FASHION STATEMENT Page three....
Copyright Mary Mannon Reeves
"By what, O Mighty Warrior," Torbi snarled. "A marauding pack of gophers? A killer pride of..."
She never finished. The mage bolt erupted on her chest, crystalline blue, and slammed her into a wagon wheel. The arrows followed, a deadly swarm that studded the wagon and anyone unlucky enough to be standing in front of it.
Underneath it, Ramiz spit out a mouthful of dirt and glared at Darinay.
"Not that I don't appreciated being tackled like a rich bachelor at a whorehouse, but try to land me face up next time."
"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Darinay grinned. "How far are we from the horses?"
"Two wagons down. Where's Alloki?" She shifted while Darinay scrambled away.
"Behind you." The warrior scrambled in beside her, dragging her partner behind her. "Torbi's stunned for the duration and Monorrit went down in the first hail. You've got to do something, Beast Speaker."
"What? What?" Ramiz twisted to stare at the swordswoman. "What am I supposed to do? Tell their horses that their riders are bad widdle boys and they should buck them off right now? You do something! You're the big warrior."
"I'm a swordswoman, mage. I can't do anything while the bandits are on horseback. They'll just stay out there until they've picked us all off, unless you do something about it."
Cries rose from the caravan as the torrent of arrows continued. The ambushers were working their way closer. Ramiz heard a distinctive ker-chang, followed by a hoarse cry. She smiled grimly. Darinay'd found her crossbow. If she only had hers as well...she didn't give a scavenging damn about fashionable bodyguards, she just wanted to fight.
Quickly she tallied the swordsmen among them. D'nay, herself, Alloki and Fess. Most draymen could fight, judging by how many she'd bounced from the Shattered Sword, and she knew the wagonmaster was death incarnate with a sword in his hands. No doubt they had the bandits outfought, if it ever came to close combat. Which was exactly why it wouldn't. Alloki was right.
They had to get the raiders off their mounts. Ramiz cursed fluently, wishing that she truly was a Beast Speaker and could tell the horses to bolt. If she could only frighten them somehow.
"This was not supposed to happen," she muttered. "This was supposed to be a safe little trip through the plains. All I had to do was talk to mules and scare the little kitties away. Oh. Oh. Ramiz, you are a genius."
She scuttled to the end of the wagon and cupped her hands. Low, the roar began as a rumble deep in her chest, then built to a gravelly thunder. Alloki stared at her, jaw dropped. The wagon rocked as the horses hitched to it lunged away from the sound.
"Cut them loose!" Ramiz hissed. "I can't dodge the wheels and bespeak at the same time!"
She roared again. And again. Her throat felt like she'd swallowed coals, but still she continued. If the caravan horses were anything to judge by, she sounded real enough. They squealed and fought their harnesses, panic possessed. Unfortunately, the sound wasn't carrying far enough. The bandit's animals were uneasy, but not frightened. Yet.
"I've got to get out there. Alloki, I need your skills with the sword. Come with me and cover me while I get..." The look on the warrior's face stopped her. "Oh, gods. Another 'fashionable pair' aren't you? Only two sorceresses instead of two swords."
Alloki nodded miserably. "And I'm not even a combative mage, Torbi is. I can't fight my way out of a tangled sheet."
They both stared at Torbi's breathing, but still, form.
"I'm a weather witch. All I was supposed to do was keep the skies clear for the trip."
"Who says a weather witch is non-combative?" Darinay crawled in between them. "I only caught the last of that, but I can guess the rest. Great plainscat, Ramiz. Too bad it isn't scaring their animals as much as it ours. But the idea's sound. Alloki, can you draw lightning?"
"Of course, but why...Oh! If we can't scare them one way, we'll scare them another. One lightning storm coming up."
She wiggled to the far end of the wagon and crouched into a cross legged trance position.
"It'll take a few minutes," Darinay murmured. "When did you add ventriloquism to your repertoire, Ramiz?"
"What do you mean?"
"The roars. Half the time, I couldn't tell if it was coming from under the wagon or from the plains."
A chill washed over Ramiz. "The second cat wasn't me."
"The rogue?"
Ramiz nodded, her voice lost in the dry squeeze of her throat.
"Call it. Call the cat here."
"What? There are wounded lying everywhere, the horses are half-crazed already, and you want me to call a rogue cat into the camp? Do you want me to tie the napkin around its neck while I'm at it?"
"Call it! Ramiz, it's coming in from the plains. The bandits are between it and us. Do it!"
She did it. This time, she heard the echo, a cry for her cry, a snarl for her snarl. Lightning shattered the dusk and illuminated the raiders, who were circling on horses going mad with fright. They spurred and whipped, but the animals spun out of control.
"Charge them! Charge the wagons!" the leader shouted, his voice raw with fear and anger. The horses were all too eager to run toward the caravan and away from the real plainscat that bellowed behind them.