Chapter Three: Night of Lost Hopes
She was the one he loved with all of his heart.
Talia watched as Donadeir gasped for breath, still reeling from when one of the Blood King’s guard threw him on the ground. She intervened just before the guard’s sword fell upon Donadeir’s thick neck. Talia was reaching for him, urging him to hurry, as she grabbed him by his upper arm.
“Get up, Dona, we gotta go now!” Talia exclaimed, using her childhood nickname for him.
“Talia, don’t leave me!” Donadeir exclaimed. “I’m bleeding to death!”
Her piercing emerald-green eyes examined Donadeir’s torn flesh as he lifted his brown robes to show her his injured knee. She looked down, noticing the sharp rock he fell onto when he was attacked.
“You’ll live,” Talia stated, tucking her staff under her arm and reaching for the guard’s sword with her free hand. There was no immediate danger of guard’s nipping at their heels after Talia dispatched, without notice, the one who had attacked Dona, but she still insisted. “Dona, we need to move! Come, hurry, it isn’t safe,” she beckoned.
Talia acknowledged Donadeir’s head nod with one of her own as he tried to stand up with her help, and she felt how careful he was not to put too much of his weight onto her. Once he was up on his feet, he took in a deep breath and indicated to her he was ready to follow her lead.
There were almost a hundred buildings and homes in Riverside, and it looked like every one of those buildings had been struck by the Blood King’s tinder, wielded by his soldiers. Talia led them as close to the burning buildings as she could. Although it seemed that would make them more exposed, the raging fires and heat made it more difficult to make out exactly what was what. The guards seemed more occupied with those almost slipping away into the shadows, away from the light, than those who were exposed and vulnerable.
Talia wasn’t vulnerable. She knew the guards would not mistake her for the Blood King’s male heir, if that were truly the reason the guards were here as she had heard a fleeing villager exclaim. With Donadeir’s irregular size and robes, the guards wouldn’t be able to distinguish him as a young overweight man or an older overweight woman either. Her father had reminded her time and again some of the most dangerous paths could actually be her only way to safety. That was what it meant to face fear, reinforcing a person’s bravery. When a person had peace with death and was aware of their duty, the only thing fear would know was itself, and thus would it be conquered.
She knew if she and Dona were so exposed in plain sight, they did not meet the guards immediate predication to be addressed. Her father once told her the more likely one was perceived to be evading capture, the more inclined the pursuer would be to establish them as a priority. A calmed mind is the only means to restore order to chaos and this escape plan was masked in the chaos the guards had created.
Talia lead the way for Donadeir to the village’s east side, where the hunter’s trail led into the tall, thick brush which still appeared dead from winter’s cold embrace. The underbrush was thick enough that even with the glow of the fires of the village and the moon’s light overhead, its safety would shield them from the eyes of the invaders as they made their escape. They had made it to the head of the trail when she stopped to ensure their escape had gone undetected.
Talia’s face hardened as she looked back to see a guard rest his gloved hand upon Donadeir’s shoulder. This soldier had no interest in Donadeir from what she could see. He could have simply been a post the guard meant to lean upon. The miscreant eyed Talia’s slender toned body and developed features.
“Where are you ladies running off to?” the soldier inquired with a wolfish grin across his face. It was apparent this man lacked honor and didn’t take his duties seriously. He was more interested in Talia than he was in his mission. “Perhaps you’d like to come with me so that I can keep you safe,” the man leered, as he smashed Donadeir’s temple with the hilt of his blade.
Donadeir was fortunate his girth and his skull were so thick, Talia thought. As he lost his balance and fell to his side, he rolled a good distance from where she and the soldier were standing before he came to a stop. She made sure not to give away any surprise or shock in her eyes. Talia’s eyebrows lowered and narrowed, not out of anger, but focus, as she shifted her feet into a fighting stance. Placing more of her weight onto her slightly bent back leg, her left arm came up holding her staff against her forearm like a shield, and her right hand brought the sword she took from the solider earlier up to a ready position.
“So you want to play sword fighter, doncha, love?” the soldier sneered in a tone of complete disregard. “I don’t want to put you in any pain, little girl, but if that’s what I gotta do for you to make me feel good, well, that—” The guard was interrupted mid-sentence. His first mistake was thinking he had backed Talia into a corner, assuming she was trying to come across as threatening and failed to intimidate. Not seeing her as a threat, he had been too busy running his mouth. Thus, he had not realized he had lowered his guard. Seizing the opportunity, she became one with both of her weapons as she pivoted on her forward foot and used her right leg to put herself into a spin. Talia lowered her left forearm, bringing the lower end of her staff up and around with her body so the part of the staff which was hanging down, just a moment before, cracked the soldier square on the right side of his jaw.
As her body came around to face toward the soldier once again, Talia kept herself low to the ground, crouching as she brought her sword wielding right hand down onto the soldier’s knee. The blade landed with a sickening thud as it caught between the soldier’s leg plates just behind the knee. Quickly, Talia stepped back, reversing her stance. As her whole body moved away from the soldier, she pulled the blade through the knee of her screaming opponent. The blade sung as it came out from between the front plates of the guard’s leg armor. She then stepped forward with her left arm held upright, bringing down the top part of the staff across the soldier’s nose, forcing him to collapse on his back. Finally, she stepped forward with her right foot, crossing to stand over the soldier’s limp body. She raised the hilt of her sword and brought it crashing down upon the soldier’s forehead. The soldier’s screams came to an abrupt and startling end.
In less than a few seconds, Talia had managed to bring this full-grown man to the ground and render him unconscious. She could have easily killed him if she had chosen to. She knew incapacitating her opponent would force his companions to slow down any pursuit as they attempted to aid him, whereas they would simply leave a corpse lying where it fell. The truth, she quietly admitted to herself, was she had never killed anyone before. Talia acknowledged the fear of what it would be like to take a person’s life was still something she had not been able to conquer. In the end, if all other options failed her, killing another human being would be her last resort.
She could see Donadeir was petrified when he heard the soldier’s screams. She also feared the noise would have drawn the attention of the other soldiers who were still running people down as they tried to escape. Her concerns quickly eased as she heard screams on the opposite side of the village and across the way. The soldier’s screams were but one note in the chorus of this ghastly, horrific song.
“Well, it could have been worse,” Donadeir said with a sheepish grin.
Talia, tucked the staff under her arm again, prepared to offer Donadeir her hand once more, but he had already begun to make it to his feet. Quickly, Talia and he made their way onto the trail and disappeared into the thicket with no pursuit behind them.
As Talia traveled with Donadeir along the eastern trails, they slowly began to make their way north. The wind had shifted slightly, allowing the smoke from the village fires to pass over their heads. The thick smoke smothered the rays of the bright moon overhead, giving it an almost blood like color. Her heart fell as she realized where the term Blood Moon must have originated.
Talia hoped Donadeir had not noticed his parents did not surviv
e as she fled with Dona from the village. They had passed near the baker’s cottage, Donadeir’s home, as they evaded the guards. She noticed there were two large bodies in the fire, and his parents were as rotund as Donadeir. She knew it would be a mistake to point this out to him as they fled to safety themselves. Donadeir had never been known to handle emotional situations well, and she needed him to keep it together. As annoying as he could be sometimes, Donadeir and she had a shared history of trust and friendship from as early as she could remember. It wasn’t until he was older that he became bitter. Talia was aware of Donadeir’s romantic intentions toward her which made her a little uncomfortable. She cared for him, but he was more like family to her.