Sorry, paragraph format might not be perfect...
The only person who met my eyes on my way to the library was a boy, about 11 years of age, covered with dust and grime, hair brown and eyes emerald green. I was walking slowly, you know, like how the nobles walked when they were around average people. And, well, I guess he didn’t know that I learned self defense and how to attack people from Dad. I seemed like the typical 17 year-old girl that wanted the guards to go away so she could meet somebody in private. And the inevitable happened, he tried to pickpocket me. When I felt the little hand grab the bag of coins, I knocked him in the jaw, and he punched me on my arm. We sort of sparred for a little while. Getting bored, I kicked out at his ribs (instead of his stomach) so he could get knocked back a few feet instead of yards. I guess I kicked him a little too hard because he landed on his back and didn’t get up for a while. The people buying food started to gape when they looked at who beat up whom, trying to hide a smile, I scowled and threw a few coins at him. “Kid, you want money, just ask. I live in the house down there, if you want somewhere to stay. That’s thanks for giving me a good fight.” My memorable speech ended.
Rounding the corner, I saw the library. It was not big, but the books were plentiful. They even had a basement section just dedicated to research. I told them I was fine searching for my own stuff so they left me alone as I wandered the shelves unaware of the time ticking away… After searching practically the whole library, they closed. It was their lunch break and so they kicked me out.
Just as I rounded yet another corner scowling from my fruitless findings, I heard something whistling through the air, maybe a projectile of some sort? Instinct kicked in and I immediately sidestepped and caught the thing. Oh, just the coin I gave the kid. Looking over my shoulder, the kid was breathing hard.
“M’name’s not ‘kid’ its Soren, and I don’t need pity from strangers, especially rich, noble people!” He turned red at that, and then continued, “You’re not a noble though. They shouldn’t be able to catch that.” He gestured towards the coin still
in my palm, “Who are you?”
“You probably have a gang or something of the likes, right?” He nodded. “Who’s the leader?”
“You still haven’t answered my question yet, but he goes by Keiran.”
“Fine, call me Nel for now. As you have noticed, I know how to fight, barehanded and with weapons.” He gaped at that,
“And I’m pretty sure you’re going to tell Keiran about me. How old is he?”
“He’s fifteen and he’s probably gonna win against you if you two fight. Gonna have you beggin’ for mercy they say.”
“Hmm… I have yet to hear that…” I smirked at the thought. Hah! I’ve had to take on 2 grown men at the same time, but he doesn’t know that yet.
“You makin’ fun of us?”
“Don’t make conclusions, yet. You don’t know my past.” A past shrouded in mystery, betrayal, and deaths I thought.
“Give me details!”
“Why? You’re just gonna tell Keiran. I’m starved and I need to get home, goodbye.” That kid, he’s more observant than most I thought as I kicked a pebble in the street. Although not as much as me. From the way he said “Keiran”, I could tell that Soren didn’t really know him other than random dealings here and there. Which would mean that the network of thieves and pickpockets around this village were huge. When he said that I would get beaten by Keiran, I think Soren looks up to Keiran, probably because he’s the leader. If that was the case, I might expect some unfriendly company around my house today or tomorrow. By the time I had gotten to my house, I had already noticed a few boys around 14 milling around my house. Bad news. Where’s my dagger when I need it? All I saw was the same bracelet glowing runes, I closed my eyes right as the dizziness set in and opened them. They were gone, thank goodness, but I was walking (more like shuffling) with a few people my age, one of them was crying.
“I can’t believe he broke up with me!” she cried sobbing into my shoulder.
“That’s why you don’t trust anyone you see,” the other one said.
“Mira? You don’t know anything about this do you?”
“No, my parents won’t let me with any boy,” My voice was awfully high-pitched, what on earth? “Well there’s my house, I bet the maids are worried sick. I’ll see you two sometime later ok?” I sprinted for the door just as I felt the dagger replace the bracelet. Good timing was a skill that I had acquired from my long days in the forest running from the villagers. Not a moment too soon, the door opened and I rushed in, collapsing from the shock of not running into a door.
“Mira! You look as if a ghost were chasing you all the way back here!” A bunch of other inaudible words were said and I blacked out. When I opened my eyes, I was back in the old house, except on the bed. Huh, a welt had appeared in the place where I fell, head landing first. Looking out through the mottled window, I saw them sitting in a circle, waiting for something. Well, better go eat lunch first! After drinking some soup and eating around a half-pound of rabbit meat, I went to look out the window again. They were still there. It’s no use, I thought, I probably have to fight them. I kicked open the door just as they were about to leave.
