The sun was fairly high in the sky before she had reached what appeared to be the main house in the village. Children had been following her for a time now, peeking around doorways and clambering onto fences to follow her. She grinned a little; at least the children seemed to enjoy her presence.
She couldn't say the same about the adults, though. The few who had seen her walking in had narrowed their eyes at her, and a few had even gone as far as to turn their backs on her. She wasn't exactly sure what she had been expecting, but this was a little harsh, she felt. She'd have to keep sharp, just in case. Regardless, she strolled up to the large building – which she noted, thankfully, was an inn – and cracked the door open.
"Hello? Anyone here?"
A small pudgy man shuffled out to meet her, "Ah? Yes? Can I 'elp you?"
Alanna nodded. "Yeah, have you got any rooms free? And a place in the stables for my horse?" the man blinked, "Also, if you wouldn't mind, I'd be willing to purchase some provisions off you."
"Ah, no. No rooms free. Sorry." Alanna frowned; there was no one else in sight. She'd not seen another traveler on the road for days, and the looks she got when coming into town gave her the impression that outsiders' weren't exactly commonplace around here. "But I'd be willing to trade for some supplies, yes, yes." He beckoned her to follow.
"My horse?" she queried warily, "What should I do with her?"
"Oh, right." The man shook his head in embarrassment, "Sorry." He stepped past her, showing her around to the side of the inn. Opening the large doors, he stepped through into the stables, and she followed. As she had expected, the place was empty. Bales of hay lined the sides of the stalls, but there was not another horse in sight. "I'm Bayle. Please, stable your horse." she did so, unfastening some of the belts and straps holding tack to the animal.
Bayle gave the horse an approving look. "Fine animal."
"Thank you."
"How much did you pay for 'er?"
"I didn't," Alanna replied, "She was a gift." The man looked surprised. "To mark the end of my training." She clarified.
"Training?"
She nodded slightly. She felt somewhat self-conscious, but supposed that it did no harm to tell the man. "I am Shang."
His eyes almost popped out of his head. "You? But you're a…" he swallowed tightly, before clutching his hand to his forehead. "Mithros! A Shang 'ere in Iselton!"
"Isleton?" Alanna asked, ignoring what the man almost said, "Is that the name of this village?" the man nodded, "I've heard of it, I think. Two weeks ride east of Corus, right?"
"Three, more likely." The man clarified, "There's been an increase o' bandits in the area, so the roads aren't safe to travel swiftly. Uh, not that you'd need protection, uhh…m'Lady."
"I'm not a noble," Alanna made a vexed sound, "My name is Alanna. And what do you mean about bandits?"
Bayle looked uncomfortable all of a sudden. "Oh, nothing, no. Just the usual problems, really."
"Are you sure? It's not anything I could help you with, is it?" the man's eyes shined for a moment, as if he wanted to smile. But he merely shook his head stiffly. "Please tell me, Bayle. I've noticed that this – Isleton – doesn't seem to like outsiders. Is that related to the bandits?"
He grimaced. "Uhh, no. No. Not re- No." he was stuttering, and Alanna fixed him with a level look. "Well, uh. Maybe." All of a sudden it seemed a dam had burst inside of him, words tumbled out almost faster than she could make out. "It's not the bandits that worry us! Well, not really. They's awful, no mistaking that. But it's Lord Malven that really worries us! 'E took over from his father when 'e perished; oh but 'e was a good Lord, let us keep to ourselves, always concerned for the smallest hamlet in 'is writ, he was. But 'is son don't look beyond Malven itself! We've tried to contact 'im, get 'im to move on the bandits in the region, but 'e just ignores us! There's even rumours that 'e's the one behind the bandits; that 'e's using them to line out his coffers with extra money. Oh, Mithros! But none o' us want to complain about him, I mean. 'E is the Rightful Lord, and 'e's supposed to be on good terms with the Prince 'imself! What can we do?" the man trailed off, somewhat startled at all that he had revealed to this stranger.
"So you don't like outsiders coming in, since they could be bandits?" she asked, confused. Bayle shook his head, before glancing around conspiratorially.
"We've 'eard talk that there's…" he lowered his voice, "Spies about. Lord Malven's men. Reporting back to 'im."
