Flight
© Tiffany Dunn

Yana ran.

The heavy load on her back nearly threatened to knock her over, but she ran.

Behind her, the only home she’d known was being taken away from her – for the second time.  Men had invaded, she wasn’t sure which lord they belonged to, and were killing off Roltan’s men.  She felt fierce satisfaction at that.  Roltan deserved whatever he got for killing her own family four years ago.  She had watched him do that, saw how he had so carelessly ordered them brought before him.  First her older brother then her mother, both while her father was forced to watch.  And she too, inadvertently.  She couldn’t even remember her brother’s name anymore.

Yana ran through the woods, heading where Tethyn had pointed.  East, he had said.  Away from her home and the fighting and him.  She wasn’t so young that she didn’t know where he was going, and it shredded what was left of her heart.  At one time, she had believed that nothing could hurt more than watching her family die, now she knew that wasn’t true.

*Better to be alone* she heard him say again in her mind.  He was right.  Even as darkness began its slow ascent, she knew he was right.  But, by Lioshae, she wished he wasn’t.

Yana’s foot caught on a branch and she stumbled to the ground, the tablecloth spilling open, strewing bread and cheese and a dull knife to the ground.  Yana grabbed at the ends, her palms and knees stinging, desperately trying to gather everything together again.  Her hands were trembling, and she felt a sob catch in her throat.  *No crying* she warned herself, pushing dirt, leaves, and food into the tablecloth.  With hasty fingers she tied it shut again and struggled to her feet, hefting the bag once more.  She took another few steps when the knot gave and all the food spilled out on the floor of the woods.

Yana could only stare at it, her breathing fast and shallow.  Fear was beginning to creep in, followed by loneliness.  She looked around, but the ground was already too shrouded with darkness to see much.  Even the tops of the trees glistened only faintly with sunlight.

She was going to die here.

Her breath halted, swallowing her up and filling her mind with pressure.  In all those years she had only once been afraid of death.  When she had been tied to the pole, with Roltan at her back, and the whip …  Exhaling explosively, she dropped down to her knees and tried again to re-pack the food.  If Roltan hadn’t killed her, she wouldn’t do it for him.  She would not die today.

There was a low groan farther to the east, and she paused, straining to hear more.  Another low groan followed, and then there was silence for a long time.  Yana fumbled with the knot several times before she finally double-knotted the bag, yanking hard to make sure it wouldn’t come loose again.  She would show them all, she decided, settling the pack around her shoulders.  She thought about leaving some of the food, knew that she would never eat all of what was there, but decided against it.

 “I’ll eat all of it!” she cried aloud to the wind and the woods.  “I won’t die today, Roltan!  I won’t let you kill me!”  Having pushed back the fear enough, she gathered what courage she had and trudged off further into the woods.

********************

 Tethyn slowly opened the door and peered into the dim hallway.  He had been hiding for awhile now while Brey’s men ran back and forth, their swords dull with blood.  After sending Yana off, he had had to fight off regret and the pull to follow after her, filling his thoughts with Roltan and revenge until that had been all he’d wanted.  But when he’d re-entered the castle, it had been swarming with Brey’s men, and he knew that he could not fight his way through all of them.  If Roltan still lived, Tethyn would fight most of the battle for him before even reaching the man.

 So, against the fire that burned through his soul, he had waited.  Now it was growing quiet, and less men ran back and forth.  From the brief bouts of conversation he’d caught, Roltan had been holed up in the Great Hall with ten of the men, but just over half an hour ago, the room had been breached.  Tethyn no longer knew if Roltan was alive.

 Seeing the dark hallway clear, he quietly padded across the stone to the huge double doors at the other end.  He had long since gotten rid of his shoes, and his feet were bloody from the broken pottery he had accidentally stepped across.  That had taken another half hour just to pull the shards out of his feet.  His leg no longer throbbed, but pulsed dully, although his side felt as if someone was rubbing it with a jagged piece of steel.  And his tongue was thick in his mouth, filling it.

 The double doors were broken, one permanently stuck open, the other hacked and splintered.  Pushing through them, Tethyn saw the room was dark, all the torches put out, and littered with shadows.

