• Sarah drew her sword and leapt into the fray. The large courtyard was swarming with enemy soldiers, firelight illuminating their plumed helmets. With a shout, Sarah's blade became a whirlwind around her as she sliced flesh and parried blows. Blood splattered against her short, blond hair and all down her breastplate as she tore her way through the melee, fighting to get to the two people standing back to back on top of the fountain. Her footing became slippery as she approached, the fountain's bowl having been smashed, spilling water everywhere.

    "My Lady! We must retreat! There are too many!" Sarah shouted through the din as she ducked a sword. The assailant raised the offending blade for another strike, but before he could swing, a sword grew out of his shoulder blade. The soldier fell to reveal a bloodstained man in Ferasian armour. He saluted Sarah before running off in the other direction.
    Her head feeling naked without her helmet, Sarah pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes as she reached the fountain. Mounting the stone basin, she repeated, "We must retreat!"

    "Are you certain?" the woman to her right asked. Althea utilized her own blade with the mastery of a Ferasian sword master, her slick black hair flowing in sheets as she twisted and turned. The woman was fully exposed, wearing only a thin tunic and a skirt, having had no time to retrieve it when the surprise attack hit. At first glance, it was hard to tell that Althea was the heir to the Ferasian throne.

    Sarah sliced through an enemy Othillian's neck, the body toppling in a splutter of blood. Three more soldiers, all of whom had their swords trained on Sarah, immediately replaced the man. She parried for all she was worth, the endless vibrating of steel in her hand sending pains up her arm.

    Another sword swiped over, ripping through one of the soldiers’ weak breastplate. Kyrie winked at Sarah between his long bangs. He too was lacking armour, wearing only a green shirt and breeches, his long red hair tied back in a ponytail. He was just as deadly with his blade as Althea was. A back swing took out another of Sarah's aggressors as he turned to start ripping apart at the mess of soldiers coming at him. Sarah twirled her own brand, tearing down the last assailant before turning back to Althea.

    "The enemy has us pinned. Without backup, we don't stand much of a chance." A loud explosion punctuated Sarah’s sentence. In the distance one of the taller towers began to topple, collapsing in on itself. A second boulder could be seen soaring through the air before it collided with a wall at the edge of the courtyard. Sarah was showered in a spray of pebbles and dust. Screams rang throughout the courtyard as both enemy and ally alike were crushed in the falling stones.

    Althea's face grew hard, and she swung her sword at the nearest enemy with unnecessary strength. It decapitated, his helmet falling off while the head soared through the air. Althea ignored the gruesome sight as she seethed, her face contorted in a flurry of rage. "Sarah,” she growled. “Find my mother and get her out of here as soon as dusk falls. She should be holed up in either the visiting room or her chambers. I will not leave this keep to its ruin."

    Nodding immediately, Sarah hopped off the fountain. "As you command," she replied. She pressed her gauntlet to her heart in salute before turning to make her way towards the nearest courtyard exit. Working her sword expertly, she fought her way to a short flight of stairs that lead into one of the numerous halls in the keep. She avoided stabbing swords and hopeful grabs at her feet as she hurried up the steps and through the door. Twirling, she closed and barred the door behind her, breathing a sigh of relief to see that the hall before her was completely empty.

    Green, silk carpets ran between tall, marble columns all along the hall, contained within tapestry-covered walls, the colourful weavings parted only by elaborate statues and porcelain vases. She was in the hall outside the Queen's visiting chambers. Glad to have regained her bearings, Sarah jogged down through the columns to the large, silver double doors at the opposite end. She knocked on the doors furiously, shouting at the guards on the other side to let her in. One of the doors cracked open slightly, and Sarah slipped through gracefully. She found herself in the large antechamber, the roof above shaped in a dome and painted extravagantly with a scene that depicted the Ferasian’s victory in some ancient battle. The floor and walls were decorated in the same fashion as the previous hall. Only one other set of doors was visible within the room. Sarah crossed the floor swiftly and cracked one of them open.

    The large room inside glittered with polished gold, silver, gems, and hundreds of other expensive minerals. It was lavishly decorated, expressing the queen’s exquisite tastes. A throne, perched on a raised platform in the centre of the room, was inlaid with gems and gilded gold, its black-cushioned back rising high. At the moment it was empty, its large, laced cushion looking undisturbed.

