The General dismounts our animal companion, offering me a hand. I want to roll my eyes and shove my tied hands in his face. Instead, I smile my sweetest, most sarcastic smile, and throw my legs over the mount, landing easily on my heels.
"Well, you could've just said no."
"How much fun would that have been?"
He sighs, keeping my gaze under the grey veil that protects his eyes, as he instructs orders and assembles his subordinates into groups of five. Two groups will stay in the peak of festivities, keeping an eye on order and to make sure foreign citizen dwellers behave themselves while blissfully ignorant on booze. Our group will head to the abandoned warehouse in the south, hopefully to collect any clues of whereabouts. And I will go with them.
Rider, Kay, myself, Turlock and a burly man with ginger hair and stone set features— whom has not said a single word on the trip; Burkley I think was his name, follow a mental map to the tiny warehouse distract near the overall abandoned port. Word has it the port shut down due to gang violence and drug trafficking rumours, therefore it fits my opinion on whether or not it may serve as a hideout for the outlaws.
We journey along Maiden River, through a woodsy area known for secret marriages and nighttime adventures for young couples to escape the harsh, crushing reality the world spurs around them.
The river gushes blue and yellow with fallen peonies and weeds that brush the bank of the river, curious fishes peaking at us through the surface. Three men fishing nearby turns their attention toward us, specifically to me and the leash tied around my hands. One of them smirks at Rider; the said man who handles the leash.
"Got you a beauty there, Red General." One of them coos, leering; actually leering, at the length of my body. "Finally found a worthy mistress among these young women." The way he laughs at his inherent misogyny is like an itch under my foot I can't scratch. My jaw ticks.
I hear the slight inhale of breathe The General takes before he responds. I beat him to it. "Not a mistress. I am being punished for attempting to murder the general." I grin from ear to ear, a bittersweet contradiction to the sour words. The general eyes me from over his shoulder, but does not retaliate. The men stare at me like I've gone mad, clearly at a loss for words. "Do enjoy your fishing, I hope they all avoid you and you starve tonight."
Their eyes keep hold of me until they are no longer in sight. Rider tugs on my leash, cautioning me, warning me. "One of the rules was to keep quiet."
"I'll allow it. It's fine, Rider." The General announces, his broad back still striding with confidence and ease of a true General. There is something laced in his words, an emotion I'm not accustomed to hearing from him. His nuanced tone is new, but not unwelcomed. Rider huffs a response, and drops his hand to his side.
When the silence grows over the next hour and my feet become sour in the tight boots Poppy had proffered, I glance toward the now still river.
"Do you want to hear a story?" A distraction that I so desperately need?
"No."
"You're no fun Rider. I'll tell you anyway." When Rider rolls his eyes and a huff of laughter leaves the other men, I continue. Well, except for Burkley of course, the man never laughs. "Do you know why they call it the Maiden's river?"
"I don't care." Responds my oh so wonderful companion.
"Do tell." Kay falls in step with me. His height is not that intimidating, maybe around five foot ten by my average. His gait is relaxed, and even if I can't remember the exact outline of his looks, he reminds me of tough edges and strong features. He looks like a stone cold killer, but has the voice of a newborn puppy.
"Thank you Kay. May I call you Kay?" He chuckles at that, nodding for me to continue, "The Maiden's river was named after a true maiden. Rumours say she fell in love with a man she couldn't be with." I nod towards a crooked tree looming over the bank, "When the man she loved betrayed her in order to save his reputation, she hung herself on that tree. Then they casted her body in the water until she became one with the water and nature. Now, some men who travel alone at night may hear her cries, or her whispers, or her agony. Depending on her mood, one may live, or one may die."
"Is that the same woman that people compare to the Goddess of water?" He inquires, and I smile at him, furrowed eyebrows and all.
"Not really. Her name was Noelani. It means-"
"Water spirit. More specifically, it means Mist of Heaven." The Red General inputs. He spins on his heel, ambling backward. "The true story actually entails her request for him to kill her, since they were both crazily in love, however lawless love is always punished." When I raise a curious eyebrow at him, he almost chuckles. "I enjoy some folklore myself, what can I say."
"I didn't know the great Red General was a storyteller."
Rider tries to counter my statement, but the Red General laughs. Actually laughs. The sound eclipses the river entirely, a tune that may overwhelm the whistle of a songbird. My heart skips at it. "There are many things you do not know about me."
