Rusty Quivers

Locked up

Vincent Alistair

The double door down in the farthest wall of the vast wooden foyer flung open. The traders came rushing in, Dubrov trailing them. The traders glanced up at me; "Shoot the guy-" Their eyes widened as they saw that there was another archer here instead of their own. Me.

Dubrov came crushing against them from behind, knocking them both to the ground.

I found it odd, there were no women or children in the building. Who evacuated them?

"Dubrov." My voice rang through the building, and it sounded unfamiliar to my own ears. I had witnessed a lot of deaths. Why do they still bother me? And on top of that, an enemy's death?

"Yeah?" He said, grabbing both of the traders by their hair as they grunted and whined.

"Get f****d!" They protested.

"Let them go, they're mere workers." I said, meeting his gaze and even though I was sweating, I managed that glare which evidently said; 'I know what I'm doing, trust me.'

He nodded and let them go. The traders struggled to get up on their feet. They shot glances from Dubrov to me and from me to Dubrov, then their gaze finally fell to the corpse laying there before me and sweat began trickling down their faces even more.

Dubrov stomped his foot upon the ground to intimidate them, they recoiled and dashed towards the double door. Running off.

I jumped down from the railing on top of the foyer and landed right in front of Dubrov. My knees felt weak. But I had to keep the tormentful, dark negative thoughts at bay or else I wouldn't be able to focus on the mission. It was hard, readers. Incrediby difficult. But once I let the thoughts leak in, then it would be me, a secluded room, and crates of akan and cirkal.

It's like that fear that claws at your heart and mind every damned day. When fate pushes you to go through something that you can hardly bear. When you have to give up on everything that makes you feel alive, that makes you feel at peace. I know as a soldier you must be prepared to witness death on every task that you're assigned to. But when it came like this, it still shook me. And only me, for some reason. Sometimes I questioned what Sufa saw in me when he took me under his wing.

"Your mind is stronger than you believe it to be." He'd said.

It's really not. But now's not the time to think on this.

I lifted my gaze up to Dubrov and said; "Take the archer to Alfinn, tell him to go get Lisa on the rendezvous point in the northeast of the public square and set out for King's Landing. Tell him to report that the mission is going as planned and that these measures were taken to minimize the casualties and set the right pace for us to operate. Then come find me, I'll trail them."

Dubrov arched a brow. But he chose to trust me. "How will I find you?" He asked.

"Do you have a knife?" I asked.

He unsheathed an elegant bowie knife and twirled it in his hand, pointing the hilt towards me as his fingers pressed hard around the blade, droplets of blood began trickling down his fingers and neither of us flinched. It was a demonstration of his unwavering faith. How envious I was, readers.

I grabbed the handle then began walking towards the double door. "I'll leave signs and directions on the trees."

"Are you not going to check who the archer is?" Dubrov asked.

"I'm afraid if I do, I'd no longer be in the suited state of mind to carry out the mission." I said, and ventured out into the forests lying south public square. There was a bit of a grassland separating the public square from the forests, and fences stretchning from east to west patrolled by guards. The traders halted to a stop and consulted one of the guards.

They flipped their trading license, probably fake. And then one of the traders pointed towards me, the guards now turned all their necks to as their captain gave them the order to capture me.

"Tsk." I could probably show them the emblem that indicated my captaincy but I had left my clothes behind, i was stuck with this outfit of a royalty. And there was no time for explanation.

The guards flanked around the traders, but the traders fled, disappearing from under the guards' noses.

"They're defiants!" I shouted. "Don't let them escape!" I added as my vocals strained, adrenaline coursing through my veins.

The captain of those guards turned around to see the reality of the situation, there were guards groaning on the floor as their throats had been slit by the so-called traders.

Two of the guards still grabbed me by the shoulders.

"I'm sorry but you'll have to come with u-"

I head-butted the nose of the guard to my left as he recoiled and fell back, now my left arm was free, I grabbed the hair of the guard to my right with my now free left hand and pushed his head down to introduce him to my knee.

I couldn't kill them. And this wasn't the time to worry about violation of the rules.

