by James Hunt
"Shh!" he hushed the crying steward. She was a pack master; he remembered she was quick in setting up tents and tackle, and good at organizing their gear. She had a thing for numbers and could tell anyone where anything was at a given moment. But she was also the biggest coward in the whole troupe, and often prone to crying. "Shh!" he repeated. "Or I'll cut you myself to silence you!" he hissed viciously. The girl clamped both hands over her mouth to muffle the panicked sobs of growing hysteria.
Frustrated, he turned his bow to the calm, quiet campsite. Nothing stirred, nothing moved. Whatever it was seemed to be gone. He approached each body and checked for survivors, those that weren't slain outright, died of survivable wounds. He pulled an arrow shaft out of a steward and sniffed it -- faintly acrid. The bow had been discarded, when the decoy was tossed from the tent. So there was no more fear of poison arrows. But she still had whatever she used to kill the scout.
"She's gone!" he called up to the branch. But his partner wouldn't respond he just sat there with his bow trained on him. "Come on down! If she wanted to kill us she would have." he called again. His face crumpled up in confusion as to why they wouldn't move. "Damn you, stop being a coward and get down here! The captain will be back soon and we need to get this place secure!" His partner didn't respond, but he could see him shake his head slowly 'No' at him. Frustrated he lifted his hand up in an obscene gesture and went back over to the hiding steward.
"Come out of there!" He commanded. She shook her head 'No'. "I'm tired of everyone telling me no!" he growled, and pointed his sword at her. "Get out now!"
A crash in the trees above snapped his attention skyward as a body came falling down towards him. He covered his head at the last moment, as his partner's corpse landed a few feet from him. The steward screamed. Once he realized the danger he drew his blade and stepped out from under the tree and kept his eyes skyward.
Two arrows came down from above and ended him through the heart.
The young girl kept her eyes closed when she heard him gasp in pain and fall. She didn't want to see anymore. She didn't want to hear anymore. She just wanted it all to be over. She wanted to be back in Lunar, safe and secure from these awful missions. She wanted to scream and to run, but her legs just wouldn't move. She cursed her cowardly heart; it had paralyzed her when she needed to be able to move. But as her mind tried to fight off the fear, it told her that she was the last one alive... because she was still, and quiet. She believed it.
Long slender legs touched down on the leaves in front of her hiding spot. A cold chill ran down her spin and she could suddenly feel her toes again. Her body had made up its mind to run. And she wanted to very badly before those toned, womanly legs turned around. Soft drops of blood fell from the person hidden by the top of her trunk. The servant girl knew that if she moved now they would see her, and she would die just like all the rest. She held her breath. This monster wouldn't hear her. They would go away. Then she could run.
The person crouched down. And she found herself staring at two fierce green eyes that locked in on her. She screamed into her hands as the paralysis lifted and she knew she was as good as dead.
"Come out." The lady said only three feet away. She held a hunter's long knife thick with blood in her hands. The command registered in her brain and she found her body complying against her will. She crawled out on her hands and knees, but looked up to the naked woman before she dared to stand.
"Rise." She commanded. And so the servant did. Their eyes met, and she immediately shied away. Her eyelids closed shut to block out the face of the monster that had attacked her troupe. She sobbed and wailed, hysteria had taken over, and there was nothing more to do but to let it out. She cried.
Hands touched her face but she wouldn't move. It wasn't until arms wrapped around her body and pulled her head down to the woman's chest in a loving embrace that she let the sobs out. She wasn't being attacked, she was being consoled. Gentle hands stroked the back of her head and held her tightly as she let the fear and horror run its course.
"Shhh." The woman said. "I will not harm you." It whispered soothingly into her ear. Despite herself, a part of her believed this monster's words, and her hands timidly released their clenched white knuckles and held the naked woman in return. She cried out of fear, and terror, but also out of loss for the so many dead. Then she cried out of shame, for being the only one alive, and then out of joy for being the only one alive. During all the time that her hysteria ran itself dry this murderous woman held her tenderly. Her hands soothingly caressed that back of her brown haired head as her mother did when she was a child. They were sad caresses, subtle and calming, but tender to the touch.
"Don't look anymore," the woman said. "Close your eyes. Wait until help arrives." She did as she was told, scrunching her eyes shut tightly as the woman broke off their embrace slowly. "Cowardice is not a sin." She said softly a few feet away.
"What in the hells...?" A raspy, out of breath voice said as it approached the camp. It was her captain's, and she opened her eyes with jubilation at being saved. But it was cut off as the monster stood between him and her. Suddenly she didn't look so monstrous. She was still naked, however.
"REPORT!" He barked angrily as he surveyed the carnage of their camp. Suddenly the steward found her voice had abandoned her at his sharp reprisal. She opened her mouth to speak but the words choked in her throat and wouldn't come out.
"I killed them," The woman said plainly.
