[Scarn] The Bonds of War

[Deleted]

The soft summer breeze swept over the Seagrass Plains, brushing the stalks of dry, yellowed verdure. The fragile strands, lacking in moisture, rustled and cracked as a pair of leather shoes tread lightly over them. Sarinon kept her body crouched low to the ground, silently lamenting the lack of trees or large amounts of brush that would allow her to move quicker, and lessen her chances of being seen. She moved nimbly, treading as softly as she could, doing her best to avoid detection as she followed the sounds of a group of six men.

She felt something tug at the sleeve of her shirt and had to stop and extract the loose linen from the clutches of the brambles upon which it had been caught. By the time she focused her ears on the group again, they had moved much further ahead. She heard the sounds of their footstep and guessed they were climbing a small hill. Sarinon crouched lower to the ground and began to inch forward, careful to make as little sound as the dry crackling grass would allow, moving closer to where the six men had halted at the crest of the hill. A rustling sound indicated movement, though the Feberi could not tell what was happening. Sarinon found herself secreted behind a large thorn bush, protected by its tangled mess of branches as she settled down to listen.

The sound of something brushing the ground caught Sarinon's ear. She guessed that something soft, probably fabric, had been dropped and she heard the distinct sound of a large book being opened and the rasping sound of crumbling pages being turned. Then a deep male voice, no doubt belonging to the leader of the group, began to speak.

"Brothers, you all know the threat we face. You know that we are outclassed in every aspect save our numbers. If we fight, we will lose. But here, upon this hill tonight, we will do whatever we must to gain whatever advantage we can over those steam headed metal-worshiping frauds." The man paused and Sarinon wished she could see what he was doing, but then he began to speak again. "Teyrnon, I leave it to you to explain our task this night.

Sarinon leaned forward, her curiosity raging inside her as she focused closely, listening for the man who was about to speak. He cleared his throat and began in a weedy voice. "This book once belonged to the vile magicians of our enemies, the Forbidden. They used it to record several of their enchantments and tonight, we will attempt to replicate some of them."

So thats it, thought the Feberi woman, They want to use my people's magic against the industrialists. The won't succeed. She considered simply leaving then. Feberi enchantment required a direct link to the Star Dance, and since none of the worshipers of Achim would have Feberi blood, there was no chance they would be able to sing the melodies recorded in that book. But, curious as ever, she stayed where she was.

The sound of six men clustering about each other, muttering soft prayers in desperate need to atone for the treachery they were about to commit against their God. They all ceased their prayers and, as one, opened their mouths and began to sing.

It was a halting melody, hardly worthy of the beautiful music of the Star Dance, and yet, Sarinon couldn't help but be affected by the songs of her ancestors. She listened as the voices of the men who hated her kind rose in unison to sing their enchantment, filled. Though the men could not touch the Star Dance, she could feel its beat pulsing through her body. Her empathy picked up the indignation of that mighty Dance at the fools who tried to use it and Sarinon gasped quietly as those feelings raged through her body and mind. She was lost in the world of the stars, watching their slow turning movements in the firmament, and marveling at their beauty and grace, something which she could not see with her own eyes.

It was only when the melody faded that Sarinon became aware of the still night around her. She felt the soft breeze play across her face and toy with her hair and heard the crickets cherping to the night and... a footfall... It was close, it was heavy and then there was another. She immediately knew what was happening, but by the time she had sprung from her hiding place, it was too late. She had been so absorbed in the beauty of the Star Dance, she had not noticed the six men who had been alerted to her presence by the tiny gasp she had emitted. They had ceased their singing and crept around to circle her position and now they took hold of her thin wrists and growled at her to walk. She obeyed, not being strong enough to free herself from the grasp of the two men who held her.

"You... you are the strange woman." said the voice of their leader. She felt his proximity, heard his deep breathing and his angry tone. She stood defiant and refused to reply. The man's breathing grew more shallow and she could feel the foul warmth of it on her face. "Who are you? What are you? You don't look human. Perhaps you are not, perhaps you are hiding among us, ashamed of your Forbidden blood."

