Dear Readers,
As always, thank you for your comments. They are usually the highlight of my day to read how you've enjoyed the story. Also thanks for the suggestions, I take what you say to heart and use it to continually improve. This chapter sets us up for the end (hopefully). I'd like to finish it in the next chapter and have it posted within two weeks. Thank you again, and please, leave comments on what you liked and how I could improve in my writing
Titania
*
The cool, damp morning air rushed harshly into her lungs; her heart slammed ferociously, sending the potent blood to her aching limbs. Her hair had fallen from its braid once more and streamed in violent torrents behind her, flying like a tattered banner. She dodged as gracefully as her fatigued legs allowed around trees, under branches, over fallen logs. Her cloak tangled her, slowing her escape.
The rising sun continually provided more and more soft, gray light to filter into the woods as she ran for her escape. A soft rumbling that had accompanied her through the night warned of coming rain. Morning birds fluttered and fought over their breakfast. The wind picked up, rustling the tops of trees, dipping down to shake the ferns. She neither heard nor saw any of it as the blood rushed in her ears, like waves slamming into shore. Only the clamor of straining feet and labored breaths close behind her cut through her terror to send her raging onward.
Once in the night Emera had stopped to eat part of the food Robert had wrapped for her. She leant against a tree along the road, her tired and eviscerated mind shutting down, sending splintered and shattered thoughts of pain out to deaden her spirit. Given her physical and emotional state, it was a feat she had eaten the five bites she did, even more so that she kept the contents of her stomach in place.
She trudged on through the empty darkness. The obsidian sky glittered with sharp lights vibrating indiscernibly. The air hung with portents; animals called from their safe homes. None of these filled her soul. She was a void, her sleep-deprived mind only able to form heavy thoughts that slipped like sludge from her consciousness. She had been robbed. He had viciously stolen from her and left a ragged, hollowed-out carcass. Though she was moving toward home, her journey felt purposeless.
As dawn approached, she decided the safest avenue of travel would be just off the road in the woods. Emera's deadened mind stirred to life when the smell of smoke wafted by her. Its scent was comforting, filling her with feelings she found in the warmth and comfort of a fireside meal with her father. Her mind scrambled to place the scene in the current context she found herself. Her head shot up as she quickly searched for a fire. She stopped walking when she spotted a group men sitting around the dancing flames.
Invisible. Be invisible. Don't see me,
she commanded with her mind. But they had.
One shouted and pointed at her. "Who goes there?" a gruffed and unrefined voice yelled. He sounded like a fierce wolf defending his territory. The campfire's orange glow illuminated the figures as they rose to standing.
Emera's stomach fell out with an uncomfortable surge of nerves. Mindlessly, she backed up. They moved towards her. "It's a woman," she heard a voice mutter. Their speed picked up as they approached. Turning, she bolted from them, praying the forest would hide her from their evil eyes.
She ran for as long as her strength would carry her. But the men gave no hint of giving up their pursuit; they would run her until she dropped. After she stumbled a third time, she knew she could not hold out much longer; her body was failing to obey her commanding mind.
Emera broke free of the trees to run into a clearing with short, green grass and emerging crocus.
This is as good of place as any,
she thought. With all the bravery she could muster, she turned, allowing the sharp focus of a warrior to pour down her, calming her nerves and training her eyes onto the four approaching men.
She drew her short sword and positioned herself, ready to fight. Emera did not notice the dirt that covered their unshaven faces or tattered clothing. She didn't see the missing teeth or the dull blue eyes of the nearest man. She only saw what she needed to.
Almost ten men of similar dress and demeanor began to slowly encircle her. She quickly thought back to Edich's admonishment at her plucky claim she was capable of traveling alone. She shook herself free of his memory.
Focus.
She noted which ones had visible weapons, which had limps, which had more strength than the others. The man in front, apparently the leader, was over six feet and well muscled. He held his sword like a soldier. His eyes full of confidence in his movement. The rest hung in the back, waiting for the strike. One ruffian with a knife held it as any common dolt might, and not as though he could throw it with accuracy or strike with strength and precision.
She could tell by their various approaches and attitudes they would not fight well as a unit and she would have the best chance taking them out one by one.
Start with the leader. The others might flee if he goes down.
She fastened her attention on the tall brute.
He's stronger; fight with finesse. Quick, fluid motions.
"And just what are you staring at? Think you can take us all out?" he mocked. The men chuckled. When Emera made no reply but eyed him calmly, his cruel smirk lost its humor, leaving it just cruel. "Thane," his coarse voice snipped.
Despite her planning, the man to her right attacked instead. His lunge was sloppy. She dodged quickly, making a small sweep to the back off his leg, cutting the tendons at his knee. He turned as he buckled to the ground. Without thought or hesitation, Emera's sword flew again, slicing dully across the fatty throat.
The large man was at her back before she could reposition herself. He grabbed her, spinning her around. He struck her cheek with a quiet thud, her head exploding in nauseating pain. She was on the ground, her vision blurred, unable to focus on the feet approaching. She heard his laugh.
