Chosen


When her back hit the wall, all of the breath left her lungs in a great whoosh of air, stunning her. The hands around her wrists were cruelly tight, squeezing the delicate bones together until they ached. His breath on her neck stank of whiskey and rot, as if he'd never cleaned his teeth. She fought him, but he had caught her off guard. In fact, he had been very precise in his location and timing, as if he'd watched her, night after night, as she visited the Bawdy Boar.

Stupid girl.

She sucked in a great gulping breath to scream her rage but he kneed her in the stomach before she could utter a sound. This was something that had never happened to her, being bested by a single man. Her kidnappers had only gotten the upper hand because they'd been a group. This? This was...unthinkable. Unacceptable. Outrage flooded through her but it didn't blend well with the liquor in her blood and belly. Her limbs felt like wet rope, ignoring even her most basic commands, although she could chalk some of that down to the repeated blows to her abdomen. Each one sapped more and more of her drunken strength.

Ye drank too much...

"You think you're big and tough, girl. But you're just a mewling b***h like all the rest," the man growled. He had both of her wrists in one of his big hands now, the other ripping the front of her shirt. In a detached sort of way, she cursed herself for wanting to look more feminine tonight and leaving her leathers back at her flat. At least the leathers wouldn't have torn. The still air was cool on her sweat-soaked flesh, sending goose prickles down her arms and sifting through the haze around her brain.

Fight back, stupid ******** you!" she suddenly snarled, slamming her forehead into his with a sickening crack. His grip slackened as a string of curses fell from his stinking mouth and she felt herself falling. Her stomach hurt so badly that she couldn't keep her feet under her and before she could react, she hit the dirty cobbles with shaking hands, body jarred by the impact. Before she could regain her bearings, a booted foot connected with her ribs with enough force to lift her from the ground.

"Stupid b***h! That won't make it any easier for you!" her attacker growled, wiping a stain of red from his brow.

At least you spilt blood, stupid girl... She rolled onto her stomach and managed to crawl away from his first grasp, but he caught her the second time, a hand around her ankle to drag her back. A growl escaped her as she grabbed at the cobbles, but his grip was better and her fingers slipped, blunt nails breaking. It was something else to fight and lose to a man in a duel or on the battlefield, but this was something she would not allow.

A sudden, fierce wind blew down the alley, tossing the man's dirty hair around his face as he leered at her. Without warning, she found herself flooded by a wash of emotions so strong they made her reel. Images flashed through her alcohol soaked mind, so fast it was dizzying, but so clear that the message they tried to convey was as clear as a glass of water.

You will be bested?! You, the fierce girl, from the land of warriors!

The voice came with the wind, swirling around her like a living thing. It felt warm, reassuring, and wrapped around all the places that ached, soothing them with a gentle caress. She didn't know where the message came from. Was it her brother? Was he here in this city, so far from their home? Surely not...but... he could be. And she would be letting him down if she let this piece of trash rape her in some forgotten, dirty alley of Palisade. The fact that she had heard such a message at all meant little to her in that moment, though some would think themselves crazy.

Get up...

The man lifted her to her feet with a strength born from drink alone, but his fingers were clumsy and numb. His grip weakened and she landed on her feet, staggering. All the alcohol she'd blindly consumed surged to her head, exploding her vision with stars and making her hesitate as she tried to get her bearings. With a snarl, her attacker shoved her back. Off balance already, she tumbled and landed hard on her hip, hand jutting out to stop her fall out of instinct. A broken cobblestone bit into her palm, the sting and gush of blood piercing through the fog of spirits.

She felt a tug on her subconscious, as if something was trying to pull her up from the ground by force of will alone. Maedoc? He kept coming to her mind, but whatever was in her head seemed disappointed...upset even. As if the answer should have been obvious. But it wasn't, at least not now, not here in the dank alleyway lining her favorite tavern. If her brother sought her, she wouldn't let him down, couldn't let him find her dead and broken. Theirs was a fierce bloodline; she couldn't disappoint him, couldn't let him think that she could be so easily defeated. It would shame him and the rest of their family, but more than that, it would be a blow to everyone she loved back home to lose her.

Maedoc is one thing...But Papa....

Something within her snapped; for weeks, months even, she'd been drowning in a pool of self-doubt, clinging desperately to those around her for some assurance that she had nothing to doubt. But almost everyone had found some new flaw with her or had tried to broaden the ones others had already found. No one had ever taught her to deal with ridicule. No one had ever warned her that not everyone would like her. Though she understood her beliefs were born of naivete, it didn't make it hurt any less to have them shattered. As people had drifted away, drink had taken their places. Warm, comforting, it was a door to oblivion where even if someone didn't agree with anything about her, she was too numb to care. But the drink had turned on her.

And just like the threat of being bested by a man, that was not acceptable. Wiping her bloody lip, she shook the tendrils of drunken fog from her eyes as best she could.

I, Soibhan Cearail Breanainn, willna' be bested without a fight.

He reached for her ankle again, attempting to pull her closer as he snatched it out from under her and toppled her face-first to the pavement. Clenching her jaw against the surge of pain, she rolled to her back, swinging her free leg up and around with the movement. Her boot heel connected soundly with her attacker's jaw and his grip on her slackened as she yanked her other foot away. Her arms went up and behind her, palms touching the cobbles, and in one fluid, painful motion, she undulated her body and pushed herself up from the ground and to her feet, crouching before this pitiful excuse of a man. The battle lust was upon her now, like fire in her veins, burning away everything impure within her.

