Page 13 of Glass and Bone
Noterrancolors.
My eyes begin to cloud over as I feel the blood loss and fading adrenaline weaken me. The desperation coming out of me in broken sobs. I push and push with every ounce of energy I have.
You are so close, just run, Elaenor.
I let the voice in my head fuel me, push me for the last few feet. Running straight through the treeline, my body slams directly into someone who was walking by. A man.
“Woah!” He yells out as he grabs my arms to steady me, holding me close to his chest. My eyes meet his. They resemble the lake I once frequented. A deep blue mirroring the sorrow I feel. They look fearful, confused, shocked.
“Help me.” I whisper as I willingly let the blood loss and darkness take me.
Chapter Six
The thunderous clouds overhead threaten rain and lightning, but the sky always looks like this on Chatis. A chill runs down my spine as I embrace the cold air I grew up knowing. Looking around, all I see is rubble and smoke where buildings used to sit. My bare feet pressed to the hard ground, feeling the slicing of my naked skin in their presence. I know what it is I stand on, but I am too afraid to look. Glass and bone.
It’s always glass and bone.
The faint roar of laughter and the smell of fire are quick to wake me up. Memories from the forest cause the nausea to creep in, but I swallow back against the lump in my throat. The pain between my legs along with the stab wound on my thigh are radiating throughout my body. My brain is throbbing from the boot that kicked the side of my head. All I feel is the growing wave of pain across my entire body, both physical and emotional, as I catalog the injuries I sustained. As I catalog what I have endured.
I open my eyes to darkness, and I glance around for anything that might give me an idea of where I am. I remember white and silver tents, which are the Noterran colors, but anyone could have these tents. I am just hoping they actuallydobelong to my future home. My back is stiff from the thin cot I was placed on, but I am sure the countless falls and scrapes aren’t helping matters much either.
All I see is a small opening in the thick linen of the structure, slightly illuminating the inside of the tent with a golden hue from a fire pit. The voices outside are hushed as they have a quiet conversation. I steady my breathing and strain to make out the words they are speaking over the sound of my beating heart.
“Who is she?” A thick accent almost made the words impossible to understand, nothing giving me an inkling of who these men belong to.
Noterra holds people from across the world as it has the largest ports. It is the only kingdom with so much immigration that there is no native accent. Everyone who is able makes the journey to Noterra to enjoy the freedom, the perfect weather, the simple lifestyle. A lot of Chatisian citizens have found jobs and homes in Noterra as well, escaping the rule of my father. With Noterra’s port, any supplies and goods that are headed for Chatis or Rakushia, or any of the kingdoms on this side of the sea, have to travel through Noterra first. That also usually means we got the goods that were left behind by those who picked through them first.
“She’s dressed like a noblewoman, or what’s left of one.” A different man sneers, as the implications of their laughter fill my ears. Anger wells up in my chest and tears threaten to escape, but I blink them away. I can’t break down now, I’m not safe yet.
I feel helpless. I don’t know who these men are, but the fact that they are finding amusement with my misfortune, is disgusting. Maybe I don’t have to tell them who I am, I could start over, I could be anyone. Lying about my identity might work in my favor, might make this group safer. I should have thought about that before I admitted my name to Jeremiah, but I’ll just consider it a lesson learned.
“Maybe we’ll get a taste for ourselves.” They erupt into a chorus of laughter, sending a chill down my spine. I grit my teeth, my nails biting into my palms, as I blink back the angry tears forming behind my eyes.
“Enough.” A loud, melodic voice laced with irritation commands as silence spreads. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you all have something better to do than sit around and speak about a girl who has clearly been through a lot? Have you not considered that she canhearyou?” His voice is muffled, farther than the others, but it's strong. He holds some sort of sway or influence over the other men, at least I hope that is the case. He could be their general, or commander.
Swinging my legs over the edge of the cot, I stand up and notice how my bare feet protest to the hard dirt.Glass and bone.I can feel every cut on the bottom of my feet as I press them into the ground. Even now, in the tent of an unknown group of men my dream still follows. It’s always the same, and I always refuse to look.
I can’t help the feeling that I one day won’t have a choice.
Shaking my head, I quickly rub my face with my bloody hands, most of it dry and flaking off my skin from the friction. My head spins and I fight the dizziness as I glance down at my thigh to see a bloody bandage tightly wrapped around it. The bandage is soaked through and a steady drip trails down my thigh. It’s throbbing against the pressure, and I wince slightly as I put my weight on my leg.
I slowly tiptoe over to the opening of the tent with a limp, trying to use my left leg as much as possible. I peer through the small slit and I can just barely make out the orange and red flames of fire. Every instinct is telling me not to, but I have never been one to follow instructions much less intuition. I take a deep breath before doing what I fear could possibly end badly.
I grip an edge of the canvas and pull the tent open to see at least ten men circling around the pit. All similar in age and size, all dirty and covered in a collection of fresh wounds and old scars. They wear mostly beige cotton clothes with muddy boots. No sigil, cloaks, or armor. Scouts, perhaps?Or criminals.
They turn to look at me simultaneously in silence, and I fight the urge to step back. I scan their faces, not a single one offering so much as a word or emotion to decipher. If their plans are to continue what the other men started, I need to know now so I can attempt to flee, or fight, not that I’d be very good at either in my current condition.
The crunch of boots meeting the ground to my left makes me jump as I whip my head over to see a young man not even two feet from me. He’s tall enough to tower over me by at least a foot, and I am fairly tall for a woman. His pale golden hair falls in waves around his crystal blue eyes stopping right above his shoulders, with half of it tied up with leather to keep it out of his face. His soft, but angular features are beautiful. His broad shoulders straining against his white tunic and overcoat. He looks like a painting. This has to be the man I ran into when I crossed the tree line.
I meet his confused gaze as he stares at the condition of my clothing, anger causing his hands to ball up into fists and his nostrils to flare. Whether the anger is from my appearance, or he is just a naturally aggressive man, I do not know. I nervously attempt to tuck my unruly hair behind my ears as I take a small step back into the safety of the tent, my hand still clutching the fabric.
“Who did this to you?” He finally speaks, his voice even and loud, slicing through any other noise as he asks the question I’m sure is causing him confusion. I swallow as the uncomfortable gazes of the men linger. I look around at them before casting my gaze down to the ground. I drop the tent fabric and tighten my hands into a fist. My fingernails dig into my palms as I try to relax and breathe through the panic that seems to never dissipate, through the ever-present lump in my throat.
“I’m not sure, Ser. I only got their names. Aleksander and Jeremiah.” I manage to whisper, my voice barely above a croak. It’s mostly the truth, I really don’t know anything else.
“Formalities are unnecessary.” He responds, almost in amusement, his eyes lightening before flicking to my legs. “You’re injured fairly badly.” I instinctively wrap my hands around my stomach as the painful chill returns, causing me to shudder. Without asking, he shrugs off his brown overcoat and wraps it around me. I don’t question it, mostly because I relish the idea of being covered, both for warmth and due to my indecency.
His hands linger on my shoulders, his face close enough to where I can feel his hot breath fan across my forehead. I shudder again, this time not from the cold, but from the proximity of him. His coat is warm and well kept, his face clean shaven and free of scars, the faint scent of spring air and sweet grass fills my nose. He looks familiar, but I can’t place it. It's almost as if we’ve met before. I can tell he is of some stature due to his clothing and cleanliness, but there are many clans and noble houses between Chatis and Noterra, there is no way to know which one he and his men belong to, but it is plausible he is a nobleman or a Lord.
