The End of Grieving

by Matthew Fortuna

rope had been thrown out of a window during the fight and a woman clad in bronze armor was climbing out.

  The man smiled once he recognized the woman and the sword she wore on her back. This was Marilyn, hoarder of the city’s vagabonds.

  She hit the ground with a graceful crouch, eyeing the shadows with a practiced eye. She confronted the man, asking if there were others. He answered no. Only then did she lower her guard.

  The man attempted to thank her but his voice was clouded with exhaustion.

  She didn't let him finish, kissing him deeply on the mouth.

  “That is for bringing a hoard of ninja’s to my front door!” She said. Marilyn went back to the rope and pulled twice. The rope retracted up into the window.

  He watched her with a newly gained respect, blacking out shortly after.

  The man didn't wake until sometime later, lying in a stranger’s bed, clean sheets covering his bandaged body. He heard a soft rustling from the room just beyond.

  "I thought it best to let you rest." Marilyn said, coming around the corner. She wore a long flowing robe with a high collar and a gold chain clasped around her neck.

  "You know that rhymed right?" The man countered.

  Marilyn ignored his jibe, "I'm glad you're okay."

  The man looked at the bandages again, trying not to think about the damage underneath.

  "I just barely escaped." He said, "I'd been chosen as the king contestant on the field."

  "They hurt you." She said.

  "Yes, they took my family. I don't know where my wife is and I don't know if she's even alive."

  "I'm sure she's somewhere."

  "I know she's somewhere. I'm just worried about where and how she got there. She's probably dead."

  Marilyn's heart went out to her old friend, "She probably is."

  He looked at Marilyn, as hope filled his heart, "You control the city watch. Couldn't you find her if she were alive?"

  Marilyn hesitated, "I will see what I can find." She crossed to where the man sat on the bed, pulling him into a gentle embrace. "I've missed you." Her hair smelled of flowers and for the next few minutes they spoke of small things, catching up on the years they'd missed.

  She left quickly after that, leaving the man to rest. The arena had left him broken inside, hiding what he was. He'd killed so many people, forced to watch as each and every one of them begged for mercy with their eyes and their tears, cursing his name as their blood seeped into the stained earth below. All of them had been kept apart in the arena. All of them had gone through days of grueling work and practice to keep in top physical condition. But none of them had wanted to stay.

  The man fell asleep, his thoughts interrupted by overwhelming exhaustion. His dreams were filled with fear.

  Sometime later he awoke, unsure of himself. It seemed so foreign to him to be somewhere so distant from the horrors of the arena of The Highest of All. He felt a bitter sweetness overwhelm him. But his thoughts were cut short, the smell of burning wood made manifest by the orange glow not far beyond.

  He jumped out of the bed, wincing from pain.

  Only then did he notice the smoke filling the room.

  He pulled on a shirt and grabbed his sword. Sullenly approaching the burning wreckage of his new home.

  A sharp cry resounded throughout the house, a woman. The man quickly ran after the sound.

  But his heroic antics were quickly shut down as a sharp pain split his side, dripping blood from a reopened wound. He gasped.

  A sound like creaking wood reached his ears. The man stopped as a section of the house collapsed in front of him splashing fire and broken beams in his path. The next room was worse, and all but a few boards were left of the floor, the rest consumed by fire. The voice yelled again. It was Marylin.

  Fear caught the man by surprise. He looked harder through the shifting haze. Marilyn was lying on the floor, wounded by a falling beam. An attendant lay next to her dead, blood dripping from a gash in her chest. The man didn't waste time. He ran through the burning wall of debris, blistering his hands. The floor creaked ominously beneath him as he picked Marylin's unconscious form and carried her swiftly from the room. Burning plaster fell around him as he made his way down the stairs to the first level.

  The entry hall was lit from the flames above, revealing the form of a night warrior blocking the man's path from the house. He carefully put Marylin onto an empty sofa, forcing his frustration to the back of his mind. The house was on the verge of absolute collapse and every moment he stayed inside meant another opportunity for the structure to fall.

  The man drew his sword, a keen smell of blood emanating from its stained blade.

