Young Writers Society

She stared at her staff, chest heaving. She stumbled away from the hand twitching by her foot.

Damn.

Damn. Damn, damn, damndamndamn.

What had she been thinking?

She hadn't been.

She groped the doorframe as she got there, gasping for breath, and looked down. Blood stained Leiadi rug. Shards of glass from where he had smashed his chalice to the floor. Then the hand that was still moving ever so slightly; that grubby, fat fingered hand that she had allowed to grope her for three damned years.

The thought made her shoulders straighten.

His froglike face, mouth open, eyes staring, a little popped out as if surprised. A mouth that had breathed hot, wet breath all over her, eyes that had roved her like she was a horse.

The nausea was gone, and she wasn't gripping the wall for dear life anymore. A laugh escaped her lips suddenly, shattering the thick silence of moments earlier.

She was free. Free as a bird. Free as a song. She couldn't remember feeling so light as if her feet would leave the floor.

"D-d-dad-daddy?"

And just like that, she was on the ground again with legs of iron. She turned to face a boy, a bit heavy for his age, a bit short. His glistening lips trembled in the flickering candlelight.

"I-I-I-I heard a b-b-bang."

She stared at him, her lips twisting into a grimace. The sniveling brat in front of her would take the title his father had just evacuated, and somehow, even though he would probably die before it was of any consequence, she just couldn't quite allow the line of Eishceal to continue, not when she had just escaped, not when she had suffered for so long, chafing in this fortress.

"E-eira?"

She started and came down upon him before he could even open his mouth to squeal. "Your father is having a bit of trouble now." She grabbed his hand in a viselike grip and tugged him along blindly. "We'll just go for a bit of a walk. How does that sound, Kaynen?" If the idiot had heard Lord Eishceal fall, then someone else would have, someone who would actually act. She had to leave right now.

Thank God, she was leaving right now.

She dragged Kaynen out of the fortress, thankful that she had been honing her combat skills once again which was how she had gotten into this mess, which was how she had gotten free. She didn't have on heavy skirts. She had trousers. Thank God for trousers.

As soon as she made it out of the house- she wasn't sure if it was the lantern light swinging by a guard's hand on the far side of the wall that triggered it- she started to run, chest heaving, as she jerked the sobbing boy behind her. Flattening herself against the wall, she covered his mouth and hissed, "Make another sound, and I'll bash your little thin head in, Kaynen." She swung her staff and crushed one of the silly ornamental vases. "It will be easier than that."

Stiff and still after the loud crash, he stared at the shards and looked back at her with wide, wild eyes. She knew she had him then. He was seven, not stupid.

She watched the guard on the wall stop and look around though he was too far away to make her out. Finally, his light flickered behind the fortress, and she was running again, ignoring his sniffling as she dragged him along. The yard was dark, and the few guards that still remained at the fief, who hadn't been banished or hadn't fled the iron fist of her husband, were off whoring or drinking or sleeping except for the poor cad that had been stuck with patrolling the wall. If the past gave any hints, he probably had a flask with him.

She had made him angry, pointing out failing crops, a shrinking population, and a now nonexistent treasury. The motherless child she was dragging behind her was proof of what Lord Eishceal was capable of, what he could get away with. She hadn't been able to lie down and wait, not after she had watched his face turn a dreadful shade of purple, not after she had seen him blow through bottle after bottle of wine, not after listening to all of the whispers of the maids. She had picked a weapon back up, hoping she wouldn't have to use it... telling herself she hoped she wouldn't have to use it. She had resumed training left off when she married, and now, instead of being departed wife number two, she was widow, and fairly happy that way.

She climbed over part of the wall where rain and ice had taken their toll. Kaynen's foot caught on a vine, and he screamed as he fell. She caught him, smashing his face into her shoulder as he wailed and squirmed in an attempt to muffle his infernal noise. "Remember the vase!" she snapped harshly.

"M-m-my knee," he cried, his chubby face scrunched into an expression of terror and pain as the naturally red coloring paled to a vivid white in the darkness. He struggled to breathe. "E-e-eira, w-w-why are-are-are you d-d-d-doing this?”