    Sarah scanned the room quickly and found the Queen standing beside a tall, narrow window. Striding over to her, Sarah knelt down to kiss the woman's large gemmed ring on her right hand before looking out the window herself. Below the window fell a cliff, and in the distance the forest glowed with fire, shadowy figures moving around in the light of the flickering flames. The Queen's face - a vision of beauty, her soft cheeks framing full lips, green eyes calm and beautiful, black hair cascading down the sides of her face - betrayed nothing of her emotions as she watched masses of humans break through the tree line, charging the keep with a thunderous roar.

    Gathering her courage, Sarah said, "We must go, my Queen. The enemy is overpowering us,” she hesitated for a second. “…We will not survive at this rate."

    The Queen turned to face Sarah. A sole tear slid down the unshakable face. "I cannot leave my people, my kingdom," the Queen replied. She shook out her arms, the long sleeves of her robe falling down to her elbows. The scars that trailed down the front of her arms along the veins were clearly visible. Staring at them, the Queen added, "I have a promise to keep. A blood promise."

    "My Queen," Sarah insisted, averting her eyes; the dark scars made her uneasy. "Your daughter asked that I see you out safely. Without a Queen, there is no kingdom. Your daughter can oversee the battlements while you are gone."

    "I was never a fighter," the Queen sighed heavily, "not like my dear Althea.” With a nod, she let her sleeves fall back into place, covering up the unnerving scars. “I guess if she believes that she is ready to take command of the kingdom for a short while, I should give in to her requests.” There was a moment’s pause before she added in a whisper, “Tell me, am I a coward?”

    Sarah blinked. "Er... no, My Queen. I do not believe you a coward."

    The Queen frowned solemnly. "I fear the worst. And I fear I am running away from it all too willingly. I made a promise to protect this kingdom and its people, and it seems at the moment that the best way to do that is to let my daughter take over.” Face taking on a determined look, she strode over behind the throne. “Come, we will exit through the passage in the back."

    --
    Sweat stung Althea’s eyes as she strained to swing her sword. The blade was becoming heavier and heavier the longer she kept at it, and her arms were growing weary. But she had to continue. A Queen-in-waiting couldn't show weakness; her people would lose hope if she did. She had to keep going.

    To her right, Kyrie seemed to be completely wrapped up in his efforts to hold the swarm back, away from the entrance to the halls inside. They had long since moved from the fountain to the steps and were now almost completely alone in the vast courtyard, the battle having migrated elsewhere. Rubble littered the ground and fires had sprung up amongst the hanging vines and other greenery that had once decorated the beautiful opening. Smoke choked the sky above, blocking the retreating sun and awakening stars from view. The inner wall that made up one side of the enclosure had been devastated and the walls at the opposite end had collapsed inward from the force of the trebuchet’s stones. Amongst the stones and dust, countless bodies stained the cobbled ground with blood. Althea had to detach herself from her emotions to keep tears from impairing her vision.

    "Kyrie," she said as she brought her sword up to meet an offending steel, "we must break through this. I need to lead my people, and standing with my back to the door is not a very effective means of doing that."

    "Protecting your mother is the current priority," Kyrie replied. "The Army General is no doubt keeping control over the troops."

    Althea grit her teeth. She knew Kyrie was right; it was her pride that wanted her to take over. Despite anxious tension in not knowing what was happening outside of the courtyard, she had to remain where she was, at least until she had given Sarah enough time to get her mother out of the keep. If the Queen was captured, morale would plummet, and the battle would be lost for sure. Not to mention that Althea would collapse in grief.

    Glad that the stairs were too narrow for more than two people to climb at a time, she slashed the soldier standing in front of her. It was obvious, watching as the soldier fell backwards into the men standing at the bottom, that the majority of the army sent to attack Ferasia's southern keep wasn't properly trained. Althea had earlier suspected that the attack had been planned far ahead of time, and that she and her mother had just had bad timing, but now she began to surmise that perhaps the ragtag mass of soldiers had been thrown together in an attempt to take advantage of the Queen’s annual visit to this particular keep. It was a well-known fact that Othille, the country to the south of Ferasia, had been plotting to war with their northern neighbours, and what better way to begin the war than to eliminate the ruler?

    On a whim, Althea lifted her sword and emitted a guttural war cry, one that had been known to strike fear in all but the most experienced warrior before. Kyrie threw his own blade in the air and followed suite, charging down the steps and into the crowd below. As Althea had hoped, the people were temporarily stunned at the sudden and ferocious shout. Althea ripped and tore with her sword, felling as many soldiers as she could. Others seemed to come back to reality as they watched their comrades fall, and before she knew it she was surrounded by Othillians coming at her from all sides. She pressed her back to Kyrie's and they began to turn in a slow circle, a wheel of flashing blades and flying death. The scarcely trained enemy began to diminish rapidly, and soon the remaining soldiers were in retreat, making their was to the large door at the other end of the courtyard with helter-skelter speediness.

