Young Writers Society

Chapter 1

Blood pours through my fingers, drenching my tunic and making me wince in pain. The blood from the cut on my forehead blocks my vision, but even moving my arm to wipe away the blood creates unthinkable pain, so I hobble along in the shadows of the woods, still attempting to be stealthy. My pursuers’ torches gleam in the darkness, coming closer by the moment. Avoiding any bright patches of moonlight where the canopy of trees breaks, I pray to the Triad, hoping desperately to make it to my father’s house, where my brother will help me.

I hear voices on my right and stop moving, afraid I might make a sound that would alert them to my presence. A deep, growling voice asks, “Think the bitch went this way? I can’t see her anymore!” A faint breeze blows, rustling the leaves of the trees and bringing the smell of the sea with it. Refraining from spitting a string of curses, I seethe in silence.

My suspicions of pirates chasing me seem to have been proven, making my situation ten times worse. Holding my breath, I wait for his companions to answer. “Shut up, sailor! She’s somewhere here, I can tell.” I bite my tongue to keep from making any noise when I recognize Salian’s voice.

Just then, a ray of moonlight catches on something for a split second, flashing it into my face. My red hair must stand out, even if for just a second, because he lunges towards me. I take off as fast as I can, trying to ignore the pain. The world goes fuzzy for a moment until I remember to breathe. My sprained ankle protests against the movement, and the hard road on my blistered feet feels like hot coals. Abandoning all pretense of being hidden, I limp towards the huge manor rising in my view, just ahead. Hearing a shot behind me, I duck down instinctively, regretting it the instant I do. The wound near my stomach seems to bleed even worse and I see stars in my vision. Frantically trying not to scream, and so alert my father or his lackeys to my presence, I bite my tongue. The taste of salt and rust fills my mouth as I draw blood.

Tears stream down my face, and I glance behind me. Salian and his men are far enough away that I have a chance to find the secret door to the estate my brother and I had used when we were little to keep from getting in trouble. Slipping behind the tall brick wall, I sigh in relief. Looking up, I see a light in my brother’s bedroom. Hoping that Nik’s bedroom hasn’t changed in the three years I’ve been absent, I toss a pebble at his window. When he doesn’t respond, I throw another. This time, he opens his window and glances outside. I walk up closer, into the light.

His eyes go wide when he sees me, and he clears his throat a few times before he speaks. “Arianna? Is that you?” His voice is filled with shock and concern.

A new wave of pain makes me want to double over, and I snap, “Yes, of course it’s me, but let’s just stand here and talk until I bleed out. Maybe tomorrow, you can have my corpse for tea!”

Cringing, he disappears from the window. After a few moments, he bursts through the side door, and rushes to my side. “Ari, are you alright? How did this happen to you?” He tentatively places a hand on my shoulder.

Suddenly, my energy drains from me, and I sway on my feet. Steadying me, Nik lifts me up into his arms, carrying me up the stairs and into his room. Carefully, he sets me down onto his bed. I cry out when the unhealed lash wounds on my back press against the bedspread. A worried expression comes over Nik's face.

"Really, that bad?" I smile weakly, trying to make light of the situation, but Nik doesn't smile back. Instead, he looks over me, touching my wounds with light fingers. 

"What happened to you?" His voice shakes- whether form anger or worry, I can't tell. "We haven't seen or heard from you in four years, and now you show up, on the shadow of-" His voice breaks, and he stops talking, trying to collect his emotions. "Why didn't you come home before, Ari?" 

I shrug, feeling immensely guilty although I know that I have made the right choices. "Nik, I had my reasons." Sighing, I rest my head back, and stare at the ceiling. "Did father never mention to you why he kicked me out?"

Nik stops moving abruptly, and stares at me. "Father said you ran away."

I laugh bitterly, then wince at the pain it causes. "And you believed him? You know that most of what comes out of his mouth are lies and treachery."

My brother shrugs. "I didn't know what to think. You were gone, and you didn't even say goodbye."

A wave of pain washes over me, and I bite my lip. Noticing the expression of pain on my face, my brother says, "Enough talking. I'm not going to let you bleed to your death before I get any answers out of you." Smiling to let me know that he's kidding, he says, "I'll be back with the healer. We can pay her off so she won't say anything."