Lantern light spilled onto the black lawn, revealing how overgrown it was with wild flowers and weeds. She swore and hurtled into the shadowy village, only half of the houses remained inhabited. The rest were empty shells, boarded up and rotting, testaments of Eishceal's blindness, of his greedy, mindless suckling on his people. Having decided it was faster to carry the driveling snot, Eira balanced Kaynen on her hip and hurried through the silent streets, pinching him when he made a noise that was too loud for her comfort.

"Stop in the name of Lord Eishceal!" She heard the click of a cross bow and squeezed her eyes closed as she slowed. It would do her no good to get shot in the back.

In the middle of an intersection breaking off into residential, town square, and the road that meandered into the forest, she stopped, turning calmly with the hand not around Kaynen raised. Surely they wouldn't think the mere walking stick in her hand was a weapon, especially not in her hands, a woman's hands. She smirked at the idea. "Can Eishceal's lady not go on a nighttime walk with her dear son?"

Kaynen was completely quiet, as if he sensed that she would truly slaughter him if he refuted her words. He stuck his thumb in his mouth, hiding his face in her shoulder as he trembled.

A guard swaggered forward with two fellows behind him, and she grimaced. Drunk, the lot of them. She doubted the man with the cross bow could actually shoot straight. These were the men she had trusted her safety with. It was disgusting. She backed away when the soldier got too close for comfort. Alcohol made men poor aim with a bow and too friendly with a woman. She put Kaynen down, crooning softly as she pretended to care about him and looked back at the guards, placing herself in a ready position. She adjusted her grip on her staff nonchalantly, smiling at him blandly.

"What're you doing, walking so fast, Lady Eishceal?" He tilted his head as the bell tower tolled the time. "And at such an hour?"

She swung her staff then, hard, fast, and lethal. One hit to the shoulder, one hit to the knee, and while he was kneeling, grasping his wounded arm as his face paled dangerously, she smacked him over the head.

There was a breathless silence where the two remaining men stared at her. She grinned ferally as the guard fell at her feet and stepped over him. The crossbow was the first victim, mere splinters on the ground by the time she had swung her staff up again to catch the owner in the chin. She turned to face the last man to see him running away, if a bit crookedly. He let out a shout of warning, and she knew she couldn't let him escape, not when he would only get people chasing her sooner.

She was lucky to have caught up with him. She was sickeningly out of shape, and his long legs carried him farther and faster than she could ever hope to achieve. However, the idiot looked back as he was turning a corner and tripped over a stray dog. She was on him in an instant, cracking him over the head, as the yelping dog ran for cover. She swung once more with all her might, to ensure that he would never speak against her. He jerked once and was still.

Gasping for breath, she turned around and froze. Kaynen was gone.

Where... How...

There was a high pitched scream, and she started off past the abandoned remains of the crossbow. She cursed, skidding around a corner.

She didn't remember running being this hard.

Then, Kaynen was running towards her, babbling in his slow, stammering language. The archer was leaning against the wall, in obvious pain. Eira finished off whatever Kaynen had started, bashing his head in twice against the wall, leaving a bloody smear.

She didn't hear any hurried boot steps or shouts, but she took Kaynen's hand, catching up to him at the mouth of the street he was still fleeing down. She didn't stop but hurried through the streets even though her lungs already burned and her legs were already shaking.

No one came after her. She had tried to keep quiet, and she seemed to have succeeded. Windows stayed dark. No one jumped out at her, and then there were no more buildings. She left the road, dragging Kaynen as he lost his footing. She knew he needed to stop. If she, someone who had at least trained for part of her childhood, was struggling, he definitely was. She was terrified, and no one could hear his cries now. She just needed to get away, as far away as possible.

Three- No. Her husband too. Four men, dead by her hand. She laughed, a little bit too long, and finally, when she couldn't breathe anymore, when Kaynen had gone silent because he couldn't quite take in air, when her pulse throbbed in her temples, she came to a stumbling halt, falling to her knees. Kaynen tripped forward a little farther, collapsing as he sobbed.