The hands that held her tightened, compressing her soft skin and she couldn't help but whimper as the magnified pain raced up her arms, but she kept her mouth shut. She heard a low growl, a soft whistling sound and flinched as a hand stuck her cheek. She tasted blood in her mouth and felt the shifting nature of the men around her. They were closing in from all sides. "You," said the leader, a full foot shorter than she, "are one of the Forbidden, you know of these enchantments and you will teach us." With that she was tossed to the ground and a rough rope was tied about her wrists. She heard the group withdraw, leaving one man to watch her as the others moved away to discuss what to do with her in low, urgent voices. She could hear every word they spoke, but didn't much care for most of what was said. They discussed if she was a danger to them, pondering what power she might possess and how they might turn it to their own use.

Unwilling to wait around for the conclusion of their discussion, Sarinon felt around on the ground, closed her fingers over a hard stone and swung her arms awkwardly, flinging it as hard as she could in the direction of the man who guarded her. She heard the sickening crunch as it struck his skull and she wasted no time in jumping to her feet. She didn't care in which direction she moved, all she knew was that she had to get away from them all. She began to run as fast as she could down the hill, making soft whistling calls and listening for the echoes to indicate where obstacles might be. In her panic and fear, she turned her head and tried to listen for the unmistakable sound of pursuit and, sure enough, she could hear the shouts and thudding footsteps of the men running after her. She turned back to face the direction in which she ran, but it was too late. Her foot caught on something solid and she fell headlong, skidding slightly as she landed on the hard ground.

[Scar]

Brother Morowen was dead; there was no doubt about it.

The mission packet had arrived from their controllers in Etheen a couple of days ago, much to the chagrin of Brother Morowen. He never did like being interrupted in his prayers. Of course that all changed when he saw the smaller package that came with it, stamped with the seal of the Brotherhood.

It was a routine reconnaissance mission six miles behind the current line of conflict. They were contracted with gathering intelligence on the current enemy forces and map any traps or ambushes lying in wait for the magnificent war machines of the Seneschal, the favoured of Belos, may the light of His forge never dim.

Of much more importance was the word from their brothers back in Ysbath. It was rare enough that the Brotherhood of the Iron Watch contacted the two in the field, rarer still for them to send a diplomatic package. Within, they found a tiny, sealed box together a surprising note, warning them that the Achmili might be planning to implement ancient Forbidden magic against their Seneschel brethren. They were told next to nothing about the box, only that if ever it warned them of the Forbidden they were to exterminate it.

Scarven remember Morowen giving him a grim look before destroying the letter, a look he knew well. As young Corolean mercenaries, they had both taken vows to never swear allegiance to any one nation or organization save, a vow they had kept till the day they discovered the great Belos, God of Steel. From that day on they have been aiding the Seneschal in spreading the words of steel and steam that is Belos, their old vows long forgotten.

They were both too wound up, truth be told. It was their first true mission for the Brotherhood and they were confident they could finish this easily. After all, they were experienced scouts with more than a dozen successful missions between them. Little did they know the stars had something different in mind for them.

About a mile in, they stumbled upon a patrol of heavily armed Achmili who did not take too kindly to their steam weaponry. The two had on only one armament between them - powerful, steam powered rifles, designed to be used at range - and thus they were outmatched and forced to flee. Morowen took an axe to the back and fell as they fled. Scarven turned to help him up, unwilling to leave a Brother behind but … he would never forget the look on Morowen's face. The spotter looked at peace despite the grievous wound, calmly flicking the steam outlet valve switch closed.

Morowen mouthed only one word: “Run”. It was the last Scarven heard from him. Scarven turned tail and fled deeper into the sparse forest, looking only briefly over his shoulder his the now surrounded Brother. Moments later an explosion rocked the ground beneath him, a blast of hot air slamming square into his back and knocking him flat. Unconsciousness took him then and it was several hours later, according to his watch that he awoke.

