I peel the sword from the sheath and smack the reins. We charge forward. A battle cry screeches out my throat. The dragon lifts himself as we run under. I sink the blade deep into his belly. A scream escapes from his sharply fanged mouth as his wings fail, sending him to the ground with a thud. Claws larger than Stallum dig into the dirt. I trot around him, watching as his breathing shallows. He is no longer a threat. Jumping off of Stallum and sheathing my sword I approach the dragon. What effect did my sword have?
His eyes look to me with sadness. “Lady,” a deep unhuman voice enters my mind. “Lady of the Sanctums…”
I look around, confused. I look back to the dragon. His eyes shift around my face, as if he’s studying me. Tilting my head down I lean closer to listen to his breathing.
“Yes…” The fading voice enters my head again. I jolt up, studying the dragon. His mouth did not move. Was I really hearing him?
Whizz!
Something flies past my face.
Whizz!
I duck as another flies over my head. I turn around to find…Banes.
With his arm pulled back tight he sends another arrow flying right at my face. It cuts deep into my left cheek grazing bone. Everything slows as I fall to the ground cupping my face. “Banes!” I cry out leaning against the snout of the dragon. Stallum takes off running. I look down and reach for my sword as another arrow sinks into my left leg right above the knee, directly in between my armor where only linen lay underneath. My fingers shake feverishly as my sight begins to fade. Banes yells something and takes off running to the west on his mare. Looking into the dragon’s eye one last time he looks sympathetically back at me. I fall against him. Both our eyes shut.
Seconds later Stallum is back, nudging me awake. Banes is off in the distance, making his way back towards the fort. I have to stop him. Pulling myself up by Stallum’s reins, it’s all I can do to climb back on the saddle. I lightly clap the reins and she knows where to go. Her hooves start galloping across the field, away from the dragon who’s stopped breathing. My hand wipes at my face, the cut feels wide. I have to stop him.
Black smoke pours from the rooftops of the city, clouding the blood orange sunset. We’re gaining on Banes, though he’s still far enough ahead not to have noticed. He’s heading back to the fort. I smack the reins gaining on him. Hearing the hooves he turns to see us. Eyes wide with fury, he changes his direction north, into the snow towards the edge of Winterstrand. He gains a little distance as we start to climb in elevation. We trot through thin, barren snow, then into frosted woods with snow so thick our horses slow at least to half their pace. Freezing air nips at my skin, burning the cut on my face.
“Banes, it’s no use!” Feet separate us now. He turns up the steep lower edges of the mountains. “Why do this?”
“You will never understand.” He turns his mare sideways, facing me.
I pull the reins on Stallum to a stop.
“You can’t understand.” He shakes his head, reaching for his sword.
“Where did you get that bow before? Off a dead villager?” ¶Lifting his sword in a defensive stance he flashes a wicked grin. “Something like that.”
“I’m not letting you go back.”
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that.” He turns his horse to face me. “You, my lady, are the one who will not be returning to the fort.”
Stallum eases back. One step, two, five. A branch breaks to the east. Banes and I divert our attention to the sound. Wolves. Low and steady a pack of wolves white as the snow itself head toward us. They are twice the size of an average wolf, and have Banes in their sight. He looks to me with a laugh turning his horse to them, readying his sword as they crawl low. The lead wolf anticipates his attack and pounces, sinking his teeth into Bane’s mare. The mare kicks back whinnying in pain, throwing Banes to the ground. Stallum continues backing away. The wolves either haven’t noticed us yet, or just aren’t interested.
Three more wolves circle Banes whose now standing, sword ready. “Come on!” He yells at them, veins popping through his neck in anger. Additional wolves approach him from the west. He turns to see them. The blood drains from his face. He looks to me in desperation. “My lady,” he begs sweetly. One wolf jumps at him, tackling him to the ground. He wrestles with it, struggling to hold onto his sword. Throwing it off him another pounces just missing his blade. “Jaria!”
I stop Stallum, watching the events unfold.
“I’m sorry!” He screams as a wolf sinks claws through his chain mailed arms. A blood curdling scream escapes him. “Help!” He flings the wolf off his arm and looks to as another tackles him to the ground. His eyes look to me, struggling to fight them off. I shake my head slowly. Panic rises in his eyes. “Please!”
I pull soft on Stallum’s reins, hoping not to alert the wolves. Looking back I watch as one sinks it’s fangs into Bane’s neck. I turn away shutting my eyes and kicking Stallum with my heels as we trot downhill in the snow. Deafening screams echo the stark white woods, sounding more harrowing the farther away we get. Once we’re out of the deepened snow, we gallop, heading west to the fort.
XIII: Refraction
¶My only memories of my mother are from adolescent years. She had hair as golden as the sun that seemed to sparkle in the light. Her skin was fair and soft, her eyes sky blue. She was beautiful. I recall the smell of fresh apples. She loved to pick them from the forest behind our house and bake fresh pies. She was known for them. I remember a particular small boy stopping by the house to pick up a pie, as some of the families in the Realm had their children do. This one boy, he was skinny, dirty and extra polite when he would stop by.
