Celine
The young woman lay on her back, staring up at the artfully decorated ceiling. Her long red hair fanned out around her like a rising sun. She was a tall but slender woman, with elegant features, high and proud cheekbones, and intelligent green eyes. She would have been quite beautiful if it were now for the ugly bruises tarnishing her pail skin. Some were old, green, and fading. Others were much newer, some so new that they hadn't even fully formed yet.
It was Celine's third week in what she only thought of as the cell. The cell was a quite lavishly decorated dormitory high in the citadel. This was more luxury than she, born as a lowly serf, had ever experienced. However, the pretty dresses, comfortable beds, and dwarven crafted jewelry of silver and gold could not hide the truth. She was dressed as well as a princess might be, however she was far from one.
Four months after her fifteenth birthday the king of Palim had offered her a position as a mistress. He hadn't accepted a no. It had become so unbearable that she had tried to flee the only home she had ever known, unfortunately, the king's men had discovered her before she had any chance of boarding a ship.
They had dragged her back to court, punished her, and then imprisoned her in the dungeon for a month before moving her to these new accommodations. The kings wife had died during her imprisonment, and how he visited her almost every single evening to take what he pleased. How she wasn't with a child yet,...perhaps the gods were with mercy.
According to legends, the dragon riders had abolished slavery by the strength of their arms. That didn't help Celine. For all tense and purposes, she was a slave. She had played her cards, even written a letter to an old friend, begging for aid. But that had been months ago, and her please had gone unanswered.
The king had left her three hours ago but still, she lay on her back, staring off into the distance to a place only she could see. After he had left she had washed herself, gotten dressed again, and waited for the soreness in her legs and abdomen to fade. By now she had considered ending her own life more often than she could think. Why she hadn't yet, she did not know. Perhaps she simply lacked the stomach to hang herself from her four-poster bed or throw herself out of the small window.
For hours she lost herself in memories of her earlier childhood, they had been happier years. She was so far lost in her misery she almost missed the door being unbolted. Almost. Had her tormentor come back for more? Celine's heart started thundering in her chest, but she tried to force herself to stay calm.
Finally, the door swung open, and the low thud of heavy boots on stone echoed through the room. "Celine!" a voice she hadn't heard in many years greeted her. It had changed, grown much deeper, and richer.
Not quite sure if her mind was playing tricks on her she looked over and spotted a very tall and young muscular man, with wide shoulders. His hair was a thick blond, cleanly shaven, and he had very familiar blue eyes. He was only slightly older than her, she guessed he would now be seventeen or eighteen.
His bulk was protected by a very fine-meshed silvery long-sleeved chain mail and, half-hidden under a dark green, all of it kept together by a thick arming belt with a very expensive-looking sword with an emerald in the pommel was sheathed to a heavy arming belt.
After all these years it took her a moment to recognize him.
"Khaladon," she asked in disbelief. Conflicting feelings of bitterness, bitterness and hope fluttered in her stomach.
"This is not the time to catch up, we must leave," he warned.
For a moment she didn't move, just staring at him in shock. "Get to your feet woman, we'll have the entire palace guard upon us before long!" he tried to rouse her from her stupor. "Unless you now wish to stay, that is."
Suddenly reality caught up to her and she hastily sat up, only to groan in pain. She bit back her tears and rose on unsteady feet regardless. Just as she thought her legs would give away the way Khaladon caught her arm and kept her on her feet. Tears of pain and also hope ran down her cheeks.
"Easy there? You look rough, can you run?" he asked, with concern written across her face.
"I'm fine, we can go," she assured him and looked away to hide her bruised face.
She couldn't hide the tears that were running down her cheeks, despite her very best efforts and almost in spite herself she couldn't stop herself from giving her childhood friend a tight embrace.
"You came," was all she managed to press forward between barely suppressed sobs. It had been months and truth be told she had long since given up hope.
"Of course, I came. Your letter just took a while to get to me."
Just then a tall and slender figure silently stepped into the room. She was about to cry out in alarm but even in her worn-out state, her breath caught as she looked up into the most beautiful face she had ever seen. It was as if an artist and sculped his features out of ice. This newcomer had shoulder-long silver blond hair, cold gray eyes, and slanted pail eyebrows. What struck her most were the pointed ears though. She realized that this was an elf.
Like Khaladon he was clad in armor, only his was fashioned from a silvery chain mail only poorly hidden by a dark cloak. He too was armed, but his was drawn and he also had a mighty warbow was strung across his back. It might just have been a trick of the light, but she could have sworn that the long blade was a shade of kyanite blue. Blood netted blade, hinting that someone had recently felt its bite.
The elf barely spared her a glance. "Atra nosu ganga fram!" the elf snapped. His voice was clear, and oddly melodic but even without understanding his words, she could hear the urgency in his voice. "Letta fricai horna!"
Khaladon fell silent for a moment and seemed to be listening and then nodded. "Nen ono weohnata fricai!"
"We must leave now, can you run?" he asked Celine.
She only faintly nodded and let Khaladon half lead, half dragged her from the room and down the citadels. Now she too could hear armored boots thundering on stone floors and the alarmed shouts of palace guards. They followed the elf down the dark hallways and even she, who had grown up here soon lost track of were they were running.
"Halt there!" a deep gruff voice yelled just as they rounded a corner only to find themselves face to face with four men in heavy plate armor, armed with maces and swords, blocked their way.