I drew my bow and flung out an arrow from the quiver, I pressed the arrow nock against the string. I let the arrow fly and pierce one of the fences.

Then I dashed towards the guards. The head of the arrow was emblazoned with three vines intersecting on a few miniature cobbles. Indication of a captain. For insiders there were two vines. For soldiers a single vine. Generals 4. For advisers 5 and the king's crown bore an emblem of 6 vines, intersecting with dazzling cobbles of gold as the canvas.

He took out the arrow and examined its head.

One of the basic things we're taught in the military is to identify the weapons, their origins. And it tells us a lot about the wielder.

"W-We're incredibly s-"

I interrupted his apology by dashing past him and hurdling over the fence, following the two traders that were now too far into sight.

Present day

I was crouched atop a thick tree bough, carving a cross in the tree with my bowie knife.

My gaze roamed the settlement of cottages and barracks. That couldn't be the entirety of Defiance's hideout. I supposed the real deal was underground. I noticed the architecture of the cottages and barracks, along with that one wooden tower was ridiculously similar to the old buildings in King's Landing.

Archers clad in black patrolled the wide and lengthy tower. It was magnificent, somewhat. Like the kind of magnificent you'd have to try hard to be impressed by. But I supposed this organization didn't necessarily focus on beauty and glamour.

They did seem pretty resolute though, each one had this, sort of drive to make their lives and deaths amount to something. I've heard stories of Defiants refusing to speak up even after days of torture. It's like their lips are forever sealed.

And I've also heard stories of Defiants wearing dynamites under their clothing and blowing themselves up once captured.

How can someone be so. . .devoted to something so dishonourable? I suppressed a shudder.

Their hideout was surrounded in gigantic trees, most of which were Camphors.

I had to wait till Dubrov got here. He should only be a few hours behind, should be here by now.

I know that the main task was to locate the hideout. But I needed to gather more information. I needed to gather enough information that it'd amount to something.

I need to know why some people are so damn devoted to this cause?

Devoted enough for my parents to give away their lives for this cause.

I gulped at the thought. That's right. My parents were Defiants. Sufa and his wife took me under their wing cause they found me as a child on the battlefield, Sufa and his unit raided one of Defiance's base, where my parents died but Sufa took sympathy in my state.

It damaged my soul, my past. No one except Sufa, his wife and their daughter, Fionna know about me being a Defiant. And his wife is long dead.

I scratched my chin, if anyone found out, well all three of us would be executed for supposed treason. But I hated the Defiance with burning, sizzling passion. No one would understand, no would show any consideration. That's actually the world we live in. They'd lose their balls without taking a single second to understand and kick into fight or flight response.

What they understood, they used, what they didn't understand, they demolished.

So what I can do is become the reason Defiance is brought down. I can gain their utter trust, I can grow so much as a warrior that my past shouldn't matter anymore. The past is a heavy chain, I remember life in Defiance as blurry. But I suffered, Mom and Dad? They barely raised me. I had been alone. And that wasn't even the extent of my suffering.

10 years ago, when I was 9

That day where Mom and Dad took me to one of the Defiance's base to begin my training as a Defiant. When we were raided. I saw an axe that flew through the air, circling and twirling in the sky, headed for my father. The motion seemed to have been slow, as if time itself had been frozen. Slowly being thawed by the dreadful beating of my heart. It felt like I had an entire eternity to choose, to look between my father and the axe.

Till sputters of thick blood smeared my face and the ground. My father fell to his knees and then his upper body fell to the floor, driving the axe further inside his chest as he grunted, wheezing in sheer agony.

My heart leaped. I couldn't remember a single word spoken to me about my father and mother.

Once I was brought in by Sufa and his wife, Sarah, I suffered with restlessness and fear for years. I pulled all-nighters. Not knowing what saddened me, not knowing what could give me joy. I sometimes punched against the wall consistently till my knuckles bled.

The room was sparsely furnished. There was a single bed, a wardrobe and a desk with a chair parallel to it. Silvery cobbled walls and a wooden ceiling. Smooth stone floor.

I threw my fists against the walls till the pain was great enough to outbalance the emotional and mental agony I felt. The detachment that I felt. The pain.

