Lyn leaned out the left side of the coach facing backwards, to get eyes on the chasing Ber — Vest'elah? What? “Hey Moira, these Ber are the same pack of Vest'elah that attacked us before.”

  That's strange. Why would they be attacking again?

  “They wouldn't, and certainly not chasing like this. They've got someone nearby with command Skills — stronger than Ceress, so one of three, four species.”

  Raising their voice above the racket of the racing coach, Lyn decided it was time to stop playing around and took on a commanding tone, “Everyone: other than the Tiger Brin — which looked different than you, Novek — who or what else is out there?”

  Ellie answered from up on the driver's seat, “I haven't seen anything — I'm focused on the road that I can barely make out in the dark.”

  Leaning back so that Ellie could hear them, Lyn figured some encouragement was in order, “You're doing great, Ellie. I was mostly talking to the walking rug.”

  Novek, kneeling in front of the cabinet where Siya was stowed, turned to look over, “Two Brin south of camp, the burned one you took care of — so one unaccounted for. A group of Human archers we passed earlier. Current chaser is the big guy I fought earlier, maybe three meters tall, four arms. Speed skill of some sort — green on his eyes, yellow on his hands when he caught all my throwing knives.”

  Lyn pressed a hand to their forehead, “There's a four-armed Ber'Duun that can catch knives, and you didn't mention that earlier?”

  “I figured we'd leave him behind after Nat made him stumble. He's back up, but not catching up — he'll get tired before the horses do.”

  Gesturing was second nature, and Lyn couldn't help but make the accompanying signs, even if Novek never seemed to notice, “Was he running with his arms when you saw him?”

  “No, just legs. Why?”

  “Okay so he was waiting for something then.”

  Nat turned, curious, “Why do you say that?”

  “If it's what, or, more specifically — who — I think it is, he can do thirty kilometers per hour, give or take, on his arms. Oh, also, fun fact: that species is immune to electricity, and can both see, and move faster than almost anyone here.”

  Novek's face darkened into a scowl, “Of course — not a kill team — a capture team. Ellie! Maximum speed, they're going to go for the horses! Also, where are the extra shells?”

  He turned to Nat, “Okay, I need to do some prep I don't have time for, and we need to talk — how long can you pull me into your Talent?”

  The kid shrugged, “Only one way to find out, I suppose. Tell me when you're ready.”

  “One moment — let's bring Siya. Ellie! The shells!?” Novek got to scooping the kit from the cupboard, where he apparently had found and attached himself to a ham hock. Novek prised it away, at great risk to himself.

  Ellie's voice came through the small grating under the driver's bench, “I said under the floorboards, pull on the ring!”

  It was then that the Vest'elah put on a burst of speed, and both pairs of Ber approached the sides of the coach; Lyn lost sight of two on the other side.

  It's now or never — they're moving up towards the horses.

  Lyn focused their attention — it was time to stop paying attention to the others. “Here they come. Moira, let's do the thing.”

  Okay, two or three caltrops at a time, please. I'll guide, just get close.

  Hefting two caltrops, Lyn started positively charging them as they looked for, then spotted the quadrupeds. Their staff in the other hand, they hurled the caltrops out at the Ber with as much force as they could muster. As the caltrops passed beyond the staff, an arc jumped out, forming a chain. They did not fly straight, but instead curved towards their targets, spinning wildly. One of the Ber was hit directly by the small metal spikes, and jerked and spasmed as it went down. The other jumped over its fallen brethren — right into the continuing arc, and it screamed with a rasping noise — and leapt sideways once it landed, pursuit forgotten.

  Other side! Fast! Aether fire is having almost no effect!

  Lyn moved towards the right door with as much speed as they could muster in the somewhat cramped cabin. Novek, Nat and Siya were all huddled in the center of the cabin, frozen and covered in the dark film of Nat's Talent. Ah, right. Lyn had to clamber over the pile, which became moving flesh halfway across. Shouting “Move!”, Lyn reached to open the door — Novek pushed it open for them with a foot.

  Moira was apparently trying to burn the heads of the Ber — there was a thin film of aetheric flame glowing atop them, but the flames did not detectably bother them.