"Ye are no warrior, trash. An' ye shall never best a warrior," she spat, lunging for him. He had a blade in his hand now, and he lashed out at her, the tip of it slicing through the flesh of her cheek. Blood trickled down her face, watered down by the liquor in her system. The wound served only as more fuel for the fire within her.

The knife she had hidden at the small of her back felt good in her hand and she had only a moment of satisfaction at the startled look on his face. Rushing forward, she buried the blade in his side before he could move his larger frame in for another attack. His grunt of pain sounded like sweet music to her as she held his suddenly limp form up, her lips near his ear. "Do ye know much about gut wounds, trash? If ye get this treated within the next half hour, ye'll live. If not? Well....no one'll miss ye, I think..."

She stepped away and let him fall, wiping her dagger clean on her torn shirt. Her underclothes were ragged, but would still cover her enough to get...away.

Wheeling around, she ran and left the alley, bringing her fingers to her lips so she could let out a high, piercing whistle. The streets here were empty, filled only by the sounds of the night; rats running down along the gutters, a forgotten flier, corners curled from the elements, skittering across the cobblestones. The eventual clip-clop of hooves approaching made her sigh in relief and before long, her big strong stallion whirled around the block and started trotting towards her. He stopped only long enough for her to mount and when she turned his head East, he went without protest. He galloped as if he were chasing the wind, leaving her to her thoughts. Before long, images of Rob and Edgar, Desmond and Nortier, Rajani and even Rosalie all drifted through her head. So many things had happened so fast that even thinking of all the people she'd met in the last year had her brain spinning circles within her skull. Friendships made and all but broken, a love unrequited and more painful than an army facing her with naked steel, a man who knew just how to shatter her pride with the fewest words....

As if already succumbing to the turmoil, her body all but demanded a liquor fueled distraction, cramping her belly and pounding fiercely through her head. But she would not turn Lochlan's head, and she would not let that particular weakness take control of her. Not now.

Never again.

She leaned against the stallion's thick neck and drifted away.

~~~

The call of some wood beast stirred her and Soibhan blinked open bleary eyes to find herself in the middle of a great, dark forest. All around her, trees loomed so thick that only bits and pieces of sunlight managed to break through the woven branches above. Undergrowth rustled with movement all around and the canopy was alive with birdsong and activity.

Lochlan sighed beneath her and she rubbed his neck lovingly as she sat up, working a kink from her own neck. It was cooler here, where the sun didn't quite shine. Soibhan couldn't be sure, but this place felt like...the Wardwood.

"Where've ye taken me, horse?" she asked softly, though her voice bounced off the trees all the same. The stallion snorted and flicked an ear, his stride never breaking. Was he bringing her somewhere? Surely he couldn't know...

When the trees opened up, she gaped, because there, in the middle of a small clearing, sat the great tree itself. Though she'd seen it once before, it still marveled her in a way that few things did. It reminded her much of the Warden Tree, with glowing whorls and ethereal shimmers sifting around it like stardust. The branches were thick and beautifully twisted, filled with leaves and other things.

Totems, of all shapes and colors, hung serenely from the branches of the ancient tree. Even as she caught sight of them, a gentle breeze, unlike any she had felt before, started to rise around the clearing. It almost buzzed, as if a thousand voices spoke in a language she couldn't understand, so quietly that it sounded merely like a breath of wind.

A rush of presence came over her then, waking her up more effectively than a cold bucket of water. Through that gentle, buzzing wind came a far more persistent noise. It wrapped around her brain like a creeping vine, but there was no menace behind the sensation. It almost called to her.

Without much thought, she swung her leg over and slid from the stallion's back before the horse had even come to a halt. Murmuring reassuringly to him, she stepped away, towards the massive, ancient tree. The horse looked almost bored as he stood there, surveying the tree with a tiled head. She smiled at him.

Then she climbed.

And climbed, and climbed, passing totem after totem, the touch of the bark making her fingers tingle. She moved through the tree carefully, but with a certain impatience, the presence around her mind growing more and more insistent until she wasn't sure if the impatience was even her own. Unbidden, her gaze shifted downward and she felt a small spiral of vertigo hit her as she realized just how high she had climbed.

But she couldn't stop, not yet. Not until she'd reached it.

The branches soon grew thinner, bending more and more beneath her weight. Even a tree as old as this had young branches at its very top, but it was the top that called to her. Sunlight bathed her entirely here, as she now loomed far above the rest of the trees. Most surprising to her was the time of day, almost sunset. Had she climbed for so long? Or had she simply slept an entire day away as her loyal horse brought her here?

Suddenly, the branches rattled. It hadn't felt like wind, but what else could it have been? She clung to the branch beneath her, searching amongst the totems all around. So many of them, some covered in vibrant colors, others muted and more reserved. None of them meant for her touch. But....there. There was the one that had been calling to her. The branch it hung upon rattled again and before she could blink, the totem broke free of its cradle and fell...

Right into her outstretched, shaking hand.

It pulsed with warmth and something undeniably magical. Her very being felt as if it were expanding, growing to include this....presence....resting in the cradle of her fingers. The totem was large, larger than many she had seen so far, and she wasn't quite sure what that would mean, but she knew she couldn't hold it effectively without using both of her hands. Taking a moment to lift her head and gaze at the expanse of forest beneath her, she couldn't help but be in awe. Even Palisade was visible as a darker smudge on the horizon, and if she turned just so, she caught a glimpse of Oldcastle so very much closer.

But when a true wind scoured the top of the tree and shook her to her core, Soibhan Breanainn knew that she would have to start the climb back down, to end this particular adventure.

For once her feet touched the ground, a new chapter.... a new journey, would begin.

FIN