“darn!” Scarven cursed, feeling now the delayed wave of guilt and anger. “Belos darned it, I had you! Why did you have to pull the killswitch!” He slammed my gloved fists into the ground, gritting his teeth and counting under his breath. Five … ten … twenty seconds … He stood shakily and picked his gear off the parched ground. Grieve for your Brother after the mission. The mission takes top priority.

Squaring his shoulders, he looked straight ahead, already seeing the forests’ edge and walked away.

It wasn’t long before Scarven reached the very edge of the forest bordering the Seagrass Plains, the name given on the map. he slowed his pace and crouched lower as the tall, dry trees gave way to equally dry, yellowed grasses that come up to his chest. It was a pleasant summer’s evening out on the plains. Already he could hear the creatures of the night emerging from their burrows, lending their chirps and whirrs into the song floating in the wind.

His eyes narrowed and he bent into a crouch, reaching a hand back to arm the steam rifle. It gave off a barely audible hiss as Scarven lifted the rifle and adjust the scope, gritting his teeth in frustration as he peer this way and that at random; Morowen was supposed to be the spotter after all. Finally, he got a glimpse of what looked like a circle of people atop a small hill. Lowering the rifle, he picked his way urgently through the grass to a nearby hill, one that fortunately had decent cover in the form of a lone tree and bush.

“What are they doing?” Scarven wondered loud as he peered through the scope, watching the men sway and mouth words he could barely pick up from this distance. “Singing? And dancing? But –” he gasped and reached down then to the belt pouch where he could feel a strange tingling sensation. The box! He had forgotten all about it. It was then that he smelt burning leather. Quickly, he unclipped the pouch from his belt and let it drop. Already Scarven could see the outline of the box, now a bright cherry red, burning its way through the abandoned pouch before quickly melting into a malformed black lump.

He squinted and turned his gaze back to the men in the distance with a frown. “A Forbidden ceremony. Belos will be pleased tonight,” he growled under his breath as he took aim.

Scarven raised an eyebrow then; through the scope he could see them tying up a young girl who seemed to be putting up quite a struggle. A sacrifice? Will these heathens stoop any lower? Grimly, he waited patiently for an opening. Firing on a defenceless woman was not something Belos would endorse.

There! He watched as the woman tried to make a run for it, heading straight in his direction. Levelling the rifle, he took careful aim at her lead pursuer’s head before depressing the trigger, just as she tripped and fell forward.

[Deleted]

The thudding footsteps of her pursuers reverberated in her ears as Sarinon pressed herself to the ground. She could feel the earth shudder with each footfall and she knew that every second she lay there was another second closer to being recaptured,

She knew what it was they wanted from her and she also knew that she couldn't give it to them, even if she wanted to. Her enchanter powers were limited and she knew that, no matter how many times she tried to explain, no matter how many pleas for mercy she voiced, they would never understand the complexity of her situation, nor the intricacy of the Star Dance itself. They would simply grew impatient and she didn't even want to consider what the Achmili might do to her should they realize she was useless to them. She shuddered.

She knew she had to move quickly so she turned herself in order to give her hands contact with the ground. It was an awkward task given that her hands were still tied behind her back and she was unable to keep her arms steady as she raised herself from the dusty ground. She coughed blood out of her mouth and tried to stand up but found her legs shook too much and she simply fell back down again, this time landing on her side and crushing her arms trapped beneath herself.

It was then that a new sound, one the Feberi had never heard before, erupted into the night. It was a soft hiss followed by a whistling sound and then something small and metallic embedding itself in dense bone, the sound of which made Sarinon feel nauseous. Immediately after the impact, a great thud was created as the man who had been struck fell to the ground and his comrades began to shout and panic. Sarinon lifted her head slightly and tried to piece together what little information she had been given.

Some small metal object had been released at a speed far greater than any human was capable of throwing, or any bow was capable of firing, and whatever it was, it had caused one of her attackers to fall, perhaps unconscious or even dead.

Unsure what exactly had happened, unable to determine where the metal object had come from or if its originator was friend or foe, the Feberi simply lay curled in the grass, shaking slightly in fear and hoping desperately that whoever found her was a friend.

