In the Shadow of the Storm -Chapter 1-15

Chapter 9

Chapter 9 - Qira

Qira woke when her door clicked open and a shadowy figure slipped into the room. She remained utterly still, not wishing to alert the figure to her consciousness. Her heart began to pound as she heard a slight scuffing as boots crossed the space between the door and her bed.
She conuted the steps as she heard them, and prepared the leap out of bed, grab the knife lying on her bed-side table and jump on the intruder.

Suddenly, a leather-clad had covered her mouth, killing the scream even as it rose in her throat. Simultaneously, her attacker’s other forearm pinned her upper body down, preventing her from moving. Qira silently raged against the oppressive weight, and wondered how he had gotten past the guard at the door. She was far from weak, but her attacker did not give at all. The smell of leather filled her nostrikls, and she now realised the man was also wearing mail. Qira paused in her efforts as she marvelled at how he had managed to cross her room without her realising that. As she looked up into the man’s face, she at last realised his identity. It was her guard. As their eyes locked, she realised his were slightly widened with fear, and perhaps a little wild-looking.
Slowly he took his forearm away, leaving the glove in place, and put a single finger to his mouth, indicating she should remain quiet. Still unsure of what was happening, she thought it best to nod, despite her mixed intentions. She would give the man the benefit of the doubt for the moment, and not scream.
Qira nodded slowly, so he removed his other hand, and retreated a few steps.
“M’lady, something is happening, I don’t know what. You need to get up and get dressed.” He whispered urgently before taking more steps back and respectfully turning his back.

Quickly she slid out from the heavy, embroidered covers, and walked quickly over to her wardrobe. From his tone and general manner, Qira decided on functional clothing – that which she had worn hunting what seemed like all those weeks ago. She quickly donned the newly-cleaned and polished leathers, shrugging into a padded shirt prior to the layers of leather. Soon she was covered in the darker clothing that she felt more comfortable in. She cleared her throat indicating that she was dressed, and the guard turned.
“I think you should bring that too.” He indicated the bow lying unstrung and propped against the wall with a quiver full of arrows. Troubled by this, Qira nodded, picking up the stave and bracing it to loop the string around both ends. She shrugged into her shoulder quiver and slipped a knife into the sheath on her belt and then paused, ready. The guardsman was looking at her oddly and though he immediately looked away when their eyes met, Qira thought she saw a glimmer of pride.
“We should go.” He padded to the door, disturbing barely a link of his mail in a way she still marvelled at. There he paused, opening it a crack to scan the corridor. Qira still did not understand what was going on, though she had realised that something was badly wrong. Her mind was racing.

There was usually no reason at all for her to need to walk the halls armed. The guard with her too was acting very strangely. He was fully armoured, as was customary, wearing full scale-mail, with a sword and matched dagger on his hips. In place of the usual gauntlets, he wore only simple leather gloves, but his greaves were strapped to his calves, and Qira felt reassured just to be with him, this image of The Warrior.
“Where exactly are we going?” Qira kept her voice to a whisper, although she still did not really know why. The corridors were unnaturally silent, and Qira was surprised they had not run into a servant  yet, especially considering the fact that the assembled nobility of the province were in the city.
“You must leave, I have to get you out of the city.”

Qira was stunned.

“What? Why?” She was able to manage to two questions as her mind reeled. The only reason she would be bundled out of the city like this was if it was about to fall.
“What is going on? Are we being attacked?”
The man ahead of her paused.
“I don’t know exactly. All I know is that when you father set me to guard your door, I was ordered to keep you safe at all costs. M’lady, I swore an oath, sealed with my own blood. I do not take it lightly. I would gladly give anything for you.” Touched by his devotion, Qira was forced to turn away as tears began to sting her eyes.
“You already have though. You have spent as long as I can remember guarding me. You have had no chance for a life of your own. No wife? No children?” The man smiled sadly, slowly shaking his head as if she had completely misunderstood. Choosing not to elaborate, he gestured they should continue, but she grabbed his mail-clad sleeve and dragged him back.
“What about Lillah? My sister is coming with us?” Her eyes searched for something in his face to reassure her, and widened as his mouth opened to deny it. She saw it in his eyes before the words formed however, and she seized on his hesitation.
“Why not? Is she not just as important?” Qira was growing angry.
The guard held his hands up placatingly, trying to talk.

