Daughter of the Beast by E. C. Greaves

Author:E. C. Greaves [Greaves, E. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: New, Fantasy
ISBN: 9780473614898
Amazon: B09Q8WDH98
Goodreads: 60129056
Publisher: DieselPunk Creative
Published: 2022-03-04T08:00:00+00:00

ix.

If Mazgar truly was going to shit herself during the raid, now would be the perfect time.

It was terrifying.

My senses were overwhelmed; by the cacophony of the melee and the ceaseless shrill ringing of a warning bell, by the billowing, noxious smoke that surrounded and choked me, and by the sprawling chaos that had erupted in the village square.

“You two pups!” a raider yelled, as she rushed past us and towards the fray. “Cease that racket. Quiet the alarm bell!”

Mazgar and I caught each other’s glances and nodded.

I turned towards the source of the noise.

A single unarmed peasant was feverishly tugging on a rope under the awning of the hall that overlooked the hamlet.

Their militia had already come, and were locked in combat with a heavily outnumbered (and completely surprised) group of Vulkar warriors—but still the ringing went on.

I shifted my grip on my short spear and began to jog in the direction of the panicked villager.

“Wait Zyntael! We must avoid the soldiers, Sister!” Mazgar shouted, pointing out an alley between two rows of burning buildings.

She was right; we would be no match for the armoured troops who had poured into the village square once the townsfolk realised that they were under attack.

I shouted back my agreement, and followed Mazgar’s advice.

Whilst the two of us weaved between shabby wooden houses, dashing from cover to cover behind piles of crates and barrels, jutting corners, and low fences, I wondered where Sarga and the other pups had gone.

When the chaos began, they’d set off in pursuit of a farmer who had tried to lead his livestock to safety. I hoped that they had avoided the well-equipped soldiers who had sprung from seemingly every building, as though prepared and expecting our attack.

There was scarcely time for worry though, as Mazgar skidded to a halt in the alley in front of me.

“Down. Down,” she hissed.

A group of soldiers rushed past the end of the alley in front of us.

From the little I could make out, they were all Kimora or Hobgoblin. Dressed in maille and carrying torches, spears and shields, their arms and armour rattled with each hurried footfall as they went by.

We waited a moment to ensure that we would not be spotted, before proceeding up the sloping path between the buildings.

“There!” I pointed across a small stretch of open ground, at the large building ahead of us. “That’s the town hall.”

We had managed to flank the building, and now approached it from the east. The bell-ringer made their racket from the southern face of the wooden hall—we had the element of surprise.

My hands were sweaty and trembling, my mouth dry, as we crept as cautiously as possible through a well-kept garden of flowers, and along the east wall of the building.

“On one. We rush him and stick him,” I whispered to my companion. “Are you ready?”

She nodded.

I swallowed dryly.

“Treyt…”

“Oyk…”

“Ut!”

The bell-ringer didn’t even see us coming, so absorbed was he in his frantic task.

For some reason though, I hesitated as I thrust my weapon, and he turned.

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