Page 2 of Legacy Ascended

“She was fucking huge,” the driver says.

“Was it three or four darts?”

“Four. Thank fuck the last one finally knocked her out.”

“Five men are dead.”

“And she’d have killed the rest of us.”

“Because we dropped a net on a direwolf.”

“We were bringing her home.”

“We weren’t supposed to half kill her doing it.”

“She was fighting us!”

“What did you expect? We came at her with a net and darts.”

The medic takes his fingers away from my neck. “One more dart could have stopped her heart.”

Nobody answers him.

I don’t know where they’re taking me or why they think I belong there. I’m not waiting around to find out.

The van drops into another hole, rattling the doors and throwing something loose against the wall. I use the noise to fold my right thumb into my palm and pull.

The zip tie scrapes over the raw skin and catches at the joint of my thumb. One hard pull will free my hand.

I stop.

A hand I can free when I need it is worth more than one lying loose where they can see it.

A window opens in the front. Cold air moves through the van carrying pine, wet stone, and old woodsmoke. The driver exchanges a few muffled words with someone outside. Metal drags against metal, then the van moves forward again.

We take several turns before the gravel crunch beneath the tires fades and the ride becomes softer. The van slows, turns once more, and stops.

The engine cuts out. Without it, I can hear boots crossing stone, a nearby door opening, and two people talking quietly.

The back doors swing wide. Cold air floods the van, and light comes with it. I can hear more people, a lot of them. Women’s voices among the men. Somewhere behind them, a child calling for somebody, and being answered.

"Is she awake?" a man asks.

“Not yet. Give it a few minutes.”

Someone farther away speaks.

“Bring the heir inside.”

Footsteps approach the back of the van. The medic leans over me, blocking the worst of the light, and I open my eyes to a slit.

His coat fills most of my view. Then he shifts.

We’re inside a stone-walled yard. Buildings rise beyond the van, light spilling from their windows. People have gathered outside. Some are armed. Others are holding children or keeping them behind their legs.

Behind the van, the road gate is still open.

A guard climbs in and reaches under my shoulders. As he bends over me, his body blocks the medic’s view of my hands.