1.24.2005
Feathered Arrow
I've wanted to post this for a while now. It is a short story I might look at to expand on when I am done with Mair. It started with a friend and me writting a sentence for each other and exchanging them to make something out of them. The first sentence in this scene is what I had to work with. Comments would be nice. If I do not end up making this into a book/fuller story, I am looking at entering it in some short story contests. I will probably change the character's names sometime. Suggestions would be nice. ;)
The water swirled dizzyingly below her feet, carrying dirt and sticks and debris. But Irina could not turn away. They were calling out to her, threatening. If she did not answer, or he did not break, they would drop her. Wrist and feet burning from the cords that tied her, she looked up again as the men shouted. Ashred was very pale, watching her and flinching every time the wind swung her from one side to the other. It hurt them both to see the other suffering. Now it would not matter. She would surely die.
Perhaps that was what she deserved, after running from home only because of her petty wishes to have adventure. When her older brother followed, she had run even from him, making a sort of hide and seek game out of it. Over time she got bolder, and had carried it too far, into enemy territory.
Of course, she was captured shortly. Her brother also. Neither was trained in arms or in tracking, whereas this enemy was. However, her brother knew something, something he had not trusted her with. She knew the enemy’s question toward him was, “Where are they?” But he would never answer.
She could remember the torture he had gone through. At first, she was hurt also, but soon they had discovered her blissful innocence and stopped. Her brother had gotten it much, much worse. Once when he was thrown into their small cell, he had been missing two of his left fingers. Another time part of his ear was cut off. He always had deep scars on his back and chest, welts from the whip. He would carry the marks of his imprisonment to his death, whether it was soon or late.
It had taken far too short for the enemy to discover his love and protectiveness for her. Then her torture had started again, in front of him. When they began she had cried to him for help, but in a long, quiet talk after, he had explained that to do that to him hurt him much worse than any whip or poison they could ever used. He begged her not to ask again, not unless she truly, truly meant it, and she had agreed. Ever since she had held her tongue through it all.
A burst of wind rocked Irina, and the cords dug deeper. She closed her eyes tight on the pain and the shouts and his face. They yelled again, then suddenly the ropes went slack. She heard a cry, and that was all. The water hit her hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. She helplessly flailed, but felt herself sinking. With tied hands and feet she could do nothing.
There was another splash, and her brother was swimming to her. She cried out to Ashred for help, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her up. Beautiful air rushed into her lungs again. She gulped at it greedily. He whispered to her not to worry, that they would be fine. Slowly he began dragging her towards the lowest bank. She tried to help him, kicking at the water with her legs.
Without warning his arm went limp, his whole body did. Before the water blocked him from her site, she could see the red tipped arrow in his back. Then she was below the murky liquid.
The water swirled dizzyingly below her feet, carrying dirt and sticks and debris. But Irina could not turn away. They were calling out to her, threatening. If she did not answer, or he did not break, they would drop her. Wrist and feet burning from the cords that tied her, she looked up again as the men shouted. Ashred was very pale, watching her and flinching every time the wind swung her from one side to the other. It hurt them both to see the other suffering. Now it would not matter. She would surely die.
Perhaps that was what she deserved, after running from home only because of her petty wishes to have adventure. When her older brother followed, she had run even from him, making a sort of hide and seek game out of it. Over time she got bolder, and had carried it too far, into enemy territory.
Of course, she was captured shortly. Her brother also. Neither was trained in arms or in tracking, whereas this enemy was. However, her brother knew something, something he had not trusted her with. She knew the enemy’s question toward him was, “Where are they?” But he would never answer.
She could remember the torture he had gone through. At first, she was hurt also, but soon they had discovered her blissful innocence and stopped. Her brother had gotten it much, much worse. Once when he was thrown into their small cell, he had been missing two of his left fingers. Another time part of his ear was cut off. He always had deep scars on his back and chest, welts from the whip. He would carry the marks of his imprisonment to his death, whether it was soon or late.
It had taken far too short for the enemy to discover his love and protectiveness for her. Then her torture had started again, in front of him. When they began she had cried to him for help, but in a long, quiet talk after, he had explained that to do that to him hurt him much worse than any whip or poison they could ever used. He begged her not to ask again, not unless she truly, truly meant it, and she had agreed. Ever since she had held her tongue through it all.
A burst of wind rocked Irina, and the cords dug deeper. She closed her eyes tight on the pain and the shouts and his face. They yelled again, then suddenly the ropes went slack. She heard a cry, and that was all. The water hit her hard, knocking the air out of her lungs. She helplessly flailed, but felt herself sinking. With tied hands and feet she could do nothing.
There was another splash, and her brother was swimming to her. She cried out to Ashred for help, and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her up. Beautiful air rushed into her lungs again. She gulped at it greedily. He whispered to her not to worry, that they would be fine. Slowly he began dragging her towards the lowest bank. She tried to help him, kicking at the water with her legs.
Without warning his arm went limp, his whole body did. Before the water blocked him from her site, she could see the red tipped arrow in his back. Then she was below the murky liquid.
1:41 PM|| 
