by Raven Bouray
Steps grew closer, thuds that echoed off of the walls and down the halls, closer and closer until she was suddenly snatched up by large hands and pulled backward into the air. “Daddy. No.” She squealed as she struggled. “No fair.” Her feet kicked out haphazardly as she attempted to escape the firm hold she was in.
“Plenty fair. I told you that I would always find you, Dove.”
“And always keep me safe.” she intoned with a nod as she was turned around to face her father.
“Always,” he agreed solemnly. “Now. Since I’ve caught you--.”
A yell abruptly cut through his words and Emmaline jerked in her father’s embrace to look for the source of the sound. Although after finding nothing, she turned back to her father and found herself alone standing on the ground of a very empty castle. “Daddy?” She called out, and it echoed.
Another yell and several thudding noises came from somewhere close. The clang of metal on metal rang through the corridors like the ringing of a large bell. She turned around once more and found herself older again and the noises grew louder. The sound of battle.
A thundering pounding on solid oak brought her suddenly from her dream into darkness. She rubbed her eyes with a hand before trying to calm her rapidly beating heart.
The pounding resumed on her door accompanied this time by a voice. “Lady Emmaline! Wake up!”
She sat up in bed and noticed that the castle sounded different; she could hear the screams of both men and women out her window and the crash of wood and metal. Despite her state of undress and only being clothed in her white shift, she threw off the covers and darted for the door to unlock it and wrench the thick wooden portal open.
A more startling sight could not have greeted her in the night as Uracen, grim faced and spattered with blood, stood with sword in hand. He took a look at her and frowned. “Lady. We must go. The castle is under attack.” He reached a hand out, and she took it without thinking.
“Attack? How?” Her heart had continued its pounding beat and a feeling of dread spread from the organ into the rest of her body. As he pulled her along, her bare feet scraped on the smooth stone with hardly a whisper. Despite the darkness of the castle illuminated by the occasional torch, she could see odd forms lying on the ground, and her nose detected the scent of metal and death. As they drew closer to the stairs, the sounds of battle grew ever so slightly louder, not that she couldn’t hear them clearly already.
“We don’t know. They wear no colors or sigil and have no identifying features at all. How could I have been so lax?” He growled out as he stomped through the castle.
“Where are my parents?” The door to their room was open as they passed by it and the inside revealed no sleeping forms. She tried to keep the tremor out of her voice despite the fear she felt. The air was chilled this night and gooseflesh raised on her arms as she shivered.
“They were already awake yet and are making their way for the back exit to safety. Your father is quite the swordsman, and they should be fine.”
“How did the attackers get in?”
“Magic most likely. One moment everything was quiet and the next people were suddenly dying. It was as if they had teleported in or were under a spell of invisibility. Damned magic users.”
“Is everyone else alright?”
“I don’t know.” His tone was grim, and she quieted once more as they descended the stairs.
When they had very nearly reached the bottom step, Emmaline stumbled on something heavy and hit the wall. When she looked down to see what it was, she gave a cry quickly stifled by her guard at the sight of the body on the floor.
The frazzled white hair and thin frame were familiar to her. As she stepped back, her bare foot encountered something sticky and cold, and she started shaking because she knew instinctively what it was. Master Telgrin stared up at her with sightless eyes and she knew that vision was one she would never forget. “Lady. We have to leave him. I’m sorry. I know he was your teacher. And we will have time to mourn later. But we must go.”
“But--we can’t just--just-j--.” Tears fell from her eyes as she was pulled along. The liquid made things blurry and the darkness more cloying as she struggled to keep everything together and move one foot in front of the other without stumbling. So far she had seen no enemies but still the sounds of death persisted.
“There will be time enough for the dead. May Nyxa keep their souls safe while they are travelling.”
Emmaline nodded and stumbled along, feeling a strange sort of numbness that she knew would soon fade, much like the rush that one felt during a victory. This was no victory however, this was merely pain and punishment for the innocent. Master Telgrin was a kind man who only wanted to learn. Fresh tears erupted, but she had to brush them away angrily.
Uracen descended yet more stairs and threw open the door at the bottom. Emmaline was suddenly shoved back from him, and Uracen charged through the doorway. People were fighting still here, and the sounds of battle echoed here much like her laughter did in her dream. He gave a battle shout, and she heard something like a hammer on metal and a yell of pain but was too apprehensive to peel herself from the wall to look. She had no weapon to speak of and did not think to try to find one on the way down to the first floor. It wasn’t as if this was something to be prepared for. When a shadowed figure appeared in the doorway, she nearly turned and ran back where she came from but at the last moment, she realized that Uracen had been the victor.
“He’s dead. Come along. It’s not far now. But it looks as if we have some fighting to get through. If we get separated in any way, I want you to run. Don’t look back, don’t try to help, just run for the back exit and the tunnel concealed within. You remember the way, don’t you?”