For just in instance Celine's heart sank, already fearing that her quest for freedom would be cut short so soon. But the elf rushed forward in a silver blur, a blade whistling through the darkness, and the sound of steel biting into bone and flesh. The elf seemed to move as if he were made out of liquid, moving through them with more speed and agility than should have been possible. A heartbeat or two later the elf stood in the midst of four dead men.
"Forgive my lack of manners, Celine. You are simply too slow," Khaladon announced. Before she could ask what he was talking about Khaladon unceremoniously threw her over his shoulder as if she were only a child's toy.
She cried in pain and surprise and a moment later Khaladon was running after the elf at a brisk pace, every single step of his passing through her abdomen with a painful jolt. Mid run she heard that unmistakable metallic scratching sound that a sword made as it was drawn from its sheath.
She would have expected them to descend towards the gates or some hidden sallyways but instead, her two saviors seemed to climb up endless flights of stairs. Just as she was asking herself why they made it so far unchallenged a deep warhorn called out and a moment later heavy bells started chiming the alarm somewhere high up above.
"Not so fast," Celine clasped but instead Khaladon only cursed and seemed to speed up even more.
Suddenly they burst through a door and Celine realized that they were standing on the citadel's battlement. To her right was the citadel proper. To the left would have been the city itself, had it not mostly been covered under a thick blanket of mist with only the roofs of the very tallest building visible. "I'm going to put you down," Khaladon warned, and a moment later she was dumped to the floor.
"I'll slow them down. Varitan, get her to the square tower," he yelled and raised his weapon before jamming the door shut and throwing his weight against it.
The elf shrugged and grabbed her arm. To her surprise, his grip was like Iron and this time she was very much dragged along the battlements. She soon lost track of Khaladon in the darkness.
"Archers!" someone yelled from the battlements on the other side of the courtyard and to her dismay, she spotted fifty archers lining up with longbows raised.
"Look out!" she cried at the elf.
"Lose!" the voice yelled again and a moment later dozens of arrows were hurtling at them.
The elf, Varitan knelt down behind the walls Khaladon, forcing her down. A moment late arrows whistled past overheard, others bouncing off the other side of the crenellations.
Then they were off again.
"Not so fast," she gasped, completely out of breath but the elf ignored her, dragging her along.
Suddenly two more guards appeared ahead, dressed in full amour and armed with spears.
"Stay down," the elf ordered and stood to meet them, raising his sword.
"If you wish to live then do not challenge my passage," the elf warned, his voice as cold and unforgiving.
She recognized the two men, no boys. She had grown up with them, and they had always gotten along well. Then she remembered what the elf had done with the four men from earlier.
"Celine?" the guard yelled, clearly not expecting to see her.
"Run!" she screamed at them. "He'll kill you!"
The older of the two guards, a handsome young man with dark hair raised his own sword with determination written across his face. Karlson had courted her four years ago, but she had ended up turning around. Now she feared that his soft spot for her might become his undoing. "Unhand her, elf! You are trapped," he warned.
"No Karlson! Run!" she yelled at him. Unfortunately, he stood firm. The second guard, a young man no older than her so around sixteen or seventeen looked a lot less steadfast than his companion.
"Your courage is worthy of note," the elf announced calmly. To her dismay, she realized that reinforcements were rushing upstairs and closing on them quickly. "But stand aside now or I shall consign your soul to oblivion," the fair warrior then warned and raised a hand, the palm facing up. Suddenly a bright blue flame lit up in his open hand. Celine cringed back from the heat and bright light.
"What did I miss?" Khaladon announced brightly, suddenly appearing behind them.
"Prince Khaladon?" Karlson suddenly recognized her savior.
"Ah Karlson, a pleasure to see you. Just came by to rescue Celine here, would you mind getting out of the way? Otherwise, we'll have to go through you."
"You could never defeat me Khaladon," Karlson warned, and to her dismay, Karlson's resolve seemed to harden.
"Times have changed," Khaladon replied and brought his own sword up. "And perhaps you might even best me. But my friend you can strike you down with ease."
"I don't have to defeat you, I only need to distract you until the rest of the citadel watch arrives," Karlson reminded them.
"I grow tired of this," Varitan announced and made a step forward, finally releasing her arm.
"Please don't," she begged.
Just then a thundering, earsplitting roar filled the night and suddenly the citadel became quiet indeed.
"Dragon!" someone yelled in alarm.
"I fear you are mistaken, it is not us who is trapped, but you," he mused, an inappropriate amount of amusement entering Kaladon's voice.
Karlson turn so pail that she could even see it in the light of the torch he was holding as understanding dawned on him.
Her heart thundering Celine scanned the darkness. Two giant dark shadows moving through the darkness, rushing towards them at terrifying speed.
"Archers, aim for the dragons," that guard's voice yelled. Now she recognized the voice as Captain Giddeon, the leader of the guards.
"Fire at will!" he roared.
Musical twangs filled the night and fifty arrows rushed off into the darkness.
Suddenly the dragons were upon them and around half of the fifty archers were suddenly consumed by a furious blue inferno, so bright that she had to shield her eyes, and so hot that she feared her skin might burn.
Just then her vision went black and she felt strong arms catching her as darkness took her.
Ignore the state of editing, I am using FF to save the drafts for this story because my other place is,...ahm unreliable apparently.