    No sooner had they left than a large woman appeared at the railing of the deck that hung above the door. The woman had her back to them, her girth moving fluidly for someone of her size. With a piercing roar, she heaved a man over the side of the rail, dropping him to the cobblestones below. The woman stared at the crippled body before looking up, spotting Althea and Kyrie.

    "Oh, My Goddess!" she exclaimed, loud enough to be carried across the courtyard and disappeared back under the awning that hung over the deck. A moment later she reappeared through the door below, jogging hard. Her breathing rapid and sporadic, she stopped in front of Althea, doubling over to catch her breath. "My Lady... are you... all right?"

    "I am well, Hyria, thank you," she answered politely. She waited for the large woman to recover before asking, "How is the battle looking out there?"

    Hyria shook her head, her chins wagging slightly. "Not good, My Lady. The enemy has laid waste to the greater part of the eastern sector, and a second attempt at getting soldiers through to the Queen is under way at the bottom of the cliffs. There are a number of siege weapons outside the walls that we have yet to take down, and our numbers seem to be slowly falling. And the general seems to have disappeared."

    That last comment struck Althea the hardest. Without a leader, a good portion of their defending army would stand around like lost puppies. If she didn't go up to take command, who knew what might happen. "Kyrie, I want you to get a small group of cavalry out to deal with the siege weapons. A dozen or so should do it, as long as they use a pre-emptive strike. Then head up to the pigeon cages in the western tower and send a pigeon to Gothenselve up north. Address it to Lady Killia. Tell her that we're under attack. She won't be able to send reinforcements, but at least she will be warned. Go!" Kyrie shot off across the courtyard and through the door, headed for the stables. Nodding in satisfaction, Althea turned to Hyria again. "Hyria, could you check the visitor's room, and report back to me with whether the Queen has left or not. I expect Sarah to have done her job properly, but I'd like to be reassured."

    "Right," Hyria put a hand to her heart before jogging off up the stairs that led to the visiting room. Althea hurried through the courtyard and in the large doors, coming out into a massive hallway on the other side. To her right, stairs and doors led to the rest of the keep, numerous barracks, and watchtowers. To her left lie the large gates of the inner wall. The brass gates were bent, one hanging from a loose hinge and the other leaning against a wall. The sound of swords clashing echoed throughout the entire hall, the small battles scattered about almost randomly.

    Making a quick decision, Althea weaved through the melee. She climbed a flight of stairs to stand high above the hall, looking down at her men below. Getting them organized would be a difficult task.

    --

    Kyrie hurtled up the tower steps, frantically trying to reach the top and get the letter sent out before the tower was taken out by trebuchet stones. If he could just get warning to the Gothenselve, his own death wouldn't matter.

    Plain, grey stone walls encircled him as he climbed the tower's tight, circular staircase. The steps were steep, and his legs began to burn as he sprinted up. His lungs begged for air that he couldn't provide them in his desperate climb; when he finally reached the top, he had to lean against the door handle to keep from collapsing.

    Once he had regained stability he threw the door open. The sound of chirping assailed his ears as he squelched through the bird droppings. Picking a bird - a large pigeon with sturdy looking wings and a professional look to him - from the Gothenselve group, he hurriedly brought it over to the writing desk near the window. The small wooden desk held only a bottle of ink, a pen, some string, and a stack of torn parchment, but it was all he needed. He scrawled out a message in his scratchy handwriting, folded up the note, and tied it to the pigeon’s leg. The bird took off as soon as the string was secured tightly.

    Kyrie watched it go from the window for a moment before turning back towards the door. Something on the grounds caught the corner of his eye and he turned back, curious. Half a dozen bobbing torches were making their way into the forests behind the keep - a group of guards surrounding a woman, her head concealed under a raised hood.

    Looking more closely, Kyrie was able to identify the guards as Furasian, the familiar spiked diamond crest of Furasia emblazoned on their chest plates and cloaks. It only took spotting the one guard without a helmet, blond hair visible, that was accompanying them for Kyrie to realize that they were the Queen's escort out of the keep. Backing away from the window, the man smiled slightly. At least the Queen would be safe.

