I'm sorry I haven't updated for yonks. Believe me, I typed this up ages ago but my computer hates me. It decided it liked to freeze on me and then not start at all. Computers – joy *sarcasm*. Holidays have been stuffed full (something to do every day) and I got time to finish this Chapter off today – yay! I've already sorta typed up the next Chapter. Enjoy!
*Elayn?* Kalan'drios half-stood half-sat behind me as I dawdled towards the castle at a snail's pace. I felt fear scrape through the whole of me, driving my control over dark, hidden memories scampering like the wimp of a puppy I am.
I felt my brother stand up straight, his nostrils flaring, most likely sensing something amiss with me; he always does. But, I thought with apprehension, is there something wrong with me? A reason why I can't drive insane memories away, or at least keep them leashed within my deepest inner barriers to never be disturbed?
Turning away from Kalan'drios, I started to speed walk towards the haven in front of me. The men who had laughed at me stared like I was some sort of cow with three udders and sheep head, but none bothered to take a fraction of a pace towards me as I tried to turn my back on them. A violent tremor danced across my back as quick glimpses of my past surfaced, demanding to me seen.
-...run. Keep running. Don'turn back or they'll-
-"No!" I shrieked at her, "Nooo!"-
-"...you little bastard! Don't you dare insult me again..."-
- A blunt blade ran across my back, ripping the skin that was stretched to breaking point, like raw chicken -
- ...the noose tightened around my neck with my every effort to move, choking the remains of the air out of me-
-ants... crawling into the wounds... -
I tried to breathe in deeply, finding air was escaping my grasp like a hand wrapped securely around my throat. I was trying desperately not to scream as I felt everything closing in around me. My stomach tightened at the knowledge that the Ring of Obedience was in some way back around my neck, chocking me as I wrap my arms around my stomach protectively, making my way to the two doors in front of me.
- ..not safe-
I picked up I was being followed; heavy footsteps sounding a path behind me as they sort to catch up. My breathing quickened as I knew someone was tracking me... to try and hunt me down. To take the one thing I have never given and never would give. Violence or Craft in any form on one of mothers "friends" would result in excruciating pain... so I had to find somewhere safe to hide.
-He yanked my arm violently and I screamed in pain as it was removed from its socket. "Look what this bitch did to me!" he yelled at Mother. She turned from fixing up her perfect make-up in the mirror to look at Jhordan sympathetically. Tears poured down my face as Mother studied him. "Poor baby," She crooned to him, "Would you like to do the honours of teaching the bastard a lesson? The towns Healer can fix up your burnt arm once your done."-
My heart sped up until it was beating faster than I was running, and I was moving my legs hopelessly faster in attempt to pace myself faster than my pursuer was. Horror struck me in gut twisting blows; perspiration covered my freezing body; tears fell from my face uncontrollably while drips of water fell of my body and onto the grass. Find somewhere safe... but there are no safe places, are there? Where ever I can go, others can follow.
-...Blood. So much blood-
I slammed a Grey shield behind me, pulling another two tightly around myself. No pain scorched up my throat like usual. No shriek of a sadist lover of pain echoed in the air. I connected two with two, and knew Mother was holding out on me, to give me a stronger blast of pain when I next stumbled over her rules.
The hunter walked through my first Gray shield as if they were nothing; mere air. I struggled to breathe as I knew what was happening.
-not safe... danger. She's coming...-
I sprinted to the door, not caring if the pursuer would take this as an invitation to attack me. My injured leg felt like hallowed wood, screaming in agony as pain soared up it like thousands of daggers. Murderous, blunt daggers...
My perser stopped suddenly as I reached the door, and I sped up instantly. The hunter stopping usually means I'm heading towards a trap; no need to follow a dead creature. My stomach dropped to my toes in fear that overpowered all other emotions.
I didn't stop moving my feet as I entered the castle - the place of my perser, no doubt – and instead sprinted flat out, looking for somewhere safe. This is where the traps will be, my intuition told me, the other hunters will stray and the dead will fill. I gasped for air that wasn't available and ran straight up the towering stairs; I seemed to get close to the end, before it would stretch on and on again before me.