Every week that little boy would come by for pies. My mother would give him the largest one at no extra charge and hug him before he left. I think she felt sorry for him. I was never sure which family was his, until one day I saw him. I was with my father walking through the market south of Dragon’s Den when I spotted him amongst a group of foster kids. I began to suspect the pie from my mother was the only food he ate. My father had recognized him and spoke to the woman in charge of the foster house. He asked about the boy, curious as to whether or not he had always been in foster care. “Oh yes.” I recall the woman telling my father. “Since birth.”
He stared at the child a moment longer, studying his face.
“Are you interested in placing him in your home?” She asked.
My father frowned and stood. “No, thank you.”
I waved at the boy who turned away sheepishly.
“Come on, Jaria, we’re going.”
“But dad!” I protested.
“Now!” He dragged me out of sight from the foster children and back towards the house. “How often does that little boy come by?” He asked me.
“I’m not sure.” I shrugged.
When we got home he gave me strict orders to stay in the living room. “Do not leave this house under any circumstances, do you understand me?”
“Daddy, what’s going on?” Tears began welling in my eyes.
“I can’t explain now. Just promise you’ll do as I say.”
I began to cry. He placed his hands on my shoulders.
“Jaria, it’s very important you listen to me. You need to stay in this living room no matter what happens, ok?”
“What’s going to happen?”
He sighed dropping his hands from my shoulders. “Nothing I hope.” With that he stood, leaving out the back door to the woods where my mother always went to pick apples.
Time passed. The sun began to go down. Fear began rising in me. What if something had happened to my father? Was he looking for mother out there? Was she ok? Father burst through the front door, covered in cuts and bruises. He was out of breath and looked furious.
“Father …?”
Two seconds later my mother came running in, without a mark on her. Tears streamed down her face.
“Mother?”
She paused to look at me as if she forgot who I was. “Oh, Jaria
baby, mommy needs to lie down.” She went down the hall and shut the bedroom door. Father reemerged from the kitchen with a bloodied and dirty wash cloth, cleaning his face.
“Thank you for listening to me and not leaving.” He didn’t look at me as he said it.
I began hearing crowds, footsteps, shouting. Father stormed to the window. It looked as if the entire village had gathered outside our house with torches.
“Father,” I cried nervously, “what’s going on?”
He pushed me away from the window. “Get in your room.”
“But…”
“Now!”
A brick came flying through the window.
“Is she in there?” I heard one yell.
“That’s none of your damn business!” My father yelled back.
“Come out, coward!” The same voice yelled at my father.
My mother burst out the bedroom, flew down the hall and into the living room, tears streaming down her reddened face. “What’s happening?” She sobbed. Father turned to her, face half saddened, half livid.
“He’s here.” Is all my father said.
She started shaking her blonde locks back and forth.
“I told you this would happen!” He said to her. He turned back to the window. “Go back to your homes or I’ll show you all the same kindness I showed him.”
He stuck his arm through the broken window pointing at a man I could not see.
“No, stop!” She sobbed trying to pull his arm from the window.
“Jaria, get to your room—now!” He yelled at me. I obeyed. Walking to my room I peeked out the thin lavender curtains on my wall at the crowd.
“Is that her?” The man yelled again.
“I’m warning you!” I heard my father yell back.
“Get her!” The man yelled to the crowd. They stormed our house, making their way inside. I heard my mother scream as footsteps pounded down the hall. I hid under my bed as two men entered my room and looked around. I could see them walk across the hall to my mother and father’s room, flipping the bed and the dresser. I could hear my father trying to fight them off.
Moments later everyone left. I crawled out from under the bed and ran to my window. They had my mother. Father came running into my room, frantic.
“Oh thank the Saints!” He lifted me into a tight embrace. “I was afraid they had you, too.” He planted a kiss on my cheek and snuggled me tight.
“Where’s mommy?”
He ran with me down the hall and out the front door. “We’re going to get her.”
“Jaria?”
I can still see my mother in the frozen fountain in the market.
“Jaria, are you alright?”
Screams, from me, from my mother, from my father as her throat was sliced in front of us. Men holding my father and I back.
“I don’t think she’s conscious.”
Her blood spills down into the frozen water.
Lord Helwain had my father restrained. “My dear.” Helwain tipped my chin with his index finger. “Was this your mother?”
I nodded, sniffling. It has to be a nightmare. It has to be.
“Take her back to her quarters.”
He stood, lifting me in his arms.
“Oh my dear child, I’m so sorry.” His voice was cold, icy. Not knowing any better I threw my arms around his neck for comfort.
“Little boy, come with me.” I heard him say.
I turned to see the little blonde boy with eyes blue like my mothers. It was the same boy who would come by for pies. His face was strewn with tears. Helwain reached his hand down to take the boy. He walked us back towards my house. As we passed guards in front of the steps leading up to Dragon’s Den he stopped and whispered something to one of them I could not hear. The guard took the boy from him, and the boy screamed in revolt.
“Where are they taking him?”
He stroked my hair and continued walking to my house.
“Oh my dear, they are simply taking him back to the foster home.”
