Their eyes meet for a moment, and she knows it only lasts a fraction of a second, but she knows it feels an age. Costia eyes the way her feet move, the way her stance changes and the way the blade sings through the air before her. And the woman lunges, her feet kick up the iced rock in distraction and she swipes her sword.
And Costia waits. Her gaze hardens and she pauses for only long enough that the woman has committed to the attack and then Costia moves. Her sword slashes out with a ferocity, her gaze snaps to the hand that moves to the woman's belt as she goes to draw her knife, and Costia moves with her, her feet kicking out at the woman's leg before they crash together.
Costia feels the gentle prickle of the blade is it snakes against the forearm she sacrifices in order to grasp the woman's hand as it closes around her knife. Costia's head snaps forward hard enough for the woman to curse out, blood already wetting her lips, but Costia spares her hardly a thought as she slips her arm under the woman's chin, as she jerks back harshly and as she knees her in the ribs.
And the woman crumples, she scrambles on the ice ground beneath her feet and she tries to find her feet, but Costia pounces, her sword slashes out at the woman's own, the blow enough to rip it from the woman's grasp before Costia kicks her in the face and settles on a heaving chest, the woman's eye swollen, her nose broken and her face bloodied.
And so Costia plunges her sword through the woman's chest with a grimace. But her head snaps up at the sound of the creaking of a bow string and so she dives, she feels the whistling of the arrow as it just misses her, and so Costia rolls, hand snatching her own bow from where it lies on the ground, and as her back slides on the ground she swivels, she draws and she fires back in the direction the arrow had come.
And then she runs.
Costia's feet move swiftly, her gaze searching around her for movement. An arrow just barely snaps past her head, but she spares it hardly a thought as she eyes a rock that juts out from the ground, and so she runs for it, fingers already beginning to knock her second arrow as she jumps from the rock, her time in the air enough to twist her body and fire back behind her before she hits the cold bite of the ground with a roll that brings her back to her feet as she ducks a third arrow.
She sees a flash of movement ahead though, and she recognises the dark braids, and the cunning face that flits through the trees.
"Talanah!" Costia shouts, her voice carrying over the wind.
And Costia sees Talanah's head swivel to her, their eyes meeting over the distance, and so Costia dives once more, the snapping of another arrow heard over the crunch underfoot. Talanah breaks through the small trees that keep them apart, her eyes angry in the waning light as day begins to bleed away.
But as Talanah leaps over a fallen tree she slips, the ice underfoot giving way and she crashes to the ground with a curse and a snarl as her forehead bounces off the ground. Costia comes to a skidding stop, hands already gripping Talanah by the elbow as she begins to lift her to her feet. But she senses the arrow that snaps forward and so she pushes Talanah away and drops to the ground, and she feels the arrow that snaps past her face, the feathers brushing against her lip.
Costia spins on the ground as she knocks another arrow and fires into the distance. But she feels the looming presence and she hears the rocks that skittle and so she dives, she curses out and swings her bow behind her in distraction before she rolls to her feet, sword already being drawn once more as she comes face to face with another Azgeda hunter, his furs white, his face unmarked.
Costia lunges, her sword swings out briefly before she slips to her knees and slides under his own slash, but as she rises behind him, her sword already striking for his back, she feels another body crash into her from behind. Costia's elbow snaps out, she feels the crunch of it connect with a person's face, and she feels their grasp on her lessen enough, and so she draws her knife, sinks it into a thigh and pushes away.
Costia only manages three paces before the second assailant moves, her knife still embedded in their thigh. But the first man snarls out before lunging for her, his sword striking hers brutally as he begins to loom over her. And Costia feels the weight of his body bare down on her as she blocks strike after strike, as her feet skid out from beneath her and as she moves further and further backwards.
"Talanah!" Costia shouts over the clanging of metal against metal, her eyes frantic as she searches for her friend, the man blocks her vision, but not before the sees the second pull her knife from their thigh with a grimace.
Costia ducks a slash of a sword, the blade whistling through the air, and she sees Talanah then, a cut on her cheek, sword in hand as she comes to her feet, eyes darting between the two Azgeda warriors.