For years all I did was eat, barely sleep, and spend all my time preparing to wage war against the world. That's all the child me could come up with. My thoughts were filled with indifference to the idea of mankind. I longed to strangle, slice, hit, stab, kill people because of how my own lack of power and control made me feel. For years all I wanted to do was feel alive and in control.

Till Sarah started visiting me. She came to visit 3 times a day. During breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I hated it when someone visited me. Felt like extreme violation. Reminded me when the Defiance's base was raided. Everything was going well. I was finally going to initiate my training and start living an actual life and then these people raided us.

But now I simply dreaded the idea of life, I wanted to remain locked up in that room forever and ponder how cruel circumstances had always been to me.

I scowled and frowned each time she came in, I ignored her attempts at cheering me up, I refused to eat till she left, sometimes even threw away the tray.

Then I began pondering how undying her patience towards me was and one day when she came in, I no longer scowled or frowned. My face broke into fresh waves of giggles and I welcomed her in. Offering Sarah food.

Sarah was always smiling, she had long hair, but there were lines of old age scattered across her face, somehow only accentuating the beauty of her purplish eyes.

She radiated warmth and kept talking. Me who had nothing to talk about would only tell her how much I waited for her from dinner to breakfast, from breakfast to lunch, and from lunch to dinner.

Till one day she made me scowl again. Because she didn't come. She didn't come for breakfast, not for lunch, or for dinner.

She didn't come to tell my stories. She didn't bring the sorts of toys I no longer had a chance to tell her to bring.

It had been hours past dinner, the tray with bread, soup and herring was lying on the desk. I hadn't touched it.

I wanted her to feed me. The door opened up and my eyes widened, myheart seemingly lunged into my throat.

It must be her, it must be her and she came this late just to apologise! Tears ran down my face and a gleeful grin lifted the edges of my mouth. "Sarah where were you?" I asked, trying my best to sound mad.

The door flung open and my feet came to a halt. It was someone other than Sarah. Awfully familiar.

It was Sufa. A shaven lower face and extremely tired eyes. A long, roman nose and docile eyebrows. I had never seen him like that. He was a fierce man.

I gulped. And mustered the courage to ask; "Sarah." That's all I could manage. "Sarah?" Another overly simplified utterance. I hadn't known how to speak openly to anyone other than Sarah.

His breathing pattern changed, an eyebrow arched and a film of wetness touched his eyes. He stepped in and shut the door behind him.

"Vincent." He said. His voice wavering, weak, as if it would crack if he spoke anymore.

He didn't seem like the type of guy to remember anyone's name, let alone a frail kid's.

He took a deep breath, and another one.

"Sarah." I said again, my heart felt like it would consume me. I could barely hear my own voice, the thudding of my heart was too damn loud. I wondered if he could hear it. I wonder if the name Sarah paired with the thudding of my heart would give him and idea of what I wanted to ask. If not what I felt.

"Sarah won't come." He said after a long pause. "She won't come anymore."

Shock registered into every cell of my body.

I dropped to my knees. I had been a kid, I always wondered why some people suddenly went into sleep and never woke up. Never returned.

My lips quivered. "She joined. . .father and mother?" I asked, trembling from cold. I couldn't even hold the weight of my own existence.

Sufa didn't speak but his silence spoke volumes.

"Why do some people leave. . .and never come back?" I asked, staring blankly into space. "Why don't they listen to us?" I add to my miserably innocent questions. "Why do they go without telling us a reason? Why do they go without giving us an apology?" I asked, mists of misery settled over lakes of heartbreak. "Why do they stop feeling all of a sudden?"

Sufa sighed. It seemed like, after a long time he was finally allowing him to feel like I currently do. He took a few steps forward and sat down on one knee. Placing his hand on my shoulder.

"She didn't leave. She is among us, watching, observing, and hey," He smiled, lifting my chin. "I remember she used to tell me she hated seeing you troubled." He said and my heart jumped.

