Noble Falling (15 page)

For the first time since she began, Kahira looked up from the hound lying across her feet. “Yes, Aleana, and that is the only reason my life was saved. He and his wife knew what the marks freshly placed on my flesh meant, and yet, they took me in and nursed me until I awoke several days later. Even when I regained consciousness, they never once asked me what I had done. I stayed with them until I was well enough to travel farther north. They offered to allow me to stay, but they had done so much for me that I could not risk their lives by staying with them longer than absolutely necessary. So, with the puppy they gave me, I eventually escaped Dakmoran territory, found Taewin, and have been traveling ever since.”

“Kahira….” There were so many things I wanted to say, but they only seemed to die in my throat as I tried to voice them.

Ori’s voice drowned out my own. “That does not explain why those men were afraid of you. When they saw your brand, every one of them dropped their guard for a brief instant.”

“Yes….” Kahira was struggling for something to say, her brow creasing in frustration. “You must understand, the first time I truly traveled on my own was when I made my first trek south in order to avoid another harsh winter. Foolish as I was, I returned to Dakmor, hoping to settle in familiar land. I tried to keep the mark on my face hidden, but of course I failed.

“I was nestled in a tavern within a small city’s walls when a few Dakmoran soldiers walked in. Despite my efforts, they saw me, and whether it was because of the tattoo or the fact that I was alone, I will never know, but they pulled me out onto the street. I knew immediately of their sinister intentions and with Enza confined to the stables with Taewin, I knew I had a good chance of falling victim to the three men. Determined not to die without a fight, I unsheathed my knife—the only weapon I had.”

As she spoke, my hand wrapped around the handle of the knife Kahira had passed on to me.

“The men clearly did not think I could actually fight, and one of them grabbed for me, never even bothering to draw his sword. I drove my knife into his chest – the first fatal blow I had ever delivered. The other men immediately drew their swords, ready to seek vengeance for their friend. Knowing my knife would be almost useless against two swords, I yanked the sword from the dead soldier’s scabbard. A full fight broke out in the deserted streets. Still not entirely comfortable with a blade in my hand, I now carry several small scars from that encounter. Eventually I managed to injure one of the remaining men pretty severely, but not before my sleeve was torn. The pause in the fight caused by the man’s wound gave his comrade time to see the brand on my arm. I immediately turned to flee, hoping the wounded soldier would distract his healthy friend. I only let myself think I was safe once I had ridden away from the city until the sun rose again.

“For days I hid in the woods, no longer able to properly hide the mark on my arm. Of course, it wasn’t long before I needed supplies. Using my cloak to hide as much of my body as possible, I followed a man with a tattoo spread across his cheek to a small inn that seemed to have no qualms serving those generally shunned by society. Ashamed of the brand on my arm, ashamed of what I was, though growing more comfortable with my own tattoo, I sat quietly in the main room after finding food and securing a bed for the night. Listening to the conversations of the men gulping down tankards of ale, my heart skipped a beat when I realized one of the men was talking about my encounter with the Dakmoran soldiers. The Dakmorans had placed a bounty on my head, calling for the death of the only living vanjiv.

“Unwilling to risk my life to sleep in a warm bed, I rode from the city that very night. I believed I would avoid trouble if I stayed clear of the larger cities. However, there were bandits on the road one day who would not let me pass. Without even thinking, I reached for my knife, exposing my arm. Recognition lit up their eyes, and I knew the price on my head would keep me from passing safely. Thinking I would not be able to fight off the whole group, I fled once more, hoping to outrun the soldiers. But I came up with a plan as I rode.

“Knowing I wouldn’t be able to outrun the men, I decided to try and pick them off one by one. Grabbing my bow, I notched an arrow and spun Taewin around, riding straight toward the men who intended to kill me. Hunting had given me confidence with the weapon, but I never needed my skills more than at that moment. As I rounded a curve in the road, the men came into view. Without slowing Taewin, I released the arrow, relief flooding me as I found my mark. One of the men fell from his horse, and that was when I suddenly knew I was finished running—I knew I could win.

“One man got away, but I buried the rest that night, taking the daggers from them I still use today. After that, I left my arm exposed, almost daring anyone to challenge me. I didn’t second-guess that decision until I was faced with a pair of bandits just before I reached the eastern plains. To my surprise, they greeted me as if they knew me, offering the sign of peace. Curious, I found the next tavern, and with my arm covered once more, I sought to learn what had made those men let me pass. Upon seeing I was a woman traveling alone and marked above the brow as a murderer, the woman who ran the tavern asked if I carried a brand. Not sure what answer would keep me safe, I inquired as to why that knowledge was necessary. Of course, she was no fool and knew my lack of an answer was just as good as an affirmation of her guess. But, as shocking as it was, I learned that I had somehow morphed into a legend.

“The soldier who had escaped began what would eventually lead to the story that has allowed me to travel openly amongst highwaymen ever since. Making me out to be some sort of goddess, the man told of a vanjiv marked with a tattoo above her brow, riding a solid black horse and accompanied by a vicious hound. While I was hiding in the woods, that story grew until almost every bandit had heard of me. Most of them respected me based only on the stories they heard. Many of the stories never happened, but I found that if I did not deny them, very little trouble would come my way. However, it was not only the bandits who were whispering about me, but the Dakmoran soldiers as well.

“Each day, I trained to sharpen the fighting techniques I already possessed, ready to defend myself when the need arose. Exposing my arms in the warmer climate, I ensured that I would be identified, thereby drawing fights to me. Each time, I left as many alive as I could, seeing the value of building the legend that had started. I only killed when it was necessary, or when some criminal challenged me, looking to bolster his own reputation. When a man like that ended up dead, it was my reputation that grew, whether he died at the end of my blades or not. I have not entered Dakmor since, but it seems as though the stories have continued.”