"Talanah!" Costia shouts once more, her sword deflecting another harsh blow. "The second one," Costia urges as she sees the second Azgeda warrior look Talanah's way with a lifting of her lips.
But the first Azgeda blocks her vision once more, and so she dives under a harsh strike, her fist grabbing at the rocks and stone and gravel underfoot, and then she throws it into his face, but he steps back, his hand coming to shield his eyes as he slashes out quickly to halt her advance in the moment she steals.
And so Costia runs once more, her eyes scanning the rocks that begin to bleed into trees. And she spares Talanah only one last panicked look, uncertainty and confusion colouring her thoughts as she sees Talanah merely bend down and pick up a bow at her feet.
Costia vaults over a large rock, and as she hits the ground she rolls, she slides and she ducks under a branch, her eyes moving from tree to tree, rock to rock, shadow to shadow. An arrow whizzes past her again, and she hears the creaking of another being drawn. And her legs burn, her lungs burn and her chest heaves painfully, the frantic run leaving her breathless. An arrow snaps past her once more, this one smacking into a tree trunk just past her head, but Costia ignores it, she changes direction and begins running left. An arrow snaps past her, this one slamming into the ground just past her, and so she darts right, she ducks under another low branch before leaping over a fallen tree as another arrow flashes past her.
And one last arrow whizzes past her, and as it flashes before her gaze she thinks it burns, she thinks it breathes fire and bleeds a smoky trail. And it slams into a tree in front of her with an explosion of blinding red smoke. And as Costia dives through it she feels it burn her lungs, she feels it smother her breathing and sting her eyes and so she coughs, she feels it rip into her body and prickle against her skin. And she knows it for what it is. Her hand comes up to cover her mouth, but she knows it must be too late, her legs already numbing, her fingers already becoming useless and tame, and as she stumbles she thinks she hears the loud thump of feet that chase after her.
Costia stumbles once, twice, three times before she comes to her knees in the iced ground, the sharp stone digging into her knees as she doubles over and begins to wretch and gag on the poison that fills her lungs.
"She can fight," comes a low voice from behind her, the Azgeda warrior's feet now louder, closer.
"There's a reason the Commander took a fancy to her," the second voice says.
"It was smart to separate them using a pauna," the first voice says as it comes to a stop behind her.
And Costia feels rough hands grip her by the shoulders and push her face first into the ground, her arms being tied behind her back harshly. But she struggles, or as much as she can. Costia feels herself turned around though, the sun shining sharply in her eyes as she comes face to face with the man, his eyes dark and fierce as his face looms over her.
"You're lucky you're wanted alive, girl," he says. "Our Kwin has plans for you."
But Costia grimaces, and she knows what waits for her, and so she spits in his face and slams her head forward with what little strength she has left.
"Talanah will kill you," she says, her voice hoarse and dried.
"Talanah won't come and save you," he laughs quietly as he drops her back to the ground, hand wiping his face, her strike barely a nuisance. "Won't you, Talanah?"
And as Costia's gaze begins to blur and fade she sees Talanah come to stand over her, the sun a halo that crowns her head.
"Talanah," Costia whispers her friend's name, but as the last of her vision fades, Costia's thoughts turn to the hunt and the pelt she had promised to return to Lexa with.
Costia's eyes open slowly to a darkness. It takes her a long moment before the memories return, before she remembers where she must be, whose hands she has fallen into. She feels her hands tied behind her back, the harsh rope that binds her wrists rough, and she knows it to already be bloodied and cutting into her flesh. A shiver runs through her body then, the cold bite of the stone beneath her frigid and piercing. It takes her a moment longer to realise that her eyes are blindfolded, that her feet are tied together and that she wears little more than her underclothes.
Costia groans as she tries to sit, as she shifts her body and wriggles so that she sits on her haunches awkwardly. But she hears the rustle of furs and the creaking of a chair that scrapes across the stone floor.
"You are awake," comes a familiar voice, but she knows it to be cold, to be detached.
"Talanah?" she croaks out quietly, but she knows her words to die lamely in the space between them.
And it's odd, Costia knows. She knows she should feel anger, should feel fear or hurt or uncertainty. But as she hears the slight breathing that comes from Talanah, that echoes through the room, Costia recognises the sadness that begins to well in her mind.