“I don’t know what your father has organised for her, but I would imagine they are the same. She will have her own guard to escort her out.” The answer by no means satisfied Qira, and she turned and strode away towards her sister’s room.
Her exasperated and somewhat annoyed guard was left to trail after. It took only a few paces for him to take the lead, willing to walk into anything before her. It was not long before the pair found the first body. Qira wept as she recognised one of the squires; the young boy she only knew as one of Uriel’s best friends and sparring partner.
His dark uniform was stained with darker patches, and Qira was alarmed by the sheer number. The boy had been savaged, stabbed many times, and she vowed to avenge him as the guard dragged her away.

After that, they found more bodies, although neither of them yet knew the identity of their mysterious attackers: the bodies belonged so far only to the staff of the hall. Qira was growing more and more tense, struggling to control a growing trembling through her limbs. Still she felt drawn onwards by a need to find her sister, to protect her, although a none too quiet voice at the back of her mind whispered evilly about how she might find her sister. As she neared the last corner before her sister’s room, she heard the unmistakable and yet alien noise of steel on steel. With a cry, she darted forwards, but was this time caught and pushed back by her guard, before he charged round the corner, sword drawn.
Qira still followed him closely, and as he moved down the stone-walled corridor, more of the scene was revealed. The guard she recognised as him posted outside Lillah’s room was spinning away in a spray of blood. He fell for an eternity before coming to halt in a crumpled pile on the floor. His killer, the man holding the bloody sword and with a grim smile on his face returned immediately to the door and kicked viciously at it.
The door was not locked, and so disintegrated quickly to reveal a heavy wardrobe tipped on its side as a barricade. Seeing this, the attacker abandoned his attempts and turned to face the figure hurtling down the corridor. Qira stayed back, realising she would more likely get in the way than be any help. As he did so, Qira got a good look at his face for the first time, and it tugged at her memory. She was sure she recognised the man but could not place him.
Her protector moved to engage the man and as he did so, two more who were certainly not her father’s guardsmen appeared round the corner. Her ally quickly dispatched the first man, deflecting the oncoming sword thrust out to the side before barrelling in to him. His opponent was knocked down by the slighter man’s shoulder, to be finished with a quick, precise sweep across the throat.

That done, her guard turned to face the three more enemies filling the corridor. They moved forwards to meet him, and immediately began to press him hard, pushing him back down the corridor. As he passed Lillah’s room, a figure streaked out of the doorway and for a moment, Qira was terrified, as she thought it might be her sister. But no, her sister was much smaller, and she nearly sighed in relief.
Incredibly, she recognised the powerful form of Uriel, sword drawn. In a matter of seconds, he had broken up the group of enemies, and was raining blow after blow down on the steady defence of the isolated man. The other two glanced back, and might have considered going back to aid him, but the guard before them chose that moment to press forward, renewing his efforts, so they were forced to remain focused on him. The opening came moments later, and her guard took it. Batting away the blade of one of his opponents, the man whipped his sword across to meet the other, parrying and riposting all in one motion; sliding his sword through the attack and in between ribs. As his enemy fell, her guard tried to step back and disengage, but his sword caught on bone and this pulled him off balance.

The other enemy saw his opportunity, and attempted to take advantage, bringing his sword round in what was intended to be the killing blow. Except it was not. Feeling himself being dragged off balance, his victim had gone with it, diving forwards over the crumpling man. At this point, Qira lost sight of exactly what happened, and feared the worst, but she needn’t have. Moments later, her guard was back on his feet, facing his armed opponent now with nothing but his gloved hands.

Without thinking, Qira brought her bow up and slipped an arrow from the quiver on her shoulder, slipping it onto the string. Pulling back to her ear, she sighted and released. The arrow sprang across the intervening space, flying true.
Before she could comprehend what she had done, the arrow had found its target. It sunk almost up to its fletching in the man’s back. At this range, it mattered not that he wore a shirt of chainmail, and the tip punched straight through, maintaining enough force to fling him forwards.

The first man was still on his way down when she pulled another arrow from over her shoulder, drew and released, sending the shot into the side of the other enemy’s neck. He too crumpled soundlessly, and suddenly the corridor was still.
As the silence rolled in, the enormity of what she had just done crashed in around her like a wave. She had just killed her first man. Of course she had killed before, and often, hunting as she did, but killing animals, she now realised, was nothing compared to killing men. She retched, but was unable to bring anything up. Still, her body worked against her, and she dry-retched until she was doubled over, bow dropped forgotten to one side. Slowly she sunk to her knees as the weight of realisation came down onto her shoulders like a physical weight. Tears rolled down her cheeks in an uncontrollable torrent, and Qira was unable to move, rendered helpless by the sudden realisation of the sheer fragility of human life, and how easy she had found it to take it.

