Devastated faces held less terror among the dead than those left unmarred. Unscathed flesh frightened her and Layara refused to meet their unblinking stares, afraid to glimpse friends and confidants. Mangled faces blurred into something dispassionate and it was a simple thing for Layara to convince herself one and all were strangers. Tenuous fibers binding her together depended on the lie.
Beyond strewn weapons and fallen combatants stood the formidable Captain of the Guard for House Erodin, two advancing foes obstructing his girth. Sleek lacerations bit into Hallen’s tarnished clothing. He stumbled in retreat on wobbling legs until his back brushed against the far wall.
Hallen resisted the combined assault from two soldiers, buffeting aside blows with brute force. But he was failing. A hasty lash nicked his throat and he pitched sideward as a blade edge cleaved through burgundy leathers protecting broad shoulders. The longsword, so swift in Hallen’s callused hands, dwindled to sloppy chops.
Layara sprinted without coherent thought, her pounding boots muffled on carpeting and drowned by whacking swords. Hallen sagged to one knee, a snarl decorating grizzled features splashed with blood. Howls burst from within a hulking belly and his blade snapped higher to parry a loose stroke. He twisted the sword and skewered one adversary beneath her bronze-rimmed breastplate, wrenching iron ever upward. Mewling drifted from the woman’s stiffened frame as her companion jerked his weapon inward at Hallen.
Approaching oblivious prey from the rear, Layara knew her gruesome undertaking might prove effortless. She plunged metal into a tender neck, ripped it free and sank iron deeper once more while her gasping victim convulsed onto his knees.
The man’s wilting body spewed crimson and smacked onto floor with a thump. Layara’s vision was awash in red and her hungry blade continued to hew gory meat, seeking passage between armored plates and squealing across his cuirass. Finally her fiery muscles relented and the sword rested in sodden hands. Vomit gurgled from Layara’s throat, slapping atop stone and dripping onto her doublet as she hunched forward and shivered. Warm bile soaked her chin and throat, though she scarcely noticed.
Layara gulped rancid air, gazing at blemishes spattered on her hands and vambraces. A disinterested observer might almost be fooled into believing she wore elbow length gloves to match her vermilion doublet. Ignoring the slimy blotches, she struggled to climb upright and looked toward Hallen.
The Captain of the Guard propped himself on one knee and leaned shuddering against his sword. He spat bloodied phlegm and wiped residue from his lips and shaggy mustache. “Stirs the heart to see you well, m’lady. Don’t mind admitting I feared the worst.”
Layara jogged toward prone figures draped in House Erodin’s colors and bent in examination, probing with one hand. Horrific as it was to scrutinize their faces, she needed to know whether even one still clung to life. Her warm fingers touched the lifeless cheek of Nymar, a jovial youth one year older than she. Long a squire for the Master-at-arms, Layara held fond memories of her and Nymar battling with wooden swords as children, chasing each other about the practice yard. “What in all the hells is happening?”
“Would that I knew.” A hacking cough punctured Hallen’s words and Layara heard his weapon scraping atop stone. “I saw elks charging, killing folk. Didn’t…didn’t even have time to strap on proper armor. We rallied as best we could. Tried to push the sons of bitches back, we did.”
“Where’re Ely and my mom? Are they safe?”
“Don’t know. I looked to get at ‘em, but couldn’t…push past this cursed room.” His voice was strained and hoarse, the words a soft exhalation. “I’m sorry, m’lady.”
Layara lifted her hand from one crumpled guard’s innocent features and glanced at the captain. Hallen slumped against the wall with one gloved hand resting on a trembling stomach. Boiled leather and padded tunic were split beneath his palm, displaying a ghastly wound stretching across the gut.
“Hallen…”
The captain shooed Layara’s hands as she knelt at his side. “There ain’t nothing you can do about none of this. I see your thoughts written plain enough in those eyes. But you ain’t saving me or the city.”
“There’s still time. Maybe if we can assemble the guards that are left, we—”
“No,” he croaked. His hand fumbled against hers and closed in a feeble squeeze. “The damned gates were sitting open for the Venshals, awaiting their coming. We waved, brought ‘em food, gave their ranking soldiers warm beds to settle into. Them traitors are everywhere. Venshal heavy troops ain’t three days’ march away like we were told. They’re here. There’s no f-f-fight left to us, m’lady. Not after this. You go and get your mom and sister. And then you run.” A judder coursed through his body and Hallen gritted crooked teeth. “Get clear from all this. Others to the south need to be told what awaits ‘em. With these g-g-godsdamned Venshals betraying us…”
“Our entire army will be slaughtered.”
