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   Chapter 63 No.63

The Book of Deacon By Joseph R. Lallo Characters: 5670

Updated: 2018-01-19 19:02

Every few strides, Myranda judged the distance. Her heart pounded harder with each glance that didn't show any headway. Finally, just when her own steed seemed at the brink of collapse, the followers seemed to stop entirely. Their horses broke stride and faltered. Even with Wind Runner slowing considerably, the Elites were out of sight within minutes.

Some relief came to Myranda, but not much. She knew that now the soldiers had seen her. They had followed her trail this far on descriptions alone. If she did not take every advantage she had at her disposal to keep her distance, they would be upon her. And so she continued to spur on her horse. The animal was exhausted and had not had a proper rest in days, but it had to continue, or they would both be caught.

When Wind Runner had run for the better part of three hours, it became clear that, despite her spells, the creature needed to rest. There was no sense destroying the beast now, or she would be stranded, and Myranda was little more than a novice in the ways of magic. Her own strength would need to be conserved as well. The Elites must have fallen an hour or more behind by now; perhaps she could risk some rest. A small stream, surrounded by the very most persistent of weeds, presented itself as the logical place for the group to catch their breath. The horse and dragon gulped at the water. She stood, stretching her legs and trying to keep the rain and ice from her eyes. Myn managed to snatch up a rabbit that foolishly wandered near while Wind Runner ate the weeds most greedily. Myranda had no food of her own, but the constant fear had left her without an appetite. She could not take her eyes off of the western hori

ayed. There was nothing more she could do. It was in the hands of fate now. Or perhaps not.

Myn turned to face the elf. Her teeth still clenched about the helm, she sprayed forth a stream of flame from her nostrils. The enemy horse panicked, and at the unnatural speed, could not maintain control. The pursuing horse and rider tumbled to the ground. Myn dropped the chewed helm and locked her eyes on the new prize. With one powerful bite, she clamped onto the elf's helmet and tore it from her head. The horse, mad with fear, galloped wildly away. Myranda called and the dragon hurried to catch up, a fresh trophy in her teeth and a dazed and angry soldier in her wake. The elf looked after the escaping pair, but was helpless to follow. Safety, at least for the moment, was theirs.

The night passed with Myranda slowly regaining enough strength to recast her spells. In time, even Myn could not keep up with the mystically-aided horse. She leapt onto Wind Runner's back, but it did not slow the beast as Caya had feared. To the contrary, the clutch of the dragon's claws urged the horse forward faster than any spur could.

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