Obedient to her own mental commands, she allowed her eyelids to fall closed, listening intently to the sounds around them. Thade was motionless, creating no disturbance which would hinder or distract her. Even his breath was silent as death, making her wonder if he was still breathing at all.
There in the trees she could hear something. The slow draw of a sword from a thick case of some kind. It didn’t sound like the leather of their own sheaths, but there was no doubt in her mind what it was. A soft breeze made it hard to pinpoint the exact location of the noise. The first was quickly followed by another, and then another. Each one equally as slow and precise as the first, the movement perfectly controlled with the intention of muffling their preparations.
Wake the others. The thought rattled through her brain despite the arguments her mind tried to silence it with. She couldn’t leave Thade’s side. Any sudden movement would set off the attack prematurely. If that happened, it would give their enemies an even greater advantage than they already had, and would leave her unprepared to assist Thade in the defense.
A musty smell wafted across her nostrils, nearly gagging her with its intensity. She kept her eyes closed, not wanting to open them in case doing so dampened her other senses. Just hearing the sound wasn’t enough to grant her a visual image of their foe. Opening her eyes would only hinder her until the enemy was within range of her sword.
The odor was thickening, filling the air around them until it was an almost unbearable stench. A soft crackle of leaves could barely be made out, seeming to come from all angles. Her shoulders tensed; her back straightening. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she felt the overwhelming desire for oxygen burning in her lungs. Cringing from the smell as she inhaled, she readied herself for the attack, her entire body tingling along her right side. Something was there. It was moving quickly, and it was already closer than she had anticipated.
In a single swift motion, she pivoted to her right, lifting her sword up across her chest and over her head. Metal clashing against metal filled the woods, echoing through the trees with an eerie clang. This was it. There was no turning back now. The enemy had made their move. All they could do was hope they were not outnumbered by much.
With the silence broken, Leyna let out a yell, pushing her attacker back with all of her strength. The shrill tone of her voice caused her assailant to flinch unexpectedly.
Unable to force her eyes to remain closed any longer, she allowed them to open, gasping in surprise at the sight of the creature in front her before almost choking on the heavy odor invading her senses. It appeared to be a man. The face was hairy and mud covered, the facial hair grown to lengths that caused it to blend into the darkness of the black clothes it was wearing. Its eyes were the same as she’d seen from behind the trees, abnormally small and round, set disproportionately in its wide features. It was over a foot shorter than she was, though at least twice as wide, outweighing her significantly in mass. Although it was large, it was strong – and it was more skilled with a sword than any of the opponents she’d taken on during her days at the academy.
In the back of her head she was aware of Thade facing a second attacker. She’d lost track of him at her side, separating them with the darkness until all she could hear was the sound of his sword clashing with another. It was enough to assure her he was still alive. She just wasn’t sure where.
Coherent thoughts attempted to break through her concentration. Her body burned at every joint from the exertion of the battle. Though she tried to formulate a plan of action, her focus on the movement was too extreme. Parry. Block. Thrust. The attacks were endless. Her assailant was barely winded, moving with the same speed as when he’d first entered into the fight. She couldn’t keep going at such a pace for much longer.
From around her the clanging of other swords seemed to cease, her ears filled with nothing but the noise of her own blade against her enemy’s. Water built up in the corners of her eyes. She struggled to keep moving, fighting through the exhaustion threatening her. Life was the only thing that mattered now. If she gave in to the ache of the fatigue, she would die. Her opponent cared little about her age. All that mattered to him was whether she was still moving. Until one of them no longer was, the strikes would continue.
Without a light source, determining a weakness in her foe was next to impossible. He was quick, though she doubted his agility to be anywhere near her own. Their difference in size would be her best card to play. Muscle couldn’t win it for her. He could overpower her easily if she wasn’t careful. Play to your strengths. It was what Blaise had ingrained in her mind every day in practice. If you can move, then move. She could move. It was her only option.
Dipping under his arm while he swung, she maneuvered around to his back side, forcing him to spin around to face her. She blocked a few more strikes before ducking around him again, thrusting her sword forward into his back. It met resistance from his armor. She hadn’t accounted for the possibility of that. In practice the strikes never had need to penetrate the skin to be declared the victor. But this wasn’t practice.
When she attempted to pull her sword back, she was met with even more resistance, the strength of her opponent’s body flinging her backward with the sharpness of his movement. The pain angered him. She could hear the blood lust in his labored breathing. His steps were harder and more powerful than before. Her feet had been lifted completely from the ground, fingers sliding off the hilt of her weapon. While she felt her back connect with the heavy branches of a fallen tree, all she could think about was the horrible disadvantage she’d placed herself in. She couldn’t block his strikes with her bare hands. Without a sword, she was doomed.
She gripped the branches of the tree tightly in her hands, lifting her body up onto the top of the trunk. Kicking out with her foot she could hear the crack of wood breaking, separating a large branch from where it was connected to the tree. Again and again she struck until the splintering wood gave way. She could already hear her opponent approaching again. Even in the darkness he could trace her by the sound she was making.