“Yes, but if I can get a weapon, I can help.” Her voice sounded odd to her ears, small and full of apprehension, which was quite some way from her normal quips and light tone.
“No. What we did in the training yard, that was practice, play. You need more practice before you can really face down a skilled opponent and still more before you can stay steady while someone is trying to kill you. No. I have been tasked by your father to bring you safely to him. And I will do so.” His palm once more closed around her forearm and she was pulled forward, careful to step over the fresh body her protector had dispatched.
They took the long way around but she knew that he would have to go through the courtyard to get to the entrance, or at least get closer to it than she felt comfortable with. People were still screaming, still dying, and she could hear every moment of it, unable to block it out and each scream was tugging at her heart with increasing vigor.
They rounded another corner and came face to face with yet more attackers all in black with faces covered. They were fighting two guards, and the guards were outnumbered three to one. Behind them, some servants cowered and one held a dagger in the standoff.
Uracen gave a shout, and the startled attackers turned around but not quickly enough to prevent him from cutting one of them down. Emmaline watched in horror as his sword pierced the leather armor of one of them with as much effort as one would slice butter from a bowl. It was as if it was nothing to extinguish someone’s life.
The other two guards jumped in the fray and managed to dispatch yet another black armored attacker before one sliced down into a guard’s thigh, causing a cry of pain. The servants got up and ran back down the hall, attempting to find safety, but Emmaline knew that there was none to be found the way they fled. The battle was still raging that way, but she couldn’t open her mouth to tell them no. Her throat was so very dry and tight watching the carnage in front of her.
As she stared after the wall which the two servants disappeared behind, she paid little attention to the battle before her which was over quickly, or at least more quickly than Emmaline thought it would be. A hand touched her arm and she jumped and turned a wide eyed gaze to Uracen, who had more blood covering him. It shone dark red and wet in the torchlight. Only one
guard was standing now and he saluted Emmaline briskly before taking off down the hallway ahead of them.
And for the third time that night and more times than she thought she ever would have, she stepped over bodies on the ground in front of her and felt again the wetness of fresh blood. This time, at least it was warm but that really wasn’t an improvement. Her stomach rolled and threatened to spill its contents at the scene of savagery they walked past. The vegetables, fruits, breads, and sweet wine would not taste the same coming back up, so she held it back. It would not do well to give the servants more to clean up… If there were any servants left, that is.
Ryna… Had she seen Ryna in the midst of bodies? Would she even know if her maid yet lived? She could only hope that her friend made it to the family escape route or at least out of the castle. Were the people in the village safe and alive?
As they continued through the corridors nearing the center of the fray, Emmaline detected smoke in the air and knew without looking that her beloved garden was aflame. She looked at her guide and protector, but his gaze was staunchly forward, ready for any adversary that blocked their path.
Another door loomed in front of them, the sounds loud and the smell of smoke stronger. Uracen kicked open the door and plunged into chaos. Sword on sword, shield, flesh and armor rang like a macabre melody through the air. Smoke made it difficult to see much, and Emmaline had to put a clothed arm over her nose and mouth to avoid breathing too much of it in.
Uracen plunged through the middle of it, most combatants too enthralled in their own battles to pay them much heed. Crests and colors of the families that had stayed the night made up the battleground, but the blood on the ground was all very red. She saw servants and soldiers amidst the dead. She nearly stumbled when she spotted a child. Who would kill a child?
He continued to tug her along unfailingly until they came to an abrupt halt. He pulled her behind him and lifted his sword. She looked over his shoulder at the three assailants who left no pause as they came at him.
She crouched down low to avoid being seen, but one of the three broke off and took a swing at her. Emmaline darted to the side as the blade sliced downward and she sprang back up, eyes searching for a weapon. She reached out for a sword that had been discarded, the blade flecked with dried blood, and flipped around to face her opponent with her newfound weapon in front of her.
The grip was odd, and the sword felt clunky in her hands. She hadn’t done much with swords before, but how hard could it be?
Her opponent lunged at her.
“Emmaline! MOVE!” Uracen shouted at her, and her sword was knocked out of her weak grip by a well placed strike, leaving her unarmed and walking backwards as the man in black advanced on her, sword brought to bear.
Just as the man in black was about to raise a blade to strike, a swordpoint bloomed much like a rose from his chest. The now mortally wounded foe looked down in shock as he dropped like a stone.
Uracen stood behind him, bleeding from a cut on his cheek. “I told you to run. Not pick up a sword, girl.” There was a slick sort of sliding sound as he pulled his weapon from the back of the now dead man.
“I’m... I’m sorry. I thought I could do it, but then he was so fast, and my hands wouldn’t work--.”
“Hush. Now come on. Not far now.”
He pulled her along once more, this time his pace was slower, as if he were limping. “Are you--?”
“Fine,” he growled out.
