Sequel: The Game ›
Status: complete, but revisions are being made
The Pauper Princess
Chapter Eleven
Some time after continuing, we all heard it. The high, piercing shriek that sounded like a woman’s scream brought us all to a sudden stop. The sound wrapped around us in the disorienting fog. We couldn’t tell which direction it was coming from. The horses started breathing hard fidgeting nervously. A sudden panic gripped me as I thought of Mehta. I reached out and touched the carriage, assuring myself that the sound had been too far off to be Mehta. The fog had lifted slightly over the past hour, and I could see the carriage now, but I reached out for it nonetheless.
“That’s it,” one of the guards said, “It’s the horn from last night.” A chill ran through my body, and for once, it had nothing to do with the freezing mist. Less than a minute later, the first horn was answered by another, slightly higher pitched horn.
“Where are the wagons?” another guard inquired. I turned to look back, and saw only a limp rope trailing off into endless white.
“Stay alert, they have the advantage,” the General commanded. No one replied vocally, but I could hear swords drawn all around the carriage. I once again felt utterly vulnerable. I withdrew the dagger from its sheath at my waist, but I knew I stood no chance against an enemy that I couldn’t see.
Just as I thought this, an arrow slashed through the thick fog and embedded itself in my mare’s head, just below the ear. I slid from the saddle just before my horse’s legs crumpled and his body sank to the ground. Fresh blood spouted from the fatal wound. I fell to my knees beside Alstehus, the mare I had received on my fourteenth birthday. My heart ached at the sudden loss of her.
One of the guards dismounted immediately and roughly pulled the arrow from my horse’s neck. I winced and felt a comforting hand squeeze my shoulder, and without looking, I knew it had to be Ekohl. Instead, I looked to the arrow. Its shaft was the color of dried blood, and my stomach sank when I saw the ragged raven feathers that were an unmistakable sign of the fabled Lequinian bandits.
“They can see through the fog,” the guard beside me stated. This was the small truth we were all afraid to give life to, yet it now struck through our minds in horrifying reality. Another horn blew, striking panic and fear through the very core of my body.
“Everyone dismount and protect the Princess,” the General said just above a whisper. The guards swiftly followed the order and tied their horses’ reins to the spokes of the carriage wheels. If the remaining horses were killed, they would at least keep the carriage immobile for a short time. I reached for my own blood-soaked reins and did the same.
I sat beside Alstehus, not even caring any more that I was wet and cold. My mind was consumed with the fact that we were under attack. Ekohl took hold of my arms and pulled me to my feet. Without a word, he held my knives out to me. Shaking myself out of my stupor, I gladly took the weapons and strapped them to my belt. I wanted to ask how he came upon them, but as soon as I opened my mouth, a shake of his head silenced me.
Horns sounded all around us right before the bandits attacked, and then battle cries rose up in place of the wailing horns. The red arrows of the bandits pierced each horse almost simultaneously. Blood slicked the hard-packed ground and drenched us in the stench of death as the beasts collapsed one by one. The sound of metal against metal rang from my right.
I turned toward the sound in time to witness one of the guards pinned to the ground by a huge tanned man. The stranger had black markings spiraling across his bare chest, and I wondered briefly how he could stand the cold. Seeing the struggling Kyshian soldier, I took a step toward him to help, but I was pushed against the side of the carriage by Ekohl. He rushed the bandit and tackled him off the other man.
I took off after them, but a burly bandit suddenly emerged from the thick blanket of fog. He aimed to hack off my head. I dropped to the ground and kicked at his knee while his blade passed through empty air. I heard the sickening crack as his leg snapped backwards. He fell screaming. I stood over him, my blade angled to his neck, but I hesitated. Before I could steel myself to end the man’s life, a blade sliced through his shoulder, splattering fresh blood onto the already soaked ground.
I didn’t even have time to see who killed him before another man rushed at me. I blocked his sword with my left blade and dropped to one knee from the force of his blow. The man had to be at least twice my size, and he knew it. He leaned into me, using all his weight, but I ran the blade in my right hand up through his ribs into where I judged his heart to be and rolled to the side. He fell to his knees. His body convulsed as he choked. I stood up and pulled my blade from his body, and he collapsed into a puddle blood.
This was my first kill. I fell against the carriage and allowed it to support me. I don’t know how long I stared at the back of his shaven head, engrossed by the scrolling designs tattooed on his dark skin. The sounds of swords clashing barely registered. I felt something dripping from my cheek, and reaching up to wipe it away, I found my fingers covered in the man’s warm sticky blood.