My face went grim, I grasped the collars of his tunic. He wore an obsidian tunic with green sleeves and lining, the pattern of poisonous vines scattered all over. "Your voice isn't as warm as Sarah's. But I appreciate the effort." I said, trying to pull his collars and thumping against his chest. Hugging him by the neck as tight as I could.

That's when the tears came rolling down, uncontrollable and hot. Rushing like water down the cobbles. I no longer felt drained, I could notice the weight lifting. All I wanted to do was cry and cry till I passed out. "Why do I feel so alone?" I said, my voice cracking. "She made me feel better but now she's gone too and I had absolutely no say! Like the time you guys killed my parents, why am I so. . .why do I hurt so much when I do absolutely nothing except try and feel better?" I asked, clinging to the hope that he had the answers.

He just hugged me tighter.

"It will pass, Vincent. You're not alone. You'll never be alone. I'm here." He pulled back and cupped my cheeks in his hands. "Hey, look," He forced me to look his way, he had green eyes. not as pretty as Sarah's but they got the message across. When I met his gaze, I realized his face had been oddly docile. That it's okay to break when someone like him is there to hold the pieces together. "You know, Sarah and I had a child, she's almost your age, just a little older." He said, rubbing the tears away with his thumbs.

I felt fascinated. "Does she have purplish eyes like Sarah's?" I asked, like a young admirer looks up at his revered king.

Sufa smiled. It offered warmth. And he nodded. "Beautiful, purple eyes."

"Tell her to not join Sarah, ever." I said.

And the cycle of attachment and detachment went on.

Present day

I woke up feeling like sizzling meat. There was a wet cloth pressed to my forehead. Beside me, in the corner of my eye I could spot the tall, muscular frame of Dubrov.

I noticed we were in a dim-lit cave. I was on the furthest end, to my right was a fire Dubrov probably made. And on a short plank of wood upon which there laid something edible which I believed to be roasted catfish.

And the rest was blurry, the fire provided a sense of comfort to die for. And who knows what would've happened if Dubrov hadn't found me.

"I caught a fever?" My voice sounded odd to my own ears, but it was relieving to talk peacefully to someone after that hectic mission.

He ignored my question. "Why did you stay?" Dubrov asked, his tone monotonous and his expression I imagined to be stern, I hadn't the energy to peek. "The mission was done. You located the base."

In truth, there was a deep-rooted attachment, no, curiosity. But he couldn't know that. I've been training under Sufa for 9 years. Ever since I turned 10. And my training was still ongoing. And I was just recently assigned this squad of insiders, after my direct promotion to captain because of Sufa had vouched for me. I had trusted my squad on the battlefield, I had relied on them a lot as well. Truth was, they were much more capable than I ever would be. All I did was make gambles after thinking things through for a long time, making preparations. That's how I held the squad together. It was difficult at first but now I was getting to know each one, and especially getting to know their uses.

I laughed bitterly. Pressing the back of my arm against my forehead. "I wanted to infiltrate them. Bring back even more useful information. Maybe that would've given me a push towards acknowledgement."

"In Fehdidiah, I've lived with criminals. Thieves. Robbers. Assassins. I've been one of each." He said, void of emotion.

I hadn't known that. I did know he was a Fehdidian fugitive who took refuge in Ambrosia, offering lifelong service. But I had known little to none about his past. On the day they were assigned to me, I had demanded records on their past. Alfinn was a distant relative to the King who simply wished to be a warrior. He was 18. He was to groom under me, who could barely hold himself together. Lisa had been working in a whorehouse, she fell for an insider and they married, but he died at the hands of a Defiant. Her desire to find peace in doing what he did and expertise in assassination through poison made her eligible to be assigned to me. The irony.

But papers on Dubrov were empty. They said they hadn't known a thing and Dubrov wanted to keep it that way. All that I saw was that he downed a bottle of booze and brought down 5 men like they were toddlers and that was enough for me to sign him.

"Go on." I asked, his curiosity concerning me would push him to clear curiosities concerning himself first. Besides Dubrov had obviously changed. Even so, if his past would've been a problem. If he is all he says he is, he would either be executed or sent back to Fehdidiah. We couldn't harbor a fugitive. But, they don't have to know. Dubrov is my squad member.