Curiosity cannot keep still at this point.
"I'll take your word for it."
We enter the entrance to the old port village a mile in. The area is overgrown with vines and the dominance of nature, a total ghost town. The sun kisses my face through the leaves and branches, a filter of yellow paints the green and brown canvas with nostalgic light.
"Kay and Rider take the east side. Burkley you stay here and sweep through the entrance. You," he points to me, "are with me. Report back when you find something and only when you find something."
"Yes sir."
We split into three different directions, trudging our way through Fall's first appearance.
"May I ask why I'm here again?"
"I think you know why." He brushes the leaves aside, I follow in his footsteps.
"I mean, I don't have a bow. Neither can I use these." I raise my hands for emphasis, still bound by the rope. I lower my hands awkwardly, clearly talking to myself with his back turned to me.
"You think like one, pretty sure you were trained like one. So you're useful for now."
"What am I supposed to do, throw leaves in the air and feel the way the wind blows?"
He stops dead in his tracks, shock evident on his red clad body. He turns to me, eyes gleaming through the holes in his mask, "Do you people really do that?"
I cock an eyebrow, scoffing at the cute innocence beaming from the six foot four, red masked general of the Royal Guard. "No you moron. They're secret for a reason. I've never actually seen a hideout or anyone who doesn't want to be seen."
"Sure. I'm also quite aware that most of you lot are liars."
"We may be liars but you and I are not so different."
He drops in his tracks, the muscle in his jaw jumping. "We are not in any circumstance, the same."
"We both take blind rules from a superior. We make it our purpose for a goal; whether it be survival or the betterment of a moral code."
"I don't kill people for sport."
I huff, eyes narrowing, "Do you think I do?" I wasn't about to tell him what I'm doing it for. The vulnerability is not a good start to my imprisonment for the next several weeks. But I know it is evident in my eyes; the doings of a personal objective. "I knew a boy once. He used to live down the river. Very kind, quiet. Smart. He played by himself often; he reminded me of me. One day he disappeared in a sea of red armour and masked faces. Nobody knew if he lived or died."
The light in his eyes dimmed. I can sense suppressed animosity leaking from his every pore. But his voice is contained; cold and emotionless to the touch. "That does not make us similar. We keep the law. You break it."
"Doesn't make me wrong, neither you right. I may not have as much freedom now, but oh do I regret not stabbing you through the throat."
He stays silent after that. The tangible anger radiating from him says I hit a nerve but I didn't care. If nobody ever told him his "law" may be missing a few moral codes then it was his right to hear it.
"That reminds me." He unguardedly observes me, I fiddle with the rope around my wrists. "I looked for your aunt in the city's directory. There is no one named Katrina."
"Well that's her name, what else am I supposed to tell you, the kind of bread she buys from the bakery?"
"I told you not to lie, we agreed on that much."
"I—" The wind whistles by, blowing scattered leaves and whispers of the unseemly. The wind lives with the souls of those who are distressed; who cry for help. The wind tells me something is not right. "Do you hear that?"
I can feel him cock an eyebrow, not believing my sudden disinterest in conversation. As he opens his mouth to retort his usual questions, I hear it. How can I not?
"Get down!" I holler, diving into him with all my strength, both bodies plummeting to the earth's floor. With my hands tied in front of me, it is hard to maneuver off of him. However, when I try to, he holds my waist, large hands fisting the material bunched around my hips to keep me steady. The wind also reminds me that my skirt is now hiked up, my bare legs an easy target for whoever shot at us.
I knew it like I knew my first name. The sweet snap of string against wood, the whoosh within the palpable air. Then the thud of metal piercing the wood where the General's head was, not more than ten seconds ago.
He rolls us over, his heavy body now pushing into me. I feel the heavy muscles of his legs brush mine before he hoists himself up, gripping my waist with firmer hands now before setting me on my feet.
It takes approximately thirty seconds to notch and aim another arrow with this type of haphazard winds. To get the perfect aim and strike true may take an extra ten; five if they are skilled. We have fifteen left.
