- Haley -
The curvy woman collapses with angst on top the top bed. Arms spread wide, and a tattered dress exposing undergarments, brought the heaviest of sighs to my lips.
I gander around our small room. It only had a single, large double bed on the right side of worn walls, a small window in the back, and to my left was a wooden stand for depositories and our belongings underneath. A melting candle brings a slither of warmth with flickering light.
Placing the novels in hand on the small wooden table, I then travel to the bedside, urging my companion awake from her already drunken slumber. Unfocused, emerald eyes dawn upon my own. Leaning forward, I stare deeply into those glossy orbs to adjust her mental state.
I swore to never use this ability in life, and yet here I was: painfully revisiting the very result of our travels thanks to a pesky spell.
It is for ideal reasons, I convince myself, as I lull thoughts into the bewitched woman,
Your mind is your own. It cannot and shall not be penetrated by magic, curses and the like. You will remain free from all control.
Instantly following the final statement, I feel her psyche snap me away. The groggy look never leaves her light countenance, but she reduces herself back onto the sheets beneath her. A smile crooks my lip at how vulnerable the usual lioness looks.
Returning to the books that the fellow Irish Knight lent me, I pluck the page open to my marker and begin to finish the words.
- Diarmuid -
The half moon hangs at the highest part of the navy sky. It was the only light source illuminating my quarters. Still full of adrenaline from parchments and a heavy arm tousling competition from my fellow lot, I fling my feet off the bed. I guess another round of refreshments were in order. Simple red wine might do well to dull my racing blood.
The lounge was empty, leaving only the keepers and attendants cleansing the tables from our earlier leisure. What caught my eye from the corner of the stairs, was the woman from earlier in the night blissfully indulging herself in the borrowed book at the bar. Each page turns with interest under little fingers.
Descending the final steps to several stools from the woman, I motion over the tender with my index finger, "Tell me, what is it that the Lady there fancies?"
"Ahh… the First of the Fianna has taken a liking to the lady, it seems?" The man raises his thick eyebrows suggestively, wiping down a gold cup with a cloth.
"I said no such thing, I am simply curious." I say, rolling the coin across the counter, "So, what was it?"
Devilish chocolate eyes laughed at my inquiry, "Water."
I blink. Did the dark haired man just say, 'water'? "That is all? Surely there was something else."
"Ai, the Lady has only requested water. Not even allowing simple pastries to accompany it."
At this declaration, I spare a glance through my peripherals to see she in fact only has a single cup that she raises to thin lips in small sips. That was rather peculiar, her friend spout of being a high born, so I assumed the woman accompanying her shares the same avocations.
"Have her some soda bread, then. You do have some prepared, yes?" I decide and nudge the coin that glimmers in the torchlight.
The gentlemen only offers me a nod, that accompanies a shallow grin. When he returns, he slides the charcoal plate to the woman, with a hefty loaf of peanut colored bread. I keep the corner of my eye trained on the little encounter.
"Huh? I didn't order this," The squeaky voiced girl says, lifting her bright gaze from the page's they skim and bumping the plate back, "Sir, you must be mistaken."
"Ai, it is from Sir Diarmuid there." And that was my que to join the Lady on the stool next to her.
"What?" The Lady looks at me, skepticism swirling like water in her crystal blue eyes, "Why?"
I shrug my shoulders and lean over onto the shaggy counter, "I heard you had not eaten My Lady, figured you could use a side for your… water."
The scrawny woman's eyebrows scrunch together and her lip pulls into a scorn. If I thought any better, I was unwelcome. If I care, I would think unliked. Tis a strange feeling, I have to admit.
"I was fine without," she replies, her lips pressing into a thin line. She then did something I hadn't expected. She grabs the butter knife and with a sigh, face dropping in some sort of internal defeat, she halves the bread. "But here, share with me and I shall accept."
A warm smile crosses my features, and I take my compact share. "So, tell me, what brings you to Kildare?"
For the first time I saw sorrow in those glittering eyes, but she was quick, and masks whatever pain lies there. "I am... to… reach a sickly friend." she says, taking a testing bite of the bread. "This is good!"
"You say it as if you had not tasted such bread," I prod, curious of the way her demeanor spikes from such common delights.
Hales pauses gifting herself with another bite before taking a sip from her cup, "I… have not." She shakes her head before the question leaves my lips, "I only take as needed, so there are certain luxuries I have yet to experience."
"Does this mean you are low born?" I ask, tilting back to retrieve my wine across the counter. The woman's garments reflect no such thing.
"I am neither high born nor low born. Not like much of that matters. I care not for family lineages when speaking to them."
A quiet laugh rumbles through my chest, "I was not implying such things, accept my apologies." I say, the refreshing cool of red dropping down my throat. This woman was quite interesting. The way her eyes skewer me lead me to believe so.
"Well, I do wish to finish this tale before the morrow, so…" she said, lingering on the book beneath her dainty fingers, "Thank you for the.. The bread. It was nice of you."
