Record of Ashes War

Chapter 21 - One to Remember All

Sneaking past was never going to work with the sheer amount of enemies. Sar'tara considered sprinting past them. They were armored. They would be slow. But she was out of breath and hungry. She would end up caught one way or another. She didn't know if she had it in her at that moment to fight past them. But that was the only option remaining to her. She needed to head to the Selharr village. Her fears only grew when she looked up in the sky and noticed thick smoke clouds rising from that direction. It was still a full night's run away at her current pace. It's okay, she convinced herself. Stel'Na would protect the others. Maybe she'd be fortunate enough to meet her elder sister half way there.

Sar'tara grit her teeth and stepped forward. The world around her tilted and bent in a strange way. She had barely gone a few feet, walking as if she would after a night of heavy drinking before falling to her knees again. She was hallucinating. She spat out phlegm gathered at the back of her throat. She bit her lip and drew blood to awaken her senses. She then sucked in a breath and ducked into a rosebush thicket. Pain was the last of her worries. She cared not for the thorns poking into her limbs.

What came next was a game of true patience just as she'd come to learn from the first Trial. The soldiers drew ever nearer. They stepped about with care to ensure they didn’t trip over large branches or stray roots. Their helmet covered heads moved from side to side, observing every minute detail in a restless hunt for enemies. The helmet less ones, the squad leaders with capes of night marched fearlessly with their chests puffed out and backs straight. But their ill intent bearing eyes touched everything, from shrubs to the tops of trees. For every ten armored soldiers, there was one leader from what Sar'tara could tell. She crouched low. A small part of her hoped to avoid detection. Her slight movement caused the rosebush to rustle. It drew the gaze of the nearest squad leader. The bush was thick enough for her to not be seen instantly. But that didn't help her avoid detection.

The man walked closer to the bush to inspect it. He leaned in, his expression suggesting that he couldn't believe a person would dare to hide in a rosebush. His eyes met hers. In a blink, his blade was in hand and ready to thrust. Within that same blink Sar'tara jumped out, thorns marring her skin at every which place. She lunged towards him with her arms stretched out, the tips of her bone knives pointed towards him.

There was no strength within her arms. The knives harmlessly bounced off his breastplate and she found herself leaning against him for support. The man placed a hand on her bare torso, meaning to push her away before killing her. Sar'tara, with no option left to her, stepped in closer to him and sunk her teeth into his exposed neck. He let out a horrid cry, dropping his sword and pushing her away with all his strength. Part of his neck was torn apart as she was shoved aside. Somehow, she still managed to stay on her feet.

Sar'tara felt like throwing up at the taste of the hot metallic liquid. She'd already tasted blood from biting her own lips. This was so much more exaggerated than that. The chunk of flesh inside her mouth reminded her of eating raw boar liver. The thought was all the more nauseating. She was on the verge of vomiting when she noticed the looks of the armored soldiers.

They grimaced, some pressing their arms to their sides and taking a shaky half-step backwards. In that moment, Sar'tara was to them a savage beast. An uncivilized animal. She spat the piece of flesh out and bared her red teeth towards them, bringing about a low gurgle from the base of her throat, displaying her assumed insanity. The soldiers had their weapons drawn but their stances were closed, making them appear smaller than they really were. Sar'tara didn’t miss their hesitation. Adrenaline pumped through her anew. She ran towards them, expecting them to turn tail. They instead stood resolute with swords held before them. Their fear only served to delay their movements.

Sar'tara's bone knife found the eye of the nearest enemy. A painful screech sounded as the man fell back, throwing his helmet away to clutch his eye. She hadn't gone deep enough to kill, but he would remain half blind for the remainder of his life. She moved on to the next nearest foe only to realize that a wall of eight men had been formed in front of her. She paused. Within moments the eight men surrounded her as if encircling a rabid beast.

Sar'tara recalled the dance of her now dead sister. Of how Kiali had shuffled on her toes to narrowly avoid all strikes whilst wielding two knives.

Kiali…

Sar'tara pressed forward. She slid between the edges of two swords, one slightly catching her arm and deepening a scratch left by a rose thorn. Her knives flashed, finding two throats. One was a killing slash while the other was a slight scratch. It was enough to break out of the encirclement. Sar'tara ran. Ran hard without turning around. Many enemies still lay in wait, all of them trying to seal her fate.

"Kill her!" came shouts from behind.

A searing pain spread in a line along her back. It had barely healed since the battle with the Kreiva Vashiri. She guessed that a sword tip had been dragged along it. That didn't stop her legs. She carried on, dodging past the many enemies as best she could. Shouts for killing continued. They were to leave none alive. Why she wondered. What did we ever do to them? She no longer knew in which direction she ran. Her legs kept moving. The edges of her vision blurred. The soldiers tried creating formations to surround her again. She leapt over them, the strength in her legs surprising even herself.

Bright orange became clear to her then. Sar'tara no longer saw the purpose in running. But her legs moved all the same. Roaring fires as far as her weakening sight could see. The Papillion Forest was burning. She had nowhere to go. Despite her fading senses and the shouts from behind, despite the sound of collapsing branches and the crackling of vicious flames, the sounds of running water whispered into her ears. She followed it, her delirious thoughts assuming that the waters of a river would help put out the blaze.