"Why, Talanah?" she asks quietly, her lips cracking, her voice dry, her throat rough.
"There is no Talanah," the woman responds, and Costia knows she hears her friend stand, move to wherever the exit must be. "There never was," and then Talanah leaves, the harsh grinding bite of a metal door scraping shut the only thing to echo.
It takes Costia a long moment to wriggle the blindfold from her eyes, but as she scrapes her face against the ground once more, her cheek now bruised, she feels the blindfold slip and then light pours into her vision. Her eyes squint fiercely as the burning of a too cold flame flickers, and her eyes take in the dungeon she finds herself in.
The ground beneath her seems ever constant of ice, cracks in the stone that are filled with the freeze so common to Azgeda. She eyes the breath that fogs in wisps as it exits her lips and she gazes at the door, rusted and heavyset, that lies in a wall.
Her eyes fall to a bucket in the corner and she knows it for what it is, and then her gaze settles on the plate that sits on the chair in front of her.
But in this moment, Costia doesn't feel hungry as she eyes the small plate of dried meats and bread. And she knows she doesn't feel afraid, she doesn't feel anger. And it's regret, she knows, it's a regret of things left unsaid, of truths left unvoiced, of futures she knows herself not to share any longer.
She spoons a small bite into her mouth, her eyes following a snow flake that flutters down from the ceiling above her, a small space filled with metal bars that keep her sealed inside.
She knows that one day the torture will begin, and that the pain will start to never end.
The freeze bites into her flesh and burns her awake violently. A gasp and a shrill shout of surprise rips from her lips as the ice water pours over her, as a foot slides her across the floor and as a hand grips the back of her neck before lifting her to her knees.
"Eat," the man says, his gaze hard in the light of the flickering flame, and then his pushes a small slice of dried and stale bread against her lips, the hard of it splitting her lip once more.
Costia chokes on the mouthful he forces past her lips, but she chews, his fingers gripping her cheeks forcefully until he is sure she has finished. And as he sees her swallow painfully he brings a waterskin to her lips, tilts her head backwards once more and pours it past her lips, the liquid spluttering down her chin as she gags on it for a moment.
It only lasts another moment, but he pulls away, eyes only once flickering over her state of undress before he stands and exits through the door, the clanging rust of it echoing out behind him.
And Costia waits. She waits until she knows his steps to fade, until his presence no longer is felt. Costia turns to the wall, her fingers beginning to scrape at the stone and the mortar until the stone gives way to reveal a small nail, its end blunted, dried blood crusted and mixed with the rust that covers it.
She rises steadily, eyes trained on the door for a moment longer before she runs to the wall before kicking off it and leaping upwards, her fingers snaring at the bars that keep her inside the dungeon. Costia hangs for a moment, her muscles protesting the exertion, and she waits. She waits for long enough that she knows her movements remain undetected. And then she begins to slip the nail between the furthest most bar and the stone, and she listens carefully as she begins to saw and drive the nail, the quiet scraping echoing out far too loudly for her comfort, but she doesn't stop, and she knows all it will take is a few more moments, a few more minutes of muscle stretching motion.
And she feels it.
The nail sinks deeper than before, and she feels the mortar and the stone give way, and she feels the bar begin to turn. And she smiles. The last of the bars comes loose and so she wriggles it free before dropping to the ground stealthily, eyes snapping to the door for a moment. And as sounds remain quiet, as her disturbances remain undetected she kicks off from the wall once more, hands snaring the bars, and she repeats the process, each bar sliding free easily until all that remains is the narrow open window that shines a beam of light down into her cell, the grey of a morning too early for many to wake.
Costia runs up the wall once more, her legs kicking off it with a renewed hope, and she smiles widely, the dark curls of her hair bouncing as her fingers grip the edge of the small space, and she ignores the bite of sharp stone that cuts her fingers, that bloodies her palm.
And so she pulls her self up, the cold chill of Azgeda winters seeping into her bones. It only takes her a moment longer before she swings a leg up, her heel hooking through the small opening and then she pulls herself through the space.