Grabbing up the heavy branch she waited until she could hear his footsteps nearly to the tree. With impressive speed she extended her foot out, using her opponent’s own momentum against him with the strike. The heel of her boot connected sharply with his face. She could feel the bones crack under her foot. His pained growl echoed through the branches around her, his legs stumbling backward in disorientation.
To get up the power she required to manage the heavy branch, she kept it gripped in both hands, spinning her body around to gather speed. The impact jarred her. He’d been closer than she was expecting, already recovering from her initial strike. The second blow left her teeth tingling. Another thud on the ground nearby signaled her that something had fallen other than the branch she’d been holding. Based on the groan, she gave in to the hope that it was her enemy. Getting him off his feet was essential to her. As long as she was standing and he was not, she could find a way to use that to her advantage.
She’d heard her branch land, her hands instinctively reaching for it in the darkness. Securing it back in her grasp, she pushed forward to where the other sound had come from. Not wanting to take any chances, she brought it downward in front of her. It met a brief interference from her enemy’s sword, his arms coming up in an attempt to block the incoming blow.
The blade wasn’t strong enough to cut through the wood. Her arms lacked in control to maneuver the branch back up again, forced to allow it to finish its motion. A sickening gurgle erupted from under it. It was unmistakable. The sound of someone choking. But what could he be choking on? She didn’t want to get close enough to find out.
Voices were calling her name somewhere in the distance. She wished they would stop. She needed the silence to hear her opponent. There was nothing moving in the leaves around her. It was unnerving. There should be something. Anything. Some indication of his attempts to regain his footing. He was most likely more angry now t
han he’d been before.
Still there was nothing. Hands trembling, she slowly followed the line of the branch closer to the end. Every step unsettled her stomach even more. She would take a step and then pause, listening. Each movement forward was met with nothing but silence. Did he move? Is he not even here?
Her foot connected with something on the ground. It felt like a hand, though under the thick sole of her boot she couldn’t tell for sure. Nudging forward with her toes she prodded at whatever it was, discovering it to be heavy and unmoving. Cautiously she lowered the branch down to allow her a better look at the object.
In horror, she stepped away from it. The tiny round eyes gazed up at her, the light she’d seen in them before having dissipated into nothing but a cold, empty stare. Straining her eyes, she grimaced at the sight of her enemy lying there. His head had been disconnected from the rest of his body, resting at an awkward angle amongst the leaves on the ground. Though she couldn’t see it, she could feel the blood seeping over the grass under her where her hand reached out, sticky to the touch.
She recoiled from the sensation. A miscalculated block by her enemy had been his downfall. Decapitated by the blade of his own sword under the weight of her strike. He must not have been prepared. He was strong enough to have pushed it away with his hands.
The need to vomit sent her reeling backward, her hand covering her mouth in disgust. She’d killed a man. Not just a beast in the wild, but a living man. She wasn’t ready for that feeling. The thought of killing was so much different from the reality of actually having followed through. There was blood on her hand that didn’t belong to her. It belonged to the life she’d claimed which now lay motionless, bleeding out onto the ground.
Protruding from the man’s stomach was what appeared to be some metal object. Her sword. He’d landed on her sword when he fell. It had still been embedded into the soft tissue of his back where she’d left it. She dropped to her knees, wiping frantically on the leaves to rid her skin of the sickening substance that covered it. No tears fell. She felt no remorse for the death, only for the fact that it was on her head. She’d passed the final judgment on this man. But he’d passed the same judgment on her. In the end, it was to be one of them. The gods would have taken a soul that night, regardless of who had fallen. It was destiny. And she couldn’t question the gods.
After several long moments she became aware again of the voices calling out her name. They sounded almost frantic, in a strange masculine way. The words came too close together to be a calm call for a response. They were desperate for some sound that would indicate her location. But she didn’t want to give it. Not yet. She had to compose herself before they found her. A soldier couldn’t cringe every time they took a life. The thought of being so hardened to death was almost just as frightening to her as the death itself.
She clutched at her stomach, fighting back nausea. She refused to throw up. Everything hit her at once. The relief that she’d survived combined with the guilt for having taken the life of another and the exhaustion which overwhelmed her. Her joints ached, the adrenaline slowly fading away, leaving her drained of her energy.
Her sword. She wanted it back. She couldn’t let it rot away with the corpse that had fallen on it. Getting back to her feet was a challenge, her knees trembling weakly under the weight of her upper body. The branch felt heavier now than it had before. It confused her how she was even able to lift it in the first place. Her only means of moving it was to drag it away, shuddering as it raked across the corpse.
Kneeling down at the side of her fallen foe, she pushed with the last of the strength she could manage. Despite his weight, he was easier to move than the ghereac had been. It was odd how he’d fallen harder than such a monstrous beast, yet he was nothing in comparison to its size. Once she had the body rolled onto its stomach, she stepped up onto its back. She would need a good base in order to remove her blade from where it was lodged. He didn’t make the sturdiest of surfaces, but she had little choice if she wanted to retrieve her sword.
