| War and History Fiction posted November 23, 2021 | Chapters: |
...5 6 -7- 8... 
|
  |
Colton must now deal with Becka.
A chapter in the book Rise from the Fall
The Long Night
by Rinshikai
The author has placed a warning on this post for violence.
The author has placed a warning on this post for language.
| Background Colton Arverni is an auxiliary soldier in service to the Empire. When an aspiring new commander jeopardizes the northern frontier, Colton's life is changed forever. |
Colton
Trusting a stranger, it's like walking barefoot on sharp rocks: one misstep and you break your leg. Your only hope is someone will be there to catch you. The question is will Becka let me catch her? I glance over, and the situation weighs on me. Luna was right; she's fighting to stay awake.
"I'm not going to try anything, Becka." I want her to trust me, but my words fall flat. She curls up against the wall, throwing daggers with a glare. Her eyes dart between the door and window. Behind the aggression, there's worry and a twinge of hope. "Your mother is in good hands. Giselle will keep her safe."
"Then let me see her."
"I can't do that." The warm light of sentry torches seeps through the window, dancing across the room before fading into the night. Their metallic steps hid whispered words of guests. With this many eyes, we would be seen for sure. It's too big a risk.
"You're no better than them."
"Who?" When she points to my armor, my thoughts are flooded with what Cato's men could have done to them. "Did they touch you?" My blood boils, only cooled when the smug look of satisfaction coats her face. My muscles relax, and I let my anger leave with my breath. "Thank the gods."
"Why would you care? You're an imperial dog!"
Something snaps; without thinking, I'm on top of her. "I'm nothing like them," I hissed through my teeth. She spits in my eye, landing a blow to my side. I hunch over, gasping for air, and she wiggles free. She tries running to the window at full speed, but I pull her back. Bear hugging her in my lap, flushed; she continues her struggle, skin glinting in the heat of the moment. Then she winces, and the stench of iron hits me. "Great."
"Let me go!"
"Not until you calm down," her struggles continue, and I tighten my grip. "Do you want to die?" she freezes, "If you run, they'll kill you. Do you want to leave your mother all alone? Her frantic breathing slows, relaxing in my grasp. "One night. If you can wait one night, I promise you'll see her again." I let her go, grabbing the poultice from my desk.
"Why do you care?" Her anger and shame resonated from her situation. Through snapped stitches, a crimson tide flows from her arm. She tries holding it back, but the makeshift dam fails. Red trickles seep between her fingers, and she curses at her now blood-soaked hand.
My shirt slowly dyed from the trickling wound. "I know how important family is. And I know what it feels like to be ripped from them." Applying the poultice, I try to bind the wound, but my greasy fingers make it difficult. In frustration, Becka ends up doing it herself.
"So, they took you from your family?"
Flashes of that day hit me with memories of fire, screams, and blood. Then those arms pulled my sister and me into the darkness. I thought I'd never see Iona again. "Me and my sister, but we endured." The crack of ceramic snips me back. I broke the poultice jar. Too tired to care, I sit at my desk, my eyes tracing Becka's figure. "Look, we're both tired. I'll make you a deal." My words tug at her, "If I can't reunite you and your mother," I hesitate. It rarely worked. "I'll help you escape the city."
The bed creeks, and the thud of feet follows. I turn, and our noses to touch. "Why would you do that?" Those emerald eyes cut me, "What are you trying to pull?" Her guard is up, and the walls grow by the second. I meant what I said, but I hope it doesn't come to that.
"I know people."
"And they would help me?"
"For a price." The flicker of hope fades, and dread quickly consumes her. She slumps forward, but I catch her. "But your mother is alive, Becka. You'll see her again, I promise." The embers reignite, and a half-hearted smile crosses her lips. The herb was winning over her, and I was not far behind. "Can we please sleep now?"
"Fine." She lands on the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. My head starts getting heavy, and I welcome sleep's embrace. However, one slip of my arm and my head meets the desk." The blow echoing in my ears, hiding a snicker. Through the haze, Becka's bindings still hang like a noose. Not willing to risk anything, I pull it down, wrapping one end to my wrist. Then an idea pops into my head.
"Becka, give me your wrist."
She turtles up. "What, why?"
I sat next to the bed, "Can I trust that you won't try to escape?" She rolls over with a heavy sigh, dangling her arm over my shoulder. I bind our wrists, but every movement sends a wave of pain up my arm." No matter what position we're in, neither one of us can get comfortable.
"Will you just get in the bed already?" She tugs at the rope, its rough textures digging into my arm. She slid over, and I lay beside her, the bed creaking under our weight. Neither of us moved, fearing something would give. We gaze at the ceiling, tracing the canyons formed from disrepair. She pinches my nose, and I'm forced to look at her. "You'd better keep your word?"
"I will." she rolls on her side, staring at me. Which I meet head-on. Again the flicker of torchlight dances across the room, illuminating what the shadows try to hide. Even with that scowl, she's beautiful. Her eyes flicker closed, finally submitting to sleep. However, worry continues to eat at me. I hope I can keep my promise. I allow the night to claim me when I'm sure she's out.