  One Ber moved further up towards the horses — Lyn had no angle to throw without getting outside the door — but the other was still in sight. “Ellie! Right side!” Lyn hoped it was enough of a warning, as they chucked two more caltrops at the lagging Ber. Moira's guidance ensured another direct hit and that Ber skidded to the ground as well.

  “I can't see it — Moira, can you handle it?”

  One moment, I've got an idea.

  The final Vest'elah, still burning with aetheric fire, lifted suddenly into the air, its feet losing contact with the ground. It dropped to the ground and fell back a few meters, but started gaining immediately, with a different leg taking over as the head.

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  The flaming figure leapt for the nearest horse; a flash and a boom thundered out, and the last Ber skidded into the ground, a tangled mess of flesh. “Well, the fire certainly helps make them visible.”

  Aww. I wasn't finished. That's all of them that I can detect. It seems fairly obvious they're being commanded, yes?

  “It is indeed. Which is a problem.”

  Lyn turned to yell, “Is that you, Trant? May as well talk.”

  The noise of a scuffle came from behind Lyn at the driver's bench — Ellie's shout was cut short. The well-trained horses, now undirected, began to slow.

  Lyn turned in the doorway to face forward — Ellie had a huge hand over her mouth, and two more were holding her into the air by her arms.

  “About time you emptied that gun on the fodder. Hi, Lyn — didn't expect to see you here. Have everyone come out, hands empty, or I'll start ripping off limbs.”

  Novek looked at Nat meaningfully, then without a word set his loaded and spanned crossbow, two knives, and two sets of two shells for the shotgun down carefully on the seat. He slowly opened the door opposite Lyn, put his hands on the top of the door frame, and said, “Don't hurt anyone — I'm coming out with my hands up.” The last word wasn't even out of his mouth before a black bag came down on his head.

  Excellent — they wanted him alive. So far, so good.

  “I'm coming out too.” That was Nat — good kid.

  The voice Novek identified as Trant took a moment, then followed with, “Okay, now the others.”

  Lyn took lead, “That's all of us.”

  “That's fewmets and you know it! Where's the vodat, and the other one?”

  “The kit's inside a cupboard. There's nobody else.”

  “I say again, fewmets.” Trant raised his voice. “Whoever's in there: Come on out with the kit, or we're going to be a lot less nice about this.”

  “Seriously, Trant. There's just the kit. Have your third rate Tiger take a look.”

  Very smooth, Lyn. So far just the two — ugly and a third gen Brin. That gave them a short window for action before more caught up and this got complicated.

  “I'm not stupid — I heard them. If anything happens here, you're next, Lyn. You know you can't hurt me.”

  “There really isn't…” Nat started, but was interrupted immediately. Novek couldn't quite tell, but it didn't sound like Nat was bagged — they didn't think he was a threat. It also meant they were planning on killing him.

  “Shut up, Human. Nobody's talking to a child. Sit down, shut up, and you can walk home with all of your arms and legs after this. Ceress? Come out, now, slowly. Last chance.”

  Ellie grunted in pain — Novek started to speak when Moira's voice came from four different places, simultaneously.

  They weren't lying. There really isn't anyone else here, you know.

  “AMA's will, you're all thick. You think some hatchling Skill is going to confuse or distract me?”

  Novek heard Moira's quiet whisper in his ear. Ellie and Lyn have been told. Nat's ready.

  He turned to position himself towards the front of the coach. The third gen Brin would be on the coach roof — probably the unburned guy as there hadn't been any further threats or a kick to the face. Trant would be standing where he was before, holding Ellie up by her arms.

  There was some noise as the Brin moved on the coach, “I looked, boss. There's nobody in the coach.” Okay, so that's what the Tiger sounded like — and he both made poor life choices and didn't report properly. Sloppy. Secondary target.

  “You're an idiot for taking the chance — but if you're going to be stupid, get the kit in the bag.”

  There was more noise as the Brin moved into the coach. “Where's the kit? You, silverpaw — point. Don't move, or I'll shoot.”