The wind breathes against her face and she glances around herself for a moment, eyes sharp as she takes in the open courtyard, snow littering the ground. She eyes the stone wall at the far end, its length stretching out either side before being swallowed by mountain ridges that hug the small village she is sure she finds herself in. Her gaze snaps to the rising sun, and she peers at it long enough for a direction to be discerned and then Costia runs. Her feet sting against the iced rock and snow underfoot, her body shivers in the cold, but she runs. She sees a small guard house that sits at the base of the wall and she knows she will find furs and clothes, weapons and perhaps even supplies for her to steal.
Her feet come to a quiet stop, and her eyes peer through a crack in the door to see candles flickering inside. Costia peers once behind her, and she grimaces as she sees her footprints shining in the snow, but she knows she must move, and so she pushes the door open slowly, her eyes squinting in the dark of the small guard house.
Costia slips inside as she peers back outside briefly, and as the door clicks shut she turns, eyes already scanning for a weapon and furs. Her eyes land on a pack, its content spilling onto a table, and she eyes the half eaten loaf of bread and the slices of meat and dried fish, and she darts forward. A groan leaves her lips as she sinks her teeth into the meats first, hand already stuffing the remainder of the food into the pack, and she smiles as her eyes land on a small dagger, and so Costia wipes the back of her hand across her lips as she snatches the dagger from the table.
It only takes her moments longer to find a heavyset fur coat, and as she dons it she feels her body begin to shiver less, her exposed skin welcoming the warmth of the thick fur that now rests over her shoulders and drapes her body.
But she hears it.
Costia whips around, her dagger slicing at the presence she feels behind her. But the person shifts with her attack, her blade just barely missing an arm before a hand punches her harshly across the jaw, the force of it knocking her backwards against the table edge.
"I did not expect you to escape so fast," the man says easily, his eyes tracking her movements as she scrambles to her feet. "Some thought you would take a full moon. Other's thought even two. But here you are. After only ten days," and he gestures around them. "You did not think it was too ea—"
But Costia lunges, she kicks a chair at him and she stabs the knife forward, and as her feet leave the air she shifts her weight, tucks her chin down and slams her body into the mans chest, and she smiles as she hears him gasp out, her attack ferocious and desperate. Her knife slashes out once more, and she knows she feels it find flesh as he grunts in pain, and then she runs. Costia leaps over the chair, fingers already reaching for the handle of the door.
But she feels herself slammed into the ground, the man's hand gripping her by the hair as he drags her backwards before lifting her and slamming her onto the table forcefully. The strikes across her face come hard and fast and repeated, his studded glove tearing at her flesh, and she gasps out in pain as she feels her lip split and his fingers tighten around her throat.
"I see why the Commander likes you," he sneers before pulling her from the table, kneeing her in the ribs and dragging her out of the guardhouse by the hair, her feet scrambling to take her weight as she curses and splutters and winces between the sharp tugs of her hair and the iron grip around her throat. "Don't try to escape again," he finishes as he stops by the opening in the ground before kicking her through it, the fall enough to knock consciousness from Costia's broken body.
Costia wakes to the loud scraping of metal against stone and the harsh glare of torch light held too close to her face. Her body recoils from the presence and her eyes adjust to the closeness of a face that peers at her from above.
"Costia," the woman says simply, her gaze moving over her exposed flesh, the bruises and cuts and marred flesh that remains ever frayed and broken to the elements. "Tell me something," and the woman kneels to eye level, her eyes turning kind, her hand gentle as it takes Costia by the chin, a thumb brushing away dirt and dried blood that cakes her lip. "Tell me anything."
But Costia remains silent, her eyes glaring harshly at the woman for a long moment, the swelling of an eye blurring her vision and stinging her eye.
"You are strong," the woman says once more, her head tilting to the side as she eyes the chest binding that tatters across Costia's chest, and the small shorts that cling to her. "It is a shame you let yourself waste the most fruitful of your years."
But Costia remains silent, her gaze hardening as she eyes the guards who stand at the door, hands on weapons as they stare at her steadily.
"The guards have told you what Lexa has done?" the woman asks quietly. And as Costia remains silent still, the woman merely smiles grimly. "They have told you," and the woman's head tilts in thought. "A Coalition. A truce. Peace," and the woman snorts. "Perhaps she did not really care for you if she has accomplished so much already without you by her side."
