I was alive.
I was alive.
God have mercy. Lord have mercy. I was alive.
I’d been under a demon’s hanging body all day. I’d sifted through a place so cursed it was practically a tomb, with no promise I’d ever get out again. I’d been attacked, sworn to, and attacked again.
But I’d held my own. I’d survived.
I drew in a second huge breath, bracing myself, and straightened.
I was not going back.
In the morning, I would pack up and leave.
The Vagabond Paladins would simply have to live without their cup. The relief tore through me just as the cool of evening air hit my lungs and I was — for a moment — euphoric. I didn’t have to go back. They couldn’t make me. I could just stay up here in the sweet air of the world.
Around me, dusk was settling in grey velvet like a warm coverlet. Above, the moon and stars swelled with light. Out past the crumbling ruin, the sea muttered. And I was free.
No! No, no, no, that’s no fun at all, little treat.
Brindle bumped his skull against my leg. I leaned down to rub the skin behind his ears and press my forehead to the silky fur there.
Do as you must, my girl. It never hurts to buck the aspect now and then. Remind them that we’re beggars, not kings. Harder to steer. Harder to push. Harder to grind down because we’re already on the bottom.
I opened my eyes.
The tableau of two Engineers sprawled before a fire sipping tea was no surprise. They watched me owlishly as if I were a bard performing. Perhaps they’d been at it all day. Perhaps they’d drunk the stream dry with all their tea brewing. The thought made me feel so light I nearly laughed.
Brindle padded away toward the woods to take care of doggy business and I took a step forward, my feet light underneath me.
Something grabbed me around my neck so suddenly that I couldn’t scream, couldn’t so much as speak. I reached up, scrabbling against a tight grip on my throat and an iron forearm, fighting down the sudden surge of energy that filled me with strength but clouded my mind.
“What are you doing?” someone ground out from behind me. The Prince Paladin, I thought. He sounded horrified.
I couldn’t breathe. I thrashed against my restraint.
The Engineers stood up, their faces appalled in the flickering flames.
My eyesight was charring around the edges.
My attacker spun me to face him. He put a second hand to my throat and shook, and I had to grab his forearms with my hands so I could move with the shaking rather than be moved by it. It took some of the whip and snap out of what he was doing but did nothing for how his thumbs dug into my windpipe.
I struck out with a foot and connected with a greave. Struck a second time, higher, and felt him flinch at the strength of the blow.
“That was a demon down there,” the High Saint said, sounding almost hysterical as he shifted to keep his feet. “A demon, and you didn’t stop it, didn’t cast it out. That’s your job. It’s your only job.”
Little black flecks danced in front of my eyes. I kicked a third time, this time aiming higher, but he twisted and my blow landed to the side.
Focus, Victoriana. There’d be a weakness somewhere. But my thoughts were coming from too far away. I couldn’t quite seem to grasp them.
There was a sudden scream as my vision darkened completely, and the pressure was gone. I fell to the ground, huffing, cradling my neck in both hands, scrambling to get my feet under me and get into a fighting stance. A low rumble sounded from over me. It went on and on.
“Well, of course it bit you,” the Prince Paladin said from far away. “You attacked its paladin. You’re a fool, Joran Rue.”
“Emotions seem to be running just a little high, hmm?” one of the Engineers said, as if stating the obvious would sort out the problem.
But whatever else they were saying was lost as the blood roared in my ears and breath sawed in my lungs. I pawed for my sword hilt, found it, and drew, sinking into a defensive stance. My neck and throat hurt badly. Every breath felt like fire as I willed tears not to come.