    He crossed the room at a quick jog. As he made to open the door and leave the Pigeon Hold, an explosion rocked the floor, throwing him to his knees. The room began to vibrate violently, the grinding of rocks tearing at his ears. Dust clogged his mouth as he gasped in shock, bringing on a coughing fit. He dragged himself off the floor, holding his throat and continuing to bring up grit. He had to get out. And quick.

    Throwing open the door as the tower slowly began to angle to one side, he began to make his way downstairs. The going was slow, and he was constantly thrown against the walls as the tower continued to snap and jerk. His mind raced with options and solutions to escaping, and more prevalently, panic. Kyrie cleared his mind forcefully so that he could attempt to assess the problem with a calm head.

    Another explosion rocked the tower. Kyrie collapsed and began to tumble down the stairs, repeatedly knocking against the wall. The tower now angled more swiftly, and as he was finally able to stop, he found himself kneeling on the tower wall. There was a sudden, resounding cracking noise. Kyrie felt himself leave the wall. He was falling. A moment later there was a deafening crash, and Kyrie's vision went black.

    --

    Sarah glanced back as a crash echoed through the field, watching the tower as it slowly fell and landed on top of a section of the keep. Desperately hoping that no one had been in there, she caught up with the others, not wanting to be left behind. Beside her a huddled bundle kept her head down and shuffled along, looking like anything but a Queen.

    "Extinguish the torches," the bundle whispered, loud enough for the torchbearers to hear. "We don't want the enemy to see us going into the forest."

    The guards did as they were told, and soon they were walking in the dark. The last of the sun's rays were fading, and behind them a sliver of the nearly full moon could be seen lifting over the treetops. With the cover of night, they should be able to easily escape notice.

    The ground seemingly rose up in front of Sarah, and she stumbled slightly, her hands flying out to break her fall. The Queen's arm shot up, grabbing Sarah's flailing arm and, with a strength Sarah hadn’t believed the Queen had, pulled her back into a standing position. Sarah wobbled slightly before regaining balance.

    "Watch yourself, Sarah. I wouldn't want to see you injured."

    Sarah thanked her and smoothed her hair simply to give her hands something to do to cover her embarrassment. To trip in front of your Queen was one thing a soldier never wanted to experience, especially someone of her status. There was—

    Something slammed into her side hard, knocking her into the Queen. The two of them hit the ground, Sarah doing her best to shield the Queen from whatever had attacked her. She felt a weight lifted off her stomach and looked up to see a plumed-helmeted man standing over her. No less than a dozen other soldiers could be seen storming into the escort's ranks, skirmishing with the elite guards that were charged with protecting the Queen. Sarah’s opponent lifted his sword, preparing to slash at Sarah’s head. Thinking fast, Sarah used her gauntleted hand to grab her assailant’s blade as it came around, pushing it to the side forcefully. In the same movement she drew her sword awkwardly from underneath her, bringing it up to take off the man's sword hand. He howled in pain, clutching at the stump as Sarah leapt to her feet and brought her sword around. The howling stopped, the man's head soaring through the air. Sarah had already turned to help the Queen to her feet by the time the head struck the ground. Her hand throbbed painfully as she grasped the older woman’s arm tightly.

    Seeing the Queen safely to the side of the squall, Sarah charged back in. A flick of her brand sliced at a soldier's unprotected leg, producing a curse as he collapsed. The other guards, being highly trained to react quickly to ambushes such as this one, were able to easily pick off the attackers before they could do any harm. In mere moments Sarah stood on a ground littered with dead bodies, the blood turning the ground to mud.

    One of the guards wiped his sword on the cloak of a fallen enemy before sheathing it, grunting audibly. "This won't be the last ambush," he growled. "I don't know how, but apparently the enemy knows where we are. We should get moving, and fast. Be on your guard at all times."

    They continued their trek along the small trail into the forest, where complete darkness fell over them like a blanket. They moved into a single-filed line so as not to disrupt the bushes to either side of the path. In the distance, and owl hooted ominously, and at one point Sarah thought she felt a rat run into her greaves. Every time the bushes rustled, Sarah's hands flew to her sword, gripping the handle tightly, but it always turned out to be a fox or some other woodlands animal. In their current formation, a well-executed ambush could take out the Queen before they even knew anyone was there. It had Sarah's nerves tied in a tight knot.