And Costia lunges. Her hand snaps forward, fingers closing around the woman's throat, but the woman sees the strike, she smiles and she leans back far enough that Costia's fingers close around air before the woman's hand grips her wrist and tugs sharply. And pain explodes up Costia's arm as she feels her limb twisted behind her back as the woman forces her into the ground, a knee now digging into her neck, her cheek pressed into the ground.
"She doesn't even search for you," Nia says sadly. "I would be angry, too."
Costia runs. Her feet take her further and further and further. The ice blinds her vision, the snow that billows around her buffets her body and freezes her hair and chills her limbs. Blood cakes her fingers, her cheek stings and her lip twinges in pain. She feels the cut in her thigh protest the exertion and she feels her feet as they suck against the snow as she urges herself forward. But she knows it to be a fool's errand, her attempt to escape just another pointless endeavour. If only because she isn't even quite sure which direction she travels. If only because trying to escape in a blizzard is perhaps merely going to kill her.
But she knows it preferable to the pain, to the torment and the aches and the beatings and the humiliation. And so she runs.
An arrow whizzes past her head and she cries out in surprise. Her feet skid across an icy sheet, and she feels herself slip, she feels herself slide and wobble and crash against the snow. Costia crashes into the ice, she feels the sharpness of it bite into her flesh and she knows she bites into her tongue as her chin collides with the ground.
She feels a weight settle on her lower legs and she knows her captor catches her. But she struggles. Her legs kick out weakly, and she lashes out with an arm, the limb thin, scarred and useless. And, as a hood is wrapped around her face, Costia knows she will simply wake up in a too cold, too unkind dungeon.
And so, as pain explodes across the side of her head, Costia lets consciousness flee from her broken body.
She wakes to the cold scraping of metal against metal, and as her eyes open, and as she wraps her arms around her naked body she recoils from Nia who comes to kneel before her.
"Have you heard?" Nia asks, but her voice remains cold, detached, or perhaps not quite, and Costia knows she sees fury, anger, hurt and disgust etched into harsh eyes and across a scarred face. "Do you know what she did?" Nia hisses, her fingers gripping Costia by the throat as she lifts her face. "Azgeda will face all eleven other clans. Or we surrender," Nia spits.
But Costia remains silent, her eyes hardening, her cheek burning, the scar that burrows through her cheek and dips into her lip an ever constant pain.
"Bring it," Nia says quietly, her gaze never leaving Costia's, and Costia's eyes snap to a guard who approaches, a large box held in his hands that he lowers to the ground gingerly, and Costia recognises the red that splashes against the sides, that seeps through the cracks.
"I must admit, Costia," Nia says kindly now, hands already opening the box. "It took me a while to find a suitable substitute," and Costia's eyes widen as Nia begins to lift what the box hides. "I wanted to make sure the hair was perfect. That everything was perfect," and Nia smiles as she lowers the head before Costia. "What do you think Lexa will do when I have your head delivered to her?"
Costia wakes to the early morning clanging of metal against metal, and as her eyes open she knows she senses the other presence in her cell that lingers just past her vision.
"You haven't tried to escape again," Nia says, her eyes careful as they move across Costia's body and the shivers that seem to be a constant companion. "You are learning."
But Costia remains quiet, her silence a defiance she knows she will not give up.
"But you will not try to escape again," Nia continues evenly, and Costia can't help but to feel her eyebrows quirk together slightly.
Nia must see the motion though because her lips twitch at the corners.
"You won't," and Nia kneels before her. "Lexa would have told you she wanted to bring the clans together, that it was a dream of hers," and Nia holds Costia's gaze for a long while. "She has accomplished something no Commander before her has," and Nia sneers slightly. "And when I delivered her your head? She did not break the Coalition," and Nia turns sad just once. "But if you were to return? If you were to escape? If she was to realise she gave you up for dead all this time? Maybe she would seek revenge," and Nia shrugs. "You will not try to escape again," and she leans forward, her breath now ghosting against Costia's cheek. "You will not try to escape because you would be the cause for the Coalitions collapse. Because she loved you."
Costia's eyes gaze out the window for a long moment. Her sight trails after a bird she spies soaring through the air, and as the mop drags along the ground she thinks of an escape, she thinks of the attempts she has made, the months she is sure have passed. But she knows and she feels the guard who remains ever constant by her side, their vision tuned to her movements, to her steps and her thoughts.