“Get her!” was the only command that was yelled, they all circled around me.
Crap, it seems like there’s going to be more than one broken bone by the looks of it. They all had weapons out, too. All I had was this dagger; thankfully I was quite proficient with it, since it was the first weapon I ever handled.
The first fight was a one on one, it was a fistfight.
“AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” He charged screaming at me. What the heck? That was the stupidest method I remembered my dad taught me, especially to one that had nerves of steel. I jumped at just the right time and kicked him hard in the back, he fell faceflat in the dirt. Some of the group snickered.
When I landed softly in the dirt, the guy I just beat up retreated quietly into the crowd and 2 people, each wielding small knives stepped out. They probably had wrong guesses on my fighting style since they actually waited for me to get some weapon out. When I didn’t, they charged. I didn’t even need to use the dagger, I just kicked their wrists and the knives fell. I scooped both of them up before they hit the ground and we started yet another round of fist fighting, except these two guys were really well coordinated with their attacks. I ended up getting a bloody nose from falling one guy and having the other sneak up behind me. That was ok, though because it gave me a chance to catch his second kick. I swept his second leg into the air and he landed on his back, head thumping the ground harder than I thought was necessary. Staunching the blood flow, by hitting a few pressure points on my knees, took about a half-minute to stop. By the time I was done, two other people were standing in front of me holding swords; oddly enough one was silver and the other black. How long is this supposed to take? Daggers vs. swords made me in the higher position because the other two people had blind spots, but they had a longer range than what a dagger was supposed to have. The other option was to throw the knives I had collected earlier at their dominant shoulders, although there was a chance that they were ambidextrous. Too late, I decided to backflip out of the corner before they closed in on me, kicking both people in the process (maybe in the jaw?), taking my dagger and its sheath out at the same time. Like the previous duo, they were very well coordinated, circling up behind me without a sound. Eye contact and a blink, they were off. Whipping around, I had the dagger and the sheath catch both of them in the spot just underneath their armpit, which was a sensitive spot. My blonde hair danced wildly around as I dodged and swung at the duo. Examining myself, the wounds I received were much more severe and my long sleeves had basically turned into ribbons. No time to think, I charged at them again. This time, I tossed the dagger and sheath in the air and drew the two knives that I stuck in my belt. I managed to beat them by throwing the 2 knives I had collected just at their hilts, while they were preoccupied with my falling dagger, so both of them broke off. I jumped and plucked the dagger and sheath in mid-fall, facing the two ready for more.
“That’s enough.” A kid I didn’t know stepped into the middle of the ring of boys. His hair was black and spiked. His eyes dark brown with flecks of gold seemed to observe the scene swiftly. The group of 14-year olds immediately knelt.
“So you’re Keiran…” I said, sheathing the dagger and putting it back in my dress. Dang, if he were to fight me right now, there’d be no doubt that I’d go down immediately, especially seeing all the blood running down my forearms from the cuts I received during the sword duel.
“Nel, Soren told me all about you. I didn’t think you were this proficient in wounding my top fighters in a matter of 15 minutes or so.”
“Actually it was 17 minutes to be exact,” I interjected, “What do you want from me? If you’re looking for another fight, I’ll fight.”
“Nah, I just wanted to see if Soren said right about you.”
“Very well then,” I turned around to leave.
“Wait!” Keiran shouted.
I sighed and turned around, “What?”
“Would you like the blades?” He asked nonchalantly. The question seemed to catch me off guard because he picked them up and offered them to me.