-the stairs were bathed in red blood... dripping down the steps...slowly seeping towards me...-
I yelped loudly as a hunter appeared on the tops of the stairs. This one's a female; she was of medium height having shimmering black hair and honey golden eyes, showing she was intelligent, quick-witted and sneaky. She had huge bat-like wings, marking her Eyrien. Deadly!, her scent screamed at me, Dangerous!
There's no time to turn around; the other hunters are probably behind me, so I wrap more shields around me – ones like sight and aural shields as tight as second skin, before gushing past her. She turned slightly, as if she could feel me; see me even. Those shields never work.
Ever.
The hunters always seem to find me.
-I sat in the tree above his head, holding my breath. Suddenly, he looked up at me, a wicked smile on his lips. "There you are."-
I pass by many doors, all looking symmetrical. I send a psychical probe into each, finding that a few had two-legged Blood behind them. Hunters. So many doors, so little choices.
I heard a snarl from behind the corner I was rapidly approaching, and before I could curse myself for not sending a psychical thread ahead of me to watch out for other hunters, I was in a room. I panted heavily, skidding to a halt before searching desperately around me.
After a psychical sweep of the room, I found there seemed to be no one inside, so I wrapped a dozen or so Grey shields around the outskirts of this room, some, like the aural shield, for protection against being found; others, like the poison dart shields, are for protection once I am found.
-I knew the moment she touched the shield that the poison darts had been released. Her screams echoed down the hall, and for the first time in my life, I felt happy-
The room is neatly arranged; a velvet ice green shaggy carpet hugged the floor; a huge bed that matched the carpet stood in the middle of the back wall; black walls hung around the room, one with a painting of a forest-at-night looking landscape; and an a-joining door. No cupboards. No desks. Nothing to indicate that someone actually lived in here.
I inhaled deeply, still dripping wet, and summoned my favourite dagger, and jewellery set. I cautiously slinked into the corner of the room furtherest away from the door – both doors – with my foot-long, Craft made dagger, that held patterns of attacking wolves on the blade. I pulled the stone eagle, which was holding an inch long dagger, over my chest so it was easily accessible, before slipping on my three stone rings.
-he leaned over me, pinning my hands above my head with only one of his before he slipped his hand down my pants. I shrieked, afraid of the person rising in me; wanting to sheath myself with cold rage. I ignore it, and activated the three manicure knifes from my rings, which were like small, deadly, poison covered claws-
I held the handle of my dagger in my sweating palm and curling my back so my chin was resting on my knee. I pulled my precious wings back in attempt to fit them in the corner. That would keep them out of harm if, when someone enters, the first thing they'll do is throw a blast of power at me. I shuddered and attempted to hold back that memory as it dared to overthrow my sanity.
-blood dripped down my fore-arm, as the movement I had used to save my face had devastating consequences... Don't scream, I chanted to myself, wheezing, tight breaths. The man snarled, savagely and in annoyance. He didn't expect me to miss most of his spell, but I was sure at that moment the cup-sized circle under my right shoulder blade satisfied him-
My teeth chattered together noisily and I forced myself to calm. All thoughts vanished from my mind as a slight wind filtered under the swaying curtain, showing off the bottom of a glass door.
I waited.
I waited for the males to find me. I waited for them to attack my shields. I waited for them to die. I waited for more to come, to find ways to get around my shields. I waited for them to break them. I waited for them to come in and pin me to the ground. I waited for the part of me that yelled for their deaths; and I waited to ignore it. I waited for my Jewels to be drain and become useless. I waited for the touching, probing, and the ripping of my mind. I waited for the pain, the fear and the horror. I waited for the blood, when they found out they couldn't soil me.
I waited to die. To suffer. For those males to laugh in my face.
-"She's a aggressive one... I like my girls feisty..."-
I waited.
But nothing happened.
No one came.
No one even passed the door.
I was alone.
Hidden.
-Death. I want-
My breathing calmed slightly; grew less frequent and desperate. The water-sweat eventually evaporated after making a pool around my bottom from not drying myself. Nothing evaporated the fear or the loathing I felt.