Through my shock, I heard someone screaming my name- my real name. I turned my head to see who it was but saw only the flash of a sword. I felt a sharp pain shoot through my left shoulder. The force of the blow slammed me against the carriage and pinned me there. My vision was now filled with a cruel tattooed face. Dropping my eyes to my shoulder, I could see the steel of the bandit’s blade. I saw my blood slowly creeping down the sword before my hearing faded and my vision blurred from white to black.
“That’s it,” one of the guards said, “It’s the horn from last night.” A chill ran through my body, and for once, it had nothing to do with the freezing mist. Less than a minute later, the first horn was answered by another, slightly higher pitched horn.
“Where are the wagons?” another guard inquired. I turned to look back, and saw only a limp rope trailing off into endless white.
“Stay alert, they have the advantage,” the General commanded. No one replied vocally, but I could hear swords drawn all around the carriage. I once again felt utterly vulnerable. I withdrew the dagger from its sheath at my waist, but I knew I stood no chance against an enemy that I couldn’t see.
Just as I thought this, an arrow slashed through the thick fog and embedded itself in my mare’s head, just below the ear. I slid from the saddle just before my horse’s legs crumpled and his body sank to the ground. Fresh blood spouted from the fatal wound. I fell to my knees beside Alstehus, the mare I had received on my fourteenth birthday. My heart ached at the sudden loss of her.
One of the guards dismounted immediately and roughly pulled the arrow from my horse’s neck. I winced and felt a comforting hand squeeze my shoulder, and without looking, I knew it had to be Ekohl. Instead, I looked to the arrow. Its shaft was the color of dried blood, and my stomach sank when I saw the ragged raven feathers that were an unmistakable sign of the fabled Lequinian bandits.
“They can see through the fog,” the guard beside me stated. This was the small truth we were all afraid to give life to, yet it now struck through our minds in horrifying reality. Another horn blew, striking panic and fear through the very core of my body.
“Everyone dismount and protect the Princess,” the General said just above a whisper. The guards swiftly followed the order and tied their horses’ reins to the spokes of the carriage wheels. If the remaining horses were killed, they would at least keep the carriage immobile for a short time. I reached for my own blood-soaked reins and did the same.
I sat beside Alstehus, not even caring any more that I was wet and cold. My mind was consumed with the fact that we were under attack. Ekohl took hold of my arms and pulled me to my feet. Without a word, he held my knives out to me. Shaking myself out of my stupor, I gladly took the weapons and strapped them to my belt. I wanted to ask how he came upon them, but as soon as I opened my mouth, a shake of his head silenced me.
Horns sounded all around us right before the bandits attacked, and then battle cries rose up in place of the wailing horns. The red arrows of the bandits pierced each horse almost simultaneously. Blood slicked the hard-packed ground and drenched us in the stench of death as the beasts collapsed one by one. The sound of metal against metal rang from my right.
I turned toward the sound in time to witness one of the guards pinned to the ground by a huge tanned man. The stranger had black markings spiraling across his bare chest, and I wondered briefly how he could stand the cold. Seeing the struggling Kyshian soldier, I took a step toward him to help, but I was pushed against the side of the carriage by Ekohl. He rushed the bandit and tackled him off the other man.
I took off after them, but a burly bandit suddenly emerged from the thick blanket of fog. He aimed to hack off my head. I dropped to the ground and kicked at his knee while his blade passed through empty air. I heard the sickening crack as his leg snapped backwards. He fell screaming. I stood over him, my blade angled to his neck, but I hesitated. Before I could steel myself to end the man’s life, a blade sliced through his shoulder, splattering fresh blood onto the already soaked ground.
I didn’t even have time to see who killed him before another man rushed at me. I blocked his sword with my left blade and dropped to one knee from the force of his blow. The man had to be at least twice my size, and he knew it. He leaned into me, using all his weight, but I ran the blade in my right hand up through his ribs into where I judged his heart to be and rolled to the side. He fell to his knees. His body convulsed as he choked. I stood up and pulled my blade from his body, and he collapsed into a puddle blood.
This was my first kill. I fell against the carriage and allowed it to support me. I don’t know how long I stared at the back of his shaven head, engrossed by the scrolling designs tattooed on his dark skin. The sounds of swords clashing barely registered. I felt something dripping from my cheek, and reaching up to wipe it away, I found my fingers covered in the man’s warm sticky blood.
Through my shock, I heard someone screaming my name- my real name. I turned my head to see who it was but saw only the flash of a sword. I felt a sharp pain shoot through my left shoulder. The force of the blow slammed me against the carriage and pinned me there. My vision was now filled with a cruel tattooed face. Dropping my eyes to my shoulder, I could see the steel of the bandit’s blade. I saw my blood slowly creeping down the sword before my hearing faded and my vision blurred from white to black.