but there’s nowhere to go. I glance ahead down the road, but Aron’s not in sight any longer. Maybe I can beat them. They look as if they’re coming up from one side of the Dirtlands, so I limp into a half run, moving as fast as I can. Fear makes me move faster than I thought possible.
It’s still not fast enough. The thundering of hooves gets louder and louder as they grow closer and closer, and I start racing full out, my breath panicked and rasping. The land-hippos are almost upon me now, but I can’t stop, mindless fear pushing me forward. Even if I get run over, I’ll have at least died trying.
Hands grab me around the waist and haul me into the air.
I scream as I’m pulled against an armored stranger, flailing my fists and kicking against him. He laughs as if my attacks are nothing. “What have we here?” His hippo slows, the thunderous clod of its feet quieting.
“Fuck you,” I tell him, trying to hit once more.
The man grabs my arms and pins them at my side and grins down at me. “A runaway slave, I think. Unless they’re letting pretty women into the Aventine militia now?” He eyes my stolen military tunic. “How good are you with swords, love?”
Well that’s a dirty question if I ever heard one. I scowl at him, struggling against his grip. “I’m not a runaway, and let me go! Put me down right now or you’ll be sorry.”
“Is that so?” Another rider comes up next to him, and I notice that all of the hippo riders—four of them—have paused to watch me attack their friend. I don’t stop squirming or struggling, because I’ll never give up. Giving up means that they win, and I’m tired of the bad guys winning. “She’s a pretty face. We can take her to the slave pits in Aventine and sell her for a fair coin, I think.”
“More than a fair coin,” the one holding me says. “Look at these fine tits.”
“Hey, remember me?” I say snarkily, jerking my shoulders. “I’m my own person and you can’t sell me.” I don’t point out that someone did just that a few days ago, because they don’t need those details. “And besides, I’m already claimed by the big guy.”
“Big guy?”
“You know, Lord of Storms? Aron? Kinda cranky? Has a scar? Arrogant as fuck?”
They laugh at me. “By a god?” One sneers in my face. “Do you think me a fool?” He gives me a jiggle. “These tits are nice but they’re not that nice.”
“Clearly you missed the memo,” I tell them, twisting. Jesus, how is this guy managing to hold onto me like this? I swear his arms are like a steel trap, because no matter what I do, I can’t get free. Of course, I’m tired from walking all night, so maybe I just don’t have any strength left, but I’m frustrated nevertheless. “Aron returned and he picked a servant and it’s me. So you need to let me go unless you want a lightning bolt up your butt.”
Hey, it sounded good in my head at least.
The men just laugh again. “Storytelling—a good trait in a pretty slave, but I imagine her mouth will be put to other uses.”
“Ew,” I tell him, revolted.
“Wrap her in your cloak and let’s go before someone shows up to reclaim her,” the rider closest to my captor says. He reaches over and grabs the tasseled reins from his buddy, who wraps me in his dark green cape. Dick.
“I swear, I belong to Aron,” I tell them. “You have to believe me. I’m his anchor.”
“If that’s so, where is your god?” One arches an eyebrow at me, amused.
“Er, around.” Shit.
He snorts and it’s clear no one believes me.
And then, despite my protests, they continue to set off across the hills of the Dirtlands. They ignore the cobbled path and go cross-country, and I realize they’re taking me in the opposite direction I was heading with Aron. To the Citadel, like the one said. The goddess’s city, though I don’t remember her name, just that Aron wasn’t a fan of her.
I still struggle, but my movements grow more fatigued with every beat of the land-hippo’s hooves. I’m tired and all of my energy is gone, but I can’t give up. I can’t be sold into slavery again. I just can’t. Is that all this land does is freaking enslave people? Why am I here if I’m just going to be sold