Oh, what a sight she must be. It was embarrassing to consider what the others would think. She had won, though. She was the victor, regardless of how much of a struggle it was for her to regain her weapon. Yet all she could think of was getting it back before the men found her. Tightening her grip on the hilt, she started to pull upward, feeling it resist at first before eventually giving in to her persistence. She’d been prepared for a harder go of it, practically falling backward from the extra force she’d put into her attempt.
She took her time stepping down from atop the body. Energy was failing her. The simple motion of lifting her sword to clean it was too much for her, leaving her arm dangling limply at her side with the tip of her blade pointed down into the leaves. Dirt and blood was caked to her skin. Everything had happened so fast; she wasn’t entirely sure whether the blood was hers or her enemy’s.
Her name still echoed through the trees. Had she really traveled so far away from the others? Their calls were more insistent than before, repeating in quick succession. They were drawing nearer. She could hear their footsteps rustling through the leaves somewhere to her left. A soft glow of light filtered into the area, slowly illuminating the body of the man she’d killed.
The sight of it was even more gruesome than she’d expected. Nausea welled up in her throat once again, threatening to make her sick if she didn’t look away. If she was ever going to get used to such a lifestyle, she couldn’t avoid the sight of the body. There would be plenty more corpses where that one came from.
It was Thade’s voice that finally pulled her from her reverie. Shock. It had to be what was causing her strange behavior. Words couldn’t form on her lips to respond despite her thought processes telling her she should speak. What could she possibly say? “Leyna? By the gods, you gave me quite a fright.”
Where was that light coming from? It hurt her eyes at first until Thade lowered his hand, the glow dimming with the motion. He was creating it somehow, manipulating it around his palm, allowing just enough light to see her face. Inhaling deeply, she tried to regain her senses. She needed to say something. Anything. Whatever it would take to appear like a mature fighter rather than a frightened child who had just realized the harsh truth of the reality she’d rushed into.
“There is no need to be frightened about me. As you can see, I am barely scratched.”
The calmness of her tone was disconcerting even to herself. It matched none of the thoughts in her head, still reeling from the kill. The fact that she was somehow collected on the outside made her feel as though her mind and body were two separate entities. “That light – how are you doing that?”
“This?” he lifted his hand up for her to see, flattening his palm. His movements were nonchalant, but there was something about them which led her to believe he was distracted. He was almost too calm. Too casual. “Surely you know such an easy manipulation of energy. It was one of the first things my family taught me.”
Energy. Yes, the Vor’shai magic. It made sense to her, while yet only brought more frustration to her heart. Her mother had died before she could learn anything of that magic. There was a whole side to her own people she was blocked from because of that fateful day. Her future had been so bright and then was ripped out from underneath her without giving her a chance to fight for it all those years ago. It seemed a disgrace to her that she lacked even the simple knowledge of her people. A pure Vor’shai trapped in the upbringing of a Mialan and Carpaen mutt.
Before she could respond, Feolan’s voice interrupted her. It was a welcome sound. She was afraid of having to admit out loud her failure as a Vor’shai. She relied on these men to respect her and she couldn’t guarantee their respect would continue if she told them anything. Her past had to remain a mystery to them all. They could never know; at least not any time soon.
“Oh, Captain – you found her. How did she get all the way over here?”
Both men could see the body of the man lying there. The light
from Thade’s hand was enough to illuminate its mutilated form. Leyna couldn’t stand to look at it any longer. Taking advantage of the opportunity to turn away, she moved past Thade in the direction he had come from. Their packs had to be over there. She just wanted to get back to their things so she could lie down. No more answers to unwanted questions.
They didn’t need to know anything about her other than that she could fight, and she had shown them that.
“Leyna, is that you?”
Oh, Teagan, not now. Why did he have to speak? Even more curious, why was he still so far back near their original camp? “Yes it’s me,” she muttered. He was the last person she wanted to carry on a conversation with. She wasn’t worried about him figuring out anything of her secrets. He wasn’t bright enough to be a concern. The worry was that he wouldn’t know when to shut up, and her words might be overheard by the others who could figure it out. No, she couldn’t talk to him either. She couldn’t talk to anyone.
Gently cleaning the blade of her sword, she slid it easily into her sheath. There wouldn’t be any more need for it that night. Only a few hours remained before the sky would start to lighten again and they would be on their way back to the main camp. Another attack was unlikely, but not impossible. If those men had been of the Sanarik, they would tend to lean toward the unexpected. Maybe sleep wasn’t such a good idea after all.
She could hear the others coming through the trees, finally tiring of observing the corpse she’d left behind. “Back to sleep everyone,” Thade announced, his tone authoritative, yet low to avoid drawing any further attention to their location. “I will continue the watch until morning. As soon as the sun is up, we will be moving back to camp, so I suggest you rest.”
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 7