Underestimate Me

Her sisters were falling beside her. Some so gravely wounded they would probably never rise again. She could not dwell on them; she would mourn their loss after. She would cut off that inch of hair again, honoring those who lost their lives for their ideas and dreams. She would drop a tear for each casualty, before returning their bodies to Maa. Maa would take care of them now, taking back the life she once granted.

The chaos was whole and complete around her and she had been cut herself. A great gash was upon her upper arm. She felt how the warm wetness of her blood dripped down and covered her before falling to the ground. She had no time to linger on it, no time even to really acknowledge the pain. She heard the swinging of metal approaching fast. As she ducked she noticed the sword swinging forcefully over her head. Without thinking she shot up her arm and sliced the throat of the man that was towering above. He crumbled down, gurgling on his own blood. His eyes became empty and she filled with the bloodlust of the animal inside her. Maa was changing her, she felt it. Changing her from the decent human she was brought up to be to the monster she was born as. Maa did not care for etiquette or submission. Maa was raw power and animal like decisions.

The men were obviously not expecting this surprise from above and although they were strong and heavily armed, her sisters were winning ground. Less of them dying and more of them killing. Grunts and growls were surrounding her, and she did not even notice her own sounds. She wiped off her bloody hand on the veil still covering her face; it was already drenched in blood and sweat.

Another enemy approached her from the side, she pretended not to notice, but someone else had noticed too. He did not even reach her before an arrow passed through his temple and almost traveled completely through his skull. Glancing up she saw Thea looking down on her, a new arrow already across her tensed bow. Josselyn nodded at her and traveled up the road, cutting her way towards the fierce protected ones. They mattered, they were protected. Rich men's sons or diplomat’s boys. Her feet moaned under the strides she made and protested still from dropping down the trees. She remained swift but she was not careful enough. A piercing pain traveled her hip as she felt the blade of a knife cutting in her flesh. Looking down she saw blood dripping from her hipbone down on the face of the man that had cut her. He was lying on the ground, several arrows in his chest, but the look on his face was one of triumph. He had gotten her, but had not been strong enough to do real harm.

Josselyn took his blade from his hands and put it at his throat. He grinned at her foolishly but in his eyes there was fear, undoubtedly. Fear of death. Fear of their God. Their false God Balon. One to help them in fights and in battles. He had abandoned them in the middle of this attack. He had led his men into a battle of certain death.

“Killing you would be the humane thing to do,” she hissed at him, “gladly I was told women are not worthy of being human, seducing men like demons of abdominal birth.” She took his own knife and sliced his fingers clean off his hands. He would not be knifing anymore of her sisters passing and he did not deserve a quick and painless death.

She rose again and saw how the battle was all but nearly done. Only little groups of men were surrounded and in full combat. Her sisters were twice as many and the persistence of the men was admirable if not foolish. The few were still fighting, but the outcome of this battle was clear. They had prevailed and given Maa enough sacrificed men to satisfy her bloodlust as well.

Turning her head she saw Meredith in a one on one combat with the leader of the group. He was a skilled swordsman but Meredith was as swift with a sword as any man. They circled each other, Josselyn gazing upon the man’s back. She was standing between the wastes of war. Dead bodies surrounding her, some still growling from pain, reduced to small boys scared shitless.

The moment the man turned his circle with Meredith and revealed his face, Josselyn’s body reacted. Her breathing stopped and she felt the blood in her veins thicken before freezing all together. It could not be. It was not. He was not. It was not possible... it was...

Even her thoughts did not run coherently anymore, as her body adopted a clumsiness that almost cost her life. A scream from behind her woke her up from her trance as she dodged another attempt on her life. The sword landed in the ground, following its downward movement with a force that could have split open her skull. She dropped down and swung around, the movement brought her knife to the opening between the armor of her opponent’s torso and the soft leather of his breeches. Blood sprung from the artery she had hit and he dropped at his knees too. He fell before her, both of them at eye level, kneeling in the dry and cracked ground. A cracked ground that had been sated with blood and sweat.

She looked him in the eye. His thick eyebrows covering the skin above them. His thick beard was full of dirt and blood, sweat dripping down his face. She did not know him as he probably did not know her. There they sat. Knees in the dirt, both panting as he slowly bled out. His face was turning pale and in his eyes she saw that he knew. She saw that he knew he would not see another morning. He would not witness another sunrise, not even a sunset. Taking her knife in her hands she decided to give this man a quick death. He had never wronged her. Only by following the men that had, following an idea putting Maa to shame.

“I hope your Balon will welcome you,” she said to him before jamming the knife though his eye and into his brain. He dropped from his knees forward and landed against her. She pushed him over and he dropped to the ground, sending up puffs of dust.

Her attention drew towards the man again. The broad boyish shoulders and that gorgeous face. He was her revenge and Meredith was almost going in for the kill. She had driven him off his feet and he was powerless. His sword was only a few feet from his hand but she had him pinned to the ground and was about to strike him down. Josselyn could say nothing and her revenge was granted. Her dreams would be less full of faces. His name would be scratched off the list and he would be forgotten in time.

“Spare him!” the words left her mouth as she struggled to her feet again. Meredith’s sword kept hanging mid-strike and her eyes sought Josselyn's. Joss knew she would obey. She knew Meredith could not kill him now, but she also knew she would never hear the end of in closed quarters.

Her hip bothered her as she limped over. Meredith had taken his sword and was keeping her blade against his throat. His Adam’s apple was just beneath her iron and she had yanked his face up by his unusual short hair. This man, who once was a boy, had not grown his hair to shoulder length or kept a beard. He was clean shaved and trimmed. She knew him by sight, she knew him by heart.

“We can use this one,” she said to Meredith. Her posture was already defiant, her hands itching to push the sword further. “This is Rowen, Elrick's eldest. We can surely use this one.” Her voice was cold. Her tone was calm. Inside, she was raging.

Before she knew it her foot connected with his stomach and made him fold like a piece of paper. Meredith was just in time removing her sword from his throat or he would have killed himself, falling onto it. Rowen grunted and Josselyn crouched beside him as he lay in the dirt. Her lips hidden by fabric but so close to his ear.

“Do not thank your Balon just yet, Rowen son of Elrick, for you have not seen our worst.”