I took them wordlessly, bowed, and turned back home. By then, the sun had moved a few degrees to the west, it should probably be 4. Dang, I zone out too much when I’m alone. Looking at the black blade and silver blade, I couldn’t stop myself; after all, it was a ritual back in the old village. My arms were already cut so I just smeared some of that blood on the blades. Superstition was that if the blades turned a different color, they were always meant to be yours. In my case, one turned crimson and the other cobalt. What? Crimson again? What is this nonsense? And why wasn’t the other white, like in the dream? I washed my wounds after making sure they stopped bleeding, the cuts on my arm were somewhat deep. At least they didn’t hit me in my vital spots (especially the liver). While dressing them, this flash of pain caught me when I was moving my right arm. Ah, not again! I bruised a rib or two, probably while I was dueling with the people holding the swords. By then, I already had a lot of adrenaline running through my body, which was why I didn’t notice the pain until now. I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth, and then I prodded the bruise. Damn, I hoped it didn’t crack like that last time. That was when I fell from a tree while I was still on the run. I forgot that dream of course, I had to focus on surviving. All I remember was a sense of urgency when I woke up in pain and uncoordinated with men yelling. I had to start running right away because I couldn’t have the villagers catch me like this. I only allowed a week of rest before I started moving again. Back then, I remember moving around at night and using roads that were so precarious, that nobody used them. That way, I stayed out of trouble and fights. Thankfully, it was just a bruise. I’ll be able to move around again in a few days, although I might have to refrain from fighting for a week at least.
I finished dressing my wounds, wincing once in a while at the sight of blood reflowing from my old scars. The scab on my wrist cracked as well… that reminds me, how do I remake those hilts for the two blades I got? I didn’t have a lot of money… Oh! Hopefully I’ll find some way to… no, it’s always coincidences that I end up there, can’t rely on that. Ah, whatever, I’ll have it figured out later.
Chapter 2
The rest of the day was spent on daydreaming and redressing my wounds. Thankfully, nothing bad happened during that period of time other than the occasional spasm that rocked me if I moved my right arm more than a few inches up or down. The main thing that bugged me though, was the fact that Keiran decided not to fight me while I was already wounded and in a lower position because of that. Maybe it was just because of customs? Or was it something deeper than that? Hhhh… it’s so hard to concentrate while there’s this constant throbbing when I’m breathing. I can’t even lie down because of that stupid bruise, getting up hurt, too. Damn. I even forgot to buy some food from my trip to the village. If I go now, nothing would be sold. If I go tomorrow, I don’t know if Keiran right now is mad at me or intrigued by the likes of me. I’m afraid that by the time I figure out, it might already be too late.
Back in Sylv (my old village), pickpockets would gift their good weapons to enemies, and of course the foes would carry them around no matter what disguise they wore, making them an easy target. I should know this of all people, countless times I had to fight to the death, and other times I escaped just in time, as well as hiding out in the forest on a tall pine tree when they decided to be funny and break our windows and door. I would always have my bow and arrows with me while hiding, and it wasn’t uncommon for some people to get wounded (I would usually aim for the hand). Of course, they would get scared and run off back to the main center (I lived in the outskirts). This would happen at least once or twice a week. Some days it got so bad that I slept clutching my arm-length sword hoping the night would be a little better. The only times the nights back then were calm was when it was a new moon. Nobody could see with just the stars, and so they stayed back in the main village to annoy them instead of pursuing me.
I hated reliving the past; there was nothing good that happened there. The present is shrouded in a mystery so old; The King burned the books pertaining to it. My future? Probably death. The only place I could find solace is in my dreams, but even there, I’m still fighting. This was my first fight in weeks, so tired…need sleep…
In the forest now, I apparently beat up the guy that wanted to duel with me. Nothing but the crickets chirping penetrated my ears. It seems like they gave up and retreated. I still need a hilt, I realized, when I looked down at my hands. They were grabbing what was left of the hilt, which wasn’t much. This time, the white had sheen of frost on it and the crimson one had a slightly higher temperature. Scampering up the nearest pine, I looked around. Nothing. Not one light lit the ground. In the background, a screech owl hooted, bringing me back to the present. Silently dropping from the pine, I examined the prints on the ground in the moonlight. The pursuers had left for at least a half hour, and a wolf had passed through this area a few minutes ago. I squatted down and felt the guy’s neck. Oh, just knocked out. At least his blood won’t stain my hands for long. Maybe I heard something, a high-pitched buzzing sound? No, probably just my imagination, my nerves were haywire by now and I itched to get out of the forest. All of a sudden, the dream world turned for the worse. The light drizzle turned into a thunderstorm, without helping it, I was reminded of my past. Tears leaking out from the bottom of my lids mixed with the rain. I remember that night, the betrayal. Twelve…Best friend…what was her name? Arlia? That sounds about right. We were friends ever since 5; her parents were good friends with mine. She was a year older than me…as time progressed, I started turning into a troublemaker, mostly due to disturbing experiences when I was younger. I slowly lost friends because of that, years slurring…twelve. Right. She took part in a group of assassins to try and kill me. Obviously, it failed. They took her life right in front of me. I permanently wounded five or six of them, they knew my fighting secrets. I don’t know how she was bribed… They drove a knife between her ribs with me watching…horrid…brutal.