[Scar]

Scarven smiled grimly in satisfaction as the Achmili’s head snapped back, dropping him like a sack of stones. In the time it took for the body to hit the ground, he had already slid the rifle's bolt back and chambered a new round, a low hiss signalling that the pressurisation was complete. Tracking a new target, one of the confused and scared fools, he took aim and fired off another shot, spinning him right round as it caught him in the neck.

That was more than enough to spook the rest of the men and they scrambled in all directions, their screams reaching even Scarven's ears. He shot another in the face as he was running towards me before lowering the barrel, watching in disgust as the men abandoned the bodies of their comrades. Despicable, he told himself as he flicked the pressure release switch and got to his feet, hefting his backpack over a shoulder.

Again he aimed the scope at the hill and noticed that the young woman wasn’t moving. “By Belos’ hammer I hope I didn’t hit her!” Slinging the rifle over his other shoulder, Scarven crouched down and walked quickly through the grass in her direction, confident that the men had either left or died.

It took no time at all to reach the woman. Stepping over the gurgling body of the second man, he knelt down beside her, placing a finger to her neck. A steady pulse, that was good! Drawing a knife from his boot, he hid it by his side, ready to strike in case she was hostile. “Are you alright?” Scarven asked concernedly, trying to elicit a response from her.

[Deleted]

Still curled in a ball, Sarinon stayed as still as a stone until the sounds of the men around her had faded. She could tell that three had fallen to the ground and knew now that they would either be mortally wounded or dead. The other three had fled soon after, leaving her alone in the grass with the mysterious attacker, or attackers.

She considered standing up and trying to flee, but she decided that such action would be unwise, given that she did not know how many attackers there were, what they were armed with or even where they were. She was best to stay where she was. That, and the fact that she was still tied up and trembling didn't help at all.

The sound of footsteps crushing the seagrass reached her ears. One pair, heavy. Male, probably fairly well built. She breathed in deeply to try and steady her racing heart as the man drew closer and couched beside her. Already tense, she gave a jolt when she felt his finger being pressed to her neck and another when she heard the soft scraping sound of a blade being drawn. It was then that she decided action was needed.

She opened her mouth and spoke softly, entwining her words with the melodies of the Star Dance and hoped that he wouldn't question the feeling of ease and complacency which would inevitably sweep over him.

"I am fine," she answered his question, "though it would be wise of you to untie me."

Praying that her shaking body would respond, she pushed herself upright, sitting on the hard earth and wondered if her enchantment had worked, or whether he knew she was not fully human. Come to think of it, she thought to herself, I'm not sure he even is human himself. She decided it wasn't worth the risk to reveal herself, or even to ask about him, so instead she listened closely, hoping she would hear a calm voice rather than the swishing sound of a knife cutting through the air...

[Scar]

He hesitated for a moment upon hearing her say that, though he couldn’t place his finger on why. Regretting not bringing anything more threatening than a simple knife, he watched as she sat up to face him, trembling visibly.

Fear? Could she be guilty? Could she be consorting with them? He didn’t think she was the enemy and considering what had just happened, he seriously doubted she was in league with those men. Still, better safe than sorry with the Achmili …

“Answer me truthfully and I’ll consider it,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. He really did not want to harm this woman but a foe is a foe, no matter the gender. “Who were those men and what were they doing?” He moved around to her back and placed the knife against her back, just above her bindings. “And most importantly, what were you doing with them?”

[Deleted]

She felt him hesitate and grew in her own confidence because of it. Perhaps her enchantment had worked and he would soon let her go, but instead, she heard the rumbling tone of his gruff voice.

“Who were those men and what were they doing?”

Then she felt him move around behind her as she sat, trying to control herself and keep still. She couldn't help but flinch slightly as she felt the point of his blade prick the small of her back where her hands were bound. From there, he could either free her, or kill her instantly with a quick blow to her vital organs. She gulped back a whimper, steadied her breathing and, again, heard his voice murmur in her ear.

“And most importantly, what were you doing with them?”

