The greatest acts of kindness are humble, as the one who acts upon good will rarely understands it full impact upon the lives of others. The most significant acts of evil, too, are humble, yet in a different sense. However cruel or sadistic they may be, they are most often acts of ignorance, misunderstanding, and thoughtlessness. The worst pain imaginable, possibly, is experienced with full knowledge that the person whom intended to harm you did so because he aimed to inflict conscious suffering.
The footsteps coming towards the door gave her little time in advance to think, so she quickly hid beneath the large canopy bed. It was abundantly obvious where she hid, she knew, seeing as there was literally not a single other place to avoid the eye. She wasn't working with unlimited and fruitful resources, but it was better than nothing. It would buy her a few seconds. Swiftly, she tucked it into her boots.
The lock clicked. The door creaked open, and she heard his footsteps walk in. Five, she counted. Four. Three. Two. One…
Zero. From beneath the bed, Ornatia could see two feet. Her heart raced, and her breath was heavy. She swore they could be heard from miles away. The feet paced around the room. Luckily, as she observed, no guards came with Lord Vaughan. Otherwise, it would have been impossible to carry out her escape. She knew she would have to be quick and silent, surely his 'minions' would come running if they heard a struggle.
"Ornatia?" a voice whispered, "are you in here?" It did not belong to Lord Vaughan, instead, it sounded incredibly familiar. The masculine voice was definitely younger that Vaughan or any of his men, at least the ones she knew. Still, she wasn't taking any chances; she drew out the letter opener from her boot.
"Soris?" she asked rather softly, preparing for the likely event that it was, in fact, not Soris.
"Oh, thank the Maker! I was worried I wouldn't be able to find you; Shianni said they took you this way. I wasn't sure which door to open. I guess I'm just lucky."
"Let's get out before we start talking about luck. I'll probably jinx it sooner or later." Ornatia spoke softly as she crawled out from her hiding spot. "How is Shianni? Did you leave her there?"
"No, I had Nelaros take her and the others back. Look, we better get going, before they get back. I waited until I was sure they left, but there's no telling when they'll return." Nelaros glanced cautiously around the room, listening for other voices.
Ornatia stuck the letter opener back into her boot. "Did you bring a weapon?" she asked Soris. He nodded, showing her the bow and quiver on his back. "Good."
On their way out, Ornatia threw the gown on the floor, stepping on it as she walked past. She led the way, checking both directions outside of the door for any signs of Vaughan or his men. She decided to walk back the way she came, turning right and heading straight down the expansive hallway. "Walk as quietly as you can," she instructed.
"By the way," she continued, "how exactly did you open the door? I heard it lock with Vaughan left."
"Oh, he left the key under the rug," he chuckled. "World class idiot, if you ask me."
Even walking slowly along the runner carpet, each step left a small echo in the hall. Every few seconds, and each time they turned a corner, Soris checked behind. What was actually around five minutes seemed like an hour; both Soris' an Ornatia's hearts raced. If they came face to face with a guard, there was no doubt in their minds that neither of them would have a chance. Ornatia's decorative letter opener was no match for a sword. Soris doubted that his make-shift arrows would penetrate armor; he merely used them for target practice.
Once they arrived in the room in which Ornatia had woken, Soris took the lead. Pulling an arrow from the quiver, he nocked it swiftly, holding the bow below his waist, tense and ready to aim. He motioned towards the door with his head, since both hands were currently occupied. Ornatia stepped forward, opening the door and backing up. "This is where we may run in to trouble," he whispered, "stay absolutely silent, and for both our sakes, stay aware." Soris was correct, as they entered another hallway, this one especially long, with beams stretching across the high ceiling; they heard men's voices- most likely belonging to Lord Vaughan's guards. The voices were coming from the room straight across the hall.
"There has to be another way out," Ornatia whispered, her voice hoarse with fear.
"That's the main entrance, I think," Soris returned, "but that's not the way I came. Too hard to slip past the guards. We have to take the servants' door, through the kitchen."
Soris led to the second door on the left, past a painting that seemed to be a rather grumpy Lord's Lady of past. Ugly for a Noble, Ornatia thought. It was probably a political marriage. I can't imagine even a mother could love a face like that. I mean, look at that mole on her chin…
"Hurry up, the more time we take the more likely Vaughan will send his men to find you," Soris noted.
They entered a room filled with the scent of a great variety of meats- salted pork, roasted chicken, seared fish, grilled beef- it was incredibly difficult, to say the least, for the two to stay focused. About seven servants, slaves, more-so, were crowded within the kitchen. Although immediately taking notice of the outsiders, the bow made it fairly obvious, no one said a word. They all pretended they didn't see a thing. One, even, appeared to be grinning ever-so-slightly. Ornatia and Soris sprinted to the other side of the kitchen, the first grabbing a chicken leg as they moved on. "What?" she asked, rather defensively, "I haven't eaten since… how long has it been, actually? Never mind."
Whilst eating her 'take out,' noisily, as much to the irritation of Soris, they passed into the last hallway before the side exit. Low and behold, there was a guard. One might presume their destinies were pre-determined by Steven Spielberg, seeing as an enraged Lord Vaughan and several more guards burst in from the kitchen behind them.
"You're not going anywhere, elf!" he announced, dramatic to an unnecessary extent.