She did not resist when a hand closed around her arm and drew her to her feet, before hugging her close. Not protesting despite the cold metal scales against her cheek, she flung her arms around the man, and cried. 
For an instant, she was a child again, lamenting the first time she had killed a rabbit, in the fields just outside Minglun. Even then, aged eleven, her aim had been unerring, and the arrow had taken the rabbit in the forehead: a clean kill. For a good ten minutes after that, she had simply sat and stared at the damage her arrow had done.

After that she had taken the carcass to her father, and wordlessly presented him with it. Following this, they had had the most sincere conversation of her short life, in which he had impressed upon her the importance and sacrosanct nature of life, of how every living being had a place in the world. From then on, she had never killed for the sake of it, and had hunted simply in an effort to help those less fortunate than herself. She was not so naive as to think that she could possibly make a noticeable difference, but those she helped were always grateful for anything she could bring back, no matter what it was.
What felt like some time passed before her arms were gently prised apart, and the hand stopped stroking her hair. Her head was tilted up by a hand under her chin, and she was staring with wide, tear-stained eyes into the face of her guard.

“I know how you feel, honestly I do. I felt the same with my first. But now is not the time to mourn the loss of innocence. You must look to your sister. You two have to get out of the city.” Looking over her head, he nodded to Uriel, who led Lillah out of her room by the hand. The young girl was trembling in sheer terror, and stared wide-eyed at the bodies littering the paved stone floor. It seemed she noticed the presence of Qira’s arrows in two of them, for she looked to her sister for some answer. As fresh tears came to her eyes, Qira was unable to meet Lillah’s wide-eyed stare, and her younger sister seemed to shrink away slightly, something which hurt Qira far more than the enormity of the act of killing itself.
“Let’s go.” With another glance to Uriel, he picked up her bow and pressed it into her hand. Qira wanted nothing more to do with it. It was as if a beloved pet had suddenly turned on her. It was tainted now, and she did not think that she would ever be able to shake the perception.

A hand, she now realised, was slick with blood.

She had not been near any of the dead, and so was unsure where the blood had come from. She looked back down the corridor, and it was then she locked eyes with her guard. Qira saw the grimace of pain crease his features, even as he shook his head almost imperceptibly, indicating she should keep quiet about his wound. Now she looked carefully, Qira could see a dark patch emerging slowly in the bright scales covering his side, and the image terrified her beyond anything else. The guard had become one of the constants in her life, so he would be fine, he would survive the wound and continue to protect her.

They set off, with the guard leading the way, followed by Qira, and then Lillah, with Uriel bringing up the rear. The group wound their way through the corridors, taking a rather circumspect route through the building, to an entrance which Qira did not even realise was there: a small postern gate next to which both Uriel and her guard were certain horses would be waiting.
Their route took them near to her father’s study, which her guard was nervous about because it was there that there was likely to be fighting, if they had come for both Lillah and Qira. He was not wrong, and there were signs of fighting having taken place. Bodies were strewn across many of the corridors they passed along, and they were mainly wearing the dark uniforms of the Guardsmen. With each of the discoveries her protector became more and more grim-faced, and Qira realised he must know these men. They had been comrades and friends after all, and he had been denied the possibility of fighting and dying next to them, for her sake.
A choked scream came from behind, and Qira whirled, expecting some sort of attack, but instead seeing Lillah standing perfectly still, staring down at a mass of bodies on the floor. Qira followed her younger sister’s eyes, and struggled to quell a scream of her own. Half-buried beneath corpses was the unmistakable colours of the clothing their father had worn.

The two men moved the other corpses away, her guard grunting and turning a pale shade in the process, and the full horror of the scene was revealed. The body was undoubtedly that of her father, and she could tell even despite the fact that the head had been removed.
“Lillah, don’t look.” Her younger sister did not respond, struck dumb by the sight of most of their father lying prone on the floor.
“Don’t look!” The shout caused both Uriel and her guard to hastily shush her, but it was too late. The sound of running feet was heard, and the men moved into position to protect the two traumatised girls.
Lord Heber ran round the corner, wearing a padded arming jacket, and carrying a blood-drenched sword. Uriel moved to engage him, snarling. The large man skidded to a halt, and placed his sword on the ground before holding his hands up to show he meant no harm.
“You have no idea how happy I am to see you two alive. But you must go, and quickly. Lord Nahash has all but secured the hall, and it will only be a matter of time before he finds the horses by the southern postern gate.”
“Lord Nahash? What?” Uriel was stunned, and his sword point, initially levelled at Heber’s chest, wavered before dropping to his side.

