Chapter Two
Andi
The smell of smoke singes my nose and stings my eyes. With my hand on my throbbing head, I scramble to my knees.
I don’t recognise the enormous room. Stylish, white, wooden chairs are strewn across the floor; their legs splintered, with a grand table broken down the middle. The walls are charred stone with enormous windows on either side, and open wooden doors to the left—my escape.
This room was once an elegant dining room, lavishly decorated with beautiful paintings, and a table large enough to seat at least thirty people. A happy family relishing in the views from the large windows, streaming light adding to an effervescent environment.
The ground trembles beneath me.
Using a piece of the broken table to help me stand, I try to put pressure on my leg, agony rips through my body. My hand gently touches the pulsating wound on my thigh as it gushes, staining my hands scarlet. My head spins, and my vision blurs from the blood loss.
I need to get to the door before I pass out.
Clumsily stepping forward, I grip tightly to the broken chunk of table to steady myself. Each movement is agony, blood squirts faster from my leg with each step, the metallic smell, nauseating.
Behind me, the clunk of armour rattles off the walls. My body stiffens, forcing my head to spin around looking for the source of the noise.
My eyes water from the smoke, clouding my vision. A shadowy figure emerges from the dissipating smoke, a huge sword gleaming at his hip. Blood pools on the stone floor as it drips from the blade.
Ash burns my throat and my breathing is strangled, my knees buckle and I fall ungracefully to the ground. I unsheathe my sword, but it slips from my hand as the silhouette ambles towards me.
A face emerges through the vapours, a deep cut runs from his forehead to his chin, his face battered and bloody. He breaks out into a vicious smile.
My body shivers as ice floods my veins. I’m rooted to the ground, unable to move, only able to watch as he nears.
Every fibre of my being is screaming for me to run, but my muscles fail.
My broken body shakes with shock, and aches from every part, pleading with me to accept my fate and welcome death.
But I can’t, I won’t let him win without a fight. After all he has taken from me, he does not deserve an easy kill. I saw the bodies, how he slaughtered them, and the enjoyment he took from taking innocent lives.
He doesn’t get to win like this. If I can hold him off for just a little while, distract him for a little longer, maybe they can escape. I pray to the gods that I lost faith in many years ago, to protect them. They are the only ones who can help now.
Misneach, help them. Please.
A crushing pain flows through me as I will my arm to elongate, desperate to reach the hilt of my sword.
“So weak. So worthless,” he taunts, and kicks my sword away.
My head sinks to the ground in despair, grimacing in pain. I use my last remaining strength to stand, but I stumble, landing on my knees. I force myself to look my assailant in the eye; I will not die a coward.
“All of you, so easily killed.” He sneers as his frame towers over me, blood dripping from him. His yellow eyes glower at me as he smirks gleefully, raising his long sword high.
I whisper my goodbyes, close my eyes tightly, and wait for the impact.