Enjoy!
Alissa
dashed among and around the trees. She
leapt over shrubs that
snatched and snagged her. Her hands pushed off from dark gray and deep
brown trunks in her desperate attempt to get away from the Brazen. The second set of clockwork boots caught up
to the first and two whistles sounded in near unison. A thrill of fear down her back at the sound.
“Do
not fear,” they said together, their voices almost exactly the same.
She
cried out in frustration and panic.
There was no escape. She could
only run for so long on her human legs.
They were metal and wheels and gears.
They would never grow tired. They
only had to keep after her, keep pressing her, and eventually she would
stumble, fall and they would kill her.
Another
brush of air and she felt the back of her dress catch and tear as the Brazen’s blade
ripped through the tattered cloth. A new
line of pain scratched into the back of her left calf as she kicked away, the
very tip of the Brazen’s falchion had caught her. Alissa’s breath was ragged and her lungs
burned from the effort. The strength
flowed out her arms and legs like water from overturned cup. In minutes they would have her.
She
fought her way up another small hill and scrambled down, half falling as she
struggled to maintain speed. Alissa
rounded a large tree trunk and a thin ravine gaped open before her.
“Go,
duchess,” she heard Nitta tell her. “Go!”
Alissa
dug deep, used the slant of the hill and pushed her abused body to gain as much
speed as possible. A part of her mind
told her she’d never make it—the gap was too great. She ignored the warning, and drove herself to
the edge and up into the air. The open
space of the ravine yawned wider. A
jagged pile of rocks loomed beneath her.
She wind-milled her arms and legs, as if she should somehow push against
the nothingness and thrust her body forward a few precious inches. The edge of the far wall drew closer, almost
within reach. Alissa started to
fall. The sharp, coppery tang of fear
filled her mouth. She reached out her
arms, willed the edge into her hands.
Her
chest slammed against the edge and she heard a harsh crack in her ribs. The air whooshed from her lungs with an
explosive grunt. Alissa scrabbled at the
cold, wet dirt, desperate to find a grip.
Her nails dug and tore furrows into the ground. None of her attempts were deep enough to hold
her. She slipped, her own weight dragged
her further off the edge toward the ravine.
Her left hand caught on something, a small root or stone. She grabbed at it, and her slide down
stopped.
The
sound of the pursuing Brazen cut off abruptly.
A clang sounded and a moment later a pair of metal boots impacted the
edge of the ravine only a stride from where she clung to the wall. The impact from the Brazen rattled through
the wall of the ravine and Alissa’s handhold.
If she hadn’t been clinging to the side of the ravine for her life, she
would have leapt from her skin in fright.
“Do not fear,” the Brazen told her and
lifted its falchion for the last time.
This steampunk world, and Aubrey Hartmann, will return in the
full novel Constable of Aqualinne: The Constable Comes to Town.
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