He stole a glance at me, as if he almost melted. Almost. He had a strong, sharp nose and a stronger jaw, the olive skin gleaming like bronze in the firelight. "They all lived wretched lives, the criminals. Always wretched lives. I saw some falling in love, growing families and going off to live peaceful lives. But the wretchedness of their past always caught up. They had debts to pay, and they paid with their lives and the sanity of their women."

My heart wrenched.

He continued; "It's cause they never ran, they never ran fast enough. They were pursuers. Not runners. Indebted pursuers with a purpose. You, you are a runner. You've been running, I can tell, you wish to get to know everyone, their motives, what drives them, but you have none yourself. Your past makes you dreadful but the only things you love and long for are in the past, you run and run but only to suffer more, isn't that right?"

I opened my mouth to speak, then shut it again. I sniffed and sat upright. My muscles were straining. "So, because we act the same, you could tell how I felt because your past made you this way, huh?" I asked.

"No." He said. "My past. . .it made me become what hurt me. I welcomed change and didn't preserve myself." He ran his hand over his light blonde buzzcut. "I'm trying to get better and better with each day." He clicked his tongue. "I was never on the receiving end of pain, I have had nothing to run from except Fehdidian guards or soldiers. All I wished to do was survive, I would rather kill than be killed. I came here cause my gang was dispersed, I had no choice. An old woman took me in. She let me live in his house. I was around 17, never kept count. I lived with her for 5 years then she kicked the bucket at the hands of a bandit. Vengeance is what brought me here to enlist. But soon I realized, no matter how many bandits I kill, it would have no effect. . .it wouldn't bring the old woman back. I have again, nowhere to go. All I wanted to do was. . .become a warrior for good. But we're all mere pawns, is what I realized." He finished, and for the first time, I saw him troubled. Almost shedding a tear.

"It pains me to know there's no good in this world, no suitable cause for me to fight for." He finished. He sounded like there were things he discovered recently that didn't necessarily push him to think this way but rather made him open up.

I got up. Struggling to walk towards him, he quickly shot to his feet and gave me support.

"Sufa's daughter. . .Fionna. I love her." I managed, looking straight into his eyes. "i've experienced loss time and time again, but we, we gotta keep going, we gotta keep going, no matter what. We gotta do what we can to better the world, or ourselves. I fell in love with her when i had lost all sense of comfort in this world. I'm going to retire once I marry her, and then she and I can live more peacefully."

His eyebrows narrowed down as it was all irrelevant to him. And he frowned at her name for some reason.

"My point is. . ." I huffed. "There's always something to fight for. Fight for me, pledge to me your loyalty, we don't know what may happen. But don't for one second, believe, that peace is a distant memory." I finished.

That's when he gulped, I had never seen him so vulnerable.

"Yes, I stayed because I was curious just like you. I was curious because I wanted to know what for and why these guys fought to such extent, I wanted to know why they fought so selflessly for a lost cause. Or if it was lost cause to begin with." I said, hoping to reach through to him.

"Then we're more similar than I believe us to be. Trying our best to discern good from bad." He said.

I nodded. "But for now, we fight, we do what is asked of us. Okay?" I say, patting his back then seating myself before the roasted catfish. Just as I was about to dig in, an arrow flew through the air and into the other end of the cave.

Dubrov dashed towards weakened me but I gestured for him to stop with a steely expression. "I'll only slow you down. I'll allow myself to be caught, I know I can escape on will." I elaborated.

"Captain. . .this is not the time nor the way." For the first time, he sounded respectful. I felt a little confused. Just how much worth did this conversation hold for the both of us?

"Have faith, like you always did." I said. "Have faith like you taught me to have."

He stared at me for a moment. "I'll trust your judgement." He said before disappearing into the night.

The Defiants came rushing in and darkness engulfed me after the hilt of a dagger hit the back of my head and the next thing I knew, there were chains burrowing in my skin, a single window gave way to moonlight in the damp cell inside which I was contained.

I heard an old man wheezing; "For how much longer, will you continue to lie, Ambrose. . . .III, IV, V. . .uh, which one was it again?"