She sighed. This 'Lord Malven' sounded the epitome of everything she hated about nobility. Excess and exploitation. She wouldn't be surprised if he met up to the third 'E', etiquette, either. "Look, Bayle, could I stay here? Just tonight, if need be. I've been traveling for weeks, and would really appreciate a soft bed to sleep in. And a nice meal." Cooking wasn't really her forte, after all.
A smile spread across his face. "Oh, yes, yes m'Lady. Sorry, err, Alanna." He patted Swift on the neck. "I 'ave a good feeling about you, I do."
***
Bayle had fixed her up in the best room he had, before announcing that he'd get his wife to cook her a meal that she'd not soon forget. He also told her that she could take anything from the storeroom she wanted, with adequate restitution, of course. She thanked him, before retiring to the room for a while, kicking off her boots and laying back down on the bed. She closed her eyes for a moment, her fingers twining around the sliver chain of Thom's pendant.
Oh Thom!
Her eyes opened, and the sky out of the window was a deep red. She frowned, before rolling to her feet, thumping her feet into her boots as she did so. She found a bowl of soup on a side table, with a note stating that Bayle had found her asleep, and did not wish to wake her. Cursing herself for falling asleep, she wandered out of the doorway and down to the main room of the inn to apologise to the innkeeper. As she made her way down the stairs, she noticed loud voices coming from outside.
…"just give us the 'orse, old man." Came a particularly grating voice, "We saw 'er – the young missus – ridin' in on it, and it looked a pretty one. So just tell us where it is, and well take it, and be off. You dun have to get 'urt, this time, we just want the 'orse!"
"I don't know what you're talking about, eh?" Bayle's frightened voice answered, "The girl did come by 'ere, yeah, but she went off again! 'Onest!"
"Then 'ow come we ain't seen 'er going out?"
"I dunno, maybe you ain't looking 'ard enough!" Alanna winced, it seemed as if
the grating man had punched Bayle for his cheek. She decided that it would be
rude of her not to go and speak to the men who apparently wanted Swift, and
checking that her boots were laced properly, made her way out the door.
"You said it was a fine animal, Bayle," the men standing around were startled by her sudden entrance, their leader releasing his grip on Bayle, "but I didn't think I'd have people looking to take it off my hands this soon." The men had regained their poise, if it could be called that, and she took a good look at them. There were three of them that she could see, but it wouldn't have surprised her if there were more out of the city limits. Three men with swords and bows, wearing what appeared to be leather jerkins. The leader – Grating Guy – was a tall man with a sour look on his face. Seeing that it was merely the 'young missus', his lip curled into a sneer and he waved his men back.
"Aw, look. It's the girl, the one you," he spat at Bayle, "said weren't 'ere. You lied to me, Bayle, and I dun like liars."
"But you're fine with pathetic lowlifes, I take it?" Alanna shot back. She didn't normally like to chat with her opponent, it seemed to unnerve them when she remained silent, but this guy was begging for it. He sneered at her again, and strode towards her, attempting to look menacing.
"Now, what t' do with you, the black 'aired beauty." Alanna rolled her eyes, "I think we'll take your 'orse, and we'll take you too, back to the camp, and 'ave a bit 'o fun with you, eh lads? I think she'll be a bit 'o a firecracker, not like the other girls." the other men laughed, while the leader shot her a lascivious grin.
She curled up her face in disgust. This was the kind of person who made the rest of humanity look bad, and she couldn't muster a shred of regret for what she knew was coming. Instead of lashing out, however, she simply went on in a smooth tone; "I'm going to give you one chance to leave this place. Leave here, go back to your Lord Malven, and tell him that Iselton doesn't need him any more."
"Now, sweetie," the man gave her a mocking grin, his followers almost rolling in laughted, "Why would we go to this 'Lord Malven' and tell 'im this? Are you going to 'it me if I don't?"
"No." I'll kill you. Alanna mentally added, astonished to find that she honestly believed it. What he had said about 'other girls' made her see red. The man's grin widened, and he put his hand on the hilt of his sword, beginning to draw it out.
