A: Ch. 3.4

The Spirits must truly hate her. Things were going so well, and then this.

Once again, she had to jump of the incredibly disobedient horse and drag him with all of her might down the path. The stallion whinnied and reared back, kicking his legs and desperately trying to turn back around south. Furious, Kya finally pulled the horse’s head down and held it close to her own.

“Listen, horse, I don’t have time for this.” The horse tried to tug his head away, but Kya held firm. “We are going to continue north, and you are going to take me. You will ride as fast as I tell you to and you will not rear or buck me off again. I don’t care how beautiful I ever thought you were; you will be punished unless you act like a proper horse!”

She yanked on the reins and the blasted beast dug in his hooves. Why? Why now? She was barely a day ahead of Cress and Hilt and she still had another three ahead of her at this pace. There was a small village that was just to her east, just an hour or two off of her path. She was greatly tempted to trade in the bloody animal for a proper horse.

It took several more attempts, but Kya finally managed to bribe the horse into a trot with her saddled with small sugar crystals and dried fruit. Regardless, she would not tolerate this any longer. She veered to the right to exchange the infuriating brute for even another ass. She never thought she would say that…

Kya kicked the horse (hard) and managed to get him in a cantor as she came closer to the village of Vawl. She had taken this route south and knew the general area. Vawl was a very small farming village that had unfortunately been the brunt of many battles and raids by Nibheis. They were constantly rebuilding and recovering. They were a resistant group, determined not to lose the little wealth they had in their land. It was one of the first ‘true’ settlements of Elivagar as you traveled from the south. It was surrounded by hundred year old trees and was frequently drizzled in morning and afternoon rain.

It would be good to ride a proper horse, Kya thought as she approached the larger road which would lead her to the center of the small village. She could probably get to Marigold within a day and a half if she rode through part of the night. Cress had put some money in her pack; she might even be able to buy some decent food like a loaf of fresh sweet bread or even some warm cider. Maybe she could—

She could smell it before she saw it. Kya stopped as the metallic odor of blood overwhelmed her nose. It was so thick she could taste it congealing in the back of her throat. She covered her nose and instinctively looked around for the source. It didn’t take long. Directly above her was the nude trunk of what was a young man, strung up in a large oak tree. His chest had been cracked open and his entrails glistened in afternoon sunlight.

Kya’s mouth fell open as her horse continued on. Oddly, the beast was not deterred by the scene or the scent. In fact, this was the first time he was calmly and rather happily moving onwards, occasionally breaking into a quick trot. Kya wasn’t even leading him; he moved toward the village of his own will.

Spirits above, Kya wished the steed hadn’t.

Everything, everything, had been painted, splattered, or doused in crimson blood. Every house was stained and every speck of dirt soaked. Bodies were torn apart in a gruesome, yet almost artistic fashion. No two had died in the same way. The body of a mother was still holding the form of her babe, yet their heads had been decapitated and swapped. A young boy, no older than five or six years, had literally been folded in half, the backs of his knees caressing his ears.

Kya couldn’t hear, or smell, or even feel. All she could do was watch as her eyes darted methodically from one corpse to the next. It took her a moment to realize that the horse had stopped moving. It had walked to the center of the circle of shops and homes and paused, looking almost bored.

“Move,” Kya whispered, tapping the horse. He ignored her. “Move!!” Kya hissed, kicking him as hard as she could. Still, nothing. She realized she was also ordering her own body to move, to get off the horse and run, but it also refused.

“Please move, please move,” Kya began to chant. “Please, please…”

Horrified, but unable to find a safe place for her eyes to settle, she continued to absorb the details of the gore. Four men were sitting against the wall of a shop. Their faces almost looked peaceful, but their bodies were each stripped of various parts. One was missing an arm, another was missing all his toes and fingers, one had a sickening red stain round his groin, and the last had his eyelids, lips and ears carefully sliced away.

All four, though, had their ribs cracked open and the empty cavity lacked a heart or lungs. Where were the hearts? Oh, Spirits, where were they? Feeling was slowly returning to Kya’s limbs. She was shaking.

No animal could do this, but no human could either. Armies lacked the precision and sickening creativity for such a massacre, but an individual could never do such damage in such little time. A thick, sour bolus started to creep up from Kya’s stomach and she struggled to keep it down. The smell returned with a vengeance and Kya realized she must have been holding her breath.

She had to leave. She had to leave now. Why wouldn’t the horse move!?

“Such a tragedy, wouldn’t you agree?” The voice fluttered down from one of the many large oak trees.

Instinctively, Kya grabbed her bow and nocked an arrow. She was lucky she left the bow strung. She searched for the source of the voice, but the chill running down her spine was enough to inform her of the voice’s owner.

“See? I knew you were better with a bow. Excellent reaction speed and—“

Kya loosened the arrow into the foliage where it made a solid thunk.

“—unfortunately abysmal aim.”

General Hilt burst from the thick leaves and landed neatly on the blood soaked ground half a dozen strides from Kya. She quickly nocked another arrow and shot it at his heart. He avoided it—though Kya could not comprehend how—and he started quickly moving forward. Her fingers still numb, she fumbled with her next arrow so she began furiously kicking at the stubborn horse, who firmly ignored her. General Hilt reached her and snatched her bow from her hands and tossed it away. Kya reached for one of the heavy swords she had stolen from Hilt, the one with the wolf’s head emblazed on the quillion.

Apparently this was a bad move. Hilt’s eyes flashed angrily. His demeanor changed from cocky and smooth to furious anger. “That is mine,” he growled.

He grabbed at Kya’s wrist, but she managed to pull away just in time. She tugged one foot out of the stirrup and tried to roll out of the saddle, away from the General, but her other foot got stuck and she lay partially hanging, tangled and helpless.

Hilt was storming around the horse, fuming, while Kya desperately tried to free herself. She frantically managed to escape, though she ignored the horrible cracking sound in her ankle, and stumbled to her feet. Slipping in the slick dirt she headed toward the edge of town, but something tugged on the hood of her long traveling coat and she was slammed down on the moist ground, flat on her back. Stunned, and knocked free of her breath, she stared up at the dark outline of the General standing above her.

“You shouldn’t have touched my sword,” Hilt growled. Kya could see him shaking with fury and even now his eyes glowed like poison.

She barely had time to find any breath to fill her lungs before Hilt swept down and clutched her neck. He pulled her up until her feet were no longer touching the ground. She grasped at his hand, but his grip was too strong. She clawed and scratched, kicked her legs, but he only grew angrier with her pitiful attempts.

“I should kill you right now after what you have done,” Hilt spat. “I’ve actually been dreaming about it all of these nights when you thought I was safely locked away in that pathetic little cart.”

Kya wriggled and struggled against him. How could his one hand be this strong? Gurgling, she reached to her hip and pulled out the dragonstone dagger that Hilt himself had returned to her. Her arms were not long enough to attack his chest, so instead she started hacking at the arm which held her up. The blade easily cut through his flesh and blood splattered on her hand and face. Immediately she knew something was wrong as her own skin began to blister and burn as the liquid scarlet life touched her. She tried to scream, but nothing would come out.

Hilt’s eyes were brimming with happiness as he grinned at her. “Idiot whelp,” he whispered. At least Kya thought he was whispering. There was a horrible ringing in her ears and her lungs were ready to burst. Her vision was blurring and fading quickly, but Hilt would not let go.

She was going to die. After it all, she would still die at the General’s hand. She was going to fail, just like all the others.

 

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