Sivian's Story: Past 1 - Assailants


  • Duke

    The hoof beats behind her grew closer even as she sprinted through the woods. She cursed her armor, it slowed her just enough and robbed her of just enough dexterity that she couldn't maneuver the more dense routes. Her pursuers were close enough now she could hear them speak, they weren't Helians, or at least they weren't speaking her language. She planted a hand on a log and bounded over it but there was a depression on the other side and he hit the ground hard and any forward momentum she had was gone. There was no choice left but to fight. Two horses flew over her head, they cleared the log and the trench behind it with ease. The riders were slim, lightly armored and their horses were the same.

    Just humans, she thought to herself. The realization of it filling her with confidence. She yelled and charged up from the trench and at the rider on the right. She lacked a weapon but was far from unarmed. The horse seemed surprised to see the armored woman running right at it, the rider the same way. When her fist struck the horse in the side of the head the creature briefly blacked out from the force. It stumbled to the side and the rider went flying from the stumbling creature.

    More of the foreigner language was washed out by the frantic neighs of the horse as it thrashed itself back to its feet. Without a rider it had no direction and was not truly a warhorse, so it didn't want to face another blow, so it took off away, leaving the rider on foot.

    Her golden eyes were locked on the horseless rider, but that tunnel vision was her downfall. She didn't make it three steps before a rope was around her neck and the length snapped taught taking her off her feet and slamming into the ground hard enough to force the wind out of her lungs.

    The horseless rider breathed a moment of relief and rushed off to try and locate his spooked horse.

    She fished her fingers between the rope and her skin, she could already feel the rough abrasions on her neck but it didn't matter if she was going to be killed. She got to her feet but it was short lived as the rope was yanked hard again and she was flat on her face. It was tied to the horn of a saddle and even if she had used every ounce of her strength she wasn't about to out drag a horse. She once again got to her feet, and tried to brace against another yank but a bolo snapped around her legs and then the rope yanked again and she was on the ground with one hand keeping her from choking to death and the other trapped under her armored body. She writhed and got to her back. The rider who had been unhorsed returned, his mount nowhere to be seen. He trudged over to her and looked down at her. He was dark skinned with dark eyes, bald, and younger than she expected. He said something in his language and then all she saw was a boot coming at her face.

    Blackness.


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