Mistress of the Night - Don Bassingthwaite [59]
He shoved her back hard and another pair of hands clutched at her-Drik. She slapped at him, but he ducked. Her blow clipped another man across the back of the head.
"Hey!" the bystander snapped, and spun around to glare at her.
"Your pardon, sir," Feena gasped quickly in her most polite high priestess voice.
She tried to duck around the man, but Drik was already there, boxing her in.
"Not going to leave so soon, are you?" he asked.
There was movement behind her as Stag closed again. Feena flung an elbow at him, but once again he just stepped out of the way and she was forced pull back or hit someone else. In the moment that she hesitated, Stag popped up inside her reach. He grabbed her arm and twisted it, bringing her into a close, painful embrace. She snapped at him but he only leaned away and laughed. She tried to wrench free, but his grip was too strong.
"Let me go," Feena spat, "or I'll scream so loud everyone in this bar will hear me!"
"Sing your lungs out, missus," Stag said with a nasty grin. "This isn't a country clearing." He nudged the man Feena had accidentally slapped. "Is it, Kor?"
The man turned and glared again. "Some of us are drinking, Stag," he growled, then looked away as if utterly unconcerned with Feena's captivity. Her eyes widened.
"See, red bird," cooed Stag, "this's our own pretty little clearing right here. No one's going to bother us."
He started to tug her toward the back of the bar, and Drik stepped forward to take her other side.
As the second bandit closed, Feena reared back against Stag and kicked out at Drik with both feet. The blow connected, and Drik stumbled into Kor, who roared in frustration. When he whirled around, beer dripped from his face. He cuffed Drik hard with a meaty fist. Startled, Stag relaxed his hold on Feena. She twisted half free of him and leaned toward the corner of the bar.
"Noyle!" she shouted. "Noyle!"
The old man looked up from his story. His eyebrows rose. Other people swung around as well, just as Stag grabbed for her again, trying to pull her back into his grasp. Drik was rising, too, an ugly look of rage burning on his face. He grabbed her free arm and used it as leverage to drive a punch against her chin. Feena's head snapped back.
"Torm and Helm!" Noyle gasped.
Through a brief wash of bright pain, Feena saw him start up from his chair and turn to face Stag. She started to pull herself away from the bandit-
"She's the one who beat you down?" asked Noyle.
Feena froze. Stag's hand tightened on her right arm.
"She's the one," the bandit said. "Fights like a demon and twice as dirty."
"Stag and me were lucky to get away," Drik chimed in, seizing her left arm. "She charmed us like fools with her country girl act, then turned on us faster than you could pick a pocket. That's probably what she had in mind for you too, Noyle."
The old man flinched back. Drik twisted Feena's arm painfully.
She gasped and growled but Stag jabbed her hard under the ribs before she could say anything. The blow left her struggling to suck air into her lungs and would have doubled her over if the two bandits hadn't been holding her up.
"Got to be careful of her," Stag said. "She's got some kind of magic, too."
Noyle pulled away in alarm and said, "She's probably some kind of wild hedge mage." He spat on the floor in her direction. "Beshaba's arms hold you, bitch!"
Feena managed to get her breath back.
Moonmaiden's grace, Feena, she cursed, you picked a fine tavern to start poking around in, didn't you?
She fought back the rising fear that surged in her belly. Selune's magic wasn't going to help her. Drik and Stag would stop her at the first sign of a spell. Anywhere else, she might even have considered changing shape-her hybrid form was strong and fierce enough to take on four men or more-but in this place? If she revealed herself as a werewolf, she'd be facing an angry mob.
Stag and Drik couldn't have the entire tavern on their side, could they? Bright Lady of the Night favor me, she prayed.
She twisted around