At first she considered lying to make him sympathetic to her cause. She wondered if she could pass herself off as a simple country woman who had stumbled upon this by accident, but she knew better than that. Not only were her clothes of a higher class, she barely passed as human with her colouring and few country wives would be roaming the seagrass planes in the dead of night.

She was still unsure of what had just transpired, or even if this man was alone. She didn't even consider running, having guessed that it was he who disabled three of the six Achmili who had captured her, and she didn't want to take the chance that he would do the same to her, nor was she sure that he didn't have a whole company of his allies hiding silently.

So, after hesitating, calming herself and stilling her heart which had been beating in her throat, she once more entwined her words with the thread of music from the stars and spoke softly to him, deciding to tell the truth, or at least part of it.

"Those men were Achmili, worshipers of the Plough God, Achim. Their task tonight was to harness Feb-Forbidden enchantment from the time when those people ruled over humans. I do not know what kind of enchantment they were planning to use, but they did not succeed."

That last part was a lie. She had heard her brother sing that same enchantment to harness a fire spirit long ago, though saying as much would reveal her knowledge of Feberi ways and incriminate herself. She cleared her throat and continued.

"I am here because I had heard of these plans and was curious to see if they would succeed. They," here she paused and nodded in the direction she hoped was where the fallen Achmili lay, "did not take kindly to my curiosity, as you can no doubt see. There is nothing more to it."

She paused again and considered quietly before she decided that the question was worth the risk.

"Please tell me what happened just now?"

[Scar]

Scarven lowered the blade slightly as she explained herself, more curious now than threatened. From the way she was dressed she seemed to be nothing but a simple country girl, at least back in the old country before the coming of Belos, yet her speech and mannerism reminded him of the cultured noblewomen of the Coroleas court.

Not only that but she seemed to radiate an aura of calm, like she was at peace with the world despite her obvious fear of him. There was certainly more to the lass than he first thought that much he was sure of. His curiosity piqued, he decided he’d get the most important information out of her first.

“Those Achim worshipping scum,” he hissed, resting the tip of the knife on her back once again. “They think their little enchantments can hope to defeat the Lord Belos, may the light of His forge never dim, but they are so very wrong. Don’t you agree with me, young Achmili?”

He wasn’t going to stab her in the back, not by a long shot, but if the woman admitted to worshipping that fell god then, well, he’d have to drag her along and make her see the folly of her ways. Belos would be pleased.

And if she didn’t he had a lot of explaining to do.

[Deleted]

She tensed as the blade moved lower and the gruff voice of this strange man, her captor, breathed in her ear. Her mind was oddly calm and she had managed to stop herself from shaking, but the fear still raged inside her like some fleeting beast of prey, darting in and out of the brambles and bleating helplessly.

“Those Achim worshiping scum, they think their little enchantments can hope to defeat the Lord Belos, may the light of His forge never dim, but they are so very wrong. Don’t you agree with me, young Achmili?”

The hissing sound of his voice made Sarinon's body tingle slightly, though she did not know the reason, but instead of reacting as she normally would, being calm and temperate, she ceased enchanting her words. She was tired of being the timid girl, tired of being treated as a mindless underling who was incapable of thoughts or feelings as complex as those of men. All her life she had been reviled and slandered and each time she had simply brushed the cruel words from her shoulders, ignored the physical pain inflicted upon her, gritted her teeth against it.

Her resolve hardened and her patience ran out. She hated the Achmili for persecuting her, for torturing her and now she was beginning to hate this man for insinuating that she was one of those who despised her. Sarinon, normally so calm, so gracious and gentle, slow to anger, firm in her pacifism and always patient, grew angry and lashed out with her tongue, the only weapon she permitted herself to use.

"I tell you now, Brother of the Seneschal, that light and fire which you worship so fervently will undoubtedly dim should you lay harm to one untainted by the stench of Achim. Or is it often the custom of your Brotherhood to accost young women, bound in both body and sight, in order that your greatness might be proclaimed?"

She did her best to keep the anger out of her voice, but years of persecution at the hands of religious humans had given her nothing but fear and a quiet smoldering rage which waited for moments like these to boil over. Immediately, she regretted adding the taunt to the end of her statement, but at the same time, she couldn't help but wonder if this man felt strong because of her helplessness, and she could muster little but contempt for him if he did.