The somber tone Kahira carried throughout the recalling of her past was matched with a distant look in her eyes. Watching her, I finally found my voice.

“You’ve never considered going back home? Surely you have family there waiting, wanting to know that you are still alive.”

“Dakmor contains nothing resembling a home for me.” Jaw clenched, Kahira stared at the ground. Eyes closing, she continued. “When I was in the stocks, my father visited me. He made it clear to me I was no longer considered his daughter. And as for my sister, she was not willing to help me even when I was first arrested, let alone when I was on the verge of death. I… I have reason to believe she is the one responsible for everything that happened. Even now that the pain of the betrayal has dulled, should I return, I have no doubt she would sell me for whatever gold the royal family would be willing to pay in order to torture me again.”

I found myself craving to comfort this woman now that I knew a piece of what she had gone through. Terrified, I gave in to the urge. I hesitantly reached out and placed my hand on the vambrace still tied to her uninjured arm. Even through the leather, I felt her muscles tense. Turning toward me, she slowly brought her hand to cover my own. The sudden intensity that filled her gaze poured through my body from her touch. My breathing had stopped before she spoke.

“Aleana, I told you, I have no one waiting for me.”

And in that moment, I knew I cared for Kahira far more than I should.

T
HE
darkness felt alive, as if every horror it had ever consumed were contained just beyond what was visible. I blinked, trying to force my eyes to find even a vague shape in the abyss. Forms slowly appearing around me, I wished the dark would once more swallow what it had unleashed.

There were screams. I could not tell if they were my own or those of the deformed figures thrashing at the bars of their cages. Limbs at unnatural angles, flesh barely hanging from the broken bodies exposing flashes of bleached bone, the figures reached for me. Claws of iron bit into my wrists as I fought to flee their sickening grasp, sending blood trickling slowly down my chained arms. A chilling laugh pierced my consciousness as it punctuated the moans of other prisoners chained around me.

I heard a body hit the ground near my side. I tried to see who, what, it was, and when a face finally came into focus, a scream—undeniably mine—burned as it escaped my throat. My own brown eyes stared at me.

The imposter’s lips emitted a horrible hiss. “How could you? You’ve ruined everything!”

The grotesque imitation slithered toward me. Ripples passed over its skin as it tried to maintain my shape. I fought to get away, warm crimson liquid pouring down my arms. As the figure drew nearer, the other chained figures began to chant in a demonic symphony, calling for my death. Tears flooded my eyes as I begged the creature to leave me be.

“Gone!” I shut my eyes as a clawed finger scraped down my cheek, a ribbon of blood left in its wake. “Everything gone!”

The face that had once been mine distorted into a haunting abomination, fangs gleaming as claws wrapped around my throat, crushing the scream building within.

“A
LEANA
!”
I fought against the hands grasping my shoulders before I recognized the voice whispering harshly into my ear.

I forced my eyelids open to find Kahira staring down at me. The half-moon’s light was low, creating the same atmosphere that had flooded the dungeon featured in my nightmare. Another wave of panic coursed through my body at the comparison. My own whimper reached my ears, and I twisted my head away.

“Aleana, it’s safe.” I felt Kahira’s hand against my cheek, removing tears I had not even realized I’d actually shed. “You’re safe.”

A choked sob escaped me as I slowly accepted that the horrors I’d experienced were not real. I relaxed, my body going entirely limp as I tried to compose myself. There were no cuts at my wrists, there was no blood staining my skin, and there was no creature clawing at my flesh.

“I… I was….” I sat up, wiping the tears from my face, trying to find my voice.

“Wherever you were, it is not important now, Aleana. It’s over; you’re safe.” Kahira knelt beside me, her eyes catching mine in the dim light.

“I’m sorry.” I felt the tension return to my muscles, causing me to shake. “If I woke you up, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t. My arm was aching, and so I was already awake when I heard you.” Kahira, seeing my shivering body, draped my blanket around my shoulders. “Look, Ori’s still asleep.”

“Thank you.” I pulled the blanket tight, trying to focus on the feeling of its softness against my skin, trying to force myself to recognize that the pain was only imagined.

Kahira offered a quick smile as she sat beside me. “There is no need to thank me, Aleana. You seemed to be in a place where I should not let you stay.”

I shuddered, unconsciously moving my body closer to the woman next to me. “It was horrible. I was locked away, my hands in chains. There were screams of people being tortured and the blood… there was so much blood.”

As soon as I realized what I had described, I looked at Kahira’s wrists. Her vambraces were removed, and with my new understanding, the scars caused by metal restraints cutting into Kahira’s flesh became apparent. I carefully reached for her unbandaged arm. I knew my nightmare was nothing compared to the one she had actually lived through. She said nothing, allowing my fingertips to run over the faint lines etched into her darker skin.

“How did you do it? How did you handle everything they put you through?” I finally looked to the woman whose arm rested in my hands, her focus entirely centered on the path my touch was taking along her wrist.

“At first….” She hesitated, her voice dropping to barely a whisper, forcing me to lean closer as she spoke. “At first it was because I thought I had a reason to not give up. Until I found out what I had been charged with, I had a reason to suffer through every minute of torture.”

No longer afraid of whatever horrors I imagined in my sleep, I saw the haunted glint in Kahira’s gaze return. I turned my attention away from her faint scars and looked her in the eye. “Last night, you said you killed someone.”