Weaver: A Silver Crown

Chapter 2

My heart thumped vigorously in my chest, my blood singing viscously as it pounded around in my skull. I ground my teeth against the urge to look back, to ignore the shouting of my father’s voice in my head to always get a clear idea of your enemy and to never run like a coward. But I was out numbered, outmatched and out of time. It had to be now.

My legs roared fire with the strain of the effort to keep up with my blistering sprint as my hands swiftly reached for my Sivilkan bow and then fumbled for my finest arrow; my strongest arrow. Aiming and running was not going to be easy, but it was my only choice. Gods I’m a blasted fool! I kept my breathing steady, ignoring the trickle of blood coated sweat that trickled and flew off my cheek bone in the breeze, and shimmered in the golden spot of sun I darted through. It was so close, its translucent shimmer in my sight. Something fluttered within my stomach.

I let myself focus in on the ward, now only 70 meters away and let my breathing falter as I spotted the fracture, still very much there. I almost sagged with relief.

Shit! They were closer now; the scuttling of legs and cracks of feet merely a few meters behind.

50 meters.

I nocked my arrow loosely in my bow, pumping my legs faster, and took aim, angling my body to the right, leaving me open. What am I doing? My mind exclaimed as I my fingers strained on the whispering dark wood, the obsidian tip glistening in anticipation. Just a little further, I promised my arrow, straining my fingers and gritting my teeth.

30 meters.

And then I skidded to a stop, my cloak blowing around me. My breath came in quick, my mind zoning in, ignoring the crunches of feet inches behind.

And then I let go, my arrow shooting forwards directly for its target, my body nimbly following its league, barely escaping the caress of fingers on the hood of my cloak. A smirk played at the corners of my lips.

I unsheathed my hunting knives from my thigh, leaping for the ward, the arrow smashing through and splintering it enough for me to throw my body at it. I closed my eyes, pouncing forwards and curling my body, my hair that had come loose wrapping around my face, bracing for impact.

The sound of shattering glass engulfed me before my feet deftly hit the ground, shards of broken ward scratching and cutting my face. But I didn’t let it stop me; didn’t let the soft touch of grass beneath my feet or the sun beaming down on my face make me falter; didn’t let the yells and roars of rage slow my pace as I blindly kept running forwards, into the moving green fields, the warm breeze and into freedom. Who even knew our lands looked such a way?

My mind could barely churn fast enough, comprehend fast enough. I’d done it – I’d broken free, perhaps the first person of my race to ever. A maniacal laugh tore through my throat – a wasted breath, I thought. The yells quieted behind me and I risked a glance over my shoulder to see my father, not a foot over the ward, staring me down, arrow straining in his bow and aiming directly for my heart. My eyes widened and my pace faltered, my stomach becoming a dead weight of fear. And he knew it too.

His sickening smile was the last thing I saw before he released the same arrow I had used to break through the ward and I scrambled forward, attempting to leap left and right. Such a fool! The area was completely open, the next treeline looking a good 60 meters or so away. A damned fool. I kept up my frantic sprint.

20 meters.

I carried on leaping, galloping and stumbling forwards, my panicked feet tripping on stones and exhaustion blurring my mind. Just a little farther to the trees; where was that damned arrow? My fists squeezed around the hilts of my knives from fear I’d drop them in my alarmed state. Calm down, Anera! Focus! But I couldn’t. He was going to kill me! Of course he would. He had no heart, no mercy, this was his last resort. Why did he care if I stay behind that ward so damn much?

10 meters.

My foot snagged on a large rock and I yelped in pain as my toe throbbed and I fell forwards, my hands grazing and burning on the dew covered grass. The treeline was drawing nearer, merely meters away. Pushing upwards and moving on, I stretched my hand out, my fingers grazing on the trunk, just barely under its cover. It was too soon to let out a sigh but I did anyway, I had done it, just a little further–

The pain was blinding, white light flashing in my vision before being replaced by black hazy blobs. I sank to the ground with a screech as the arrow thudded into my right leg making a sickening sound as it pushed completely through, blood splattering onto the wood and grass.

Dragging myself on my side around the large trunk of the light wood tree, I began fumbling at the ties of my tunic, frantically shrugging it off and tearing bits of cloth from my shirt, all the while leaving a trail of blood in my wake; my blood. Whimpers escaped my lips and tears escaped my eyes, mingling with the sweat still trickling down my face and making my hair stick to my neck and forehead. I leaned up against the trunk, ignoring the unsightly arrow protruding my leg and the pool of blood slowly forming beneath me.

I briskly wrapped the pieces of cloth tightly around my thigh, above the wound, but I knew it wouldn’t do. Inspecting it was hard enough with the agonizing burn of pain blurring my vision and causing my breathing to come harsh and fast, I couldn’t will my eyes to get a decent picture of where it had punctured. Nothing too fatal I hoped.

“s**t!” my dry, raspy voice managed to shriek out, hysteria bubbling and cracking its tone. My mind was spinning ferociously, my heart beating ever faster with wasted adrenaline. “Get up! Oh Gods Anera get up!” I urged myself, pushing all of my energy into my left leg, prompting it to lift my exhausted dead weight. I had to go somewhere, find someone, look for herbs, and do something. I would not let myself sit here like an imbecile and bleed out to my death.

I shakily steadied myself up against the rough wood, hopping on my good leg, and treasured the slight respite it gave me before I took a deep, deep breath – Gods I was going to need it – before I put pressure onto my right leg. A howl of nauseating pain surged through me, igniting my every sense and bringing a black haze to my vision. I braced my right hand behind me, slowly leaning out and biting my lip hard enough to taste the tang of copper on my tongue.

“For Aash,” I breathed, and took an afflicting, staggering step with a wince and a whine. And then another, and another – each time my whimpers and grunts quieter and quieter. The world dimmed and reeled around me, but I forced myself to focus, to think of his beautiful, innocent face and the wild rosemary I truly hoped could save me.

The forest grew quiet, making my breathing louder in the growing darkness. Was it nightfall? Had I really walked so long? I felt like I was walking flame, my forehead and cheeks growing warmer with each lurching step and fall into a tree. I could see no herbs, no anything. Only him; only my feet that now looked so delicate beneath me, trudging slowly, always stepping forwards, until eventually, I finally fell to the soft ground of the forest, and let the Eight Eyed Mother consume me.