The Sword Maiden

A Riot

Corban turned to me. "Now Ravine, I happen to know that this is not all your family." He pulled out a cloth and began wiping at the blood on his face. "Where's your brother?"

I snorted. "I won't tell you that easily Corban."

He laughed bitterly. "I thought as much. Just as well. I don't really want to know. Like I did, I want him to experience the pain of loosing family."

Oh Derrek. He would be devastated. He'd probably blame himself when it was really all my fault.

Corban walked away, still wiping the scratches. I held back a snicker and hoped my scratches would leave scars on his handsome face. A reminder of when he was nearly beaten by a girl.

Gerald turned to us. "Follow me," he grunted. "Don't try nothin'. You won't get away."

With that he turned and began walking. My family looked at each other, our eyes full of sorrow, reality hitting us. We were slaves. From now on we took orders from others. Reluctantly we began following him through the crowd, to be taken with our people.

How could this happen? How? For years we'd lived in peace, for years in safety. But now, now we were slaves. I'd never thought this would happen. I'd never though I'd be a slave. I thought I'd marry, have children, live out my life to the Life-Giver, and die in peace. Because that's what we'd done for years.

But because of Corban, it wasn't going to happen.

The wagon bumped over a rut. I was jostled from a doze, bumping into my mother. "Sorry mother," I mumbled.

"It's alright honey," she said, putting her arm around me. "Tell me, what happened after I left you and Derrek? Why were you out there fighting and not with Derrek?"

I sat a little straighter, and told her the story from the beginning. I hung my head. "Now Derrek will think it's his fault, when it's really mine."

"Maybe not," whispered father.

I creased my brow. "What?"

Father glanced around, then lifted up his pantleg. "Corban forgot to search me," he said as he pulled out a knife from his boot.

Hope flared. But mother, while staring at the knife, spoke up. "If the stories are true, Ravagers never do that. They make sure to remove all weapons. Corban should know better, unless..."

"He meant for me to keep it," finished father.

We were silent for several long moments.

Finally mother bestirred herself. "Well, we must at least try," she said stubbornly.

Father nodded. "Yes we must." They shared a glance that I didn't understand.

"But when?" I asked.

Father thought for a moment. "The sun is going down in about two hours. They will stop for the night. That's when. It's our one and only chance. Tomorrow we will cross into Ravager territory. Once that happens, we'll never be able to escape."

An hour later the word came down the line to stop the wagons and unload the new slaves. Gerald came and unlocked the door. "Get out," he ordered.

Slowly we got out. I stretched while looking around. Gerald and three other guards were assigned to my family, because apparently we were Corban's special slaves. No one else captured was allowed to come over to us.

One of the guards dumped a pile of wood at our feet and tossed us a flint and steel. "Start a fire," he mumbled.

Every bit of me said, "Don't obey him. Don't do what he tells you." I hated being told what to do.

I hated being treated like a slave.

Slowly mother bent down to the pile. I worked my jaw, staring at the Ravager, but slowly I bent down with her. Father was told to go gather more wood.

Mother and I whispered as we worked. "I had hoped we could start a riot but I don't think that's possible with us being separated," she said.

I nodded. "But we've got to try, don't we?"

She sighed. "Yeah... But I don't know how we'll do it."

"Let's wait till dad gets back," I replied.

"Quiet, no talking," hissed one of the guards. For some reason, I had to resist the childish urge to stick my tongue out at him. I bent my head down to the pile of sticks and stuck it out at them instead.

I ripped dried grass from where we were to help encourage the fire to grow bigger. I ripped them savagely, putting all the anger that smoldered. I would go free. I would. And so would my family.

I would not be a slave.

I handed the grass to mother, and she used it to coax the flame into growing bigger. Father came back with more sticks. I began to break them into smaller pieces, my anger making their resistance worth nothing.

An hour later mother stirred gruel in a pot. That was supposed to be our dinner. It looked disgusting.

Mother looked up and over to father, who sat with his arms around his knees, throwing death glares at the backs of the guards. "Now?" she mouthed to him.

Father looked around. The sun had nearly sat. Soon darkness would cover us. His eyes came back to mother and he nodded.

Quietly father slipped the dagger out and handed it to me. It felt good in my hand. Mother used the spoon she had to pick up a big mound of steaming gruel.

Father grabbed a flaming stick from the fire. The sound caused one of the guards to turn around. With a yell mother flung the hot mush into his face. He yelped and dropped his sword to paw at his face. The other guards turned and father attacked them with the flaming stick.

One of them evaded and came for me, probably intending to use me for a hostage. But I was not to be taken so easily. I ducked under him and plunged the dagger into his leg. I yanked it out and began to run towards the campfires in the distance.

I waved my arms and yelled. "Come SwordCleavers, stand up, be brave! This is our last chance for escape! Come on! Let's go!"

The guards were unprepared for this. I streaked towards the first one and let out a yell. I jumped and hit him in the neck with one arm, stabbing him with the dagger in my other hand.

This stirred my people to action. I was pleased to see them grabbed flaming chunks of wood and run at the guards. Some of them just bypassed the swords altogether and tackled the Ravagers. This created gaps in the guard's circle, and some broke free and ran for all they were worth for the woods.

It was utter chaos.

And that was what made it so perfect. Because the guards couldn't call for reinforcements. They could not organize without great difficulty to contain us. Not all would escape tonight. But a few would and that's what mattered.

I whirled, trying to find my parents. I had done my job, I needed to get to them. But instead I saw Corban.

Corban was livid. His face was screaming orders one moment and cuss words the next. I loved all of it, right up until the moment he pointed towards my family's camp.

Ice water in my veins froze me. He knew we were the instigators of this. And he wasn't going to let us get away with it.

I forced myself to move. Unlike me Corban moved easily through the chaos, slicing at everyone that stood in his way. His own men avoided him, knowing he just might slice through them in his fury.

He was on my parents and the guards fighting them, I was still a couple yards out. No...

He grabbed a guard's shoulder and yanked him back, revealing my mother who was about to bang him on the head with the spoon. He dodged her blow and tackled her to the ground.

I slowed as he came up with her, knife pressed to neck. He locked eyes with my father, stilling him. The guards lurched forward and grabbed him, pinning his hands behind him.

We'd failed.