"That's a good girl, now why don't you get yourself ready, and we'll take you out t-" he cut off as Alanna lithely stepped into his guard, slamming her hand down on the half drawn sword, slamming it back into the hilt. Her other hand slammed upwards, catching the man on the chin. His mouth shut with a painful click, and his eyes widened – it appeared that he'd bitten into his tongue. His hands flew to his jaw in alarm, and she skipped backwards away from him for a moment.
The men behind him were starting to stop their laughter now, and at least one of them had already reached for his sword. She'd have to do this quickly. She quickly launched herself at the large man, left foot catching him on his wide chest, toppling him over. She fell with him, coming up with her knees on either side of his head. She reached down quickly, grapping the sides of his head, and twisted. Eyes filled with rapidly fading disbelief greeted her as she let go of his head, pushing herself to her feet.
The other two men were staring at their leader's body, eyes and mouths wide open. She took the opportunity to slink over to the one who was already grasping his sword, taking his sword hand in both of hers. With a quick twist, she snapped the mans' wrist, grabbed the falling sword, and slammed it into his chest. She turned to the other man, pulling the sword out with a wet slurp as she twisted her torso, and held the red blade steadily towards him.
"Go back to your camp. Tell them what happened here tonight, and tell them that if any one of them continues to bandit the area, that they'll suffer the same fate." He just stared at her. "Go!" He ran.
As soon as he had disappeared from her sight, she dropped the sword to the ground, sinking to her knees alongside it. She breathed in huge gulps of air, anything to make her head stop spinning. She'd killed someone, on purpose. She'd accidentally killed a fellow Initiate during her training, but Shang training was hard. People died every year, it wasn't seen as being her fault, though Liam had worried about her slightly for a week afterwards. Worried for her, not the boy who had died. But this, this was different. She remembered the man's head in her hands as she turned his neck around – she'd literally held his life in her hands, and had snuffed it out without thought. It was a strange sense of…power, that she felt; having absolute control over the man's future.
Frowning, she wondered why she was thinking of it like that. She hadn't meant to kill him, had she? He had made her angry, so very angry, with his talk of rape and her remembering Bayle's words earlier – thinking that this man, and other's liked him, had ruined the lives of so many people, she just lashed out. Maybe she had intended to kill him, at that. She looked over at the man's face; that look of disbelief still evident. So he'd thought her merely a harmless girl, had he? Maybe those who heard about this would think a little more about forcing themselves on women in the region.
Sighing, she raised herself to her feet, and noticed Bayle's scared expression. She looked down at the blood on her hands, noticing the slight trembling in them, before she told him calmly that she'd only stay for the night, and be gone out of the village by morning.
"Oh," he replied. "Oh, mistress. I thank you for this. I really do." He didn't look particularly pleased, however. "But I worry 'bout you, now. 'E," he motions to the burly leader, "Was one of the 'igh ranking sorts, I spose you'd say. They'll be wanting to get you back, oh mark my words. Yes, yes." He was wringing his hands together in fear, before noticing that she was still standing still. Staring at her hands as if there was nothing else in the world. "Miss? I-it might be best if you come in, now."
"Pardon? Oh, yes. Thank you Bayle." He gave her a weak smile, before opening the door for her. She noticed that he tried to stay quite a distance from her as she passed.
"Don't you worry, miss. We'll get this cleaned up, and I'll bring you some soup." She nodded her thanks, making her way up the stairs as she heard Bayle call out for some of his neighbours to help him move the bodies.
***
She lay awake all night, thinking back to what she had done earlier. She knew that she was probably justified in killing the man; he had almost undoubtedly ordered the deaths of numerous innocent people, not to mention destroying the lives of many more, but she couldn't help wondering what would have happened had she just immobilized him. A touch of pressure to two points near the neck, and he would have been gasping for air, unable to do anything.
Still, as Liam had told her many times over, those kinds of things were often too fancy for their own good – he'd told her how he had attempted to immobilize an opponent during the middle of a fight, only for the man to somehow shrug it off and tackle him from behind. No, better to stick with what you knew would take someone out of the fight.
Clutching the pendant between her clean hands, she stared up at the ceiling, memorizing the man's face as she told herself over and over again that she had done the right thing.
***
"I killed him."
