The carriage continued its rampage with the horses outside crying in excitement as Sorie heard the crack of the whip.
Outside there was the chaos of angry shouting as men on the backs of horses and tamed stags chased Sorie’s moving prison.
After another bump Jessy was knocked into Sorie’s lap.
“Get off.” Sorie said and went to poke her head out. “What…” she withdrew back into the carriage narrowly missing a low hanging tree branch that racked against the carriage.
As the carriage passed under a row of trees shadowy forms dropped down and onto the carriage’s roof.
There was a shout of “Thief.”
Upon the carriage roof the tribes readied their crossbows. There was the…
Thawk thawk thawk as multiple projectiles from both sides let loose their ammunition.
One of the bandits decided to secure the package. He swung down, his feet crashing through the curtains.
Sorie caught the glimpse of ratty boots and a mask, right before she caught the highwayman’s legs, and punched his hamstring giving the thief a dead leg.
“Ahh. You fucking bitch.” Came the angered shout of the highwayman.
He looked to his left and the bandit’s eyes went wide as another low branch tore into his body.
Sorie closed her eyes as her fingers dug into the man’s trousers, neither letting him leave or allowing him in. There was an awesome tug and the sound of braking wood but still she held on.
On the other side of the carriage another of the highwayman scrambled to enter.
Sorie’s new found instincts forced her body to act on its own. In a fluid motion she withdrew her wand and…
This new bandit stole the wand from her hand as through Sorie had internationally meant to give it to him.
Both Wood Elves stared at the stick of wood and copper, neither knowing what the hell just happened.
Sorie glowered and contemplated which spell to use. A fireball would be effective if Sorie wanted to commit suicide in a flashy manner, the enclosed wooden structure of the carriage being flammable.
Damn. There weren’t many close range combat spells, well… There were a few it was just that Sorie considered herself an academic and not one of those who got into magic because they wanted to get into bar fights.
The bandit didn’t need a doctorate in offensive spells to figure out what his prey was thinking. He aimed the wand at Sorie’s head. “Where is the bag?” The bandit’s voice was raspy, disguised to appear more menacing.
“You’ll get nothing from me.” Works said, but her eyes betrayed her moxy.
The bandit followed her gaze to the carriage seat, behind his mask Sorie could see a grin. “Ah. Thank you.” his eyes turned hared. “Open it., or your little human boy gets a second smile.”
The bandit thought about making the gesture of running the wand across his throat but thought better of it. Like a willy, wands had this tendency to have a hair trigger when you rubbed them the wrong way.
The bandit viscously took Jessy’s arm and dragged the boy to his arms.
The fear must not hit the teenager yet as he continued to give off a blank smile.
Sorie bit her lip and through the bumping and thrusting undid the magical lock on the seat
The box looked to be purely ornate with gold leaf symbols etched into structure. The heads of the caravan hand been told that the symbols were for decoration purposes, just nonsense to make the box seem more magical that it really was.
The bandit’s eyes glistened. “Open it.”
Sorie wanted to make the bastard swallow the highly destructive stick. “I can’t.”
The answer didn’t seem to appease the bandit, though it looked like he was expecting defiance.
He cut Jessy’s neck, “Do it.”
Sorie saw the cut and held her breath. “I mean I can’t. It’s safe guarded. Only Jessy can open it.”
The bandit snarled and pushed Jessy at the box. “Open it, maggot. Or I’ll show your little wife what a real man’s cock feels like. Then I’ll make you taste it.”
Any sympathy for the bandit, if there was any to begin with, was gone.
Sorie pressed her back against the carriage door, holding the limp body of the first bandit to steady herself. Her stern eyes stayed on her new husband. “Jessy, open the box.”
For the first time Jessy looked unsure. “I love you.”
Not wanting to second guess what she was about to do Sorie spoke the words, “I love you too.”
Her hand finally caught the handle of the door, and trying not to think about the consequences, Sorie jumped outside.
The bandit’s eyes went wide and he was unsure if he should kill or catch the crazy bitch. His mind was made up, however, as Jessy was making his way to the box unconcerned that his wife had just given him a divorce and left him with the bill.
The fall hadn’t been so bad. The landing, however, sucked balls.
Out of all the things Sorie could have hit, the wizardess landed in a thorn bush. “Curse the Gods.” Sorie screamed in pain as her ass felt like it had been shredded by the fucking foliage.
Tears being held back by… Not so much Sorie’s iron will as her childish stubbornness. Feeling extremely sorry for herself Sorie sobbed a “I wanna go home.”
A handful of angered witches and guards ran after the carriage.
“Over here.” Sorie shouted, but instantly regretted her action.
Yellow teeth and hungry savage eyes stared down on the bleeding wizardess, “Aint this a great.”
Sorie stared up at the heavens. She should have been shocked, what were the chances. Then Sorie realised that it couldn’t be anyone else who caught her in her finest moment.
“Bancroft.” Sorie breathed.
Her straggly black hair barley hid the witch’s cruel grin. The woman who sold herself on the streets for food took incredible delight in seeing her… Love rival sprawled in a thorn bush, bloodied and vulnerable.
It would be so easy to gut the little, wizard trollop and hide body.
Sorie knew the spite of witches through second hand accounts.
Thinking it might be best to remind Bancroft of future consequences Sorie said “Kill me and your family won’t be happy.”
Living on the streets you had to survive by your wits and your reputation.
Bancroft didn’t give a shit about Jessy, but having a bookworm like Sorie taking her trophies and then being a scapegoat in public. That could leave a girl thinking about some harmful vengeance.
Bancroft’s grin turned into a sneer.
It was made clear to both witches and wizards that no Sorie no dowry; no dowry no giving the witches bribe money. And if a witch was willing to murder a man for a penny, losing one ton of gold would turn the most merciful old lady into a raving sadist.
Sorie could see Bancroft thinking to pass Sorie’s disappearance to the highwaymen.
That problem should fix itself.