Soris covered the guard at the entrance, aiming his bow, while Ornatia faced Vaughan. How Cliché, she thought, Villains always blabber on before they do anything. Now, think, Ornatia, Think! Quickly, Ornatia threw the remainder of her chicken leg at Vaughan's face, more towards the goal of wiping that infuriating grin off of his face. That, it most certainly achieved, although at the cost of one of his guards lunging at her.
Meanwhile, Soris kept the door guard at a distance, who happened to be laughing at the chicken leg charade going on before him.
Ornatia, still in her wedding dress, had the advantage of speed. Despite the large iron sword being swung at her, she managed to duck, evading what would have been a sharp gash to the chest. Having missed unexpectedly, the guard stumbled forward, allotting her the chance to step behind him, jumping up with her legs around his waist. "Get off!" he stammered, whilst she pulled back his helmet. Without a second's hesitation, she slid the letter opener from her boot, holding its point inward against the side of his neck. This came as a definite surprise to the guard, who only let out a nervous gurgle before she pressed it firmly into his skin. The skin was thicker and tougher that she thought it would be. Nevertheless, she pulled it, with much effort, across the front of his neck. All of this occurred within a matter of seconds. She dropped, watching the guard clasp desperately at his neck before collapsing in a pool of his own blood- which continued to flow with great abundance. With her first kill, however, she lost the element of surprise.
To the two men at Vaughan's side, it looked as if a ghost had slaughtered the Guard in from of them. The white dress she wore flashed for an instant as she had wrapped herself around him, slashing his through from ear to ear with what they thought had been a small knife. Now, the girl they saw was covered in a mass of blood.
The guard that Soris kept aim at no longer laughed. Soris, not seeing what had happened behind him, was uncertain why.
Ornatia glared at the two guards and their master she now faced. A low, instinctual growl erupted from the depth of her throat, as if to say, 'back off.' While the guards took the message for what it was, Lord Vaughan merely saw the girl as an escaped trophy. "Get her!" he screamed, "And keep her alive!"
The two armored men at his sides looked at each other before stretching out their swords and hesitantly approaching. While Ornatia now knew she could manage one guard with significant effort, she was not sure as to whether she could deal with two.
Soris, now aware that Ornatia was being attacked, fired his drawn arrow. Although it did not miss, it splintered against the guard's layers of armor and chainmail, most likely only causing a bruise. The guard, no longer being aim at, lunged as Soris. He, too, was incredibly clumsy in his heavy armor, being evaded with a swift sidestep on his enemy's part. Soris, not knowing what else to do, whacked the guard with adrenaline-fueled force on the head with his bow. He didn't stop with that, continuing to hit him on the head with increasingly more energy, until the guard was knocked out cold. Taking a brief moment to congratulate himself on victory, he loaded another arrow and came to the aid of his cousin. It was only then, he realized, that Ornatia had already accomplished her own victory. A bloody victory, but an achievement all the same.
Soris quickly fired at the guard closest to Ornatia, resulting in an opening of his defense. Ornatia jumped at the guard, this time in front, much like she did the other, sliding the dripping letter-opener through the helmet's eye-slot. This, even for someone who had become used to the regular violence within the alienage, made her sick at the stomach. The guard shrieked and dropped his sword, crying out with a scream that turned the guts of everyone in the hall. He grabbed at his face, from which blood spurted profusely.
Soris once again loaded his bow, pulling an arrow from the quiver to nock. Ornatia picked up the sword of the man she recently vanquished, holding it towards the remaining, seemingly younger guard. Her glare was ferocious and animal-like. The guard dropped his sword, holding up his hands, and backed up against the wall. His spoke with his eyes, saying, 'please don't hurt me!'
"Smart boy," Ornatia laughed, putting her foot open the surrendered boy's blade, kicking it back for Soris to pick up. "Now, for you…" she growled, blade facing Vaughan. "How do you plead?" she joked.
Lord Vaughan was now in a state of furious terror, if one could imagine such a temperament. "What do you want?" he asked, stuttering a bit.
"Oh, I think you know," she mocked, referencing their previous dialogue. "Why don't you just ask him," she recommended with a now sinister grin, pointing with her stolen sword at the dead guard at her feet. "Well?" she asked.
"Money, how much do you want?" he countered. "Give me a number!"
"No, no, I don't think I want money. I'll give you one more guess. Try." Ornatia's face was now purely demonic.
Vaughan gulped, stammering "I'll give whatever you want, just…"
"Whatever I want, eh?" She took three steps forward, holding her sword to Vaughan's chest. She leaned up on her toes, whispering, "How fun."
She stepped back, pulling her sword from his chest. She lowered it, laughing hysterically. In a flash, she lifted it up, pulling it down from abdomen to gut. Vaughan collapsed, lying on his back. He gurgled as bled out, his back arching in pain. Ornatia watched as he died, slowly.
Soris and the remaining guard, arms still risen, stared at Ornatia in horror. Soris, most of all, was shocked. He looked at his cousin as if she were a stranger. And honestly, she had become one. She was no longer the stubborn girl, avoided marriage. She was a woman. A brutal, passionate woman. She did not kill for love of death, she killed for the bloodshed of revenge. She turned away from Lord Vaughan as the blood's flow lost speed. Her grey eyes were filled with tears, and her eyebrows were tense and pressed. Her hair, barely contained within the once elegant bun, was caked with others' blood. Her face, too, was splattered. Her dress was torn and soaked in red. She was a frightening mess. The sword she still held clashed to the ground, the metal's cling resounding in the hall.
"Let's go," she mumbled, hiding her face.