I woke up with a start, sweating and scrabbling for my blanket. The moonlight danced on the bedspread, probably around midnight. Chest heaving, despite the pain, I didn’t think I’d start thinking of the past in my dreams. I guess I really have to relive my past to someone. I can’t trust anyone after that, though. Nobody, not even my own father, I kept everything that happened bottled up. The other night… suicide… fifteen, they told me it was suicide. I’m starting to doubt them. Apparently they didn’t think I was strong enough to pull through that incident, but I managed. Mostly through fighting and hunting. That night, I came home late from an excellent day of hunting. I got a few grouses and a rabbit at that time. Dad wouldn’t let me use the bow meant for big game, so I would get small game. The house was strangely quiet; the lamp seemed to have burned out a few hours ago, now that was odd. Dad would never let the lamp burn out. That was when I noticed the sweet smell coming from our house. Kerosene? We would never use kerosene, unless guests came over, which was never. I remembered that the fumes from kerosene would usually suffocate a person if they didn’t snuff it out before sleep. Is it possible? No, he didn’t cry when Mom died when giving birth to me. It could’ve been done intentionally; my lineage was full of fights, duels, and unrest. Maybe they put a bit of foxglove in the candles we use, and when he passed out due to irregular heartbeats, they introduced the kerosene. I kicked open the door. No…WHY?!?! I collapsed on the ground in shock. I can’t keep living here. There wasn’t even a suicide note. I moved into the forest for around a half-year, until I was sixteen. Then, I got chased out with nothing more than the things I filched from the village. And the rest? Just spending the next half-year hiding out in the forest (yes, I lied about my age earlier…) trying to survive. Nobody should know my past, yet it keeps haunting me. The smile I have was always bittersweet after they killed Arlia. I started closing myself off from other people in a vain attempt to save myself from having to go over that.
It’s no use to try and go back to sleep, I might as well go out for some air. I threw the coat over my shoulders and stepped out into the brisk night. The cold moon cast a shadow behind me. Just the type of night I want, sort of. Exactly the same type of night I was chased out. Pushing the recollection out of my mind, I examined the open field. I normally avoided wide open spaces whenever possible, just because it would cruelly remind me of the vast sadness that I had smothered myself with ever since that day. They didn’t notice a change at first, but as I grew darker and more fight oriented as the years progressed, something started to happen. I started to fight only for myself and love only myself after Dad died. It’s something I had to come to realize as I was on the run. I was unwanted, unloved. Nobody cared that much for me after those 2 had died. It was actually the first time that I decided to fight just for fun today. I strode forward a few steps before realizing that I had totally forgotten about my rib. Pain… blackout.
Back to the dream. This time, there were at least 4 or 5 people circling me warily. I fought my best, even though I knew it was useless. They were good, and I was outnumbered. They were securing me to something before I drifted off into my deep sleep. Finally waking up for good, I noticed Keiran sitting on a chair by my bed. The gold-pink light filtering through my windows told me it was around dawn, around 6 or 7. Surprisingly, he was still asleep; he also had a large bruise on the side of his head. Oh, oops. I didn’t know I could sleepwalk, that was probably the reason why nobody bothered me in my sleep. I faintly remember fighting in those dreams, too.
“Survival and luck, those are the two most important things you have, use them wisely,” I remembered Dad saying.
“So you’re awake…” Keiran’s voice brought me back to the present, “Damn, I didn’t know you could also fight while sleeping,” he touched the side of his head.
I smirked a little, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me,” I said in a low voice.
“And you’re not going to give us any details.”
“How did you manage to find me?”
“To summarize, how about we just say Soren happened upon your unconscious body while making rounds…”
“Oh, ok.” What? Why didn’t they just leave me alone? “Get out, I want to change.”
“Fine.” The door slammed behind him as he left
I rummaged through my drawers, nothing taken. I saw my dagger where I hid it. Tracing the designs, I accidentally cut myself on the blade. When the first drop of blood hit it, a flash of white light radiated out from the point. I was back at the rich house
I
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