-He eyed me from across the street, looking at me from head to toe. I saw the assessing look in his eyes and I knew instantly that he was a man who came from the hunting camps. Men there needed relief too, and I had seen how men had looked twice at me, whether I was in dusty, old aristo rags or not. He started towards me, and a sudden rush of cold wrath washed threw me. I spread my wings, and snarled dangerously at him-
Why had the Darkness chosen me, a bastard, to lead such a troublesome life? My mother was an aristo Eyrien, who had fallen pregnant from my father on her Virgin Night at a hunting camp, and never saw him after finding out he was a "disgusting" half-breed. Mother was a woman who led rich aristo men on, allowing them to shower her with gifts, while allowing men to stay for up to three weeks in our house; usually in my bed room. I flinched and a wimp escapes my lips. She had been in the court that ruled Little Terreille, but once the wave of power that killed all the bitches spread over the land, there was little left of the court. I was in her womb at the time; this had all been told to me by one of the many men that had... visited.
The Darkness had pared me with such a hatful mother who courted men into our house, forcing me to grow up fast. Never knowing when I was safe, had given me sharp instincts – I could thank the Darkness for that – but I'd had such a loathsome person controlling my life until I was a young teenager, giving me some bone-chilling traits. If the Darkness was so wondrous, why did it allow for so many of the wrong things?
My eyelids grew heavy. I felt my body slowly go limp and my mind go hazy and slow.
Without a doubt, I was – at some point – meant to get some sleep to help my injured body. Sleep that wanted to drag me to its depths now... suppose to stay...awake...
***Elayn's Sleep***
I dragged the silver blade across the target dummy, gorging deep into the wood. I spin around quickly, before ducking and throwing a kick at the dummies suppose pelvis. The target got thrown back so hard, that it hit the ground and came flying back up. I punch hard at its face, and the wooden oval splinters on my hand, sending wooden chips everywhere.
Stupid thing, I think as I kick the spring holding it to the ground, and to think it's made of the hardest wood around...
I summon a first-aid kit and pull the cloth off my knuckles. There is only one splinter stuck in my right hand, and it's only the length of my nail. I pull it out, and dressed the wound before sealing it with Craft, then walk over to the crate full of target dummy body parts. I select a head, and went go thump the new function back into place.
This time, I feel like the books instructing me wrong. I frowned, and walked over to the crate, pulling an old book from behind it. Let's see, in hand to hand combat fighting... blah blah blah... hit there, and wound there... oh! Here it is... protection is more appropriate when fighting against a practise or combat target... yadda yadda yadda...stuff I already knew.
I snap the book shut, and look around me carefully before sliding it back behind the crate. No one knows I have Gealiar's Warrior-in-Training booklet... yet. I figure it's only a matter of time before Mother finds out.
I shudder at the thought of it being my mother.
I go to the many plants lining the wooden shelf; plants my mother rarely notices. I pick the leaves off one and rub it onto my knuckles. I numb feeling spreads across and I smile inwards. The secret of lasting for hours on end practice fighting, and not feeling anything again till three days later – by which the pain is usually already gone.
"Elayn! Get here this instant!" a high pitched, girly voice shrieked at me.
My shoulders hunch slightly and I twisted violently in panic; to get to my mother before she punishes me. I run into the kitchen, where she's standing with a large dress on. Expensive dress for that matter.
I lower my gaze to her neck. "Yes, Mother?" Mother was more like a formal title than what it seemed. It was like a servant calling the master 'Yes, Prince' or 'Yes, my Lady'.
"Lord Gealiar has had a terrible accident in the bed room. Dispose of him." She commanded with a wave of her hand, before turning on her heel and walking into my bedroom. "I'm going to sleep here tonight. I'm sure you can make yourself comfortable in my room."
I shuddered, and jogged into the Master bedroom. I almost throw up, but I know that will earn me a Butter-knifing, so I hold it in.
Lord Gealiar is laying cuffed to the posts of the bed, with long, horrible cuts down his backside. His hands and feet are swollen and black; putrid puss spilling out where Mother has cut his fingers and toes off. Bits of his ears and manhood lay scattered on the sheets of the bed, while his internal organs steadily slid out of his body. Everywhere there had been hair growing was bleeding, from where Mother had ripped his hair out by the roots.
