For all that Fable was hurt, she loved her human, and the poor dog let out a vicious growl before she launched herself at the nearest man.
It was a growl that turned into a high pitched yelp and the sickening crack of ribs when that man swung his cudgel and struck Fable in the side, hard, sending the dog rolling over the grass. Tessa screamed, "Fable!" and that was all the distraction needed as the three men swarmed.
With two men bearing cudgels, and one a wicked knife, they came at her, and Tessa was woefully unprepared. She'd made some big threats and she didn't know how to back up any of them, except to swing her crook and hope it hit, hope it would be enough to make them rethink, but one armed man struck her crook with his cudgel so hard she could feel the force of it through her arms clear to her teeth. Her crook went spiraling out of her hands, she was still reeling when another man grabbed her from behind and yanked her arms behind her back hard enough that she yelped.
"You're warnin' us, eh?" he laughed into her ear, breath rank. "What a joke! Where's your fire and brimstone, eh, witch?"
"Please, lemme go!" Tessa started to struggle, but he tightened his grip until the pain made her gasp and freeze, afraid he might pop her shoulders right out of their sockets. "Please," she tried again, voice choked with fear. "Please, I just wanna go home, I don't wanna fight, I don't wanna hurt anyone, please!"
"Please, please, please!" the man mocked, voice pitched to imitate her. "Think the mages what killed my wife listened to her 'please'?"
One of the men shifted awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Mark, enough. Let's just take her shit and go."
"No, I think I wanna have fun with this one," the man gripping her, Mark, said. He adjusted his hold on her, shifting her wrists over to one hand, and drew his knife with the other. "What better way to send a message than by using one of their own little bitches? Do to them what they did to mine."
"She's got the mark. She's a church mage," the other man said. "It ain't like those others."
"Don't matter. They're all the fuckin' same. What say you, Alaric?"
Alaric, the third man, had been silent up until then, tapping his palm with his heavy cudgel. He shrugged his massive shoulders and spat off to the side. "Don't see no difference between 'em," he said, and walked closer. He smiled wickedly. "Bring 'er with us. We could use a little fun."
"I don't like this," the nameless man said, shaking his head. "Don't like it at all."
"Then don't fuck 'er," Mark snapped.
Tessa's blood went cold, heart beating fast as a wild bird trapped in a glass cage. W...what? Oh God. Oh God. They weren't talking about...?
Her mind raced, but her body was frozen in panic. She needed to do something. Needed to fight back. Magic. She had magic. But could she use it? Was it worth the cost of her soul? Would Ansgar forgive her? They were going to hurt her, kill her. Oh God, there was no doubt about it. But could she?
"Please, God, help me," she prayed out loud, eyes clenched shut, praying for the strength to fight--or the strength to die.