I nod as he steps briskly out of the room, and wait in silence for him to return. As I wait, I look around. Nik's room is still the same as when I left. A pile of dirty clothes lies in the corner, and a pitcher of wine and glasses sits on the windowsill. Hearing someone approaching, I shrink against the wall, hoping that it isn't my father, come to check on his son. 

Thankfully, it's just Nik and the healer. Pressing a bulging purse into her hand, he leads her to me. Her eyes go wide, seeing the blood pooling around me, but she sets a bag down and begins to prepare. "Get me some water, my lord. The hotter the better." Giving me another glance, she says, "Some of those wounds look a few days old, at best. They'll need to be thoroughly disinfected." My brother nods, then heads off to get the water.

The healer looks straight at me. "Demon or not, girl, I don't know if you'll live. You've lost a lot of blood, by the looks of you, and though I'll try, it may not be enough." Nik walks back in with a steaming pitcher of water. Handing it to her, he turns to leave- probably to fetch more, but I call him back.

"Nik, wait a second." My breath comes in gasps now, and it hurts to speak, but say it I must. "If I-"

He guesses my purpose and cuts me off. "Ari, don't say it. You'll be fine." His face is pained and he looks as if he's fighting back tears. 

I grin weakly at him. "I have to prepare for it, brother."

He sighs. "Arianna, you are not going to die." He shakes his head, and tries to smile back. "I won't allow it, not by any means."

I should tell him about Salian and his men, trying to get in, but my heart doesn't allow me to. I shrug- or try to. "Nik, if I die, here, today, there is a letter in my pocket. That letter has to make it aboard a ship called The Queen of the Seas, do you understand? I'll never forgive you if you don't do this." A cruel thing to say, perhaps, but I need him to do this for me. What could happen if he didn't, the Triad only knows. 

"Alright, Arianna. Now stop wasting your energy, and concentrate on getting better."

As he walks out the door, the healer snorts. "Now that that touching display of affection has finished, may I start?" Her voice is filled with sarcasm, but I'm too tired to say anything, so I nod.

She starts by cutting off my shirt and pants, careful to avoid the pockets. Her col fingers examine the stab wounds on my stomach, my legs, and the thin, even slices on my arms. When she gets to the burn marks on my neck, in perfect lines of four, her hand pauses, taken aback. Amazingly, she doesn't ask, but instead dips a towel in the steaming hot water and presses it to the worst wound, the one on my stomach. I clench my teeth, trying my hardest not to scream in pain. It feels as though liquid fire is being dropped into the hole. Stars swim in my vision, and but somehow, my brain refuses to shut off and drop me into blessed darkness.

The healer notices. "Young lady, it'll only be easier on yourself if you let yourself go unconscious. Why do you want to stay in pain?" Without taking my eyes off of what she's doing, I say, “It’s not exactly on purpose, you know. More of a reflex, really." Somehow, through the pain, I manage to laugh. My cracked lips burn as they stretch, and when the woman blanches, I wonder how horrific I really look. 

Her nimble hands thread a curved needle with clean thread. She passes the needle through a candle until it glows. The look of the thin metal in fire brings back memories, and I gag, closing my eyes, trying to avoid looking at it. 

I feel nothing as she stitches my many wounds. My body seems to forget to feel, having dealt with so much pain over the past few days already. Nik keeps a steady stream of hot, clean, water running- from where, I don’t ask. At one point, the water turns red when the healer tries to clean her hands. Slowly, slowly, the injuries are taken care of, even the lash wounds on my back. Finally, she pronounces my ankle nothing more than a bad twist, wraps it tightly in clean cloth, and steps back, examining her handiwork.

I struggle up onto my elbows and look around the room. Pitchers of used water and bloody towels lay on the floor. The area near the bed smells like herbs and rust. The healer and Nik stand in the corner, discussing something in whispers. I haven’t slept in days, and exhaustion and the reality of the past week wash over me, all at once. Blearily, I watch as the healer leaves, holding a thick velvet purse. Nik walks over to me, and sits down in a chair next to the bed.

“Thanks, Nik.” My voice is clearer. He helps he sit up and drink a glass of water before he replies.

“You’re my sister, Ari. I’d do anything for you.” The room seems quieter now, more at peace, somehow.

Closing my eyes, I mumble, “Night, Nik. Wake me if anything happens.” Somehow, I’m tired enough that I slip immediately into a deep sleep.