"We need to get out of open area." I mutter on instinct, not merely as a warning for him. I turn and run, dodging protruding roots and low hanging dilapidated galvanise that sit dangerously on the edge of old storage containers. I do not have to glance back to know that he is following me, the clang of his sword against his armour tells me all I need. Another arrow flies, catching my arm. I hiss at the quick pain that engulfs my limb like fire. Another at my thigh; this one almost goes straight through. I stumble, the General calls for me, but I do not stop. I head for a patch of trees to the northern side, the part that leads to a cliff overlooking the dingy waters of the port.
Another whizz of an arrow. Metal gliding against metal. I assume Mr. General In Red drew his sword, a feeble attempt to stop arrows from an unknown source of attack. But defense nonetheless.
I round the trunk of a larger tree, my back plastered to the bark. The general appears no more than five seconds later, sliding with ease into a crouch to hide himself behind overgrown weeds and bushes.
"Who are they?" He pants, the mask seeming to suffocate his words even more than usual.
"Hell if I know." My chest rises in pain, the dryness gripping my throat in discomfort. I slide down the bark of the tree, ignoring the splinters that pierce the back of my dress. Blood covers the right side of my dress, the pain spreading through my thigh like a wildfire without any end in sight. My arm burns, but not with the intensity of the other wound. When my breathing speeds up and sweat coats my face and neck, he glances at me. Even behind the veil of his eyes, concern flashes through.
Maybe he's just concerned about losing a tamed prisoner before he can get any real answers out of me.
"They're on the ground. At least twenty four paces away and closing in." I cough dryly, my heart skipping a beat. The fire burns through my muscle, but I grit my teeth, steeling myself. I steady my breathing, Kat's voice echoing in my head; The minute you lose your breath, you're dead. Breathing controls your mind, your heart, your body heat. Control it. I steady myself, my body calming down despite the lancing pain in my leg and arm.
"How many do you think." His voice is dark and commandeering, a calm before a bloody storm.
"Three. Four at best." I try to plant my hands on the ground to steady myself, seemingly forgetting my hands are tied when I almost capsize. "Untie me."
"Like hell. Just for you to "stab me through the throat"? You're still a—"
"A prisoner. I know. But right now you're outnumbered and you need help. If I escape you'll find me and skin me if you have to. Now is not the time for an argument General." I extend my wrists to him, urging for freedom.
"How do I know this isn't a trap?" His actions contradict him as he slowly pulls out the blade from the strap on his thigh.
"You don't." Two simple words. A crack in the surface of the icy depths we were skating on. He's hesitant at first, but until Rider and the others can intercept our little duel, we're on our own. The General isn't a superhuman after all.
He unties the rope.
The skin is red around my wrists from the chafing, but the freedom is icy water over a burning body. I forget the pain in my leg for a moment when he hands me a small dagger, albeit reluctantly.
"I can't kill you if I'm dead General. Neither if they do it first."
He hands me the dagger, his shoulders rigid with unease. We run for the large shipping containers, hearing the whooshing of arrows. My mobility is stronger without the ropes, adrenaline rushing through my body. The pain is almost fully gone from the heady feeling rushing through me. They're closer, estimating from the snap and the contact. I turn on my heel for a quick moment. The world slows. My focus comes into contact. I throw the dagger before spinning around and resuming the run. A grunt is heard in the distance. One down.
We round a container, my skirts now sticking to my legs from sweat and mud. I probably look like a mental asylum escapee with the way I'm grinning. The Big Guy confirms it.
"Don't smile like that, you look crazy." He reprimands. Before he can refuse I reach forward and grab another dagger from the strap across his chest. A refreshing feeling washes across me when he doesn't reply, simply watches me and leans around to check the sides.
Is this what it's like? To team up with someone. To not work alone. Fight alone. Train alone. I always had Kat by my side yes, but I went into that house alone. I came up with the plan myself. If I did succeed, it would've been alone too. When he looks at me and nods, a warmth rushes through me. The solemn gaze he shoots is familial; nostalgic. Loneliness was always worse than death. This was the opposite.
When he draws his sword, a twig snaps behind me. Before I can turn and throw the dagger, an arrow is released. My side erupts in a fit of pain and heat, searing through my torso. I throw the dagger anyway, stealing myself. It lands true, right in the center of the man's stomach. The color is not unfamiliar, the sight like an old friend from all the times Kat returned home with gaping wounds in a random part of her body. That didn't make it any more settling than it's supposed to.
What I failed to notice however, were the other two standing in the shadows behind him. And three others north of us, coming from the waters edge. Two more with bows that appear from the treeline. We were surrounded.