by Jeff Gunzel
“True as that may be, it is no fault of her own,” Liam reasoned.
“She needs to take back a measure of control, not depend on the kindness of others for the rest of her life! Do you think your coddling is going to do her any good?” asked Thatra. “I know she has been sheltered for much of her life, but those days are long gone.” She glanced back over her shoulder, watching Viola turn another page. “I love her like a sister, but she needs to grow up. I will not forgive myself if something happens to her, and I didn’t do everything in my power to prepare her for the world she lives in.”
Liam sighed, nodding his agreement. Even he couldn’t deny her logic.
The orange sky turned black and nighttime came upon them. After their meal consisting of thin strips of roasted meat and some potatoes they cooked by shoving them right into glowing embers of a lingering fire, they lay under the stars to get a good night’s rest. But as usual, Viola sat up in her bedroll with a nearly finished book open in her lap. She was tired just like the others, but she kept promising herself she would sleep after one more page. It was a promise she broke several times before exhaustion finally dragged her into deep sleep.
When morning came, Viola was awakened by a sharp boot to the shoulder. She moaned, eyelids fluttering open as the open book slid off her chest. Her vision still hazy, she focused on the shiny blade dangling over her head. With a shriek, her eyes jetted wide open with alarm. She flinched as it came down, impaling the ground right next to her ear.
“Pick it up,” Thatra said, twirling a second sword in her hand as she backed away.
“W-What are you doing?” Viola asked, rolling away from the swinging blade. “What’s wrong with you?” Shedding the clinging bedroll, she scrambled up to her feet, holding her chest as her heart raced.
“What’s wrong with me? Why, nothing at all,” Thatra replied, admiring the blade she held high in the air. “In fact, I’ve never felt better. I just thought it was about time you put that book away. You’ve been working your brain a lot lately. That’s good, but let’s see if your body holds up half as well with a sword in your hand.”
Viola stared at her blankly, having no idea how to respond.
“Now pick it up. Don’t make me ask you again,” Thatra warned.
Viola eyed the blade sticking up from the ground, its ridged pommel twisting with various designs. Still unsure, she wrapped her cold, pale hand around it and pulled the blade up from the ground. It was not as heavy as she would have guessed, but plenty heavy enough. She held it out awkwardly, her wrist strained from the weight.
“Use two hands,” said Thatra. “Here, like this.” She lifted her own blade higher as an example, both hands gripping the pommel. The added tension made the muscles of her rock-hard body twitch as green skin hugged her defined abs. Her biceps swelled as her shoulders rose, and she spun the blade around the top of her head. They could always see she was well built, but now with her muscles flexed, her physique was almost breathtaking. None of the other tarrins looked anything like her.
Viola did as she was told, her thin arms already trembling under the weight of the sword.
“Higher,” Thatra commanded, leveling her own weapon up over her head.
With a grunt, Viola heaved her blade upward. Unsteady, it swayed back and forth, causing her to sidestep just to keep from falling over.
“Now, attack me,” Thatra ordered.
“Why? I don’t understand,” said Viola, nearly in tears with the weapon swaying over her head.
“We should stop this!” said Xavier, concern etched all over his face as he and the other men looked on. But when he stepped forward, Liam reached out, pressing a hand to his chest.
“No, let them continue,” said the mystic, an unmistakable sadness in his tone. “I understand that Viola has certain abilities that make her unique, but mentally, she is weak.” The words did not come easy and were obviously painful for him to say. He had come to think of her like a daughter, and now it was time for some tough love. “My constant coddling has done her a disservice, and I don’t intend to continue making the same mistake.” He looked at Xavier, then to Owen. “If our party were to be overwhelmed, who do you think would be the first to fall?” Liam asked.
The other men’s eyes dropped, knowing the answer was obvious.
“Thatra is right to push her and test her boundaries. Viola needs to grow if she has any chance of survival in this world. We cannot be at her side forever,” Liam concluded.
“Fine, then,” Thatra shouted. “Then prepare to defend!” The warrior surged forward, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.
