Shadow and Bone

that it was one of my guards. His body left a red smear against
the glass as he slid from view.
The coach door flew open and a man with a wild, yellowbearded
face appeared. I scrambled to the other side of the
coach, the knife held out before me. He barked something to
his compatriots in his strange Fjerdan tongue and reached for
my leg. As I kicked out at him, the door behind me opened and
I nearly tumbled into another bearded man. He grabbed me
under the arms, pulling me roughly from the coach as I howled
and slashed out with the knife.
I must have made contact, because he cursed and loosened
his grip on me. I struggled to my feet and ran. We were in a
wooded glen where the Vy narrowed to pass between two
sloping hills. All around me, soldiers and Grisha were fighting
with bearded men. Trees burst into flames, caught in the line
of Grisha fire. I saw Fedyor throw his hand out, and the man
before him crumpled to the ground, clutching his chest, blood
trickling from his mouth.
I ran without direction, clambering up the nearest hill, my
feet slipping on the fallen leaves that covered the forest floor,
my breath coming in gasps. I made it halfway up the slope
before I was tackled from behind. I fell forward, the knife
flying from my hands as I put my arms out to break my fall.
I twisted and kicked as the yellow-bearded man grabbed
hold of my legs. I looked desperately down to the glen, but the
soldiers and Grisha below me were fighting for their lives,
clearly outnumbered and unable to come to my aid. I struggled
and thrashed, but the Fjerdan was too strong. He climbed on
top of me, using his knees to pin my arms to my sides, and
reached for his knife.
“I’ll gut you right here, witch,” he snarled in a heavy
Fjerdan accent.
At that moment, I heard the pounding of hooves and my
attacker turned his head to look down at the road.
A group of riders roared into the glen, their kefta streaming
red and blue, their hands blazing fire and thunder. The lead
rider was dressed in black.