The Ranger of Marzanna (The Goddess War #1) - Jon Skovron Page 0,163

tried to help.”

Sonya walked casually through the mob to the priest. As soon as people saw her amber eyes and fanged grin, they quickly stepped aside, some even bowing their heads.

“Hey, Holy Father, remember me?” she asked as she drew near.

The priest stopped struggling against the men who held him and stared at her. “You… you’re the one leading these people?”

“Nah, I just got them started.”

“But…” His eyes darted around. “But these people respect you. They’ll listen to you! Please! Tell them to let me go!”

“Respect me?” she affected surprised. “Even though I’m an ignorant savage with the stink of the wild about me?”

His eyes widened. “You… you were that girl with the Raízian!”

“Aww, you do remember me! How sweet. Well, turns out, Holy Father, I wasn’t the one who needed protection, huh?”

“Yes! You’re right! I was foolish! It is I who need protection! Please! Help me!”

She shrugged. “I mean, we only met the once. These people know you way better than me, so I trust they know what’s best for you.”

She turned and walked back to where Blaine stood watching a short distance from the crowds.

“Having a bit o’ fun, eh?” he asked.

“Couldn’t resist,” she said. “Nobody’s perfect.”

“Do ye think they’re going to kill him?”

“It’s possible,” she admitted. “But it’s more likely they’ll just mess with him awhile, then send him on his way.”

They watched as the crowd’s animosity toward the priest continued to build. People began waving torches in his face, and each time he shrieked like a little girl, it drew mocking laughter from the crowd. Sonya had to concede that their wrath was escalating, making murder of an unarmed old man look increasingly likely. Should she step in? But she understood their anger. And did she have the right to tell these people what to do when they were just beginning to taste freedom, some of them for the first time?

“Disperse at once!”

A tight formation of mounted imperial soldiers charged toward the crowd holding the priest. Their sabers were drawn and it was clear from their bearing they were not the panicked, undertrained raw recruits that had been left to keep order in the town. They were seasoned warriors, likely just deployed from the battle at the garrison. That meant that word of the revolution had reached their commander. Hopefully it meant Sebastian would be here soon as well.

“Time for us to step in,” she told Blaine.

He nodded and gripped his sword with both hands.

Sonya shot one soldier out of the saddle as Blaine sprinted toward them. Had she been on Peppercorn, she could have closed the gap while still shooting, but now she had to choose whether to keep firing arrows, or run after Blaine to engage in close combat. She took down one more soldier, but then they crashed into the crowd of panicking townsfolk, and things became too chaotic for her to get a clear shot, so she shouldered her bow, drew her knife, and charged into the fray, grinning with eagerness.

The soldiers laid about them with their sabers indiscriminately, cutting down anyone within reach, young or old, even if they were merely trying to flee. Blaine had a head start on Sonya and reached them first. Unfortunately, he went for the horse. It was the obvious thing to do when a person on foot confronted a mounted opponent, but it still tore at Sonya’s heart to hear the poor animal’s shriek of pain as he fell, pinning his rider to the ground.

While Blaine finished off the trapped soldier, Sonya vaulted off the thrashing horse and slammed into another soldier, pulling him off his horse. The moment they hit the ground, she cut his throat, then moved on to the next. She leapfrogged from rider to rider, swift and brutal as a winter wind, cutting ribbons of flesh as she went.

All around her there were flickering sabers, flailing bodies, wails of fear, screams of pain, and the heavy smell of blood. She was dimly aware that she was not merely smiling now, but drooling. Somewhere deep inside, she knew it wasn’t right to enjoy it. This wanton slaughter on both sides was unfortunate at best. Yet the pleasure that surged through her limbs with each slash of her knife was unmistakable. She loved it.

The last soldier managed to cut her cheek with the tip of his saber. She fixed her eyes on him, still smiling as she licked the blood that trickled down to her chin. Something about her expression made him recoil