Attack!

As the bandits approached, Vrasha got her first good look at them. Two of them were male, one was a woman. Of the two men, one was blond and one was dark-haired. The woman with a red-head. Vrasha felt her heart beating, a sense of urgency rose up in her, her blood drummed in her ears as her hand closed around the hilt of her blade.

She was no fool, she knew the fate of lone women caught up in the road by bandits. She didn't intend to be easy prey. Even as her adrenaline surged, her mind sought a state of calm, her eyes focused, trying to find her best target. There were three of them; but they didn't expect her to fight back. She could see the greed and lust in their eyes, and knew they thought she was an easy mark. She could use that, turn it to her advantage...

"Hail, good woman!" The leader said, coming to a stop near her. "By what means have you come to this lonely road so late at night? Perhaps we could be of some help?"

The grin he was wearing made it clear just what sort of help he intended to be. Vrasha finalised her choice in a single moment, her eyes met his, and saw nothing that was human. Just a beast out to get what he could, no remorse and no pity.

"Perhaps you could...." She said. "You could give me somewhere to sheath my blade!"

So saying, she spurred her horse on suddenly. The exhausted animal gave a whine of protest, but kicked into high speed, Vrasha felt a flash of guilt - it would need to rest after this. But for a few moments, she was fast, and more, she was unexpected. Her hand whipped the blade she'd been holding to her front, the leader - the dark haired bandit - opened his eyes wide as he saw her coming. Disbelief and panic made him slow.

Her sword slashed out, cutting for his throat, but he swayed back at the last moment, and took a shoulder wound instead. Red spread through the clothing he wore, and he muttered a curse.

"You whore!" He roared. "I'll gut you for that!"

"Catch me first!" Vrasha snarled, reversing the cut to try and take him through the throat. He kicked his mount into reverse, and took only a light wound, but his face paled as his fingers felt where he had nearly been cut.

That was the thing about Vrasha. That was the thing she took pride in. She was a princess of the River Kingdom, formerly in line for the throne, one of a large family of princes and princesses, but one thing that she could say for sure was that she knew how to fight. All her life, she'd looked up to the tales of adventurers, heroes of the past, and as soon as she was old enough, she'd taken lessons in the blade. Now, it was time to put those to practice.

The dark haired man spurred his horse forwards, his sword was in his hands now and rage was in his eyes. Their swords met, once, twice, three times, sparks flew as metal clashed against metal. His brute strength hammered into her guard, making her arm ache.

Fuck, he was strong!

The blond bandit was moving towards them now too, the red-headed woman was stringing a bow.

Not good. Between the storm of blows she was exchanging with the black haired one, Vrasha knew she was in serious danger of being overwhelmed. She had to break away, or put this one down, she couldn't risk taking the two of them at once!

The dark-haired man continued to beat against her defences, his strikes were strong and brutal, but predictable. No training to them, she scoffed. In a single instant, she saw her moment and took it, lunging forwards to swipe his gut with her blade, burying it into his chest. He howled in pain as blood soaked his clothes even more deeply, his blade dropped, and he started to rip at his shirt, trying to expose the wound, and staunch the bleeding.

That was enough for her. He was out of the fight. She kicked her horse forwards, and just in time too! The blond one came rushing at her next. He was wielding a curved, cavalry sabre, and seemed to move with more grace than the first one. Vrasha launched a rapid strike towards his side, but he fielded it, and her blade bounced off his guard. In that moment, he twisted, his sword sliced outwards to cut against her shoulder. Vrasha felt a flash of pain, minor, but distracting. Fear started to bubble in her mind, but she pushed it down.

Vrasha surged against his defences, delivering several ringing blows, but he parried them each one by one, moving with speed and skill. Vrasha wanted to howl in rage, that wasn't fair! Bandits weren't supposed to be good at fighting! But this one had the look of an ex-soldier.

Suddenly, an arrow slashed passed her, striking the ground at her side. Vrasha jumped, remembering the red-haired archer.

Not good, not good at all. She had to end this fast, had to-

The blond one charged again, delivering a series of strikes so fast she could barely follow. Swords flashed, metal glinting with reflected moonlight. It was all Vrasha could do to keep up, but he was so fast, and she felt so slow! The attacked hammered into her guard, again and again , she gritted her teeth, her muscles ached, but she held her own as best she could. Then, suddenly, he deceived her! A standard lunging strike was turned aside at the last moment, becoming a hook that caught the edge of her blade and **** it out of position. Vrahsa felt her arm jerk as she tried to hold onto the sword, for a moment, her guard was **** open.

And the man hammered through with a throwing knife in his free hand. Vrasha's eyes widened as she saw it close the distance between them, horror and numbness filled her as she realised she could not get away.

The dagger cut, but only lightly. It sliced along her thigh, severing the strap which held her saddle in place. Vrasha shouted in panic and confusion as she felt herself shift, falling sideways, suddenly tangled up in the saddle. Desperately, she fought to rise, cutting herself free and turning to face the man who was now riding down at her.

She surged forwards, channelling her terror and fear into a roar, her last hope now was that his horse would start, giving her a chance to skewer him through the gut or chest. But it was too well trained, and the man had the advantage of height. His blade swept down, and hammered into her sword, tearing it from her hands. For a moment, she looked up at him, no blade now to defend herself. Her heart hammered, her blood roared in her veins and ears.

The man pressed the tip of the blade against her throat, her silken skin prickling at its touch.

"Yield."