*I do not own the Inheritance Cycle…Also, penguins.*
One Too Many Thoughts
Arya sat on her bed, contemplating the situation at hand. One thousand lives were lost, all for the sake of one. That ignorant fool of a boy and his cursed infatuation! How long will it last until he realizes it's not real, and does something irreparable? Why must Fate hate me so? What have I done to earn the responsibility of breaking a child's heart and dream? Arya sighed and massaged her temples. It has only been a couple hours since I have awoken, and yet, I already have a burden upon my shoulders once more. She inhaled deeply in an effort to calm herself, and exhaled slowly, making a slight whistling sound.
How could she let something like this happen? Why hadn't she been strong enough to fend for herself? She was an elf; strong, majestic, fierce. To be beaten by a human is a disgrace. But that soldier…he was not normal by any means. He had been aiming for something else, or rather someone else. But who is the real question. No sooner than she had thought that than memories started to swarm around her mind, engulfing it until everything on the outside was shut out…
The clanging of metal and battle cries was all around. Empire soldiers wearing black armor mixed in with the silver of the Varden. Arya slashed a man's arm off, just as he tried to kill a Varden soldier. He screamed in pain as blood spurted from a newly formed stump before he was quickly silenced, his feeble attempts to breathe came out as a gurgle.
No…I cannot die here! Not now! What will happen to Finna? And the children…oh the poor children. What will happen when news of my death reaches them? His vision started dim into a comforting darkness until the sounds of battle faded. The soldier slowly closed his eyes as he thought in bitter remorse, So, this is this how it ends then; defeated by a mere woman? Well my children, Finna…know that I have always loved you all. My time grows short, and now I must say my last good bye.
His eyes grew heavy, fluttering shut with the scene of a blood-red sunset burned into his mind. His chest gave one last shuttering heave before he became still, forever encased in the grips of Death.
Arya watched impassively as the soldier died before moving on to the next person who dared challenge her. He was wearing standard battle armor; chest plate, shin guards, and anything else he could scrounge up. But his helmet struck her as odd, if anything else. It had the symbol of the Empire, yet as a whole, it resembled a dove.
How ironic that this soldier is fighting in a war, yet his helmet signifies peace. Well then, Arya thought, just one more arrogant soldier to get rid of.
She watched the soldier from afar, silently calculating her moves out. He came nearer, and nearer, until he was only about a hundred or so feet away, onyx helmet gleaming in the fiery sun. Slowly, he turned his head towards her, grinning wickedly before charging, emitting a battle cry from deep within his throat. The soldier raised his sword and struck at Arya, causing her to slide back from the blow. She quickly retaliated, shaking off her shock as she did so.
Just who is this person? Arya narrowed her eyes in suspicion while she tried to break into his mind.
What? Arya thought as she hit a solid steel wall. How is this possible? An ordinary human cannot be capable of this!
In a futile attempt to catch the mysterious man off guard, Arya spoke a word of the Ancient Language, blinding him. She quickly dove knowing her time of opportunity would run out soon, and thrust her sword towards his heart. The sound of steel against steel met her ears once more. Arya growled in frustration. This man simply would not die! Her energy was slowly dwindling while this man did not even seem break a sweat.
The soldier saw an opening from behind and drove his sword forward, straight into his opponent's gut.
Arya gave a shuddering gasp as she looked down to see the blade protruding from her stomach, dark blood dripping off slowly. The dove-helmeted soldier savagely ripped his foil from her gut, ensuing all the more damage. She coughed once, spitting out blood, and as if in slow motion, she fell to the ground, hair billowing about, and face-planted. Faintly, she heard the man walk past her and towards his next opponent; the gasp of horror told her all she needed to know to whom exactly was behind her before the welling blackness caught up with her.
Of course there would have been an assassin during a battle. The chaos and death is perfect concealment for such a thing; it would go unnoticed until a death count was done. But the question was why had the man tried to kill a mere soldier. Sure, the soldier would have gotten in his way, but the dove-helmeted man's gait sounded purposeful, as if he had the intent of killing the man was his only job, and she had gotten in his way.
Was there something special about him? Or was the man just another hindrance to his main purpose?
Arya groaned in frustration. There were so many questions with too little answers. Why did everything have to be so difficult?
Arya got up from her cot and strode out of her tent, intent on finding the mysterious soldier.
But is he still alive…?
*Keep on reading.*