Bolts flew past Sar'tara. Some grazed her, drawing more blood than she was already shedding. Her entire vision had blurred. Dancing lights were all she saw. Years of imprinted memory caused her to step over roots and avoid sharp thickets. Her feet maneuvered around all obstacles. Her head ducked beneath low hanging branches. All the while the blood backing into her throat mingled with the blood of the man she'd bitten. Sounds of the shouting faded. She finally stumbled past a clearing, coming upon a riverbank of gravel. Two soldiers lay kneeling, taking a drink. Their heads turned at the sudden sound. Sar'tara raised a shaky arm, meaning to stab the nearest one.

In a swift movement, the hilt of his sword was thrust in her side. Both knives fell out of her hands. She leaned forward and held the soldier to keep her feet. He threw her aside, letting her fall to the bank. Her elbow first contacted the ground. The length of Sar'tara's left arm buzzed. The arrows in her quiver spilled out. She had forgotten about them entirely, having lost her bow a while ago. The side of her head struck gravel and a pocket of vision cleared before her. The edge of her braided hair touched the cool water. She realized just how thirsty she was. She rolled on her belly and dragged herself closer to the river.

"How many vials do you have?" one of the armored men asked.

"Five with me I think," the second said. "You?"

"Same. Slit her wrist. Drain her blood and then be done with her."

"Why do we need their blood anyhow?"

"Something about it being the key ingredient to making an everflower. Not sure. The wealthy pay a flowerpot's weight in gold though. Helps keep men like us fed."

"Wretched Flames! Look at those hideous wounds. These women are resilient. I'll give them that. Savage. But resilient."

"And rather tempting."

The conversation was barely registering to Sar'tara. A small conscious part of her wanted to ask them why they attacked. The rest of her was focused on attaining water. Her hands were submerged in the edges of the river. Sar'tara pulled herself closer. She stuck her tongue out, eager for a taste. She flinched as probing hands slid into her skirt and between her legs. They poked about, causing her great discomfort. She couldn't fathom what reason they had for doing such a thing other than to shame her.

"No squad leaders around. We could play a bit before offing her."

"I don't know," the other man said, his voice shaky. "The flames are approaching. We shouldn't dally."

"Grow a pair, would you. We'll swim down the river and out of the forest if it comes to it. It's not every day you come by such a lean and curvaceous body, bloody though she may be. Whores at the city are too thin. A shame. She has such smooth skin too. Do you think she squeals?" the man asked as he gripped her lean thigh and pulled her away from the river.

Sar'tara, still desperate for a drink, squealed then. She felt humiliated, reacting just as he had predicted. Her legs thrashed about. She tried begging for water but her words came out in fragments, making it seem like she was gasping. One of the men rolled her onto her back. Sar'tara cried out like a child as the gash on her back was pressed against the gravel. The man had stripped himself of his armor for some odd reason and his partner was doing the same. Out of desperation, Sar'tara flicked water at his bearded face. He flinched as it entered his eyes. She tucked in her knees and kicked at his already crooked nose. It twisted with a sharp crack.

"This… This bitch!" the man cried, his voice slightly higher pitched than before. He held his broken nose to staunch the red stream that now poured out.

The second man came up to Sar'tara. She squirmed towards the river, crying as the wound on her back was dragged along the bank. Her hands searched for her knives. They found arrows instead. A heavy boot came down on her belly. The man looked into her eyes. She glared back. A long scar ran down his left eye. He had a thick mustache and no beard.

"Too dangerous," he said. "I think I'll just kill you instead. Lay still and I promise it'll be painless." He knelt before her arm and rolled up the length of his trouser sleeve, revealing an iron knife tied to his calf. He planned to slit her wrist she realized. For what? Why couldn't he just put her out of her misery? Was such cruelty necessary for some everflowers?

The man pulled the knife out. He saw the arrows in her hand a second too late. Cruelty was repaid with cruelty. With a rasped howl, Sar'tara jammed the arrow into the side of his head. It was firmly embedded within before the shaft snapped in two.

The second man stared in horror as his partner was brutally slain. He fumbled through his armor for his sword. The blood from his broken nose dripped everywhere, causing his trembling hands to slip along the surface of his iron plates. He muttered the word 'where' repeatedly, glancing back to see if Sar'tara was still laying down.

She would have killed him had she the strength. But she no longer was capable of pulling herself up. With a final desperate struggle, Sar'tara dragged herself into the running waters of the river. There was an initial sting as the water touched the wound on her back. After that, she felt relief. All of her strength faded into oblivion as the current carried her downstream. A cool embrace amidst the burning forest. She submerged her arms, letting the water cleanse her wounds, if only slightly. In the skies above, all Sar'tara saw were thick grey clouds caused by the flames closing in around her. The light of the burning forest was much too bright. She closed her eyes. The harsh oranges and whites pierced through still. Regardless, everything eventually did fade to black as Sar'tara's consciousness faded away. The last feeling she had was that of her faintly beating heart as she drifted along like a spirit in the wind.

She'd survived. Somehow. But not for long. There was no one to treat her. The huntress knew that she would die soon. She just wished it would be before she woke up again.