  Novek imagined Lyn pointing out the cupboard during the ensuing silence. And how the Brin must be positioned if he was going to bag the kit, a single-arm ranged weapon — a bracer like the other one then.

  Trant re-started his monologue or questioning or whatever meaningless rambling he'd been on about earlier, “So, a camouflage or a speed Skill. Who's the Ber, Lyn? I'm losing my patience.” Novek wished Trant would shut up so he could listen for important details.

  While big and ugly kept spouting garbage, Novek composed the next sentence he'd speak carefully in his head.

  Meanwhile, the Brin found the cupboard with Siya, and raised his voice, “Found the kit, boss. One sec. C'mere you.”

  There were sounds of a scuffle as the Brin tried to grab hold of the uncooperative kit. There was a hissing noise and then the Brin shouted, “Lands! The brat bit me! Get in the bag you little… Ow! Acid!”

  Novek chuckled quietly. There were sounds of scratching and clawing on fabric, and Novek's chuckle stopped and his mood darkened. Then there was a sudden muted thump and the sounds of struggle came to a sudden stop. “Got him, boss!”

  Target priority changed.

  Novek's next sentence had two tiny details adjusted — it wasn't the best composition, but it would have to do. “Nat, just tell them. Ellie's gonna be okay. She'll be fine.” Then he put his hands out, like he was pretending to hold his crossbow.

  Nat's voice quavered a little, “Okay, Novek.”

  A half beat later and Novek heard Trant shout in surprise, then Ellie grunted in pain from beneath the coach.

  The dark bag around Novek's face was suddenly bisected, and Novek could see the Brin in front of him. He had a surprised look on his face, and was holding the black bag with the kit in front of him. Novek gripped his crossbow, aimed downwards, and fired into the Brin's leg, pinning him to the seat. At the same time, a thunderous, deafening boom rang through the air around the coach and the hulking Ber screamed and flew backwards from the bench onto the dirt roadway, where Trant was rolling back and forth while shrieking in obvious agony.

  Lyn reached out and gripped the Brin by the head with both hands — a moment later and the Tiger's eyes rolled up, and he fell backwards, unconscious. The bolt was still pinning his leg in place, and the wound began bleeding profusely as it tore.

  Novek looked down and saw the statue that was Nat was underneath the coach, frozen next to where Ellie was crouched, smoking coach gun in one of her hands. Nat had clearly run out of time, but he'd done more than enough. A second later and the kid was moving again, looking around to see what had changed.

  A moment with a claw and Novek had the bag with Siya in it open — the kit almost flew out of it, eyes wide open in terror, and Siya ran up Novek's arm and onto his shoulder, where he pressed into Novek's neck with a terrified fervor. Novek briefly patted Siya to reassure him.

  Then, calmly spanning his crossbow quickly with another bolt, Novek exited the coach. There was a loud thunk, as he slammed the door closed behind him. Then he dropped off of the step, and turned towards Ellie.

  Hunching so he could fit under the coach, Novek crouch-walked over to where Ellie was cradling one arm in the other, and gently took the coach gun from her. He spanned his crossbow and loaded another bolt, and handed it to her as he took the shotgun, carefully, from her hands. “Are you okay, Ellie? Nat? Shells, please.”

  Ellie grimaced in pain, but took the crossbow, “I think he broke my arm trying to hold on to me. Or maybe when I hit the ground.”

  Nat, for his part, looked a little shocked, but after only a moment's blank stare, recovered enough to hand Novek the last two shells.

  Novek broke open the coach gun, popped out the two smoking empties, and inserted the two shells into the two barrels. He continued crouching as he moved out from under the coach cabin.

  “Okay, we're not done here yet, but everyone get ready to leave. We've only got a minute or two at most.”

  Even by the dim light of the stars, Novek could see a shredded mess of smoking, bloody flesh — the ruins of Trant's nether regions — as the Ber continued rolling back and forth, moaning now.

  He looked back at Ellie as he finished reloading the gun, and raised his eyebrow to Ellie, “You shot him in the groin, with a broken arm?”

  Grinning through the pain, Ellie shrugged, “If a chance like that presents itself, you've just got to grit your teeth and take it.”