"I'm not going to try anything, Becka." I want her to trust me, but my words fall flat. She curls up against the wall, throwing daggers with a glare. Her eyes dart between the door and window. Behind the aggression, there's worry and a twinge of hope. "Your mother is in good hands. Giselle will keep her safe."
"Then let me see her."
"I can't do that." The warm light of sentry torches seeps through the window, dancing across the room before fading into the night. Their metallic steps hid whispered words of guests. With this many eyes, we would be seen for sure. It's too big a risk.
"You're no better than them."
"Who?" When she points to my armor, my thoughts are flooded with what Cato's men could have done to them. "Did they touch you?" My blood boils, only cooled when the smug look of satisfaction coats her face. My muscles relax, and I let my anger leave with my breath. "Thank the gods."
"Why would you care? You're an imperial dog!"
Something snaps; without thinking, I'm on top of her. "I'm nothing like them," I hissed through my teeth. She spits in my eye, landing a blow to my side. I hunch over, gasping for air, and she wiggles free. She tries running to the window at full speed, but I pull her back. Bear hugging her in my lap, flushed; she continues her struggle, skin glinting in the heat of the moment. Then she winces, and the stench of iron hits me. "Great."
"Let me go!"
"Not until you calm down," her struggles continue, and I tighten my grip. "Do you want to die?" she freezes, "If you run, they'll kill you. Do you want to leave your mother all alone? Her frantic breathing slows, relaxing in my grasp. "One night. If you can wait one night, I promise you'll see her again." I let her go, grabbing the poultice from my desk.
"Why do you care?" Her anger and shame resonated from her situation. Through snapped stitches, a crimson tide flows from her arm. She tries holding it back, but the makeshift dam fails. Red trickles seep between her fingers, and she curses at her now blood-soaked hand.
My shirt slowly dyed from the trickling wound. "I know how important family is. And I know what it feels like to be ripped from them." Applying the poultice, I try to bind the wound, but my greasy fingers make it difficult. In frustration, Becka ends up doing it herself.
"So, they took you from your family?"
Flashes of that day hit me with memories of fire, screams, and blood. Then those arms pulled my sister and me into the darkness. I thought I'd never see Iona again. "Me and my sister, but we endured." The crack of ceramic snips me back. I broke the poultice jar. Too tired to care, I sit at my desk, my eyes tracing Becka's figure. "Look, we're both tired. I'll make you a deal." My words tug at her, "If I can't reunite you and your mother," I hesitate. It rarely worked. "I'll help you escape the city."
The bed creeks, and the thud of feet follows. I turn, and our noses to touch. "Why would you do that?" Those emerald eyes cut me, "What are you trying to pull?" Her guard is up, and the walls grow by the second. I meant what I said, but I hope it doesn't come to that.
"I know people."
"And they would help me?"
"For a price." The flicker of hope fades, and dread quickly consumes her. She slumps forward, but I catch her. "But your mother is alive, Becka. You'll see her again, I promise." The embers reignite, and a half-hearted smile crosses her lips. The herb was winning over her, and I was not far behind. "Can we please sleep now?"
"Fine." She lands on the bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. My head starts getting heavy, and I welcome sleep's embrace. However, one slip of my arm and my head meets the desk." The blow echoing in my ears, hiding a snicker. Through the haze, Becka's bindings still hang like a noose. Not willing to risk anything, I pull it down, wrapping one end to my wrist. Then an idea pops into my head.
"Becka, give me your wrist."
She turtles up. "What, why?"
I sat next to the bed, "Can I trust that you won't try to escape?" She rolls over with a heavy sigh, dangling her arm over my shoulder. I bind our wrists, but every movement sends a wave of pain up my arm." No matter what position we're in, neither one of us can get comfortable.
"Will you just get in the bed already?" She tugs at the rope, its rough textures digging into my arm. She slid over, and I lay beside her, the bed creaking under our weight. Neither of us moved, fearing something would give. We gaze at the ceiling, tracing the canyons formed from disrepair. She pinches my nose, and I'm forced to look at her. "You'd better keep your word?"
"I will." she rolls on her side, staring at me. Which I meet head-on. Again the flicker of torchlight dances across the room, illuminating what the shadows try to hide. Even with that scowl, she's beautiful. Her eyes flicker closed, finally submitting to sleep. However, worry continues to eat at me. I hope I can keep my promise. I allow the night to claim me when I'm sure she's out.
Character list
Colton: Main POV character
Becka: POW from the north
This chapter is a rewrite of chapter 6, now as a new chapter 7. I ask that reviewers give a minimum of one thing they like and dislike. If you see anything that needs to be fixed or improved, don't hesitate to point it out, I can't otherwise enhance it.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Colton: Main POV character
Becka: POW from the north
This chapter is a rewrite of chapter 6, now as a new chapter 7. I ask that reviewers give a minimum of one thing they like and dislike. If you see anything that needs to be fixed or improved, don't hesitate to point it out, I can't otherwise enhance it.
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. Rinshikai All rights reserved.
Rinshikai has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