[Scar]

Scarven was taken aback at the sudden show of hostility, never being used to the nuances of the Corolean court he didn’t know how to react to her tirade. In fact it left him trying to catch up as to whether it was an insult, an answer to his question or both. Not only that but he could actually feel a wave of anger emanating from her, something he had never felt from anyone before.

Belos be darned I’m a soldier not a thinker, he thought to himself. Okay one step at a time … he circled her and bent down to come face to face with her. “So you’re not an Achmili then, I appreciate your cooperation on that matter.”

He then raised the knife and pointed it directly at the bridge of her nose, realizing now the insult she just made against not just the Brotherhood but against Belos as well. “What I do not appreciate is you insulting Belos. Do you really think you can begin to understand the forging of the Master Maker? And I will tell you right now that while we of the Brotherhood will do no harm to innocent women, we will not hesitate to deal harshly with blasphemers.”

[Deleted]

There was no mistaking it, she could not turn her empathy off and she felt the unease of her captor - He was confused by what she had said. She wondered if, being the obvious soldier he was, he would stab her simply to rid himself of such a troublesome prisoner, but then he shifted, moving around in front of her. She felt his warm breath on her face and closed her eyes, tilting her chin downward, showing a little of the shame she felt.

“So you’re not an Achmili then, I appreciate your cooperation on that matter.”

She nodded, raising her head and, for the first time since she had left the Avondell, she strained her eyes against the impossible darkness that shrouded them, strained to see what the man was doing, what he looked like, how he was reacting. She was concentrating so hard that she didn't even notice him shifting his knife until the point of it pricked her nose. She jumped in shock and leaned backward, trying to distance herself from the blade, her eyes wide and shifting, searching. She knew she wasn't looking in the right place.

“What I do not appreciate is you insulting Belos. Do you really think you can begin to understand the forging of the Master Maker? And I will tell you right now that while we of the Brotherhood will do no harm to innocent women, we will not hesitate to deal harshly with blasphemers.”

"I tell you honestly, I do not understand your God just as I do not understand Achim, and so it was wrong of me to pass judgment. Know that I would not have done so had you not treated me so harshly." She paused, wondering if she should enchant her words once again, but her instincts told her that he would be suspicious of a second wave of calmness, so instead she gave him honesty.

"I follow no God of humans, though I will not stoop to persecution for the sake of my own beliefs. Now, either release me or kill me, for I would rather die than remain a captive. I am no use to you, no matter what those Achmili thought, and I have nothing left to live for."

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back, stretching her slender neck. Breathing in deeply, she listened to the soft beat of the Star Dance, letting it soothe her. At least if he killed her, she would go to join the stars she loved so much.

[Scar]

Scarven’s blood boiled as she uttered those words, his grip on the blade tightening. How could she reject the glory of Belos! She may have not been one of those Achim worshipping fools but from the way she spoke, from the defiance in her voice, he knew he could not convert this one, nor would she listen to him.

Of course, Belos’ decree was very clear on the subject. Those who would not or cannot be bent into swords shall be cast back into the great forge to await their reforging.

He raised his knife then, wanting to deal her a quick, merciful blow, but realized then what she meant by bound in body and sight; her pale eyes moved not an inch to follow the knife's path even as it hovered less than an inch away from her nose. She was blind!

"I follow no God of humans, though I will not stoop to persecution for the sake of my own beliefs. Now, either release me or kill me, for I would rather die than remain a captive. I am no use to you, no matter what those Achmili thought, and I have nothing left to live for."

Scarven watched nervously as she raised her head and exposed her neck to him, as if waiting for him to strike. He wanted to, it was part of Belos’ teachings and yet he didn’t have the heart to kill a defenceless, blind woman. Frustrated, he growled and bent down to slip the knife into his boot before tugging at the woman’s restraints.