Viola tensed, closing her eyes while holding out her weapon as if it were a broom handle. With a shrill clang, hot vibrations radiated down the blade, instantly numbing her hands. Her already loose grip gave way, allowing the sword to tumble into a nearby bush.
“Ugh,” Thatra grumbled in disgust, turning around and marching back to her original position. “Retrieve your weapon and do it again!”
“I don’t want to do this!” Viola complained, blowing on her hot, tingling fingers. “Why are you making me—”
Thatra whirled back, her icy glare cutting Viola off. Despite having no pupils, her white, pasty eyes managed to hold an intense anger. “You know what I don’t want?” she hissed. “I don’t want to shelter a feeble, helpless child for the rest of my life, and neither do they.” She gestured towards the men, who began shifting uncomfortably.
“Liam?” Viola shrieked, searching for support.
“Go get your sword,” Liam ordered, his voice quiet yet firm. With a blank expression, he looked on, folding his hands behind his back.
Viola held his gaze for a time, then turned back and began rummaging through the bush. Dragging the blade across the ground, she glared at him one last time before raising it.
“Higher!” Thatra shouted again, readying her own.
Viola mirrored Thatra’s stance, looking more determined this time around.
“Ready?” Thatra called out.
Viola nodded, sword swaying above her head.
Thatra charged, her steel blade flashing up.
With teeth gritted, Viola intercepted it with a crash. Vibrations radiated down the weapon, rattling her palms and fingers. But this time she had a firmer grip, which helped negate some of the vibration. Still, the heavy impact forced her arms to the side, driving her blade tip all the way to the ground. Hands burning, she stumbled back but managed to raise it back up. She did it just in time to intercept another strike. Again, Thatra’s power proved to be too much, driving her sword point back down in the other direction.
Already breathing heavily, Viola spun in the other direction, using her own momentum to help move the heavy weapon. Completing a full circle, she lifted with everything she could, the broad side of the sword rising towards Thatra’s face. The maneuver was slow and awkward, but it forced Thatra to defend for the first time. The tarrin warrior deflected easily, then drove her fist right into Viola’s face. Viola saw a flash of white, then her knees buckled beneath her own weight. Her vision was blurry and she couldn’t remember how she ended up on her knees.
“Yield,” Thatra said, pressing her cold blade against Viola’s neck.
Red eyes glared up as a guttural growl rose from Viola’s throat. Like lightning, her hands streaked up, blades of flesh crossing either side of Thatra’s throat. The warrior’s white eyes went wide as a trickle of blood leaked from one side of her neck. “You yield!” Viola shrieked, her eerie hissing voice echoing from everywhere all at once.
Owen’s hands dropped to his sides. “Now we stop it!” he said.
“Agreed!” Liam answered before rushing towards the girls.
Grabbing Viola by the back of her shoulders, Liam dragged her away from Thatra. “Stop, that’s enough!” he ordered, dragging her along the ground. Her arms began to wither, blades of flesh melting back into their proper form.
“Are you all right?” Owen asked, looki
ng closely at Thatra’s neck. The cut was minor, but it could have been disastrous had the blade entered two inches deeper.
“I’m fine,” she said, rubbing her neck then looking at the blood on her fingers. Her stare found Viola, who was now a fair distance away. She smiled—an odd reaction, given the circumstances. “I’m more than fine.”
“Are you hurt?” asked Liam, stopping once he felt there was a safe distance between the girls.
Viola dabbed her palm against her bloody nose but said nothing. She could feel the warmth running down to her mouth, as well as a lingering tingle from a solid right-hand blow.
“You lost control again. Of your body, I mean,” Liam said softly.
Viola wiped her mouth, glancing at the smeared blood on her fingers. “No, I didn’t,” she whispered back.
Chapter 5
An uncomfortable silence lingered around the morning fire. The crunch of dry grass when shifting in place, the pop of sparks rising up from the open flame, and even the subtle sounds of chewing all might as well have been war drums thundering their angry warning across the camp. Stray gazes glanced around, then shied away when accidently meeting a pair of eyes on the other side of the fire. The general mood was excessively awkward, save for one among them.