She stood over a black shape – a man? – clutching a bloody sword. A pool of blood was quickly spreading from the dead body, moving across the stone floor seemingly with a mind of it's own.
"He would have killed you. He was planning to kill me, too." She looked up, it was the Fantasy-man again, his eye's now sorrowful as he watched her. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her softly before taking her into his arms. "You did the right thing, he was an evil man."
Sighing into his chest, she stuttered, "But I-I could have…"
"What?" he asked he softly, "Knocked him unconscious? Tripped him up?" he shook his head, "No. You were in the heat of combat; you didn't know what would happen. Besides," he added scornfully, "he used his Gift against you. I don't think anyone can hold it against you that you killed him."
"He didn't use his Gift." She said, slowly. "I don't think he was Gifted."
The Fantasy man frowned, his clear blue eyes puzzled. "Alanna, of course he had the Gift. He was the most accomplished Sorcerer in Tortal, remember?" she shook her head in denial, in puzzlement, before pulling out of his embrace. Staring up into his handsome face, she again realised that she had no idea who he was.
"Who are you?"
"Mistress Alanna."
She frowned. "Huh?"
"Mistress Alanna!"
"Mistress Alanna!" rough hands shook her shoulders.
Her eye's shot open, her hands reaching for the person attacking her. Right arm snaking towards their throat, left hand balling into a fist a-
Seeing Bayle's terrified expression, she quickly pulled both arms down to her sides again.
"Sorry! It's just," she searched for a way to explain it, and found she couldn't. Blushing, she apologized again. Bayle waved it away tremulously.
"Ahh, yes, yes. I'm fine. My fault." He nodded to himself, "But there's someone downstairs who wishes to see you, Mistress Alanna!" She frowned, "Lord Malven 'imself!" he added, paling.
She too felt a little queasy. It had been her plan to slip out of the village at first light, to ensure that when the Lord Malven descended upon Isleton, she had distanced herself from the people there, hopefully forcing the man to follow her away from the village. How did he get here so quickly? Muttering a curse, and deciding that it probably wouldn't do for her to escape out the window, she told Bayle to go downstairs and tell this Lord Malven that she would be out shortly.
As he left, she put her face into her hands and groaned. She hadn't really wanted to get involved in this in the first place, to be honest. She'd felt some kindlings of wanting to be a hero when she heard Bayle's tale last night of the bandits, true. But what happened after that, with the three men, had made her regret ever stopping in Isleton. She felt for the farmers, to be sure, but this was proving too complicated for her. She just wanted to get to Corus and deal with matters there.
But life isn't simple, she told herself. Things change. Pulling on some breeches and lacing up her boots, she strapped on her sword and went downstairs to meet the infamous Lord Malven.
***
He was an ugly man, unruly hair framing a face dominated by a hideous burn mark. She had no idea what caused it, but she had no doubt that the man in front of her had taken pleasure in exacting his revenge for it. He didn't seem the type to let things slide easily, which was probably why he was here in person.
As she stepped down off the last step, he noticed her, giving her a look that was both incredulous and dismissive at the same time. "This is the warrior that killed Aziz and Tylon?" he said disbelievingly. "She's tiny!"
Alanna giggled to herself. "From all accounts," she lied – she had never really heard of him before yesterday, after all; "You of all people should know that size does not make the person."
He turned bright red, his left eye twitching in anger. Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to insult him straight off the mark. His left hand had moved towards his sword hilt, fingers closing and opening along its lacquered length.
"Murderer!" He spat, "Murdering bitch! Common, murdering bitch!" his emphasis clearly placing 'common' as the worst of his insults. "I'll have your hide for what you did; your head! – And I'll enjoy doing it all the more for that remark!"
She rolled her eyes. "Is that all? Bayle, you said it was important. Maybe I should have slept in for a while." Oh well. If they're already angry, not much more to do than try to get them angrier. She could almost hear Liam's voice – Emotion is the bane of the fighter. Harden the heart! Bayle's mouth dropped open at her words, and Lord Malven quivered with rage. She was a bit worried that he'd pull out his sword here and start attacking her, but – no. He was a Knight, and he would respect their traditions. Well, to a point, anyway. She was, to Malven's mind, a commoner, so he shouldn't attack her in the first place. Doubly so because of her gender.