“Get up, we can’t stay here,” he ordered reluctantly, pulling her slowly to her feet. “Night’s approaching and it gets cold out here.” He paused before adding. “I won’t leave a defenceless woman to die from the cold but if you insist on staying so be it.”

[Deleted]

The chill air brushed past her as Sarinon knelt before her captor, a servant of Belos, bound by his oaths to the God of the Forging to bring under subjugation, all the peoples of the world, from Coroleas where the religion had first taken hold, to the treeless plains of Idris and and the greater continent of Sahal. Not even the island nation of Escator would escape the Belosian ideology.

She shivered, though it was not from the cold, nor from the presence of her captor, but for the hundreds of thousands of lives that Achim and Belos were destroying, even as she knew hers was about to be. The only difference was, she didn't care for her own life.

Sarinon heard the man raise his blade, knew that she was about to be dealt a death blow, knew she would be joining the stars in their eternal dance; only in that moment did she realize something.... She did not want to die.

Regret for the loss of her own life finally broke through. She had toyed so dangerously with her life, flaunted it before the eyes of death itself. Only now that she came so close to passing through the final gate did she realize how much she wanted to stay, how many things she would miss. She let her head fall backward, wishing he would be quick about his task.

The blow never came.

Together in the night, growing colder with each gust of wind, Sarinon felt indecision creep into his resolve. The man stood for what felt like an age, the blade raised, poised to strike her down, but she realized then, that he had no heart to kill her. She had thrown it away, and her life had been restored to her.

She heard him slip the knife into a sheath and then felt his hand reach behind her back and tug at her wrists, still bound by the cruel Achmili rope. Before she consented to stand, she breathed a silent thanks into the night, not entirely sure to whom she should be thankful.

“Get up, we can’t stay here. Night’s approaching and it gets cold out here. I won’t leave a defenceless woman to die from the cold but if you insist on staying so be it.”

Now in possession of her life, Sarinon had no intention of coming so close to losing it again. She gasped slightly as his strong arm pulled her off the ground and began directing her firmly in one direction. She walked slowly, listening for the echoes of their footfalls, trying to scope out the land before her.

Her entire body ached from the beating it had endured, and yet, her mind buzzed with thoughts and emotions. External calmness was what she did best, and normally her mind reflected that perfectly, but now, the external and internal had become polar opposites. The silence grew between them as they walked and Sarinon felt increasingly obliged to speak, though for the first time in her life, she had no idea what she could say.

Finally, she settled on something unobtrusive, hoping that it would not annoy her captor.

"Sir," she addressed him politely, "I find myself in uneasy position. Might I be so bold as to inquire after your name?"

[Scar]

What had just happened? Scarven wondered to himself distractedly as he pulled the bound woman along, noting that she was being surprisingly cooperative for a hostage. No, not a hostage. She … he grunted in frustration, a myriad of conflicted emotions running through him.

Shame. He couldn’t believe he had just let an unbeliever live, not only denying her a reforging at the hands of the great Belos but he also denying Belos another blade for the crusade, another unforgivable sin.

And yet … yet he felt pride. He had rescued a defenceless woman from the clutches of a band of deranged Forbidden magic users, Achim worshippers at that. He was, in essence, her saviour and while she didn’t believe in Belos He still preached that, as his followers, our main duty is to save others from the darkness!

But even those thoughts couldn’t distract him from the fact that he had wronged Belos … and even worse was the voice in the back of his head that kept telling that maybe, just maybe, Belos was wrong about something.

“Huh?” He turned his head slightly as the woman repeated her question. He was surprised at her formality, especially her newfound politeness. His name, well that was harmless enough. “Scarven.” When she remained silent he remembered his manners and added, “It’s a pleasure.”

They finally arrived at the tree line and Scarven quickly tugged the woman lightly to the ground, sitting her onto the nearest patch of soft grass. Having checked that they were properly hidden from view, he dumped his pack onto the dry grass and rummaged through its pockets for a firestarter, basically a mechanical flint and steel encased in a convenient metal case.

