The group inside the circle quickly forms a defensive stance against the incoming enemies. Since we teleported into a ravine, we gradually move toward the river. One of them carries me with utmost care, like a mother cradling her infant. Meanwhile, the battle behind us intensifies.
CLANG... CLANK... CLANK...
"CHA@## ..!!"
"FI#&£@* !!"*
"ARGHHH!"
"URGHH...."
The clash of steel against steel, the grunts and battle cries, echo through the valley. A sharp metallic scent of blood fills the air. Yet, I still can't see what's happening around me—the person carrying me wraps a thick cloak made of animal skin around me, shielding me from the chaos.
We keep moving east, toward the river. I can tell we're making progress as the sound of flowing water grows nearer with every step.
At last, we reach the riverbank. Holding me in one arm, she wades into the water and swims across. Since the water level isn't high, we make it to the other side quickly. Once we're on solid ground, she turns back and cries out.
"N###@#!!!!"*
Most of the people who kidnapped me now lie scattered along the riverbank. Judging by the bloodied trail they left behind, they took down quite a few enemies as well—only about fifteen remain standing. Many of the women who were with us have been killed by archers stationed behind the enemy's melee fighters.
Only three of our original warriors remain. One of them, a woman wielding a large staff, leans on it heavily, breathing hard. She looks around at the fallen bodies, visibly shaken by the sight of her comrades lying dead. The remaining enemies begin closing in. She raises her staff to the sky—but before she can complete her spell, a black spear, the size of a bottle, hurtles through the air and impales her chest.
She grimaces.
"Gargleh..."
"Gurpp..."
Blood dribbles from her mouth, yet she refuses to fall. Using her staff for support, she stands her ground.
BOOM!
Thunder rumbles. A thick cloud gathers above her, and lightning crackles through the air. Then, at last, she collapses onto the riverbank, revealing her face as her hood falls back.
Long silver hair cascades over her shoulders, framing a face as dazzling as a glittering diamond. Then, before my eyes, her body transforms into a white mist and vanishes into the wind.
Meanwhile, the last two survivors cross the river. One has lost her left arm, severed near the elbow, and the other has an arrow lodged in her back. They stand beside us, their breaths ragged, as a new figure emerges behind the enemy forces.
A warrior clad in black armor from head to toe rides up on a horse, dark and imposing. A plume of black feathers tops the helmet, swaying as they dismount. Reaching down, they retrieve the black spear from the gravel, then lift it, pointing it directly at us—a silent warning.
"HOOO! HOOO!!"
"Oooooo!"
"Oooooo!"
Echoes rise from the mountains behind us. Seconds later, more than twenty warriors appear, as large as the women who captured me, wielding war axes, massive swords, and curved blades.
On the opposite side, twenty cavalry soldiers assemble behind the black-armored warrior, as if preparing to charge should we dare to cross back over the river.
Realizing we have no choice but to retreat, we leave the riverbank, following a path that winds alongside the northern mountain range. The terrain is rugged—cliffs, gorges, and smaller hills merge into the towering peaks.
We walk for almost two hours before the sky darkens, and a torrential downpour begins. Despite the heavy rain, we press on for a few more minutes before veering into a hidden path leading up a gorge. The trail ascends toward a small hill, part of the vast mountain range.
At last, we reach a cave nestled just a few feet from the path. We head inside. The interior is surprisingly spacious, with rock formations that resemble carved seats. They lay me down on one of them, and we rest.
Some tend to their wounds, others groom themselves, and someone starts a fire. One by one, they remove their wet gear.
I glance around, scanning their faces. Most of them look young, likely in their early twenties, except for the woman who carried me and another warrior who joined us from the mountains. They chat quietly, their voices laced with exhaustion.
The woman who lost her arm has her wound bandaged with a long leaf. The firelight flickers over her face—heart-shaped, pale from blood loss, framed by dark red hair.
Gradually, sensation returns to my body. The first thing I notice is the heat—a strange, almost spicy warmth fills my lungs, as if every breath I take is laced with chili powder. Yet, rather than feeling discomfort, I feel… energized. Elated. But I'm not the only one who paid attention to my body.
Before I can react, the woman who carried me suddenly shoves something into my mouth—a handful of seeds. Instantly, my strength vanishes. My vision blurs.
Darkness consumes me once more.
To Be Continued…
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