I covered my mouth with my hand as the most horrible odour emits from him.
Mother swoops up behind me, and I freeze in fear. She slides up so she's inches from me, her hot breath breathing down my neck.
"He was such a mean and nasty fellow." She whispers in my ear, grabbing my hand with the palm of hers. Mother nudges me towards him with her pelvis, and I can do nothing but obey. She places my hand on the neck of Lord Gealiar.
I pull back instantly, screaming. Mother summons a butterknife and cuts me on the back of my neck.
The pain makes me what to scream, but I hold my tongue. Screaming means more butterknife cuts, and blunt knifes means the longer it takes to get to the bone of people... but the more pain.
She kisses where the cut is, and with bleeding lips, takes my hand and puts it back onto Lord Gealiar's neck. All I can do it close my eyes.
His pulse...
He's still alive.
Lord Gealiar was one of the few men that actually were kind to me. To be in this kind of pain...
I saw his eye sockets, heard him breathing sort and desperate as his lungs fell onto the bed, still attached. But I knew what I could do... as a last act of help for him. His Ring of Obedience was being twirled around Mother's finger. I felt sicked.
I closed my eyes and with my Birthright Grey, I shattered his mind. Quick and merciful.
It was all I could do for him, but I knew what Mother would do now.
Mother threw me to the ground, looking at me with uncontrollable rage. Her Opal Jewel flashed dangerously; she was also a Black Widow. I was Grey Jewelled; I could outlast her – even rip her to shreds'.
But I have the Ring of Obedience on me, too. Just not where men have there's.
"How dare you!" She yelled at me, sending unimaginable pain through my neck, causing my head to roll to the side in the effort to keep it up. I bit my lip, not letting the scream escape to satisfy her.
The Ring of Obedience pain was put up to the highest of its capabilities. No! Please no!
I felt my body become distant, the pain fading as I fell into a layer of darkness. Mercy, I thought. Safety...
But I was brought up by Mother shoving me under the ice water from the shower. She pulled me out an instant later, her butterknife in hand.
I couldn't stop the scream of pain, or the gleam in her eye as she spun me around, pulled up my training t-shirt and slashed at my back.
Over and over. Again and again. Pain. So much pain...
Mother threw me outside onto the ground, bleeding and stone cold. I curled into a ball, trying to protect my bat-like wings from any harm.
Let me die. Sweet Darkness let me die.
"You little bitch!" She screeched at me, before slamming the door behind her, most likely locking it.
I was too weak to get up, to even move to a more comfortable position. We both knew it would get below freezing out here at night, and with the feral wolf packs around and my bleeding; it was unlikely I would survive the night.
"Darkness, have mercy on me..." I whispered, just as the ants started climbing up my back, to the torn flesh...
I surfaced from the nightmare - my personal nightmares – gasping for air and drenched in sweat. . I felt horrible pains on my back... no. There couldn't be... on my back... I felt a tingling and pinching... the ants...
I lunged forwards, onto all fours, and crawled painfully to the door that didn't lead to the hall. A quick psychical sweep told me that it had no one in it, and it was reasonably small. The crawling sensation intensified, and I knew I was in no condition to stand up, so I blew the door off using Craft.
I yelped when I saw myself in the roof-to-floor mirror; my hair was such a mess that calling it a beehive was an understatement; the black circles under my eyes that made it look like I hadn't slept in years; Claudia's clothes were torn and ripped everywhere like an animal had clawed at them; my skin was pale as ice; my lips cracked at dry; while my eyes... they didn't seem to be mine. They were a fiery golden, while holding wisdom and derangement.
I blinked, startled, before I noticed the ant feeling had vanished. My legs and arms shook with the effort it took to hold my own weight up, so I gave in and, despite my efforts to land gracefully, I collapsed to the ground.
The cold, tiled, stone ground met my body with a chilling force.
I looked at the Grey Jewel set in the wolf bone necklace that was lined with gold flecks. The Grey was down to its last drop of power... I can't hold the shields for much longer... and I'm on the brink of sleep...
My shields stuttered, faded, reappeared then vanished completely. My eyes grew forever heavy, while it felt like my body was being pulled downwards as everything faded into Darkness.
