The wind whipped past Marcus's face. It stung his eyes and roared in his ears.

He sat on the edge of the woven wind carpet. His knuckles were white as he gripped the side.

Below them, the dark forest passed by in a blur of shadows.

Ventessa had not lied about the speed.

The carpet moved faster than any horse. It cut through the night air like a knife.

Marcus looked back. The dragon girl was huddled in the center of the rug.

She had her arms wrapped around the grey teddy bear. She buried her face in his fuzzy stomach.

The bear patted her head with a stubby paw. He looked like a stoic captain on a stormy sea.

"Are we there yet?" the bear shouted over the wind.

"Almost," Marcus yelled back.

He looked forward.

Lights appeared on the horizon.

It wasn't the warm glow of a home. It was the harsh, yellow flickering of torches.

The town. The lawless border settlement where Voss operated his trade.

Marcus felt a knot tighten in his stomach.

He remembered Thomas's broken ribs. He remembered Elara's hollow eyes.

He remembered the onion man's desperate prayers.

They were still in the cages. Waiting to be sold. Waiting to be hurt.

"There," Marcus pointed.

He guided Ventessa's attention to a large, fortified building on the edge of the town.

It had high stone walls. Iron bars covered the windows.

It looked like a warehouse designed to keep things in. And people out.

"That is the place," Marcus said. His voice was grim.

Ventessa shifted on top of his head.

"It looks dirty, now that I look at it clearlyfrom outside" she commented. Her voice was bored.

"It is a slave market," Marcus said. "It is not meant to be pretty."

"Guards," Ventessa noted.

She was right.

Two men stood at the main gate. They held spears. They looked alert.

More guards patrolled the perimeter.

"Do we have a plan?" the bear asked. He peeked over the dragon girl's shoulder.

"We land," Marcus said. "We free them. We leave."

"That is a goal," the bear corrected. "Not a plan. How do we get past the guards?"

Marcus opened his mouth to answer. He was going to suggest a distraction. Or stealth.

But Ventessa spoke first.

"We knock," she said.

The carpet dipped. It entered a steep dive.

Marcus's stomach lurched into his throat.

"Wait!" Marcus shouted. "Maybe we should be subtle!"

"Subtle takes time," Ventessa replied. "You said it was urgent."

She didn't slow down.

The carpet plummeted toward the main gate.

The guards looked up. They saw a streak of light descending from the sky.

"What is that?" one guard yelled.

He raised his spear.

Ventessa let out a soft sigh.

[Air Hammer]

She didn't raise a hand. She didn't chant.

The air pressure above the guards suddenly spiked.

It condensed into a solid, invisible block.

BOOM!

The invisible hammer slammed into the ground.

The impact was deafening. Dust exploded outward in a shockwave.

The two guards didn't even have time to scream.

They were flattened.

They weren't dead, Marcus hoped. But they were definitely not standing up anytime soon.

The heavy iron gate groaned. The metal twisted under the pressure.

Then it buckled.

The hinges snapped with a sound like gunshots. The massive doors fell inward.

CRASH!

They hit the courtyard with a thunderous thud.

The carpet pulled up at the last second. It hovered smoothly over the wreckage.

It glided into the courtyard and landed gently in the center.

Marcus stared at the destruction.

He looked up at the fluffball on his head.

"That was your version of knocking?" Marcus asked weakly.

"The door is open," Ventessa pointed out. "Problem solved."

Shouts erupted from the building.

"Attack!"

"Intruders!"

"Get the boss!"

Doors slammed open. Guards poured into the courtyard.

There were at least twenty of them. They were armed with swords, crossbows, and clubs.

"Kill them!" a captain shouted.

He pointed his sword at Marcus.

Marcus flinched. He reached for his rusty dagger, then remembered it was broken and he left it behind.

He had no weapon.

"Ventessa," Marcus whispered. "A little help?"

"Troublesome," Ventessa muttered.

She hopped off Marcus's head.

She floated in the air. A small, white ball of fluff against the dark night.

The guards paused. They looked confused.

"Is that... a rabbit?" one guard asked.

"Shoot it!" the captain ordered.

Three crossbowmen raised their weapons. They took aim.

Twang.

Twang.

Twang.

The bolts flew through the air. They were aimed straight at Ventessa.

She didn't move.

[Wind Wall]

A gust of wind erupted around her. It swirled like a mini tornado.

The bolts hit the wind wall. They were deflected instantly.

They spun away harmlessly and clattered onto the cobblestones.

Ventessa looked at the guards. Her black eyes were flat.

"My turn," she said.

She spun in the air.

[Gale Force]

The wind expanded. It exploded outward from her small body.

It wasn't a breeze. It was a hurricane.

It hit the circle of guards like a physical wall.

Men were lifted off their feet. They were thrown backward like ragdolls.

They flew through the air.

They crashed into walls.

They smashed into crates.

Weapons clattered to the ground.

In seconds, the courtyard was clear.

Twenty men lay groaning on the ground.

Ventessa floated back to Marcus.

She landed back on his head and settled into his hair.

"Done," she said. "Now go."

Marcus stood there. He was stunned.

He looked at the carnage.

"Remind me never to make you angry," Marcus muttered.

"Just buy me chocolate." Ventessa replied.

Marcus nodded. "Deal."

He turned to the dragon girl.

"Stay here," Marcus ordered gently. "Stay on the carpet. The bear will protect you."

The bear puffed out his chest. "I will guard her with my life. Or stuffing."

The dragon girl nodded. She looked terrified, but she trusted him.

Marcus stepped off the carpet.

He looked at one of the unconscious guards.

The man was wearing a dark grey cloak with a deep hood.

Marcus hurried over. He stripped the cloak off the guard.

He put it on and pulled the hood up low over his face.

He needed anonymity.

He was a noble. If word got out that Lord Aldridge raided a slave market, it would be a political disaster.

He tied the cloak tight. He checked his reflection in a puddle.

His face was hidden in shadow.

"Okay," Marcus whispered. "Let's go get them."

He ran toward the main building.

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