    --

    With a shout, Althea moved the large squad surrounding her over to meet the oncoming enemy horde. They were out in the clearing in front of the keep. She had been able to mobilize the troops scattered about inside, clear the keep of the enemy, and set up a half-decent defence at the gates. Several people had been assigned as leaders of squads; enough to keep the entire keep surrounded. Over in the distance, trebuchets and catapults had ceased firing, Althea's cavalry having done an excellent job at taking out the siege weapons' operators.

    The small group Althea was intercepting charged forward almost recklessly. The heir to the throne shouted an order, and her squad immediately sprang into a triangular formation. A loud battle cry roared through the people as they ran to meet the opposition. The front of the triangle cut through the enemy’s front ranks, digging deep. The unorganized Othillian troops broke, frantically trying to regroup as Althea's men sliced through to the back and split into two thick lines, forming a circle around their enemies. There was a moment's wait before Althea gave the command to strike. It took only minutes before the Othillian troops were killed.

    "They'll have to do better than that!" Althea thrust her sword in the air in triumph. The Ferasians did the same, shouting and roaring. It was cut off quickly, however, when a loud thunk was heard across the clearing. Althea grimaced at the sound as she turned, fearing what she knew she would see. The trebuchets had started up again, their stones hurtling toward the keep.

    Althea gave the command, and the squad moved forward, towards the siege weapons. A slight breeze blew Althea's hair as she glared at the contraptions, her hand gripping her sword tightly.

    To their left flank came a strike. The mass of people that came at them roared, looking more prepared than the previous group. Althea attempted to create a counter strike to the charge’s pre-emptive attack, which was quickly dissolved, the enemy easily dodging the strike formations. Swords clashed loudly as she wracked her brain for an effective strategy, her own blade blurring as she constantly defended.

    The heir to the throne had only a moment to react as a powerful strike came down at her side. Twisting to face her assailant, her eyes widened to see a sneering woman standing there. Her helmet was missing, allowing for her shining hair to frame a smooth, beautiful face. The woman lifted her sword again and swung it in a horizontal arc. Althea jumped back out of reach.

    "The princess," the woman laughed. "How fortunate I am to be allowed to face Althea herself in battle."
    Althea glared at the woman. She had met her once before, at a treaty arrangement to Othille. Althea had taken an instant dislike to the Othillian general, the leader's smirks and sneers annoying her to no end. But she had also watched in amazement as the general practiced the sword with half a dozen of her men, easily disarming them all and leaving them helpless.

    A series of strikes was thrown at Althea as she dwelled in her thoughts. She blocked them easily, parrying a slash and dodging a thrust. As the general's sword came around to slash Althea's side, Althea took advantage of the brief opening and sliced through a parting in the woman's leg armor. The sword went through and sank deep into the knee. With a cry the Othillian general dropped to one knee, but her sword continued along its path. It ripped into Althea's unprotected side, slicing at her stomach painfully. The blow had been weakened, but Althea was still forced to clutch at the large gash in her side. The general tilted her head and smirked.

    In a flash of anger, Althea forgot about her side and thrust her sword at the woman. The emotionally driven attack was easily thrown aside, and the general countered it with a slash of her own. Althea felt her calf rip open, blood spilling out over the grass. She let out a cry of agony as the dropped to both knees.

    She swung with all her might, striking at her opponent again and again. The strikes were easily deflected, the woman's joy in watching Althea struggle apparent on her face. They kneeled there, exchanging blows, both ignoring their wounds. Before long, however, Althea's hits began to weaken and her entire side began to flame up in a searing pain. She growled in rage, watching helplessly as a gauntleted hand came up to intercede a feeble slash. The hilt of Althea’s blade was yanked out of her hand, the princess having to struggle not to be pulled forward with the sudden jerk. The general heaved both swords into the air above her, preparing to come down with the final strike.

    Desperation filled Althea's mind, panic taking hold of her actions. Her sword hand flew down to her thigh and she unsheathed a belt knife. With the last of the strength remaining in her legs, she lunged at her opponent, tackling her in the midriff. The sudden blow knocked the woman to her side, Althea landing atop her. Althea grappled with the woman, keeping her swords from slicing at Althea. Using a move her father had taught her before he’d died, she crippled both the woman’s hands in two quick snaps. Her belt knife flashed, and in a flurry of strikes Althea sliced through her assailant’s neck, spilling hot blood over her hand and on the ground. The body spasmed, the woman's eyes growing wide as they dimmed, and a second later the body went limp.