  The night warrior rushed in his sword carving a path before him. The man countered the thrust and slashed in at the warrior's shoulder. He parried, knocking the man back several feet. He advanced again, pulling a second blade from a sheath on his back.

  The man noted the warrior’s path and warily moved to protect Marylin.

  The warrior attacked again. But before he could register the man's movement, the hilt of his sword was torn from his grasp as a stabbing pain took him from behind. The black clad warrior collapsed, his spine severed from the blow.

  The man finished him off with a flick of his sword.

  Marylin had begun to move again, a look of vague confusion written across her face. He moved to pick her up, desperate to leave before things spiraled beyond his control.

  He ran from the room, situating himself along the edge of the doorway.

  Marylin pushed herself away from the man intent on keeping to her own two feet, the man only held her tighter, looking around the courtyard. There was no one in sight. He crossed to the far wall, where a well sat in the shade of a shaded tree. It was large, a wooden board rested atop the stone orifice, he kicked it off and pulled his legs over the side.

  Carefully the man put Marylin over his shoulder, who had begun showing increased resolutions to be let down. He grabbed the rope and lowered himself into the well.

  The man's breath came in ragged gasps as the pain in his side became more intense. But soon his feet touched stone at the bottom, providing the man's desperate exhaustion time to catch up. A passage led from the bottom of the well, leading to the only safe haven within thirty miles. He moved into the dark tunnel as Marylin again tried to push herself away from him. He set her down on the floor.

  She began to cough as the man quickly checked her over, looking for signs of injury.

  “I'm fine.” She said.

  “What happened?”

  “Those matting ninja's attacked.”

  “They wanted me.”

  Marylin shook her head and coughed again. “No, the night warriors were surveying my house when you arrived. Your presence was just a coincidence.”

  “Why did they attack me instead of the house last night?”

  Marylin coughed again, “I don't know.”

  Sounds echoed from the well, someone was coming. The man quickly offered Marylin a hand up.

  She refused, standing shakily. She pushed him away as he supported her weight.

  "You need to keep your own strength about you." She said.

  Slowly she began moving forward one step at a time, bringing her to an uneven gait. The man followed behind, his sword drawn.

  The sound grew louder and Marylin began to pick up her pace, tripping on something in the dark. The man grew worried, Marylin needed time.

  Slowly, he began falling behind, he needed to take care of their followers. He sought out a side passage, hiding in plain sight. Soon, the sound of heavy breathing filled the corridor just beyond. He waited a fraction of a second before jumping out, bludgeoning one man on the head and disarming the other.

  “Who are you?” he asked.

  A feminine voice echoed through the passage, “We work in the house.”

  The man noticed the outline of a black cowl covering her features. He didn't have time to react, a terrible pain ripped through hi
s lower back, bringing him to the ground. His worry for Marylin overwhelmed his thoughts before darkness took him.

  Marylin turned back, the man was no longer following. Silently, she cursed herself, he was trying to protect her again. She ran back through the tunnel, the sounds of battle reaching her ears. She ran faster. A feminine voice rifted through the darkness. Marylin gasped in recognition. Something fell to the ground.

  Shapes stood about in the darkness. She pulled two poisoned spikes from her leather boots and threw them one at a time, hitting both targets. They fell to the ground, emanating shrieks of pain.

  A third shape lay in a small puddle next to the second.

  The man was unconscious, bleeding freely.

  Marylin pulled a strip of cloth from the now unconscious body and wrapped it tightly around the man's waist.

  She knew she couldn't carry the man and inside she screamed with frustration. Instead, she put every effort into dragging the man into the adjacent passage and through to a small room where a pile of discarded cloth and wood scraps found refuge in the corner.

  Marylin pulled the man onto the pile and began piling the scraps onto his leaden form, finishing with a larger piece of cloth.

  She looked back with longing for just a moment, afraid this might be her last time seeing him alive.

  Marylin left through the passage, creeping up on the unconscious night warriors. She checked herself upon entrance to the main passageway but the warriors were already gone.

  Worried, she raced through the passage way, hurrying to