 “Roltan?” Tethyn whispered, unable to do any more than that.  “Are you alive?”
 He found a torch, and then spent another ten minutes finding a way to light it.  Happening upon the crushed fire-starting box, he finally got the torch lit, the light hurting his eyes.

 “Roltan?” he whispered again.  All of Roltan’s men had been killed, and if any of Brey’s men had been, there were none left in here.  In the center of the room, Tethyn saw the huge, hulking corpse that could only be his own lord’s.

 With slow, heavy steps he made his way over to Roltan, kneeling down next to his body and flipping him onto his back.  His chest was stripped open with long, wide gashes, and he was missing his left arm at the elbow.

 “Burn you,” Tethyn snarled, feeling the sickly burn of disappointment.  “I wanted to kill you.”  He stood, unsheathing his sword.  “I’ll take what I can,” he murmured, letting the torch fall to the floor so he could grip the hilt two-handed and jam the point into Roltan’s stomach.  The corpse twitched once with movement, and air pushed past his lips, causing the body to groan.  Tethyn twisted, and then pulled his blade free, still feeling unsatisfied.  He had wanted to kill him himself, not let Brey or one of his talentless soldiers do it.  He kicked the body once, but it was already turning cool and stiffening.  “Burn you!” he whispered again, giving him another kick.  “I wanted to kill you!”  He felt ill with unfulfilled revenge, frenzied and crazy with it.  There had to be something he could do.  Anything.

 His gaze darted about wildly, searching for some way to save himself.  He had poured salvation into killing Roltan, and didn’t want to meet his leader again in Urtoth’s domain.

 The torch flickered precariously next to him, dimming the room, and he picked it up, feeling a grin growing across his face.  He would show them all, he thought, chuckling aloud.  He touched the torch to Roltan’s clothes, but it didn’t catch, the blood making it too wet.

 Carefully, Tethyn set the torch in a holder on the wall, and began moving furniture and bodies to the middle of the room.  He would burn them, so that their souls would be lost on their way to the afterlife, and so Brey would have only a gutted room left to him.  Occasionally laughing, he constructed the bonfire.

********************

   “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.  I thought I heard … but that would be ridiculous.”

 “What would?  What did you hear?”

 “Crying.  I thought I heard crying.  Just over here, in the darkness.”
 The other man snorted with laughter.  “It’s probably Urtoth trying to trick you and get you to leave the firelight.”

 “Oh shut up.  I told you it was stupid.”

 “Come back to the fire, then.  Genna’s making kika stew tonight.”

 “I will.  Give me a minute, I have to pee.”

 The other man laughed again and then disappeared.  Yana crowded further into the tree she was pressed against, listening to the soft sounds of the remaining man.  The low groan she had heard days earlier had come from this group’s traveling wagon, and although she’d tried to avoid them, they had both ended up near the clearing this evening.  From the cheery music and frequent laughter she heard, she guessed it was a y’kesh.

 She remembered one coming to her father’s land a few months before Roltan invaded.  The wandering entertainers had come to the castle and put on a show filled with light and sound and a heady sense of the fantastic.  Her father had hated it and sent them off without paying, but Yana had loved it.  But she had been young then, and foolish.  They were a waste of time when the rest of the world was killing itself.

 “Hello?”

 Yana grew completely still, not even breathing.  She must have made a noise.

 “Listen, Firo, if its you, you can come out.  I’m not going to let you trick me again.”  The man sounded annoyed.  Yana remained where she was.

 “Firo, this is ridiculous.  Play your games with someone else, will you?”

 Slowly, she felt her left foot begin to slide down the root she was balanced on.  In slow motion it slipped off and landed on the soft dirt.  She listened, but the man hadn’t seemed to hear.  She sighed loudly with relief.

 “Ah-ha!”  The man started to walk her way, and she cursed herself sharply, bringing up the dull knife she’d packed into her bag.  Her food had all gone bad two days ago, and she had been living off of berries that might have been poisonous since then.  Knowing she had no energy to outrun anyone, she waited until the man got close, and then leapt out at him, hacking at his arm with her knife.  It thunked against his skin and then slid off, too dull to do anything to do him.