Taking a final look at the narrow face and pursing lips, I give the women a kind bow. The long strand of hair that refuses to be slacked back poking at my nose. I drown myself in the wine, and plunk the cup to the table, leaving a spare bit of change,
"Provide that to the server if you would, I best be off, then." The woman's stare was shifting between silver trinkets at her fingertips and myself. In my drift to my quarters, I catch her call the man to her. Well, that gives the impression she was honest, as some might take the coin for themselves.
Pushing the wooden door closed, I sigh. It seems I would not receive the answer of her resistance to the love spot this night. I would be lying to say I was not disappointed, however the night had not truly been a waste. The woman was quite endearing, so to speak.
Well, if our conversation—however short—did prove anything, it was that I wanted to know more of the woman attempting to reach her friend. As I lay in the silky sheets, I ponder just what to do with that information, and how to wedge a little further in the lady's good graces.
- Haley -
Well that was freckin weird. I think to myself. At least the bread was delectable. Only, I would not let the gratuity sway me. The Fenian Knight was unaware that I could read intentions. He was prodding for something, if only I could figure out what.
No, Briscella and I had much more important things to focus on, not a nosy Knight. We only were to stay another day. Avoiding him should be easy enough, then we would be off across Ireland, far away from Diarmuid ua Duibhne.
I close the book and drop my own tip for the lovely tender. Guess I won't be finishing the story as I was predicting, tonight. For a second, I stare at the rough edges of the book. It was worn, but not of mishandling. For a second, I forgot the handsome man who graced me with the titles—and for an even shorter second—my heart skips a beat.
—
Why did Briscella insist on leaving me alone? In a moment thought she would be taken advantage of, I was kind enough to burn my eyes and ears with her… shenanigans.
A knife clinks awkwardly against the wall.
I now have received at least three advances from the Fenian Knights—scratch that. Four now—as I shoo another man away. At least they were respectful in their approach, and disengaging.
A second knife takes its place on the chopping board that was the wall.
Waste precious morals on mind manipulation.
A third knife misses its mark.
"Gah, I risked so much for that woman, and she went to wander the town. Blasphemy!" My fourth mark slaps the wall, clicking on its way to the floor.
"My, I thought your skills were to be much better with a Knife." Says an amused, man's voice. Were the God's of Ireland laughing at me?
Dressed in a light red, sleeveless tunic that split at his waist, Diarmuid arrives at my side. Scratching at the back of the hairs that hug his neck, the Knight cocks a playful wink my way. Did the man have to be beautiful? It would make ignoring that obnoxious mole much easier.
I shoot him my most threatening glare, "I'm just distracted." I say, plucking more steel into my right hand.
"Indeed you are, and because of this, your stance is off." Watching the bewitching man come around my torso, he levels my arm with a firm—but gentle—grip of my thin wrist. His foot catches on my boot, spreading my legs apart. Warmth from his breath tickles my ear, bringing goose-flesh onto my once soft skin.
Instead of releasing me from his hold, his face is inches from mine, and with that smooth voice of his, he whispers, "Even when the strongest of enemies tests your inner strength, always aim to win." I scoff, trying to not be intimidated or as timid as I feel and toss the blade clean in the center. "Impressive. It is with great wonder I ask where a Lady learned such skills and why?"
Straightening myself, I cast my glance to the creaking floorboards above, "It is never too terrible to learn the skills necessary to save oneself. Especially if they were a woman."
The Knight chuckles, "I take it you and the other Lady are travelling without escort?"
What is with this guy? The others were plainly barraging me for a night they assumed I shared a bed with Diarmuid, but the man himself was persistent.
Shaking my head, my long hair sweeping air like a broom, I turn to jab my index finger into his hard chest, "Yes, and you keep plucking me for answers. Why?"
"Is it a crime to be curious?" I want to smack that cheeky grin off that pleasant face.
"No, but can you not tell when a woman does not want to be approached?" The look on his face actually made me believe he was offended. "Look, I don't mean to be brash. My friend disappeared, and there were things we had to discuss."
That confident grin turns soft, "I understand. I apologize as well for being so abrasive. You are just rather interesting."
Interesting? That screams trouble like a child throwing a tantrum. I was in no need to bring any attention to myself. There was enough interest centered around me already. No need to bring a Knight into that, however nice he may be.
Accepting his apology, I travel across the scraped timber flooring to collect the Knives that carved lines into this barren place and return them to their red bucket. Lifting the rope handle, I take the tub and stroll past the Knight that still refuses to leave.
"Thanks for the tip, I will apply it if need be. Enjoy the day." I say with finality, leaving the Knight whose stare I felt burning holes in the back of my dress to his business.
—
The sound of a wooden door slamming behind a woman in a frilly pink dress startles my attention away from the second title I was reading. Propping myself on to my elbows, the mangy sheets underneath crinkling from them, I lift an eyebrow. Briscella's twirling locks bounce as she spreads a map over the end of the mattress.