Looking over his shoulder I saw them drag the little boy up the steps to Dragon’s Den.
“Let her rest now.”
As we approached my house, exhaustion swept over me. My father waited, bruised and bloodied, on the steps. He cried with relief when he saw Helwain bringing me home.
“Thank you my Lord, thank you.”
Helwain gave a simple nod and handed me over to my father.
By the next morning my mother’s body had been cleared from the square, no funeral or grave was given. The foster home was out of business a week later, sending all the remaining children to other sanctums, per Helwain’s orders. From that day forward Helwain declared the Realm only to be known as the beautiful, magical place it was. Where life eternal was a gift, not a curse. Where life should mirror the beauty of the endless blooming flowers around us. Happiness in the Realm is more of a command, than a natural tendency.
“Take this.” My father pushed his old sword to me a few years after my mother’s death. “There is no telling when you will need it.”
“But father, Helwain forbids any weapon practice other than archery in school. He says archery is a necessity, for it teaches us to hunt, it teaches us hand eye coordination.”
“Yes I know all of what Helwain claims to preach. That is precisely why you need to take this. Promise me you will never let anyone know you practice with it, it must be a secret.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“What if someone does see me with it? Won’t I be in trouble?”
“Not if it’s sheathed. Just tell them it’s for decoration if you get caught. Promise me.”
“Ok, father. I promise.”
¶I awake to dancing shadows of fire peeking through the velvet drapes. I’m in my quarters of the fort, yet I cannot recall how I got here. Banes. I’ll have to tell them. Or do they already know? A shadow crosses in front of the fire. Thorn, he’s here. I crawl forward to the end of the bed when a deep ache rips through my leg. I clasp a palm over my thigh to find a large bandage over the wound from the arrow. Memory inclines another hand to my cheek. Do I feel stitches? Thorn turns sensing my movement. He peeks through the curtains.
“Jaria!” He whispers. “You’re awake!”
“Doesn’t feel like it.” I lie back down keeping my hand on my face. He peels back the drapes and sits on the end of the bed.
“Quite the wound count you’re racking up.”
“Yeah, I know. I can’t seem to leave and come back without having a new wound, or several.” I lift my hand to my head squeezing my eyes shut. “Everything feels fuzzy, dizzy.”
“That’s from the pain medications Keeper gave you. They should wear off by morning.”
I sit up looking across the room. “Where is he?”
“He left to procure you some soup and water from the chef in case you awoke hungry in the night.”
I look down to my arm at the brand.
Thorn follows my gaze. He traces the brand with his finger. Keeper opens the door. Thorn jumps off the bed and stands.
“She’s awake.” He announces like a soldier on duty. Keeper walks to the table in front of the fire placing down a shiny metal tray of soup and water.
“For when she is ready, then.” He looks to me and exits.
“What was that about?”
“He’s been tending to your wounds all night. I think he’s exhausted.”
I sit up as Thorn props two pillows behind my back for support.
“He didn’t even acknowledge me. Where did he go just now?”
He shrugs.
“I think to look for Banes. Do you know what happened to him? You’re the only one to return.”
Ignoring the question I eye the soup across the room.
“Hungry?” Thorn asks.
I nod licking my lips. He retrieves the tray and holds it steady on my lap as I spoon hot tomato soup between my frozen lips.
“Good?”
&nbs
p; “Mmhmm.” My stomach groans in response. After gulping down both soup and water my body begins to feel better.
“So…” Thorn shakes his head at me expectantly.
“What?”
“What happened to you? Where’s Banes?”
“I was…attacked.” I can’t look him in the eyes as I say it. My fingers find a loose thread in the red and gold comforter. I fixate on picking at it as I speak. “By a dragon.”
“A dragon? Here in Fangsun?”
“Yes. It was attacking the city.”
“How can that be?”
“I’m not sure. I’d never even laid eyes on a dragon before.”
“I have only once, when I was a boy. There was an attack outside the city a few miles, in the farm land of Purple Haven where I grew up.”
“What happened?”
“It appeared, as if from thin air, and started attacking the village.”
“How did they stop it?”
“The men in the farm lands tried defending our little village. They were too weak. Guards were sent for from the city to aid us. In the end, it was one of the knights from Guarded Dusk that saved us. He wore an enclosed helmet, I would not even know his face if I laid eyes upon it.”
“How did he stop it?”
Thorn looks to me after a moment. “I’m not sure. He had this sword unlike anything I’d ever seen.” He stares off, picturing it. “It was something out of myth.”
“What happened to the dragon after it was killed?”
“What do you mean?”
I debate only for a second telling him about the voice in my head as the dying dragon looked at me. “Nothing.”
“So, you were attacked by a dragon, from the city?”
“Yes. We were riding our horses and heard screams. We ran toward the city and saw black smoke. Then the dragon appeared. I told Banes to ride into the city, save anyone left alive and that I would try to divert the dragon.”
“Did you?”
“The dragon followed me out to the wheat fields. After a few attempts I sunk my sword into his belly, bringing him to the ground.”
The Writings of Assassination: Book One Page 16