“The rebellion we have all heard so much about was led by him. The rebels are his men, and he brought them here. They must have camped out of view of the city and then attacked during the night. There were too few guardsmen to hold them.” He spat disdainfully. “They are giving no quarter, even to the servants. I must go and try and talk to him, one lord to another, and try to stop this madness. If not...” He picked up his sword, and wiped it clean on the plain tunic of one of the dead enemies. “...maybe a little armed diplomacy instead.”
With that he was off, striding past the group, and in the direction they had just come from.
Uriel was stunned, and it was only a rough shove from the guard that started him moving again. The young man gathered up Lillah, picking her up with one arm, and carrying her. Qira’s younger sister seemed unable to move, and had not made a sound since they had made the terrible discovery.

The effect on Qira had been very different. While she accepted her father’s point that all living things were precious, she realised that the protection of life, even to point of taking those of others was important. The way she was gradually coming to see it was that, if she had not taken those two lives, they would have killed Uriel, her guard, and both her and Lillah, and perhaps countless more. They were men of violence, and although she felt horrified that they had needed to die, she recognised that it was the lesser of two evils.
Finding her father in such a state had obviously upset her hugely, but the appearance of Lord Heber, and the tidings he bore had replaced her distress with a sense of purpose. Lord Nahash was the reason for all this death, and she silently vowed that before her time ended, she would see him dead.
Again, the group set off towards the small stable block set immediately beside the postern gate. It did not take long for them to reach the wooden door set into a slight alcove in a minor corridor.  The guard went through first, checking the space thoroughly, and even going to edge of the sheltered area to have a look out into the courtyard.

Returning to the door, he ushered them into the stable. The horses were unsettled, clearly able to sense the terror of the people now among them. It would have been difficult for them not to. Lillah was trembling uncontrollably, and still seemed dazed. Her eyes remained unfocused, and she still had not made a sound. It was then that Qira realised. There were only three horses, and four of them.
“Where’s the last horse?” At the whispered question, her guard looked round sharply, quickly scanning the stables. His reply was interrupted by a booming cry from outside.

“LORD NAHASH!” Qira recognised the voice of Lord Heber in the courtyard, and sped to the edge of the shadows thrown by the stable. From there she would be able to observe, but there was almost no chance they would see her. Uriel followed but made no effort to pull her back, leaving Lillah sat on a small haystack next to one of the horses.
“LORD NAHASH!” Again came the great cry, and Heber emerged from the main doors of the hall, sword drawn, and still wearing his blood-encrusted arming jacket. The powerfully-built man was accompanied by an armed escort of those she presumed were the rebels, for none of them wore uniforms. Out in the courtyard, Qira could not make much out due to the darkness of the night, but then the moon came out in its full glory from behind a cloud, and illuminated the whole scene.
The man she vaguely recognised as Lord Nahash turned at the second shout, and beside him was the young man she had met at the feast, his son.
“Put down your sword, Heber. You cannot win this.” Heber had been stopped a good thirty metres short of Nahash, and so both were forced to call to each other. Qira had to admit he was right. Heber was surrounded by a group of six men, and another twenty or so were positioned around Nahash to protect him.

Instead of putting it down, he wiped it clean on a corner of his already-ruined jacket and then returned it to the sheath at his side. “Stop this madness, stop this death, please.” There was a definite pleading tone in his voice, and even from this distance, Qira saw Nashash’s lip curl up into a smile.
“But I am not finished yet.” She had only before seen Lord Nahash from a distance, and so had never heard him speak. The voice that came forth from the shadowy figure was unexpectedly deep and rich. Heber simply gaped at his words, unable to process that he could be so cold.
“What? Why not? What are you hoping to achieve? Lord Kang is dead.” Even across the space, the words hit Qira with a force, and jolted her backwards. It seemed so final, so absolute, for someone to actually have said it. But for the strong arm of Uriel, she would have sunk to her knees again, but managed to keep herself upright by gripping his sleeve.
“I need to secure my position, I need the daughters, and the staff have been...uncooperative. For that they must be punished. My son must have his bride, and for some reason the people love Qira and Lillah. A marriage would secure my position.” Again Heber was dumbfounded by the sheer scope of his plan. As was Qira, listening from a distance, though she had no time to think any further about it, for Heber was talking again.
“How do you think you can get away with this? How could you possibly explain all this death?” Again came the slight smile from Nahash, although this time there was disturbing aspect to it.
“Get away with what? Lord Heber staged a coup, and I discovered it, but not in time. I arrived too late to the city to stop the slaughter, but was able to avenge the death of our noble Lord Kang." He nodded, and a man stepped up behind Heber and plunged his sword deep into his back.