In the Darkness, I could make out a figure.
A dark figure, looking Ebony black with glowing, melting golden eyes. I could see the outline of fur, blowing to the non-existent wind. I studied the figure as it stood there in silence. It was familiar – a familiar stranger, looking both like a known figure and yet a complete foreigner. I knew there was no danger...somehow... Strange isn't it?
I clicked my tongue, a sudden burst of memory hitting me in the face like a cold bucket of water. "So this is where you hide." I said accusingly, my voice sounding pressed and compacted. The figure shifted, seeming to change gracefully to lean on one leg.
"I do not hide." It purred coyly, a smile playing on its lips. Wait... how did I know it was smiling? "You cannot keep me hidden forever."
Before I could answer, insult or make something of that, I was pulled out of the Darkness. The first thing I noticed was the lack of light, like I'd been asleep for hours, when it seemed merely moments.
The second was the wave of pain that hit me. Everything felt like it was in pain. It felt like I was being pulled, teared and ripped from inside out. I locked my jaw, not allowing the scream of agony I wanted to release out.
Slowly, I rolled to the side, planting my feet and hands onto the floor under me. My whole body shaking, I somehow managed to lift myself from the ground and push myself to my feet. Suddenly the notion of using a cane didn't seem so bad.
With the help of the towel rack, I managed to balance myself and stare at my reflection.
I vanished my clothes and rolled my shoulders back to try and relieve some of the tension. What I was staring at was far worse than I had thought.
Somehow, the thought of going down stairs appeared in my mind as soon as my stomach rumbled with hunger. I tried to push the thought away – even if I had gotten over my past state of mind, and my mind had halted the re-plays of my past...for now... But that was no reason to go down stairs!
First, there are two-leggered males down there. I shuddered violently, my teeth chattering together noisily. Males here protect and serve their females, I heard Claudia's voice in my head from this morning.
I chewed my bottom lip in confusion, fear and in distaste. Second, my brother will be down there. He'll want to apologise, and then fuss over me for a while. He's reminded me of my horrible past more than once, and that's usually what he does when I'm... finished. It's awkward at first, but then I slip into who I usually am after... a while... He's probably worried sick at the moment. A stab of guilt penetrated the fear and worry for a moment, before vanishing without a trace.
He's usually aggressive around the other males, Claudia had told me. So, if I apologised I could go down... or up, now that I think about it...to get some food. My stomach rumbled at the thought. I'm sure in a place this big they had a huge kitchen with lots of food – no one will notice if it goes missing – I hope. Then, Kalan'drios can keep all the two-leggered males – I flinched from the thought – away from me, even if they do "serve" the females in their families. I'm not a part of anyone's family here, and I sure as Hell haven't seen any males aid any females around here lately.
I gritted my teeth and summoned in some clothes of mine; undergarments, as well as my long-sleeved, loose amber top and long faded red jeans with chewed edges – both from Graffie, a Sceltie. They lay on the bed in a heap.
I took long, deep breaths as I took the smallest of steps to the giant green bed, before tenderly laying my bottom onto the soft cotton covers. I hadn't noticed I was holding my breath until I let it out with a whoosh.
I shuddered quietly and stared at the clothes. Did I want to go downstairs? No. But the urge for food called to me like a long lost friend. Just the thought of stuffing my gob full of cooked meat aroused saliva in my mouth.
I called in a jar. The jar was about the size of my palm and was round and shining from the moonlight on the glass. Inside there was about half a bottle of green mush that looked a lot like mashed green apples. I slid the lid off and scooped a hand full onto the palm of my hand and rubbed it over the whole of my body.
After I had finished, I felt surprisingly heaps better. The herbs were from an experimental plant called 'Appline', because it looked a lot like apples. It actually numbs pain for a few hours and rids of ugly scarring, unlike Pain-me-not which rids of pain for days. I've used Appline before, and in my case, I still have the scar on my left fore-arm, the thousands of scars lining my back, the scar in the shape of a perfect circle under my right shoulder blade, the three evenly-spaced scratches from Kalan on the back of my right hand, the two long scars in one leg and the huge, disgusting line on my other leg.
