The Sprinter

Chapter 32

Eloise soared over people and houses, over the colourful merchant’s tents that made up the marketplace, and over large areas of slums. The wind tore across her face, yanking her hair behind her and stinging her nose and ears. She stared steadily forward, refusing to look behind her, or to look below her, to where people were no doubt staring. After all, it wasn’t every day you saw a young woman riding a Skricarah.

She held tight to it’s loose neck skin, gripping its sides with her thighs as it screeched and flapped its way over Yuhnig. It was strange, but she trusted it - trusted that it knew where it was going, and that it didn’t intend to harm her. Something about her deed had made them kin. She liked it.

The bird bobbed its head, beginning a slow dive that would eventually take it down to the ground. Eloise looked down. Just a few metres in front of them the tents faded away, replaced by a wide circle of - nothing. It was devoid of houses, people, everything. It was just a strip of sand, encircling some sort of temple.

As they got closer, she realised it wasn’t a temple. It was a platform. A platform for the King to speak, for royal proclamations, and - long ago - for executions. Her nostrils flared with anger. She knew who was down there, who would be tied to those wooden posts - and it was not going to be their execution.

The Skricarah craned its head down, extending its neck. It half tumbled to its feet by the steps of the platform. Eloise rolled off it, and looked up. There were a lot of steps. Chances were, they hadn’t noticed her arrival. Eloise smiled grimly, and began climbing.

As she got higher, she could make out voices more and more easily. Most prominent among them was the voice she had listened to her entire life. The voice that had killed her parents, had locked her up for years and years, had tortured her and lied to her and hurt her in so many ways. It was the voice that had tried to break her - and failed. It had failed. The voice of King Jotkur.

“Alright then, Arothena. Tell me this instead: how would you like to die?”
“She shall not die today.”

Eloise had reached the top, and she stood, her feet planted firmly on the ground, and her hand held up in front of her. It was blazing with a strange and powerful energy. The King turned to her with poorly disguised shock. He forced a smile.

“Oh? Well I’m afraid our opinions do differ slightly. So nice of you to contribute, though.”
“Your opinion doesn’t matter. She shall not die today. Nor shall any of her companions.”

Arothena was staring at her now, as were Ronan and Salene, tied up on either side of her, staring at her, at the power that radiated from her right fist. Jotkur’s smile shriveled up into a sneer. He took a step towards her.

“I rather disagree with you, little girl. I think, that -”
“Did you not hear me?” Eloise cut him off. He stared at her, confused.
“I said your opinion doesn’t matter. Release them.” she stated, her last command directed not at him, but at the yenaki who stood by the side of each post. They refused to look at her, and stood staring at King Jotkur so religiously that she wondered if they had even heard her.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said. He was losing his composure. Eloise didn’t care.
“You see, they are withholding information from me. They refused to tell me their intentions for planning my murder, and where you were headed. This entitles me to their heads.”
“It doesn’t,”

King Jotkur had no response to this. He merely stared at her, internally debating whether it was worth the risk to have the yenaki attack her.

“Get out of here, girl.”
“Release them.”
“They are of no consequence to you.”
“Incorrect. They are -”

My friends. She was going to say my friends. But they weren’t, really. She had run away and abandoned them at every turn, taking with her their money, their food, and seeking only their protection. Jotkur smiled, aware that she had hit a problem, but Arothena nodded to her. Friends.

“They are my friends. And I will fight for them.”

The King spat at her.

“You have never fought in your life. You didn’t fight when I took you when you were little. You didn’t fight when I killed your parents. You didn’t fight when I whipped and cut and tortured you day after day. You are not a fighter, Eloise. You are a sprinter. So run.”

Eloise lifted her chin, letting the full light of the sun fall on her face, letting everyone see her. Wet, salty trails ran down her cheeks, and her face was stained red. Her lips did not wobble, and she did not whimper or sob. She stood straight, her shoulders back and her head held high as she stared down the King of Yuhnig.

“Not anymore.”

She heard Ronan scream to the left of the King. He must have realised what she was doing. Eloise ignored him, keeping her full attention, her full gaze on Jotkur as she lifted her hand higher and higher above her head, until her arm was fully stretched. She stared at him, stared into his serpentine eyes as she said clearly:

“I. Will. Never. Run. Again.”

Then, she let go, and Ceded.

It was painful - more painful than either of the previous times. All the agony of the build-up, the pain of the hour she had spent holding back, building up tension, the throbbing and aching of her very soul as she fought to release was fighting to get out of her skin. She let it go - let it all go. She found energy and she gave everything to it, used everything she had to push it out, towards him. Towards the King.

Colours leaped from her, a myriad of elements and energy. She didn’t see it. Her eyes were shut as tightly as they could go. She tipped her head back and opened her mouth in a silent scream as she gave and gave to the power pouring out of her. Everything. She had to give everything.

She knew what would happen. Knew that this would be the last time. She didn’t care. She would never run again. Never again. And this man, this man who’d taken everything from her, who’d killed her family, chased her across countries - she would not let him run either.

She could feel it now, feel the last dregs of energy, of her draining away. Eloise looked forward, cracking open her eyes. She saw Ronan, free of the post, screaming at her, struggling to get closer, to make her stop. She saw Salene, her arms outstretched, reaching for her. She saw Arothena. The assassin stood motionless, still by her wooden post, watching her. She understood.

She could never run again.

Eloise threw back her head, hair falling down behind her. She shrieked as she gave one final burst of energy, of power, and then…

And then, Eloise let go.

{~~**~~}