards us?”

Rutter looked up. “Demons. Three of them.”

Should I run and hide and abandon my cart to potential looters? And hide where? There was nothing bigger than a tumbleweed nearby. Maybe I could crawl in the cart with the crates, although if the demons looted the wagon, I’d surely be found.

“What do I do?” I hissed. They were moving fast, no doubt running.

Rutter dropped the yoke leaving me with all the weight, and walked forward, standing partially in front of me. I appreciated the effort, but a small Low wasn’t going to block me from view. What to do? How could I explain my presence here without making me more of an interesting object to haul home as a demon-toy?

“Tell them I’m an elf,” I told Rutter. “A mute elf in human clothing, one who has taken a vow of silence in honor of the Goddess, and that you’re escorting me somewhere.”

The demon’s eyes widened as he glanced back at me. “A Low? Escorting an elven lady?”

We didn’t have time to argue further because the demon travelers were within earshot. I dropped my side of the yoke and stepped away from the shaft, well aware that an elven lady wouldn’t be pulling a wagon. Then I raised my chin and tried to look aloof and imperious. What would a full-elf, one who actually lived in Hel, do in this circumstance? The demons hailed us and Rutter shouted something back. I looked, figuring I’d better at least see what I was up against.

One had wings, but no feathers. He wasn’t the bird-reptile cross as Irix appeared in his demon form. This one looked like a plucked chicken with bumpy tan skin and a long sharp beak.

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