 “By the-“ the man spun, grabbing her own arm and throwing her over his head.  Yana hit the ground with her back and cried out, feeling all her limbs go numb.  She thrashed her head, tried to move her arms, and then lay still.  The man towered over her, his hands held up and slightly open, ready to defend himself.

 “Who are you girl?”

 Yana swallowed hard, but remained quiet, glaring at him.  She tried to move her arms again, and felt her finger twitch a little.  He knelt down next to her, his knees cracking.

 “That knife of yours is worthless.”

 Feeling her elbow bend a little, Yana decided it couldn’t hurt to answer him.  “I have another.”

 “Do you now?”  The man lifted an eyebrow, and grabbed her wrists unexpectedly, lifting her up.  She wobbled on her feet, her legs feeling like two weighty pieces of meat.  He held her steady while the blood began scorching through her limbs, sending them alive with prickling.  She gasped and jerked from the painful sensations.

 After an endless minute, her body was once again working normally, although it was considerably more sore.

 “So who are you, girl?”

 Yana rubbed her arms and glared at him, having decided he no longer needed her answers.

 “You want some food?”

 She blinked, then narrowed her eyes.  “Why?”

 “I generally eat because I’m hungry.”

 She frowned at him.  “Why would you give me food?”

 “You look hungry, girl.”

 “I’m not.”

 “Well you look it.”

 “I’m not.”

 He opened his mouth but shrugged instead of speaking.  They stared at each other for awhile, before Yana heard movement behind him.  She waited for him to turn around, prepared to bolt, but he simply angled his head a little and asked, “What is it?”

 “What’re you doing, Kirell?”

 “I’ve made a new friend, Firo.  Why don’t you come here – hey!” he cried, grabbing her shoulder.  She struggled against his grip, but he was far too strong.  She tried to bite him, but he clamped a hand onto the back of her neck and she was caught.

 “Some friend,” Firo muttered, making his way towards them.  Yana panicked and kicked Kirell’s shin, gaining a grunt and nothing else.

 “Let me go!”

 “Absolutely not, girl.  You owe me for that kick.”

 “I’ll give you another!”

 He laughed then, but didn’t release her.

 “Lioshae’s baby, Kirell, what happened to her?”

 “I don’t know.  I was investigating after you left when I was attacked by the little dragon.”

 Yana snarled at that but had nowhere to move.

 “What are you going to do with her?”

 “I *was* going to feed her and give her some shoes but she doesn’t seem to want hospitality.”

 “I just don’t want to pay for it,” she grunted.  “I don’t need food or shoes that much.”

 Kirell’s grip tightened on her neck, and then he dropped both hands from her.  “Pay for it?” he spit out.  She turned, crouched slightly, watching him.  He sounded oddly upset.  “Those things are given for free, little dragon.  We would not make you pay for it.”

 She sneered.  She knew better than that.  Everything had its cost – that had been beaten into her.

 “Doesn’t look like she believes you, Kirell.  Let her be.”

 “Let her be?  You mean let her die.”

 Yana took a few steps away from them at that.  “I’ll go,” she said.  Her stomach was too tightly clenched to eat anything now anyway.

 “No wait,” Kirell said, pushing Firo back as he started to speak.  “We won’t hurt you, I swear it.”

 Yana shut her eyes, hearing Tethyn say it.  It felt like lifetimes ago.  She shook her head, and turned and ran away without a word.  Behind her, Kirell called out after her, but didn’t follow.

******************

 “What’s wrong?”

 “Can’t you smell it?  Something’s burning.”

 The first man sniffed, grimaced, and began making his way down the hall.  “Did someone set fire to the Great Hall?  I told everyone I wanted as little destruction as possible.”

 The woman, still holding her nose, sheathed her sword and followed after Lord Brey.  “I don’t know milord.  All the men are in the yard, celebrating.”  Her nose twitched in disgust and Brey smiled insincerely.

 “Does their celebration disturb you, Rayanne?  All the women who joined my army knew what to expect.”
 Rayanne remained quiet.  The last she had seen, the unfortunate maids who had been left alive were being passed around the army.  Her stomach twisted at the memory.  They reached the doors to the Great Hall and she was almost thankful for the overwhelming stench of burnt flesh.