In no time he had a small fire started, giving off just enough light to see but not nearly enough to stay warm. Seeing that, the woman was shivering in the exact same spot he’d left her, he removed the rolled up blanket from his pack and draped it over her. She may be an unbeliever but he wasn’t barbaric. “Stay warm and I will be back soon. I want to inspect something,” he whispered as he got up and shouldered his rifle, disappearing into the night.

[Deleted]

Scarven. He'd said his name was Scarven, like a scar. Sarinon wondered if that was the reason for his name, if he was somehow scarred, though she thought it too impolite to ask. Instead, she let him direct her and tried to think of what else she could ask a man who devoted his life to the God of the Forge.

It came as a surprise when he stopped and pushed down on her restraints, indicating that she should sit. Obediently folding her legs under herself, she sank to the ground and took in what sensial information she could. She noted that closeness of the air and guessed they had entered the forest, though they were not so far in because of the lack of undergrowth. The wind was biting into her skin, bare except for the light linen shirt and crinkled dress she wore.

She heard the sounds of a fire being made and then the man, Scarven, was next to her, placing a blanket around her shoulders to stave off the cold. She tried to radiate her thankfulness, but ended up simply shivering once more. Then he was gone, telling her to stay warm. She heard his footsteps retreating and the sound of him brushing past some low hanging branches.

Immediately, her mind thought of escape. She wondered if she could navigate her way back to the hill where the Achmili had died, but reason fought against the notion. Her hands were still bound behind her back and, although she was sure she could find her way, she would never be able to move fast enough. Besides, she smiled to herself, this might well be a test. He could be only a short walk away, watching me to see what I'll do. If I run, he could kill me from far away like he did with those Achmili.

She valued her life too highly now to risk anything, and Scarven, for all his talk of Belos' decrees and his waving of knives and other weapons, did not seem a common brute. She could tell there was a good heart behind the gruff exterior, and she even sensed a little bit of sorrow in him, though he hid it well from those without the gift of empathy.

The sound of a snapping twig made her look up.

"Scarven?" she asked, thinking that he had been quick. There was no reply. She thought it perhaps was the sound of a woodland creature moving about in the night so she ignored it. Sarinon wished she had the use of her hands so she could pull the blanket tighter about her shoulders.

A soft thud made her freeze. Someone was moving slowly toward her, someone who was doing their best to hide the sounds of their approach. Someone didn't want her to know she was being stalked.

Sarinon heard the sound again, much closer, though she gave no outward indication that she had heard anything. Unable to do anything else, she simply sat by the tiny fire, still shivering slightly, and waited to see who it was and what they were doing. Silently, she prayed that her life would be spared.

A scraping noise, a knife being pulled... She leaped to her feet, prepared to flee, but was too slow. A strong arm looped around her waist while another snaked its way around her neck, pressing the knife to the side of her windpipe and cutting her delicate skin slightly. She gasped in surprise and pain as she struggled against the man who breathed heavily in her ear.

"Fiend of a woman, you are no human. You are an elf of the forest and now you and that wretched man go to Achim for His judgement." The harsh voice whispered at her and Sarinon's heart beat in her throat as she was filled with fear. At any moment, she expected the knife to cut fully through her throat and end the life which she had finally come to appreciate.

But instead, the Achmili, one who had fled from Scarven's attack, pulled her backward with him, brushing past the trees and secreting themselves behind a stand of trunks. Sarinon gulped as she realised he was planning to use her as a hostage. Scarven may have showed her some kindness, but she doubted he cared enough to give in to this Achmili.

Through all her fear, she couldn't help but notice that they were still well inside the forest, a place of evil demons and terror for Sahalian humans. This man was either a convert to Achim, or his hatred of her had overcome his fear of the trees and the Forbidden. This made him only more dangerous.

He bent his head to her ear. "Shall I take my liberties with you, elf-woman? Make even one sound and that fiendish man shall see you suffer and die before I end his life too. Perhaps Achim will show some mercy and let you wallow in the pits of the afterlife together."

Sarinon restrained a whimper. She could not fight him - she would not fight him. She would not lift a finger to save her own life and all she could do was quake in fear as the Achmili laughed softly at her and waited for Scarven's return.