    Althea rolled off the corps, her breathing becoming heavy. In the short adrenaline rush, the pain in her side and leg had been forgotten, but now they burned through her body. Gritting her teeth, she began to crawl away from the losing battle and to the safety of the tree line nearby. Fires raged through the clearing and the forest, and the trees were swarming with the enemy, but Althea hoped that if she could avoid the light she might be able to find a hidden spot and tend to her wounds. It seemed a better plan then waiting in the open to die.

    --

    Groaning, Kyrie attempted to blink blood out of his eyes. The red, sticky substance was hot all over his body, staining the numerous wounds he bore. He was surprised that his body wasn't numb, that he hadn't been completely paralysed from the impact. Actually, he was surprised that he was even alive.

    He shifted slightly, a sharp pain wracking his entire body. Rubble fell off his back with the movement, and a sheet of dust floated down from the rocks above. Now he was able to twist his head enough to see behind him. His clothes were soaked in the blood from the numerous cuts and gouges over his body. The entire bottom half of his right leg was pressed between two large boulders. The worst of it, however, was the torch holder that had impaled his shoulder. It pinned him to the ground, ripping and tearing with every breath. A small amount of blood flowed out of it at a constant rate, oozing out through his clothes and over the ground. Kyrie moaned in distress. Between the bleeding gouges and the festering wound in his shoulder, he would die of blood loss in a short time.

    Squeezing his eyes shut against the pain, he called for help. He didn't actually expect anyone to save him, but there was no harm in trying. After a minute or two he stopped, the agony in his shoulder becoming unbearable. He sighed involuntarily. He felt slightly dizzy from the blood loss, and could sense it getting worse. All around him was rubble, and he had no way of knowing how deep he was or how long he had been there. The only bit of light came from overhead, and he couldn’t twist his head enough to see where it was coming from.

    He lied there on his stomach, resigning himself to death, waiting patiently for unconsciousness to take hold of him again. At one point he attempted to take the torch out of his shoulder, setting his jaw tightly and bracing himself for the pain. Pulling hard, he screamed as he twisted and yanked the torch. Finally he gave up. The thing seemed wedged in his arm tightly.

    His breathing became heavy and painful as the time passed, and he began to wonder if he had damaged a lung. Blood dripped into his eyes, forcing him to shut them completely. His body was slowly becoming numb, his hearing popped frequently, and his mouth was unimaginably dry.

    A sudden scraping of rock alerted Kyrie to movement above. His brain hardly bothering to take note of such an occurrence, simply writing it off as someone passing overhead, he felt a jolt of surprise when something soft but firm pressed against his uninjured shoulder. A voice floated to him across the disconnected distance from his body to his consciousness. Forcing himself to return to reality, he immediately regretted that he hadn't let himself go as the pain began to return.

    "Kyrie!" the familiar voice cried. "Hang on a moment and I'll get you out."

    Kyrie groaned in acceptance. Footsteps grated against the stone beside him, and a moment later they returned. "Okay," the female voice said. At least, he thought it was female. He could hardly comprehend it. "I was able to free your leg. Now for this torch. You... may want to bite this."

    Clamping down on the wad of cloth he was offered, Kyrie prepared himself for the pain he sensed was coming. And suddenly it exploded. His entire arm felt like it had just been ripped from his body. The torch holder slowly slid from his arm, metal biting and tearing at his flesh. He screamed from behind the wad of cloth, tears mixing with blood as they fell from his eyes. He breathed a heavy sigh of relief when the pain diminished substantially, only a dull throbbing left, making him wince slightly with every heartbeat.

    His body was carefully but painfully lifted into the air. He felt unconsciousness take hold of him once more as he rocked back and forth on the huge woman's shoulder.

    --

    The pale light of the moon shone down on the entourage as they broke from the foliage onto a fairly wide road. The light bathed everything an eerie silver, giving Sarah cause to shiver slightly. All around them the forest was quiet. The air was completely still, and the sounds of the animals had all faded away. Even the owls seemed to have stopped their hooting. Sarah immediately took that as a bad omen.

    They walked along the road, the guard surrounding the Queen, Sarah directly behind her. Their footfalls seemed to echo loudly, and the snapping of a twig made Sarah wince. She walked with a hand on her sword, keeping a watchful eye on the trees.

    It took a moment for her to process what happened next. The whizzing of an arrow flew past her ear, and the sound of it connecting with a skull followed immediately after. She watched as the Queen lurched forward in slow motion, her blond hair staining red as she fell. Sarah turned to see half a dozen men step out of the trees. A blur soared straight at her. All she knew afterwards was searing pain and blackness.