"We have issues. In my little whispering, it seems as though our main route past Kildare is blocked by some sort of.. Magical issues."
"Magical issues?" I parrot her, "What does that mean?"
"Not sure, Lady Haley. It seems as though even the townspeople are unsure. It is apparently marred with unrest, and we have urged to cease travel for the time being." Briscella says, nibbling on her thumbnail. "What shall we do?"
I glance at the map and study all the pathways to Ulster. "Could we cut through Westmeath instead?"
My friend's orbs widen. "Isn't that way dangerous?"
Well, she was accurate. For us two on our lonesome, the woodlands would eat us alive. Though what were we to do? It was imperative that we reach Ulster as quickly as possible. "What else can we do?"
"We could ask the Fianna.. One of those fine men would surely accept pay to escort us, no?"
I grit my teeth. Taking any of those men along for the journey would be too risky. She already left me to squabble with that Diarmuid fellow earlier. She had seen our entire encounter and thought naught to interrupt us.
"I am doing no such thing! You know how dangerous it would be given our circumstances." I say, the little patience I naturally don't have coming to a boil like broth in a pot.
Briscella only lets out a breath, patting down knots from her curls, "I do not believe them to be interested in bounties less they are assigned them, no?"
To hell if I knew. I paid no heed to Knights and whatever their codes were. That might be so, but in the laws they follow: it could still be possible if they perceive evil to take action. I needn't take the risk. "We cannot.. It would not bode well.."
The blonde threw her hands up in defeat, "Alright, I understand your.. Fear of the matter. But I do believe you should reconsider. I trust in your abilities, Haley, I just worry."
I nod my head, and break the book free from hiding under the map. It was probably a silly decision, and reckless, but the cost of being trapped under the reel of the bounty was far greater. We will continue our journey to Ulster, I just pray our endeavors won't end in tragedy.
—
A strange, eerie feeling woke me from my slumber. Oddly, it was colder than a winter's night in the room. I toss the blankets that were shared between myself and Briscella, and set my bare feet on the cool wood floor. Hairs prick on my arms and legs. Something was wrong.
The sound of snoring leads me to believe Briscella was fine, even after our little quarrel earlier, and I decide to investigate where the strange sensation of tingles is coming from.
Creaking my door shut, I travel across the balcony above the lobby below to reach the rickety stairs. Slowly, I make my way to the darkened lobby. That was strange— given the height of the moon, there should be someone manning the bar for any late drunkards.
Peering over the large bar, I saw a flicker of light in the kitchen area, but hear no evident sounds of life. Okay, this was getting really strange. I part my mouth to call for someone, when a hand lays upon my long gown. I startle, but relax when I realize who is behind me. Funny, I didn't hear him creeping up on me.
"You sense it too, miss Hales?" Why did the Knight Diarmuid have to show up everywhere I went? Still, maybe having a Knight handle the strange essence I feel would be better.
"Yeah.. And there seems to be no workers, either… do you.. Find that strange, sir Diarmuid?"
"Indeed I do. You should return your quarters." Facing the bulk of man being drowned out by the shadows, I nod. He would be better suited for any—
"Look out!" Without thinking, I shove the unsuspecting towering man backwards, but his warrior's strength only moves him a smidgen. I swear under my breath as the creature hanging from the ceiling nicks my exposed shoulder with its needle like teeth.
Quick as a cheetah, Diarmuid swatted the dark monster like a fly. It hid the flooring with a slap, and bones crush underneath his toes.
I let out the breath I withheld and thumb the little hole on my shoulder. The thought of it being poisoned crossed my mind, but after turning my suspicious gaze to the remains splattered on the floor, I recognize what it was.
A dry hand pulls the robe correctly to my collar bone, and brushes free strands of chestnut over my shoulder, "I am in your debt, my Lady, for that creature was surely aiming for my neck." Flaxen eyes drop to the bat then refocus on the speck now covered by my sleepwear, "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, I am fine." I examine the ceiling above, and see no more of those pesky familiars, but worry there to be more, "Sir Diarmuid, might I stay, after all? I believe there to be more."
"Do you know what this is?" He says, leaning to examine the corpse that crumbled under his foot.
"Yeah, they're familiars. That specific kind is used to drain the life force of people by sucking their blood… " I shudder at the thought, "Where there is one: there is many."
Standing firmly, Diarmuid nods. Hopping over the counter, the Knight pulls a small knife from the cupboards, offering it to me over the counter, "I believe you would work best with this."
Nabbing the weapon I nod. Well, so much for not bringing attention to myself.
ooooooooo
This story is quite fun to write. It's also nice to write confident, pre-Grainne Diarmuid. Reading some of his stories, man, the guy is interesting not gonna lie lol I hope you are liking it so far. See you in the next update :) And as always,
Enjoy!