"I knew you weren't Eymara," He sneered and leveled his weapon to strike. The woman had something hidden in her hand, her long blonde hair covered it and her back as she circled the captain back and forth. "Tell me, whore, who did you sell your people out to? Was it the Zecairin? Humans? I should just execute the both of you." She didn't answer. Her green eyes were as cold as glass and they never left the captain.
"Any last words, bitch?" He said as he reared back to strike.
"Before this is over, you will call me... My Queen." She sneered at him, and put her blade up between them in a defensive stance. Her body leaned back as her muscles fell into their old routines. Her words and her stance suddenly gave the captain doubt.
"I'll admit, you are formidable to have killed so many, but these were prisoner slaves and barely out of training." He said more calmly as he fell into his own attack stance.
"I know," she said coldly. "One of them was a dear to me."
"You killed your friend?" he said suddenly horrified and distracted. But then dawning comprehension came to him. "You're more corrupted than they reported, Niyana."
"I am not corrupted." Niyana said defiantly, as her knuckles tightened around the hilt of her knife. "I was betrayed by my own brother. I loved Gayne! It was the mark that killed him." Tears of bitter anger started to well up in her eyes. Her lips snarled viciously at the painful memory. The visions of Gayne dying in her arms and that of this captain overlapped each other in her mind. Something vicious deep inside her rose to the surface again, and this time she didn't fight to restrain it.
"You...," The servant girl finally found her voice. "You're Princess Niyana?" she fell to her knees at understanding of what she and her troupe was out here to do. "No..."
"She is no longer our princess!" The captain shouted.
"I will hear it from your lips before you pass on into oblivion," Niyana snarled as she took a step forward. "MY QUEEN!" She shouted as she lunged. The captain moved to riposte the strike with his sword, but at the last step right before their blades met Niyana kicked up a stone at his face. The captain was forced to duck out of the way as their blades collided. His evasion put him off balance, and the impact knocked him off his feet to the ground.
Niyana was on top of him in that instant. Her knife missed the mark and embedded into the dirt just as her opponent rolled away in time. His sword flung out in maneuver that cut a red line across her naked side. She roared viciously in response and cut out wickedly with that long knife. It caught his rolling ankle and cut through leather, cl
oth, skin and tendon in one clean strike.
The captain screamed and kept rolling away. He got to his feet, but his wounded ankle was useless. He was lamed, and the fight was all but concluded now. Niyana circled him, ignoring her own wound as the blood ran down her side and leg to the ground.
"You would murder your own princess at an order?" she growled. "You deserve an Yvarna of your own." She sliced at his chest, but the captain still had some fight left in him and brushed it aside with his weapon. His sword had more reach, but her knife was quicker. She was quicker.
Her head was held high despite her revealing appearance, and she looked down on this faltering man with those eyes. "My...Queen." She repeated, and thrust with her knife. The Captain reacted with a side-step and a struck outward with his sword. His ankle caved in at the last moment and his blow lost momentum. Niyana's tightly clenched fist backhanded the clumsy soldier across the face and sent him reeling. He clutched his cheek and wiped the small cut on his face. Something in her fist glinted in the light and he stared at it. She saw him looking and opened her palm... a broken off arrowhead fell to the ground.
He stumbled backwards and fell to his haunches. The poison was already taking effect as the ground rolled and swam around him, even though he sat still. His eyes searched around wildly, as if he couldn't focus on what was right in front of him. Niyana fell on top of him and drove her knee into his ribcage.
"SAY IT!" she commanded and twisted his ribs excruciatingly. The captain gasped and groaned, but fell back to the ground.
"m-my...que.." he gurgled out before his mouth overflowed with saliva foam. His body jerked once suddenly then grew very still.
"My queen..." the servant girl repeated horrified. She now understood who the woman was that was rising to her feet before her. Princess Niyana, branded traitor, convicted and sentenced to death. The gossip and rumors were horrifyingly true.
The woman smiled at her.
"Go," Niyana said. "Take what you can carry -- food, arms, supplies. And make for the fort Henescia to the southwest. It should be four days on foot if you hurry." She placed a hand on the girls shoulder and squeezed it reassuringly. "Leave all this behind."
They gathered their things without another word. The elf girl watched her queen dress for combat and arm herself to the teeth. She was curious who her queen planned on fighting, but she knew the answer already -- the proof was strewn around this small spanse of forest. She didn't say goodbye or thank you, but she knew she was being watched as she left and she hoped it wasn't to put and arrow in her back.
Niyana watched to make sure she took the right supplies. This one was good at her job, and knew exactly what to take. The intensity of the moment was wearing off, and Niyana found herself calmly at peace now. That tranquility unsettled her terribly; she shouldn't feel so calm when she had caused so much carnage.
She paused by the blonde head of her love. Reverently she cut a short lock of hair from his head and tucked it into her bosom.