Thatra happily poked at the fire while wearing a smug, tight-lipped hint of a smile. All the while, she boldly stared a hole into Viola, refusing to look away whether she was stirring the fire or taking another bite from her stale biscuit. Throwing the last bit of her bread up in the air, she tilted her head back and opened her mouth. Surprisingly, the piece fell in. She paused, her grin growing even wider at the realization that she had actually caught it. Rising to her feet, she went around the fire to go stand right behind Viola, then bent down to rest her chin on her shoulder. “I would like to have a word with you,” she spoke softly in Viola’s ear.
“I have nothing to say to you,” Viola said back, her angry gaze lingering on the fire.
“That’s all right,” she answered softly, sliding her chin along Viola’s shoulder to where their cheeks were nearly touching. “You don’t have to say anything. I just want you to listen.” Slipping her hand around Viola’s other shoulder, she gave her a light hug.
Giving in to the warm treatment, Viola couldn’t help but smile. Even now she was still getting used to the idea of having friends who cared about her. With a nod, she rose to her feet and the two of them set out on a short hike.
“Women,” Owen grunted with a shrug before tearing into his own biscuit. Xavier and Liam exchanged glances before nodding their agreement. With the awkward mood lifted, at least now they could eat in peace.
The girls walked side by side in silence for a time, each brushing their fingers along plants as they passed by them. Thatra pinched off a yellow flower just below the blossom, then turned to face Viola. “You did well this morning,” she said, her fingers working their way into Viola’s hair while she spoke. “There.” She stepped back to admire the flower peeking out through strands of white hair.
“Why did you do that?” Viola asked.
“Because it looks pretty,” Thatra responded sheepishly.
“Not that,” Viola quickly corrected, although she could indeed feel the bloom in her hair. A part of her wished she could see it.
“I know what you meant,” Thatra admitted with a wink. “I don’t expect you to understand this now, but what I did this morning was necessary. We’ve sworn an oath to protect you in any way we can, but sooner or later you’re going to have to learn how to fight. I wasn’t pushing you to be cruel, I was pushing you because I love you like a sister.” Viola blinked, not sure how to respond.
“I do,” Thatra assured her, seeing the uncertainty in Viola’s eyes. “And I don’t want to see anything happen to you. If we are to protect you to the best of our abilities, then that also includes preparing you for the worst, no matter how unpleasant that may seem. Viola, do you understand?”
Viola looked at her for a time before answering. “Did you mean what you said before?” she asked.
Thatra’s brow furrowed as she tried to recall what statement Viola might be referring to.
“I don’t want to shelter a feeble, helpless child for the rest of my life, and neither do they,” she reminded.
Thatra’s eyes widened at hearing her biting comment repeated word for word. It must have really struck a nerve for her to have remembered it perfectly. Even hearing her own words repeated through such a soft, innocent voice, it sounded so cruel.
“I-I was just trying to—Although she hated hearing the statement directed back as a question, Thatra couldn’t outright deny there was some underlined truth in her words.
Thatra’s hesitation and lack of a decisive answer told Viola all she needed to know. Her head dropped in shame, eyes falling to the grass at her feet. “I see,” Viola said, sinking down to one knee.
Thatra quickly stepped forward in an attempt to help the crushed girl back up to her feet, but froze when Viola’s head snapped up. Those bloodred eyes were not tear-filled as she expected they would be, but hard as stone, cold and unrecognizable.
Remaining on her knee, Viola snatched Thatra’s wrist with both hands. “I no longer wish to be a useless burden to you or the others,” she said. “I can’t live day to day knowing I’m a sheep living among wolves. Teach me to be a wolf! Take me on as your student and I will be forever grateful.” Ice-cold lips kissed the back of Thatra’s hand.
Thatra also dropped down to one knee, wanting to look her in the eyes as an equal. “Of course I will,” she whispered, her hands sliding up Viola’s arms to rest on her shoulders. “But not because I expect your eternal gratitude, and not to place you in my debt. I will do it as your friend and for no other reason. Listen...” she added sharply, giving her a light shake. Viola’s eyes rose to meet her gaze. “You owe me nothing,” she said softly, before the two of them rose together. “Come, let’s go back. I don’t trust the men by themselves. By now I’d say there’s a good chance they’ve probably burned down the camp.” With a shared laugh, they turned to head back.