They had just reached the door that would lead to the exit when Emmaline heard a somewhat familiar voice shout. “Move!” And she was shoved forcibly out of the way, arm wrenched from Uracen’s grasp as she hit the ground hard, scraping her hands and knees on the ground and knocking the breath out of her.
She flipped around in time to see Tylred Nivon, looking rather proud of himself, then confused, then afraid as they both looked down at the same time to find a sword sticking out from his belly. Fear shone in his eyes and a grimace formed along those pudgy cheeks as blood bubbled up from his throat and past pale lips onto his jowls and further down, staining his shirt from both the top and the middle. Emmaline couldn’t breath, horror had seized her as she watched the light from his eyes go out and his body slump heavily to the ground. He had saved her life and now he was dead. What was the point of that?
She was still staring at the body when she heard a thundering and highly familiar voice nearby. “Emmaline! Where are you?” Her father sounded frantic and she tried to open her mouth to yell for him, but her throat was so dry, so scratchy and her heart felt as if it was going to stop. Uracen was dispatching her attacker, but she saw now that he was bleeding quite a bit more than he had before. Would he be alright? She turned back to look for her father.
“Papa!” She shrieked loudly.
“Emma!” She thought she could see him now coming toward her. He was in full armor, shining like the sun, a blood spattered sun, but he was the best thing she had seen since this nightmare began.
“Papa!”
He saw her now and charged forward toward her. The battle was nearly over now, and masked figures littered the ground with others, and she smiled at him, reaching out a hand like she used to when she was smaller.
Her smile faded suddenly as she spotted an odd shimmer in front of him. She was about to shout for him to stop, or move, or something but it was too late when another black cloaked figure materialized out of thin air in front of him. Her father had too much momentum to stop or totally avoid the blade that sank into his side. From her vantage point, the wound was not deep and far enough away from vital organs that he would have no trouble with it. He twisted away from the strike but bellowed in pain and faltered. Uracen dashed in front of her to come to his liege lord’s aid.
Emmaline pushed up from the ground and just as she was about to race forward to help her father to safety, she felt a sunburst of pain from the back of her head. Darkness enveloped her for the second time in as many days. The flickering fires, smoke, and the glimmering of her father’s armor the last thing that wavered in her vision before losing consciousness.
Chapter 10
Emmaline was dreaming again, or at least she thought she was, when the sound of birds twittering and flitting from branch to branch seeped into her half conscious mind. But she still couldn’t see them. A cool breeze drifted across her cheeks and hands, causing gooseflesh to erupt and for her to shiver slightly in response. The scent of woodsy musk floated through the air as well as that of fresh water.
She became aware of the hard ground beneath her, digging into her shoulder in particular and she shifted. It brought to light other stiffness and soreness, as well as the fact that she was on her side. It was then that she opened her eyes and was greeted by a wash of green, then a flicker of black, and wavy green once more as her sight adjusted and head throbbed. She winced after lifting a hand to palpate her head. A fine knot had risen from her temple buried in her curls and she was sure that something had been scrambled this time.
After deciding that it was probably a poor idea to move as of yet she stayed lying on the ground and merely tried to take in her surroundings. She was curled up in a ball against what she assumed was a large tree and shivered once more.
A whinny and snort turned her attention, and she blinked a few times, not really believing her eyes. Her horse, Arya was standing not far from her, grazing next to what looked like a small stream and by the look of it she had been grazing for a while. How had Arya gotten here? She didn’t remember taking a ride anywhere and falling asleep. Maybe this was a very realistic dream, but the pain from her head felt real. She was still tossing the idea around when Arya lifted her head and whickered at Emmaline and then starting walking toward her. Her hooves thudded gently on the grass and she swung her head up and down before shoving her muzzle into Emmaline’s face.
“Hey! Stop!” Emmaline put her hands up and pushed her eager friend’s nose back, then she sat up as quickly as she dared. “Ack!” She coughed out as a white mu
zzle once again nuzzled her cheek and she felt the warmth that puffed out from flared nostrils. “Good morning to you too. Or perhaps it’s evening. Where is everyone?” She rubbed between Arya’s eyes and the horse whickered softly in contentment as her rider leaned back against the tree trunk. After being rudely stirred by her horse, Emmaline was better able to look around the small grove. She closed her eyes and listened for any voices, people, other horses, anything that would tell her why she was here but heard nothing that likened to civilization.
With a sigh, she braced one hand against the tree and another on the ground before hefting her body up from the bed she had made herself on the grass and moaned as her head swam with lights. Closing her eyes was the only way to make the throbbing stop, and after a few moments, she opened them once before closing them again. Maybe her head was hurt worse than she first assumed. Several deep breaths entered and exited her body as she laid her head back against the tree to wait it out. The throbbing had become an ebb and the longer she stood the less she felt from it until when she opened her eyes things were sharp once more.