"This is just a shell now." She told herself and walked away in silence. The aftermath of all her actions followed her and settled into her conscience. Doubt suddenly made its way to the surface and she held her arms tightly as she walked. She wished Kreth was here with her, somehow his strength radiated into those around him. She would never have done what she had just done if he hadn't shown her the path to resistance.
Her thoughts lingered too much on the dead human. She paused in her tracks and orientated herself by the sun above. She should deliver a message to this monastery Kreth mentioned. It was the least she could do for his sacrifice.
Niyana changed her course and continued on.
"Ni?"
"I'm here love,"
* * * * * * *
Kreth
Kreth ran hard. The arrows sang through the trees after him and cut nicks into his skin and clothes. Each one was a well placed shot, but Kreth's reflexes were extraordinarily fast. He was closing hard on the sniper; he couldn't distinguish them from the trees, only follow the line that the arrows traveled. If he got close enough he could force them to move and reveal themselves.
The moment came sooner than later, and Kreth saw movement. This archer wasn't going to let him get too close. This one was smart -- if they couldn't hit a charging human, than they didn't want to be anywhere near that human. That was bad for Kreth; if his adversary got away, he'd have to dodge more arrows to get close again. He would quickly wear down against that kind of fight.
There! He spotter a bow taking aim.
Kreth kicked up a rock as he ran and snatched it out of the air. The moment his fingers wrapped around it, he spun on his heels in a complete circle and hurled it up through the leaves. It was gone in an instant. A second later a sickening crunch echoed through the branches and a bright spray of red disturbed the peaceful sea of green and brown clearly marking his intended target.
Kreth slowed down and caught his breath as he came upon the body. His cheeks scrunched up in distaste as he recognized the uniform as Lunarian. Their situation had just gotten more complicated. The archer's face wasn't recognizable anymore, but he could tell she was young by Lunarian standards. With his foot he rolled the corpse over and found that she wore a glove on her right hand -- her bow hand, yet her left hand was bare. Kreth pulled the quiver off and smelled the arrow heads. Odorless. But as he turned one of them in the light, the metal tip gave off a crystalline sheen. He didn't need to look to the numerous cuts on his person to know he had been poisoned by those many wounds.
"Fuck." He muttered. "This one was too smart."
Kreth sat down and crossed his legs. He took deep breaths and held each one for a moment. His heart pounded in his chest from all the exertion, so he put his attention into calming it down. Deep, slow, rhythmic breaths repeated again and again until he was barely breathing at all.
Slow the heart... Slow the poison...
* * *
Sweat trickled down his face and tickled his nostril. But he didn't stir, he couldn't stir. He was dead; even his heart had stopped beating. Then why was he sweating?
This new catch of hers was odd. Meat wasn't supposed to still be alive when it was dead, that was just silly. She fluttered her wings once in annoyance to straighten out the feathers. When they bunched up together uncomfortably, it agitated her. Her hands touched his cheek -- it wasn't completely cold, but close to it. She leaned down and placed her ear to his chest one more time and listened. Still nothing.
Yet he felt comfortable, so she stayed there, laying on her food and feeling his muscled chest with her fingertips as they danced up and down his body. It was a shame this one had died, he would have made a nice nest-warmer. She closed her eyes and imagined what he would taste like if she could have kept him to warm her on cold nights.
Something thumped inside his chest. It startled her and she lifted up and looked at the handsome dead man underneath her. All she could hear were the rending sounds of her children devouring the other corpse. She looked over and found her two daughters feasting heartily and contently.
Curious, she placed her head against his chest once more and waited.
Thump.
She smiled. This one was still alive. But what to do about him? She didn't know what ailed him, or how to heal him. If she ate him still alive, what ever disease or poison that made him this way would then infect her. A glorious idea came to her -- meat that would keep a bit longer. They would take him home until he died properly, then they would know not to eat the flesh. Should he recover, then she would decide whether to have a meal later, or a nest warmer.
"Harla, Yuma, Eat your fill then help me take this one home."
"Yes mother." Her two girls replied in unison. Their mouths were smeared with blood, but their eyes were innocent enough to not understand their mother's intentions.
They finished eating what they had in their claws and hopped over to their mother like a bird would. A fitting amble, considering below the waist they resembled birds. Their mother pointe
d to each of the man's arms. Yuma and Harla waddled over and each one took hold of an arm. Their mother grabbed his legs, and on her signal beat their wings soundly once to straighten them, then furiously to lift their cargo off the ground. Their combined effort was enough to get airborne very quickly, and with practiced synchronism, they flew off towards home.
High in the branches of a giant redwood the three came to a landing amid an intricately woven array of rough lumber planks and rope. Holes in the planks were threaded with the rope to create a flexible, yet durable, net. Soft straw and feathers had been packed into crevices and openings to pad the wooden web, and to build up a softer, cushiony wall. The whole structure resembled a shallow bowl.
The three winged women dropped off their cargo, and then landed apart form him.
"We go finish eating now?" Yuma asked.