When they got back to camp, the fire had been reduced to a steaming pile of cooling ash and the horses were mostly packed and ready. The only thing left was a single bedroll still laid out on the ground. Liam stood over it, flicking a syringe he held in one hand. “Ah, and so they have returned,” he said dramatically. “Viola, if you please, my dear,” he said, gesturing down to the bedroll at his feet.
“B-But I feel fine,” Viola protested, shaking her open hands towards him. “I don’t see any reason to do that n—”
“And if you didn’t feel fine, then I’d say we’ve waited too long, agree?” Liam asked. “Viola, please, we need to get going. The sooner we do this, the sooner we can be on our way.” Her eyes flickered towards Xavier. She really didn’t want him to see this. As if willing her inner fear into reality, he approached her the moment she looked away.
“Beautiful,” he said, his eyes rising up towards her hair.
“W-Wha—” she stuttered, startled by his sudden boldness.
“The flower,” he said, his fingers lightly brushing her hair. “It looks beautiful on you.”
“Oh!” she chirped, her hands rising up to touch the yellow blossom. She had completely forgotten it was there. But never mind that, why was her face burning again? It didn’t seem like she would ever get used to this feeling.
“Ahem,” Liam cleared his throat, waggling the syringe between his thumb and finger.
“Does it hurt?” Xavier asked, glancing at the needle then back to Viola.
“Nuh uh,” she hummed, shaking her head.
“Well then,” he smiled, placing his hand on the swell of her back. “If it doesn’t hurt, then let’s just get it over with so we can go.” He led her over to the roll and helped her lie down. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Once Liam injected it into her neck, her body reacted in its usual way. Her chest heaved as blackish veins spidered their way
up her neck and face. With a final gasp it was over, and she came back to her senses. Her eyes darted around, quickly finding Xavier, who had obviously been watching her the whole time.
“Welcome back,” he said, smiling as he reached down to help her up. Relief washed over her like a cold waterfall. He really didn’t care! After seeing her at her absolute worst, he really didn’t view her as a monster after all. She wanted to sing, to cry, but she did neither.
“I’m ready to go,” she said, a new spring in her step as she let go of his hands and skipped towards her horse.
*
Deathly silence engulfed the room, save for the echoing drips of water coming from the corner. A single white candle flickered at the table’s center. Now a wilted misshapen mass, it had been burning there for hours. A sickly flame danced just above the clear pool of melted wax, sporadically lighting up Orm’rak’s facial features when he shifted position.
Hands clasped in front of his face, the laberath took a deep breath as dank, musty air filled his lungs. As images of pain and suffering danced through his mind, his entangled fingers tightened, knuckles cracking with tension.
Viola screamed as the ropes around her hands and feet tightened, further stretching her naked body vertically. Yet her cries of terror were but a distant echo to Orm’rak’s ears as he stepped in front of her, knife in hand. Eyes bulging with fright, her head thrashed about as she tried desperately to shed her bonds. Though her mouth was gaping wide open in an endless wail, the only sound that touched Orm’rak’s ears was a mild hum from somewhere off in the distance.
Touching her cheek with the back of his hand, he slowly ran his fingernails down her neck and between her breasts before stopping near her navel. A seeping red line trailed the path of his fingers, subtle evidence of the shallow scratch he caused. “You’ve cost me dearly,” he said, his soft voice clear as a bell while her desperate screaming remained muffled, far away even though her body was right in front of him. “And for that, I shall take everything from you.”
He slid the tip of his knife beneath the inner skin of her left thigh, then carefully moved it up along the inside of her leg. Her face contorted in agony, foam collecting at the corners of her mouth while her head thrashed back against a thick wooden pole. The bloodcurdling scream that should have been fit to shatter crystal only faintly touched his ears, its musical, distant sound coming as no more than a gentle hum. Like an artist giving a masterpiece his full attention, Orm’rak dragged the knife along her skin ever so slowly, making sure the depth was perfect and the lines were straight.