But she had a feeling that he'd be attempting to kill her himself. He was the 'hands on' type, luckily for her. She wouldn't have to worry about injuring some poor sod that was only following orders. She just hoped the man was stupid enough to challenge her.
"That is…! The utter gall of you, woman! I'll have your head for this!" and with that, he turned, walking towards the doorway. "If you step outside this inn, I will take my sword to you myself!"
She grinned. Near enough a challenge. She had to give him credit – he'd allowed her a way out of the contest, thus saving face in attacking a female commoner, but he knew that she would understand what it was. She gave a slight nod towards him, and watched as the men who had accompanied Malven, four or five men, followed him outside.
Bayle stood in the middle of the room, a quizzical expression on his face. When he noticed her looking at him, he jumped slightly. "Ah, Miss Alanna. You're not going to, uh; kill 'im too are you? Not that any of us would really mind, no, no, just that you might get the King on your heel if you do kill one o' 'is nobles."
She put on a show of thinking for a moment, tapping her chin with her finger. "No, Bayle. I'll just rough him up a little. Tell him to shape up. Hopefully he'll be so furious about being beaten by a woman that he'll keep it to himself, not getting the King involved." Bayle nodded, and she went trotted outside after the most Dishonourable Lord Malven.
***
Of course, even she didn't know how quickly the 'fight' would be over. She knew she would beat him, to be Shang was to be the best, but still. She was actually a shade dubious as to whether or not Lord Malven actually was a Knight.
Putting a foot out the door, she had immediately realised that Malven wasn't with the rest of his men across from her. A scream from beside her betrayed his position, and she pivoted smoothly to avoid the knife blade that Malven was swinging towards her shoulder. Hands like lightning; she grasped the man's arm, using his own momentum to overextend the strike, burying the knife blade deep into the flesh of Malven's own thigh.
The man's eyes rolled back in pain, and fell to the ground. Alanna rolled her eyes, both at the ease of the maneuver, and of the rather effeminate shrieking sound coming from Malven's throat. She sank to her knees.
"You really are an idiot, aren't you?" she asked him, before grasping the hilt of the knife. "Now, let's talk about the way you treat these people." She violently jerked the knife to one side, causing the man to scream again. His men began to advance towards her; "Tell your goons to back off, Malven."
Lord Malven looked at her for a moment, before spitting out "Kill the bitch!"
"Wrong answer, Malvy." She grinned, jerking the knife again, eliciting yet another screech.
"Ok! Ok! Get back! Don't touch her!"
She smiled wildly, "Good. You can see reason when it's, well, stabbing you in the thigh." She laughed at her own joke, Malven looked at her warily. "Anyway. I'm going to be keeping an eye on what happens around here, after I leave I mean. And if I hear that things are still pretty bad up here…well. Let's just say that this knife will be about a foot higher." She traced her fingers up his chest, laying them around his chest. She pointed the fingers of one hand, jabbing him in the heart with them, almost giggling when he jumped back in shock. With a look at Malven's men hanging around, she quickly wrenched the dagger out of their Lord's thigh.
"Aaah! Vicious cow!"
She just laughed at him, before waving the knife at the other men. "If I were you, I'd be looking for a new job." She tossed the knife to the ground, "And if I hear about one single blade of grass that you trample on the way out of here, I will personally come and smack you all around a little."
And with that, she walked back into the inn, slamming the door as she did, a self-satisfied smirk playing on her features.
***
It was the next morning, and after a day of being toasted as the 'hero of Isleton', she had decided that it was probably best for her to get going, before she got too used to this kind of treatment. She did enjoy herself, certainly, be she couldn't help thinking that she was somewhat of a fraud. After all, anyone could have done what she did, Malven was an idiot. Admittedly, an idiot with no morals and a lot of gold, but she just didn't let that intimidate her, that's all. Nothing heroic in that.
So she harnessed Swift, and pulled herself up onto the saddle. Bayle had packed the horse with enough provisions for the entire season, it had seemed, and she had to actually take a few of them out to fit her other belongings on. The ride out was far different than the ride in, with the villagers giving her big smiles, waving at her, thanking her.
