Sorceress

Chapter 2:

Two days of back breaking pain. I get beaten if I hesitate, if I need to relieve myself, if I cough, if I sneeze, if I rub my eyes. Fury and resiliance blaze through my bloodstream as each blow comes, I will not be broken. It is now midnight, I turn my head to the star strewn sky, recalling the last day, and dreading the days to come. One of the elderly women that I wash with comes over to me, padding softly over the coarse grass.

"What is your name child?" She sits beside me, crossing her legs, her hair the colour of starlight, and her skin thin as paper and creased with age. 

"Aine," I say, my back against the dry grass. The woman smiles,

"Mine is Brea." She turns her head up to look at the sky, "did you know that stars are the spirits of our ancestors, sent to look over us from the afterlife?" I shake my head, mud catching in my hair. She sighs, raspy breaths echoing from her throat. Two men stumble out of the cheif's house, staggering against each other. They see Brea, and throw a knife at her.

"Look at the old hag!" they laugh, as Brea desperatly claws at the dagger protruding from her chest. I scream, blood pooling onto the ground. Desperatly I pull the dagger from her shuddering body, Brea starts to shake uncontrollably, as I cradle her head in my lap.

"Aine..." she rasps, her ice blue eyes clouding over.

"What you crying about, filth? She was too old to do anything!" the man laughs, tripping over his feet. Tears stream down my eyes as I turn back to Brea, her body stills.

"NO," I sceam, gulping as I try to contain my tears, I mutter to Brea, telling her to wake up, it will all be okay, just as long as she wakes up. The second man throws another knife, landing in her throat, she doesn't react. She is dead. Using the knife to take off her throat collar, I throw it to the side. Smearing dirt across her skin to paint the funueral marks. I braid her hair, crying as I see a series of burn marks along her scalp, and several different insignias from different masters- how long was Brea confined to slavery for?

"What are you doing girl? Don't you know that slaves go straight to Hel?" the men laugh, tipping back another jug of mead. Fire blazes along my blood, and I grip the knives with hatred. Picking up the stick that I used to draw Brea's funeral marks, I thrust it into the fire, a roaring torch appears in my hand as I withdraw it. "Stupid filth, I will tell your master to beat you." the first man slurs. Sudden clarity cleans my mind, and I finger the cold metal of the first knife. Hurling it as I was taught at home, it flies through the air, embedding in his throat. I release the second knife at the other man, it copies it's pairs actions. I stand there, breathing heavily as the men die before me. Suddenly, I can hear Vikings charging towards me, drawn by the sound of their kinsmen dying. I rush forwards, yanking a knife out of the first man, taking my collar off, and throwing my torch onto the parched ground. A fire kindles in front of my feet, I see fifteen men charging towards me, and I flee.