Geeze, was she really going to be prattling on and on about God and punishment and vengenace the entire trip? Somewhere behind all her screaming, Quinlan could hear and even see from the corner of his vision, the sight of a mounted soldier galloping across them and then along to the side. Fuck.
"I don''t want to die, but we're going to die if you don't quit nagging me!" he howled and he scraped his fingernails against old scabs across his palm. He hissed when it wasn't enough and brought his hand to his mouth. It was there that he bit down into his hand, scraping hand across his teeth until the healing cut opened and he felt it fill his palm with a small pool.
A sanguine puddle and he flicked his wrist to the ground, sending the blood across from him in the soldier's direction. It solidified into a spike of ice. And it cascaded across from them, piercing between the trees until it ended up in the soldier's side. A scream and a thud and he was a corpse on the ground.
"I don't want to die. But if we stop, we surely will," he growled in her ear, voice husky and low. Quinlan kicked the horse and pressed the animal harder although terror of the chase left them virtually on the verge of collaspe. "Don't you stop now! Goddammit!" As he turned the horse hard toward the right, he felt the bit of a fired arrow, burrowing itself into his arm. Quinlan didn't scream although his lungs burned for want of exhalation.
Like he would give them that fucking satisfaction. "T-take the reins," he murmured, handing them to Clover and gripped onto her with one arm, his other hand reaching around his shoulders to rip the arrow from his arm. His entire face was flushed and red, and what blood wasn't there was leaking out of his arm. Big fucking mistake.
That rush of red made Quinlan's veins burn. Hot breath escaped him and he pulled more out of his arm until he could solidify it into a pool in his hands. The jostling of the horse, Clover's nagging, and the cries of soldiers behind them all became distant echoes. His ears were deafened to all else but the call of the blood. And it was then that he felt himself drop from the saddle, body crashing to the ground.
Quinlan's neck hadn't been broken, by some miracle and his blood touched the soil, tainting it much as he had been. The soldiers were closing in, hooves digging deeper into soil, their weapons drawn, but no. They would crush him beneath those horses, he knew. It was an easier end than arresting him. A slow blink, a thrumming in his ears and when they were closer, he rose to his feet, limping and as they closed in, he threw himself up onto the closest soldier and yanked him to the ground. The other one stopped, drew his blade and flung himself from the saddle.
Quinlan dropped him and commanded the blood to take him, and there were the soil was soaked, the vines moved and the roots shredded the ground and wrapped around the soldier. Quinlan turned his screams to focus on the other one with his drawn sword. He took his own daggers out, watched and waited for him to strike first. Quinlan scuffled with him briefly and the soldier kicked him down, pressing a boot against his chest. Stumbling backwards, Quinlan was half-dazed.
"Fuck you," he hissed, and stabbed at the foot that stepped on his chest. Quinlan kicked his legs out from under him, crawling slowly over to him. "You don't hurt innocent people," he growled. "That girl did nothing to you. And you were gonna kill us both. I ain't gonna let you." And his hands pressed the edge of the soldier's own sword against his throat, slashing it and leaving him to choke on his own blood.