Stories of the Blade: THE TURN (Part II)

A serialized dark fantasy short story

New readers: Start with Part I here!

Previously, Aryuna suffered an unprovoked attacked by her fellow warrior, Sanru. After subduing him, she has to make a fateful decision.

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. . . What do I do with him now?

Sanru sensed her momentary hesitation. His entire body came alive in an instant. He pushed her sword aside, grasped the Blade, and rose on his knee. But Aryuna’s deadly instincts were primed, ready to counter.

She pivoted behind him, aiming low. She closed her eyes and breathed, expelling the last remnants of indecision as she slashed him. Precise steel easily sliced through skin and tendon as he roared in agony, and fell over. He couldn’t follow her now.

The Contingent were rushing closer. They would look for the blue glow enveloping them, Aryuna thought. She knew they wouldn’t believe in the power of the Crow’s insignia. The High King himself derided magic in general and hexes in particular, dismissing the latter as pure fable.

They would kill her instantly, if she waited. Each of the dozen warriors within the Contingent was ruthlessly efficient, and as a group, they never missed. But was it any better to venture alone into the Dark Forest?

It was twilight now. Relief washed over Aryuna as she released her grip and sheathed her sword. She grabbed her sash from the ground, and fled towards the cover of thick trees, shrubs, leaves, and the darkening fog.

Her right side pounded as she took short, painful breathes. Drops of blood followed her through the muddy ground. She heard the distant and surprised cries of the Contingent, and Sanru barking orders.

They were no doubt carrying him. It would be weeks until his Achilles would heal, she thought, as she pushed ever deeper into the darkness.

The agitated voices faded; replaced by hushed whispers, incessant creaking, and low howls in the distance. Aryuna stopped. She chose a thick pine, it’s spacious trunk and embracing branches providing shelter from the icy fog creeping into the night air.

She felt hot veins on the side of her temple throbbing as she sat. Her weak breathes were shallow. Tears formed in her eyes, slowly at first. But soon, heavy droplets followed – along with her blood, tributes to the Dark Forest.

Aryuna took off layers of light armor around her abdomen, hoping the Blade had not bitten harshly. A naive wish. An oozing gash emanated from her side, causing a blistering pain.

She reached for the medic’s cloth within her sash. She gagged as the pungent mixture of unidentifiable sour, fungal, and earthy smells smothered her nose. A concoction of snow balm, sledge rind, and peppered grund, she guessed, without knowing the other herbs.

She tightly wrapped the cloth around the wound, recoiling initially at the icy touch.

Then, relief. Burning melted away, and the bleeding slowed. With the retreating pain, Aryuna’s mind began to clear.

How long was Sanru imprisoned by the hex, she wondered? Under its control, he must have maneuvered the Court of the High King. Why else would the Court assign them a mission so perilously close to the Dark Forest?

Ostensibly, to deliver a confidential message to the Baron? She should have known, she thought, her face contorting into an ugly scowl. But she was joined by Sanru. So, she didn’t protest.

The Contingent would not scour the Dark Forest with a limping Sanru, she reasoned. Rummaging through the forest at night would be suicide. Murderous packs of thrutlers, in particular, were attracted to groups of sweaty, warm, men.

The Contingent would just wait at Al’Turfur, the nearest village. After all, no one was known to have survived more than a few days in the Dark Forest alone.

Her eyes were dry now. She put her armor back on, grunting as the reinforced leather touched the bandaged wound. Painful, but not as much.

A dim glow radiated from the ground, trees, and sky. A new moon. Good, she thought. Aryuna knew Greywal would aid her at Al’Turfur, but only if she managed to reach him before Sanru.

I must get to Greywal.

She stood, turning her head and squinted, looking for any remaining particles even though she already knew; the last rays of the warm sun were long gone.    

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