The hollow clack of arrows jostling against one another thrust Mags back into the present. She was in danger. Her mind stilled and her body moved.

Taking one more step to her right, she drew and fired. Her arrow smacked against bone and hide armor. She blinked, drew another arrow, and raised her bow. Yet she needn’t fire. The kobold archer fell to its knees in the high grass, dropping its bow to clutch the arrow in its chest. The golden mana enveloping its hands faded. Then the creature collapsed.

A rustle of grass behind her warned Mags that the fight wasn’t over. She spun with bow already drawn. Where she’d seen movement earlier, now a kobold stood, armed with a javelin. It had snuck closer in her distraction and was just about to release its weapon. Cinnabar raised her front hooves to kick the creature in the face. The kobold hissed and dove to one side.

Just like that, it was gone from sight, though the faint rustle of leaves and grass could still be heard. Her arm and side were coated in a sheen of blood, and she could barely feel the wounded appendage now. She thanked the Old Gods she didn’t carry a longsword. One arm was about all she had at the moment.

Mags cursed and tossed down her bow. She’d once seen an archer die for refusing to do so. This wasn’t the space for careful aiming, not when she could be attacked from any angle. Mags had a feeling the kobold would soon be on her. In one fluid motion, she drew her shortsword.

Mags crouched at Cinnabar's side. Her heart pounded a steady cadence, so loud in her ears she could hear little else. A breeze shivered through the branches above, and the kobold made its move. It emerged from a bush nearby with javelin poised. The creature was terribly quick as it thrust at her leading leg. Mags countered rather than giving ground, shifting her footing and dipping her knee inward to avoid the blow. At the same time, Mags swung her shortsword down at the kobold's weapon. Steel found tempered wood, and a crack echoed in the ash grove. The kobold growled when the tip of its javelin fell away. The weapon had been compromised, which left her enemy fewer options.

True to its nature, the scaly monster didn’t so much as consider retreating. It drew a pair of bone daggers and leapt at Mags. She backstepped a little, dragging her lead foot. Then, in a graceful thrust, she pierced the kobold's throat with Liam's blade.

The vivid orange blood of the dying creature sprayed across Mags' arm and face. She continued to give ground to avoid being knocked down. Whipping her arm back, Mags withdrew her sword and stepped away from the kobold. It thrashed before her and shrieked. She must have narrowly missed its windpipe, though blood spurted rhythmically from the artery she’d opened. The kobold wouldn’t live much longer.

Stubbornly, it dropped one dagger and threw the other in Mags' direction. She easily dodged, but panic filled her when the kobold lifted a small horn dangling from a leather thong around its neck.

Mags thrust off her back leg and committed to a deep lunge. The horn blared. The throaty sound cut off a second later as her sword drove through the kobold's sternum. "Rift-born bastard!” she cursed. "Not good. This is not good."

Body beginning to tremble, Mags refused to let Marek down. She tore her sword from the corpse and sheathed it. It would make for a right mess later, but she didn’t have time to spare cleaning it. Cursing repeatedly, the woman found her discarded bow half a minute later.

She tried to grasp the saddle horn with her injured arm, and a spurt of blood poured from the wound. Her head swam. Mags clutched Cinnabar’s mane and breathed deeply. “You can do it,” she told herself. “Can’t pass out now.”

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Her second attempt went a little smoother. After securing the bow to the saddle, she hefted herself up with one arm. Mags crouched to avoid the overhead branches and spurred Cinnabar. As soon as they were clear of the ash trees, she cried out, "Ha! Run, Cinny! As fast as you've ever run before!"

The pound of hooves sent shockwaves of pain through Mags' body. She folded over the saddle and held on. Each time the horse lurched, a white flash filled her vision. For the first time in far too long, she prayed to Rhiley the Bold. The huntress god lent strength to brave souls in need. The pain had now gotten so intense that Mags wasn’t sure if she could remain conscious. She most certainly had a need for strength.

Horns rang out some distance behind her. Three? Or was that four? she thought as she raced back to Marek.

"Mags! Principalities, you're bleeding!"

Cinnabar had slowed, apparently, and Mags had the sense she'd fallen under for a moment. "I'm okay," she said, sitting up and looking back. "We have to go. Kobolds. Lots of 'em."

Marek’s face hardened in a way she’d seldom seen. With one hand on her leg, he gestured to the arrow. “I’m going to remove it. If we don’t patch you up, you won’t be able to ride—kobolds or not.”

“There isn’t time!” she protested.

Mags turned her head to look back, but everything started to spin. They were in a bad spot—that much was clear—and though she couldn't see them, Mags was certain the kobolds would attack at any moment.

"Hold still!" Marek snapped. "I'm going to snap off the fletching and pull it through, okay?"

"I'll just bleed after."

Her friend groaned, his eyes filled with worry and impatience. "You're already bleeding! Now, shut up and hold still!"

A splash of pain shot down Mags' shoulder and into her armpit. She heard herself cry out, and again, the darkness threatened to swallow her whole. Someone slapped her cheek, and then she was staring into Marek's copper eyes. "You hit me!"

“I did. Drink this, Magpie. Hurry and drink the potion so we can get moving!" She reached out a trembling hand, but Marek ignored it. He grabbed her rudely by the jaw and shoved her head back. "Open up and drink it all, okay?”

A cool liquid dripped into her mouth. It was thick and bitter, but an overpowering sweetness followed. Mags gasped, her throat seizing. Her eyes widened as she was overcome by a cascade of sensations. It felt like a dozen fiery rivers were carving their way through her body. Pain and relief blended seamlessly.

Suddenly, her vision was clear. Horns echoed off the far hills. The pain in her arm was gone and so was the arrow. No longer confused, she saw Marek standing before her, observing every movement.

“Are you okay?”

Mutely, she nodded.

The mage sighed and dashed away. Mags finally had the courage to glance back again. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted not a few, but at least a dozen kobolds emerging from the ash trees a half-mile away. The monsters were quick on their feet but no match for a horse or even a mule. The problem was, some of the kobolds weren't on foot. Several rode on the backs of massive boars, two on each mount. The pigs were hard to train, or so she’d heard. Only the strongest tribes could tame them. This, combined with the knowledge she’d fought a Classed kobold, told her they were facing hard opponents.

Mags fumbled at her waist and thankfully found her quiver where it should be. She plucked three arrows from the bunch and rolled her left shoulder. The joint popped and then moved smoothly. Her hand still tingled a little, but the agony had vanished along with the stiffness.

They needed to get moving—and quick. If only we could cross! Those boars are fast, and they don't tire easily, she thought. We'll need to hope for a better place to ford downstream.

Marek surprised Mags for the second time that day. The young man, taller and more confident than when they'd set out, shouted, “Be still, damn you! Calm down or you’ll be butchered as well!” Somehow, he’d mounted the gelding! The horse pranced sideways, angry at its rider's presence. When Marek settled the beast, he cried, “You lead Lydia, and I'll pray he doesn't buck me off midstream! Let's go!"

She spurred Cinnabar over the crest of the riverbank, catching Lydia's lead as Marek tossed it. The gelding splashed into the swift waters, hooves knocking boulders loose with every step. Then Mags felt the bite of icy water as Cinnabar waded into the River Layton.