 Brey frowned and stepped inside, coming to an almost immediate halt.  “What in Urtoth’s glory happened here?”

 Rayanne could only stare at the half-charred bodies before them.  Apparently someone had tried to light everything aflame, but the fire had petered out.  And although there was a huge pile of bodies and furniture in the middle of the room, one of the bodies lay just to the side of it, smoking slightly.  It shifted, and Rayanne rushed forward, patting down what was left of the small fire.

 “This one’s still alive, Lord Brey.”  She rifled through his clothing and then frowned.  “It’s one of Roltan’s men.”

 “Is it really?”  Brey came closer, peering past his bulbous nose to examine the body.  “Looks like he got caught in the fire.  Will he live?”

 Rayanne certainly hoped not.  His legs were charred, as was the flesh on his back.  Most of his hair had burned away and his face would be a grotesque mask of scarring.  But as awful as he looked, she knew he could be saved.  If only to live a hellish life.  “No, milord,” she answered quietly.

 “Pity.”  Brey knelt down next to the body, and fluttered his hands over it, apparently doing his own examination.  “I do believe you’re wrong, Rayanne.  This one could live, though it wouldn’t be much of a life, would it?”  He smiled and dragged her up by the elbow.  “Go get the healer, Rayanne.”  Brey’s eyes were glowing, lit with deviltry.  “We’ll let this one go out into the world.  Wearing the Mark of Brey.  It has a nice ring to it, I think.”

 “But we don’t know who did it, milord.”

 “It doesn’t matter.  We will tell him who did it.  And he can be made to believe.  Go get the healer.”  Rayanne nodded and turned away.  The poor creature on the floor shifted again, and she heard his pained groan as she left the room.  She thought she heard him say a single word: “Yana.”

********************

 Firo called the horses to a halt and peered past them at the pale body in the road.  “Kirell!” he shouted back behind him.  “You better come up here.”

 Kirell leapt down from the wagon and walked forward, grinning.  “What is it now, Firo?  Some pretty flowers you want to pick for Genna?”  Firo rolled his eyes and pointed ahead of him.  Frowning, Kirell looked and then started walking towards the body.  “Stay here,” he called back.

 As he got closer, he saw that it was the young girl who had attacked him some ten days ago.  In the daylight she looked even thinner and more sickly than before.  She was curled up on her side and not moving.  He knelt next to her and listened for breathing.  It was shallow, but there.

 “Firo!  Get Andor.  I need his help.”

 He carefully turned the girl onto her back, looking up when Andor’s shadow slanted across her.  “She needs our help,” Kirell said simply.  The other man nodded and gently picked her up, carrying her back to the wagon.  Waving the others over, they gathered around Andor as he began concocting one of his herbal brews to force down their throat.  Kirell moved the group a few feet away and stared down at his hands for a moment.

 Then he looked up, taking the time to look each member of his y’kesh in the eyes.  They had all been orphans once.  Firo he had found as a pickpocket in a moderate town.  Genna had slaved a cooking girl for years before she ran away with Kirell’s group.  All of them, in their own way, had stumbled into the group and been accepted in.  That was the way of the y’kesh – none who were wanting were ever turned away.  And as long as they remembered that loyalty came first, then from then on they always had a home.

 “When the girl wakes up, I think we should convince her to stay here.  I believe she’s in need of a family, my friends.  Our family.  What say you?”  Each person nodded agreement immediately.  They had all been there.

 “Kirell, come here a minute,” Andor called to him.  He smiled at the others and walked over.  The girl was young, stringy, and on the edge of death.  “Look at this,” Andor said, turning her on her side for a moment.  Four long scars lined her back, deep chasms of ugliness and pain that made Kirell wince just looking at them.

 “How old are they?”

 Andor shrugged.  “Many months, Kirell.  They’re healed as much as they ever will be.  We have to help this girl, you know.”

 “I know Andor.  It’s already been decided.  You can save her then?”

 “Aye, Kirell.  I can save her.”  She shifted again, and murmured quietly.  Kirell saw Andor’s brow furrow in concentration.  She murmured again, and then grew still with sleep.

 “Well?  What did she say?”

 “Just one word, repeated twice.  "Tethyn."