"Move," he says simply as he pushes her forward, and she grimaces as she trips, as she comes to her knees on the ground, the stone biting into her flesh. "Get up," he says, his feet stopping somewhere just past her vision as she struggles back to her feet.
And so Costia turns to look down the hallway, the wet stone already beginning to dry. And as she peers down the other direction she sees the dirt and the dust and the mud that the Azgeda warriors bring through the guardhouse each morning.
And so she sighs, grits her teeth and begins once more. Her silence the only form of rebellion she dares to show.
Costia wakes to the banging on her door, to the clanging of it as it opens in a burst of anger and violence.
"Get up," the guard hisses his eyes only once glancing at her state of undress as she scrambles for her clothes. "Warriors from Azgeda arrive. You are needed in the kitchens," he finishes before gripping her by the upper arm and dragging her out of her room, her furs barely donned and strapped to her body.
Costia watches as warriors stream into the throne room, and she eyes the Trikru messenger that stands nervously by Nia's side, his eyes moving from Azgeda warrior to Azgeda warrior. But Costia's eyes move to the doors once more as another Azgeda warrior strides through quickly, the blonde of her hair shining a golden shade in the torch light that flickers. Costia watches as she takes her place by two other women, their scars similar, but the blonde's fresher, more raw, more red. She watches as one of the other women leans in closer, whispers words to the blonde before straightening her back as Nia begins to address the warriors once more.
And so Costia turns back to the floor she sweeps, an ache in her chest as she senes the Trikru messenger slip from the throne room quickly, his desire to return home lingering within her own chest.
Word of the Mountain's fall shocks her, it stuns her and brings tears of joy and sadness and longing and pride to her eyes. And as Costia wraps her arms around herself, as she curls into herself and wraps a rough fur around her body she imagines it to be the embrace she can't quite remember anymore, can't quite recall anymore.
But she knows herself thankful that Lexa has survived yet another campaign, another bloody war, another day without her by her side.
Nia calls her to the throne room early in the morning, and as she makes her way through the harsh cold of the building, a guard ever constant by her side, she feels the worry gnaw at her, a summoning never a good omen.
The doors to the throne room open for her though, and as she steps through she hears them close once more, and she eyes the back of a man who stands before Nia who sits in her throne. And as Costia begins to make her way towards where Nia sits, she feels her blood freeze and her heart still at the words she hears.
"—exa," and the man nods once. "Yes, Kwin Nia. I am sure. I saw them long enough to know that they did not speak of war meetings or clan matters."
"Lexa has let herself become weak once more," Nia sneers, her eyes now snapping to Costia's. "It would seem that she has chosen a new person to warm her bed," and Costia knows her eyes close briefly, and she knows Nia's lips turn up.
And so Costia's eyes open, and she watches as Nia's fingers tap against the hard edge of her throne, as thoughts drift through her mind and as she lets the silence linger for a long while.
"You are sure?" Nia asks just once more, her eyes hard in the torch light, and Costia sees the man ponder her words for just a breath.
"Yes, Kwin Nia," he answers. "I am sure of it."
And Costia feels a snapping in her mind, and she knows her lip trembles now. And perhaps she had known it would one day happen. If only because she died years ago, if only because her love had perished lifetimes ago. But she knows that now, as she faces her torment, she feels the ache.
"Thank you," Nia says. "You may leave," and the man bows his head once before ducking out the room.
And Costia watches him retreat, and as she eyes the lack of scars on his face, and the way his eyes shift ever so slightly, memories of Talanah, of a friend, of someone she thinks was never a friend, echo through her mind.
"Leave us," Nia calls out, and Costia knows Nia speaks to her guards, the ones who remain quietly in the shadows, who watch her every move.
It doesn't last long, but as Costia watches the guards slip from the throne room, she feels her skin prickle, her lips tremble, and her jaw clench tightly, and as Nia's piercing blue gaze drills into her, Costia finds herself not quite able to meet her gaze any longer.
"How does it feel?" Nia says, her voice lilting at the end quietly. "How does it feel to know you were so easily replaced?"