Chapter 3: Live to Fight Another Day

Mercy Hall

Tanager thrusts his arm forward, plunging his sword into Graysen's gut, and then drives the weapon to the hilt.

"Argghhh," a throaty growl rips loose from deep inside her brother's chest.

"Nay," Mercy screams. Her knees buckle, and she falls to the floor.

Hands take hold of her, yanking her up, and she's drawn into the king's arms.

Clawing for release, she struggles against the bonds restraining her. One thought fills her mind, freeing herself from the king's grasp. She must reach him, her brother, because he can't leave her, not now, not like this.

"Shh, blood brother." Tanager catches Graysen before his body hits the floor. "You should have listened. You all should have."

"End him," King Alexander orders. "Do it now."

Tanager's hand hovers for several seconds. Releasing Graysen, he twists the blade, side to side. Two-handed, he slices Graysen from the navel to sternum.

Mercy wrestles free and takes several steps but is dragged back into the clutches of the king.

"Still yourself." The king tightens his grip, his fingers bite into her flesh.

"Tell me." The sting of released rage bores a hole through her heart. "Why did you do it?" She struggles to stem the hot release of emotions streaming down her face. "My mother, my sire, and now, my brother. Why? Why did you kill my kin?"

"I am king. No one refuses me."

"I don't understand." She fights to control her inner beast. "We've always served you and the land. My family has denied you of nothing."

"That is where you are wrong." The king stands toe-to-toe with her. "By refusing to turn you over, they failed to uphold the terms of a treaty between humans and your kind." King Alexander slithers a hand across her cheek.

"What are you talking about?"

"The prophecy." He catches a tear on the tip of his finger and studies the reflective, clear fluid. "My bloodline was promised an heir a hundred years ago." He whistles a bird like call.

A guard closes the door and locks it.

"What does that have to do with me?"

"Everything." King Alexander's hot breath creeps over her skin. "Have you not heard the stories?"

Her stomach churns because she's heard all of the childhood tales.

"You're the first female born to your clan. Under the treaty, you belong to me." The king staggers but regains his footing. "Make no mistake, you will bear me an heir."

"Nay, I won't."

The dullness in the king's eyes signals the effectiveness of the dart's sedative - milk of the poppy.

"You will." The king's hand slides down her arm, skims over her tunic, then cups her unbound breast.

"Don't touch me."

Mercy rips free of his grasp. She pulls a dagger from the king's waistcoat and swings the blade at his face.

The king raises a steel-covered arm, blocking her attack. "In time, you may even grow fond of being here."

"Touch me again, and I'll gut you like a fish."

King Alexander laughs. "You do have spirit." He lunges forward, wrapping his fingers around her wrist. "I shall enjoy taming you in and out of bed."

Dagger in hand, she slices the blade across the man's exposed hand. With precision, she plunges the weapon between the armor slits covering his shoulder and bicep.

Pivoting on the balls of her feet, she dashes to the balcony.

She calls on her inner gargouille. Her vision grows crisp and clear. For the first time in her life, she transforms in front of humans. Pivoting around, she hisses, then faces the king.

"So, it is true." King Alexander wraps a cloth around his bleeding hand. "You are both beast and human."

"What I am is of no concern of yours." The words come out with a hiss.

The king shouts, "Retrieve her. Remember, I want her alive, unharmed."

Her wings uncurl and expand. She takes one last look at her brother's body. His eyes, so dark and full of life moments ago, now appear as lifeless and empty as the boneless bear sprawled on the floor.

Sure-footed and perching on the steel rail of the balcony, she leaps into the air. Wings outstretched, she captures a gust.

Her body twists, and she glides within an arm's reach next to the stone building. Spinning, she rotates, seeking a new wind current to sweep her away.

An arrow whines as it passes her ear. A second one soon follows, and its pointed tip sinks into her shoulder below her collarbone.

A hot, searing heat rips through her flesh.

"Hold your fire," Tanager shouts from somewhere below.

Catching the wind, she steers away from the castle but glances at the king. The motion pulls the skin taut over her back and arm.

The red feathers on the arrow draw her attention to the embedded weapon. She pulls on the shaft, and it snaps in two, leaving the tip buried under her skin.

Escape. The singular thought spins a web in Mercy's mind. Don't stop. She glances over a shoulder. Keep flying. Live to fight another day.

King Alexander leans over the balcony. "I know what you are. You will be mine." He turns to a guard, snapping orders, "Track her. Bring her to me before dawn's light."

The king's voice fades into the darkness.

Below her, a band of guards tracks her movement.

Veering left, she heads for the tree line.

With luck, she thinks, I'll lose them in the forest.

A gust of wind pushes her upward.

The sharp movement sends a shock wave of pain shooting through her shoulder, down her arm, and into her back.

She loses altitude as the guards giving chase draw closer.

A deep-rooted pain rips into her thigh. The shaft of another arrow fills her vision.

"Hold your fire, you idiots," Tanager yells. "The king wants her alive."

She struggles to stay in flight. Once she clears the edge of the forest, she manages another fifty yards before she tumbles to the ground.

A soft squeak sounds. Still on her back, Mercy opens the pouch.

"Meelo, are you okay?"

Her little friend chirps, then lightly nibbles on her fingertips.

In the distance, the cadence of the horses' hooves the sentinels ride, pound against the ground.

The howl of the royal hounds on her scent sends a shiver through her body.

"I'm sorry, little one." She closes the flap. "We can't stay. It's not safe."