“No!” Qira jumped as Uriel shouted. The group of figures in the courtyard looked around, unable to locate the source of the shout. Lord Nahash was snarling orders, determined to keep his plot together, to leave no room for error.
“Spread out, find them!”

Her guard pulled Qira and Uriel back into the safety of the stables and pushed Qira towards one horse and then bodily picked Lillah up and placed her in another, forcing the reins between her fingers. Finally she responded, and seemed to take comfort from the familiar beast beneath her, curling her fingers round the reins, and sinking into her riding position. Uriel swung up easily into the saddle of the last horse, following a brief glance to her guard. Qira saw the weighted look, and turned to face her guard. He spoke first, beating her to it.
“I’ll hold them, you go. Now.”
“But you’ll...how will you get away? We can ride double...” Qira did not at all like where this was going.
In response, the guard moved his arm away from his body, revealing an enormous bloodstain around the wound he had taken earlier. It was a wonder he was still on his feet, given the amount of blood he had clearly lost.
He did not reply, only looked into her eyes. In that moment she truly understood.
“You don’t intend to...why?”
“Qira I have loved you as a daughter from the moment I first met you. You said I had given you everything. Respectfully, no I haven’t, not yet.” With that, he turned away, swaying slightly.

Qira got up into her saddle, and moved towards the gate set deep in the shadows of the wall ahead. Her guard moved ahead on foot, and swung the gate open quietly.
In that instant, the door to the stable crashed open, and men poured in brandishing swords. Her guard turned around to face them, and Qira realised absurdly she still didn’t know his name.
She called out to him as he passed, asking him, but he didn’t respond, his eyes blazing with anger and pain, and focused utterly on those ahead. Ahead, Uriel and Lillah heeled their mounts into a headlong gallop down into the city. Qira paused, looking back to her saviour and, she realised, her friend and older brother figure for all her life.

The unknown warrior charged the group of at least fifteen soldiers facing him. As he closed the distance, an arrow sprang out from the throng and took him in the shoulder, knocking him back but unable to halt his headlong sprint. Before the archer could loose again, he was among them, laying about him with sword and knife alike. His sword blocked an enemy thrust, deflecting it away, and he plunged a knife into the man’s thigh, severing the artery. The man fell quickly, crimson pumping out of his leg, but the man had already moved on. His sword danced, seemingly possessed, moving faster than Qira would have thought possible. It opened a throat, plunged into another’s chest, deflected sword after sword, still not allowing anything through. The man behind it darted in and out, dealing death from both hands, and seemingly ignorant of the deep wound in his side.
Qira turned and rode into the moon-lit night, following the other two down into the city, straining to catch up with them. As she did so the three became the only things moving in the silent city, and it seemed far cry from the chaos they had just left. She could still hear the faint sounds of clashing swords, and was amazed at the skill and endurance of the man they had left. Truly he was blessed by the Warrior. They were nearly safe when she heard a slight whistling behind them, and she screamed a warning. She had heard the sound before, but was unused to it being behind her. Too late though, as the arrow punched into Uriel’s back, hitting him in the shoulder blade, where it lodged.

The force of it pitched him forwards in the saddle, and to the ground. His horse galloped on, and Qira screamed his name, unsure what to do. To her relief, as she looked back he got to his feet, shouting for them to go, and he turned back to face the inner wall some fifty yards distant, roaring his challenge like a wounded bear. Qira screamed again as another arrow soared forth, and took him in the chest. This one didn’t knock him down, but staggered him, and it took a third and finally a fourth arrow to finally down him. Even then he only sunk to his knees, still roaring insults at the top of his voice. The fifth arrow must have been an incredibly lucky shot for the marksman atop the wall, and hit him full in the face, snapping his head back, and propelling him to the floor, where he finally lay still. Qira screamed his name again, but he didn’t move, and she was forced to pay attention to onward gallop of her horse. The two men had both given their lives for her and her sister to escape, and she had to make sure it wasn’t in vain.

They came within sight of the gate which was surprisingly open, presumably from when Nahash’s troops had entered the city, and the sisters burst through it and out into the night. Galloping away to the south.
***