Now, the scar on my hallowed leg was simply a fine white line, just like my other scars – the only detail that you knew it was there.
I slipped on my clothes with ease, not feeling the pain that had once filled my body like an infestation. I brushed my hair into a bun and tired it up, springs of hair falling out here the there. My stone eagle necklace and matching stone rings still sat, waiting to be used. I felt that with them there, I would be more comfortable.
I then summoned and slipped on some brown sandals, and picked up my wolf blade from the corner where I had huddled before. It slipped easily into the hidden compartment that sat the front of my jeans, hovering to the side of my private area.
My wolf bone necklace sat far lower than my stone eagle necklace, which was just above the loose t-shirt line. It sat nestled between my breasts – somewhere no one was ever going to go.
I walked up to the door, took a deep breath to calm myself, before opening it slightly; Kalan is a four-leggered male. He's safe. Outside Kalan was watching the door through observant eyes. His focus changed from looking past the door from what-ever Kindred daydream about, to me. A sudder escaped my control as the scent defining him as a Warlord Prince wafted up my nose.
I wonder vaguely if I could ask for food to be sent up.
He blinked twice, very slowly. I opened the door wider and stepped into the hall, ignoring the persistent urge to run away, while trying to avoid stepping on his tail, before I quietly shut the door.
*You are... better?* he asked cautiously, as if afraid I'd run from him, which was a very wonderful notion at the moment. I nodded and bit my lip. It was like this for a few hours, always, until he'd burst out apologizing for something he couldn't expect to predict. A small frown came to his face when my stomach rumbled violently. Suddenly, his eyes shifted from cautious to ice golden-emerald; Kalan's fur stood up slightly; his teeth were beared at me.
*You need food.* it wasn't a question. He had changed from Kalan the brother to Kalan'drios the Warlord Price. Gracefully, he slid up onto his paws and stalked down the hall at a walking place, in a position that meant danger to anyone. I whimpered and pressed myself close to the door of the room I had previously been in. He didn't stop walking and I felt cornered; leave with him to get food, have protection and have to acknowledge that wounds no-one could see would heal faster if I knew I was safe; or stay in the room without food, without protection, without company and the constant feeling I was unsafe...
I jogged to catch up to him, and winced against my will as I entwined my fingers through his white fur behind his ear - it felt like an anchor that held me safely, no matter if he was male. I allowed myself to relax momentarily and walked along side him.
I felt the growl at the back of his throat before hearing it. *There's a bruise on your hand.* he informed me, snarling. I felt his anger, and knew he was confused, upset and dangerously close to the Killing Edge. My limbs stiffened at the anger – a Warlord Prince is always a heartbeat away from the Killing Edge.
My body felt numb with the internal battle raging inside of me – on one side, I thought: He's an Ebon-Grey Warlord Prince who is capable of ripping me to shreds without a thought. I shouldn't take my chances with such a danger, and all males are a danger. Maybe the room is safer...
On the other side: He's my four-leggered brother. I should be able to kick him off the advance to the Killing Edge without a thought, whether he's Ebon-Grey Jewelled or not. On a usual day, I would. Today I'm on verge of cowering in a corner at any thought of two-leggered males...
I'd been through this argument with myself a couple of times before after the memories surfaced against my will, usually when we were alone. He's my four-leggered brother; the only person in my family. Full stop. There should be no more arguments against that.
Unfortunately, there are too many reminders of my past. I chose to live with Kalan'drios, travelling further from our home pack every day. I stayed with Kindred; because they weren't human; Kindred males aren't lustful, hateful or power hungry; and because I could understand them a lot better than any humans. I'd almost ran into a fair share of hunters – men - over the years, but Kalan and I had made sure they didn't return undamaged, if at all.
I pulled my sleeve down to cover the hand, the bruise on it swelling an ugly black-purple on my skin.
"I fell and the back of my hand landed on the heel of my blade." I lied smoothly, only to be ruined by my teeth clattering together loudly.
He didn't need to know that that was only one of about thirty bruises covering me under these clothes...
I hope everyone enjoyed!
Question: Should the next Chapter be about someone else's perspective of this event or skip to Elayn going to dinner?
~~ToySoldiers~~
