Back to
Broken Sanctuary
One chapter done, will post soon... Second chapter on
way. ~~~~~ [
Greyfrost]
The blade slid silently from the sheath. She whimpered softly, pulling against the two lightly armoured men who held her arms. “Please… please don‘t- ”
A dull crack, as one of the men struck her in the side. She would have fallen, if they hadn’t been holding her up. The girl coughed, tasting blood in her mouth and felling a sharp pain in her side. A broken rib. The man on the other side of the room shifted his sword, so the blade flickered in the bright light from surrounding lanterns. A storage warehouse, or a very large storage room. Abruptly, Serriah was released by the two men, and one landed a blow to the back of her knees. With a soft cry she fell forward onto her knees on the smooth stone flooring, taking the brief release to press one hand to her injured side, and spit blood from her mouth. She started coughing again, but forced her breathing to slow down, and stopped the fit before it got worse. For a moment she saw the edge of a booted foot. Then her vision went black, as he kicked her, hard, in the side. She felt strangely… detached from her body, from what was happening to her. The kick had thrown her onto her side, coughing.
Ai Lady, it hurts- she rolled over and in the same movement regained her feet, pressing one hand to her side. From the depression of her side, and the fact that she could no longer feel the slender curve of her ribs, his kick had probably broken another two or more ribs. She staggered back, risking a glance towards the door.
“You may as well not let thoughts pass, thief. You won‘t escape. ”
She looked back to Venden, and the slender longsword he held. Desperately, she wished she had a weapon… something, or anything to defend herself. One hand moved, without thinking, to her throat.
The necklace…. Its-
“ Looking for this?” His voice shattered her thoughts.
Blue eyes flickered in the room’s many lights, as she looked to his hand. Looped through his fingers, Venden carelessly held the fine silver chain, along with the small silver circle, made of interlocking knots. Elven craft. One of the only things left from her mother. From her family. A glint from his sword hand caught her eye, drawing her distraught, panicked gaze to his finger. “M- my moth- ”
“Yes, your precious ring as well. Both of these pieces, stolen no doubt, shall fetch a pretty price at auction.” His voice was cold… mocking.
With an angry snarl, she lunged forward, claws out. “You bastard! I‘ll- ” Her retort, and her attack were cut off, as the flat side of his longsword swept up and caught the side of her head, sending her sprawling to the stone floor.
“You know lass, I‘ve always had a liking for your kind. Especially your personal bloodline. Worth a very fetching price at auction, I might add. Then again….” He let the words sink in, as he advanced towards her fallen form, “there are always other uses for ones like you, dear.” Serriah pulled herself to her knees, struggling to rise to her feet.
“I… I won‘t…. won‘t be your slave.”
The sword came down, the back edge of the blade striking hard across her shoulders, nearly chipping the bones of her shoulder-blade
s. She collapsed, whimpering softly, blood trickling from her mouth to the cold stone floor. Her ears flickered, and she winced at every footfall as Venden circled around her like a wolf around an injured deer, his sword tipped down to her back. “Not much fight in you, eh foxgirl?”
He laughed heartily, and she felt nausea rise from her stomach, even though she hadn’t eaten anything in a couple days. He prodded her with one boot, still laughing.
He’s wearing my mothers amulet…. My mother’s ring. I cannot do this… this cannot happen. If she had had any tears left, she would have cried. Sorrow rose up inside her, dragging her into despair.
Then, something else… anger. Rage welled up, shattering through that despair, through the sadness. She let out a low growl and forced her body to move. One hand grabbed his boot, sharp as her claws were, they slipped off of the plated armour. The sword slashed down to knock her to the ground. But the vixen grabbed his ankle ad used that leverage to spring forward, into a roll that carried her to her feet. Regaining her feet, she was immediately forced to twist away, to avoid a wide swinging slash from Venden’s blade. Ducking under a furious thrust, she closed in and drove one hand into his chest with her palm, driving a splinter of summoned air between his ribs. A small wound and a simple technique, but effective. Serriah moved to back off, but his foot twisted around behind her ankle. Her arms wind milled as she toppled backwards, her balance gone as her feet were pulled out from under her. In that moment, her anger dissipated, like a candle blown out. Venden was a soldier… good enough with a blade to gain decent recognition, if not a high rank. Just as she lost her balance, he twisted his sword back and out of anger slashed at her. Falling without balance and still surprised, she couldn’t possibly dodge, or twist to lessen or deflect the attack. She let out a frightened cry as she fell, as the world seemed to slow down to a terribly slow pace. She could see the blade, seemingly inching inexorably closer, and she couldn’t move. In that moment, the odd detached feeling pulled her feelings from her physical body. Serriah watched, still in slow-motion, as she fell, crying out.
Then, a chill silence as she completed the fall, voiceless. Her hand went to her throat, as blood blossomed, then gushed from the cut that his blade had opened up in her throat. Pain twisted through her chest, and with that her awareness reeled, drawn back into her own body. Pain and fear flooded through her. She was drowning, in her own lifeblood. Desperately she pressed her hands against the wound, trying to slow the blood flow and trying to breathe at the same time. Everything was so cold… above her, Venden crouched down, smiling. At the edge of her perception, Serriah was aware of him wiping blood off of his blade, onto her tunic. He was saying something, gently brushing her cheek. She couldn’t breathe, but it didn’t hurt anymore. Perhaps it was mercy of the fates, that her ears were numbed to sound, thus giving her peace, oblivious to his scornful, mocking words. The world was grey, drained of color. Hot and wet, her own blood soaked across her chest and throat, and pooled across the stone floor beneath her body. It was all she could do, to keep her hands pressed against the wound, the rest of her body sprawled. Venden was gone than, rising and leaving her perception. No... I... I don't want to die... not here. not like this... Then, peace. The pain was gone, filled by a chill numbness all through her body. With huge effort, she forced one hand to move... rising into her narrow, faded view. Her own blood dripped from her hand, bright crimson even in that grey dimness. Then, darkness. Everything dissapeared, as the vixen's hand fell, and her body went limp.
Stumble!