“Aye. Your father’ll need warning.” Heaving gasps shook the captain and oozed bloody speckles on his leathers. “He won’t know the truth of it until Venshal infantry cut his rear lines to pieces. Now…go.”
Layara placed a hand on his face, brushing ruffled hair aside. “Not without you.”
“Start dragging me someplace and I…I reckon I’ll die all the sooner. And you ain’t p-p-patching this mess. So get!” Hallen swatted Layara’s reaching hand but his weakened arm flopped to the floor. One hand tugged off a sullied glove and he slid a ring from his finger. The Captain of the Guard placed his jewelry in Layara’s palm and quaked.
“Hallen, no.”
He closed her fingers around the silver ornament with withering hands. “You k-know what needs to be done…lass. One last thing I’ll be needing your help with. Give…give a good w-word for me. And be s-s-safe.”
Standing upright, she looked down and attempted a frail smile. “Farewell, old friend.”
“Goodbye,” Hallen rasped, “m’lady.”
Layara withdrew and departed the chamber, licking her lips and breathing through a parched mouth. The unadorned ring was heavy in her palm as she slipped it into a pocket. She blinked against stinging moisture and tightened shaking fingers on her sword’s grip. Cramps coursed through cracked skin on her left arm, now splattered with gooey scarlet.
Shadowy corridors beckoned Layara onward. Ever mindful of footfalls, she strode in haste along stone hallways, a red blade poised before her. The night held distant horrors and she walked through it alone, unwilling witness to suffering.
Sorrow pierced her aching heart on sighting the door to her mother’s bedchamber. Two House guards lay at the threshold, one slouched against a wall and the other draped on his side. Arrows impaled each body, the wooden shafts ringed in stained fabric. Faint breaths wheezed past her lumpy throat as Layara tore into the room.
A lone wax candle flickered dull illumination while the fireplace’s lingering embers ate charred husks. Creeping shadows danced atop and beyond furnishings, washing the sparse bedchamber in a ghostly light. Glimmers from the candle clawed across stretches like tides against a shore, beholden to the whims of a wavering flame.
Stale air within reeked of cloying blood. Dark smudges snaked across the floor, untouched circles mingling with others smeared in footprints. Her mother lay beneath shredded blankets, one limp hand dangling bare from the bed. Crimson droplets trickled from marred fingertips.
Layara labored to breathe beyond a constriction clamping on her throat and chest. Roiling torment consumed her nauseated stomach, her skin tingled from a thousand unceasing pinpricks and her body flashed red-hot. Frothy spittle caked her mouth and tears streamed down grimy cheeks.
“Oh mom…”
Stumbling with ungainly paces, Layara glimpsed her little sister crumpled near the bed. She knelt alongside Ely on shaking knees and closed beautiful emerald eyes. Clumps of skin encrusted Ely’s fingernails and blood splashed her clothing in places that bore no wounds. Lying discarded several feet dista
nt was a crocheting needle, its hooked tip coated in scarlet. A fragile smile lifted Layara’s lips ever so slightly. Ely did not make it easy for her attackers, at least.
“Good girl,” Layara whispered.
A whimper seized her body and she coughed in its aftermath, ejecting thick globs. Layara wiped cheeks damp with tears and stood. The Venshals brought this ruin on her family, commanded by that traitorous snake Brath. A heinous betrayal made all the more appalling given the past friendship between him and her father. Lincema spoke warmly of an adolescence studying and training alongside the eldest Venshal child. There would be a reckoning for this treachery, Layara vowed. To be paid in blood. There could be no other answer to such disloyalty. Yet even now those who survived were marching unto death, unaware what fate awaited. Layara needed to warn her father and brother. Nothing else mattered.
Looking over one shoulder, she spied a carafe perched atop the closest table. Layara gripped the crystal container and poured water over sticky blood coating her seared flesh. Biting down on her lip to quell painful ripples, she waited a few breaths before gulping what liquid remained.
Next she snagged one linen sheet and ripped a long segment. Chewing on bloodied lips all the while, she smothered skin on her hand with material, wrapping it twice around and tying strands into a loose knot. Layara gripped one end in clenched teeth and yanked on the other, barely hushing a shriek as her burned limb quivered from the ordeal. Panting sobs drowned her boots when she stood on rickety legs. She stumbled toward a dresser adjacent to the window and snatched black gloves. Layara tucked supple leather into a cloth pouch dangling from her belt and once again kneeled at Ely’s side. Bloodied fingers withdrew an ivory barrette entangled within wild hair and she slipped the jewelry alongside scrunched gloves.
Placing one hand on her little sister’s cheek, she leaned forward and kissed a soft forehead. “I love you.”
Sparing one final glance for her mother and Ely, Layara fled the bedchamber.
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Starwatch Page 45