Warrior's Soul (Book 3 of The Warrior Chronicles)

Chapter 3

Smoke rose from burning roofs like fingers begging help from the blue skies. But no deity was paying attention to the raging fires nor the screams that accompanied them.

Her breathing steady, her sword firm in her grasp, Leyla walked into the village and looked around.

Bodies of men, women and children were strewn across the bloodied floors, while screams came from the huts to her left and right. Her fingers clenched, her chest tightening as a Bone Eater came out of one of the huts at the far end, dragging a young man by his hair. The boy's arms dragged along the mud as blood gushed from where his feet once were.

Rage filled her vision and blocked the sickening scent of death, leaving only one thought in her mind: They had to die.

She would Kill. Them. All.

Leyla took a step forward, but before she could reach for the bastard dragging the corpse, a Bone Eater came flying backwards out of the hut to her right. Tripping him with a swift kick, she thrust her sword down and yanked it back. One down.

"You again." The Rider from earlier came out from the same hut. He must have been the one who threw the Bone Eater her way. A small movement to the left had Leyla grabbing the Rider by the collar and dragging him forward just in time to avoid an arrow.

"That one's mine," the Rider muttered then he set off towards the archer.

Turning in the opposite direction, Leyla zeroed in on a Bone Eater who was busy trying to get his hatchet out of a villager's back. She ran forward, brought her sword under his neck and sliced. Two.

"Yaaa-Oooo!" The call came from the bastard dragging the footless boy. She looked straight into his bloodshot eyes, yanked the hatchet from the dead villagers back and flung it at the vermin's chest. He fell face forward and lay still beside the maimed boy. Three.

Wiping at the blood stains on her arms, Leyla readjusted her grip and looked for her next target. Bone Eaters who had heard the call came out of the huts; one, two, three...there were eight in all.

Holding her sword out beside her, she beckoned them with her free hand. Come on over.

The biggest of the brutes took exception to her attitude and let loose an angry howl before leading the charge. Fools. She avoided his hatchet, stabbed the man behind him, twirled round another attacker then kicked him forward towards the Brute. Using quick movements of her sword, she killed the next two Bone Eaters, swiping one of their hatchets as she went.

The Rider had joined in from behind the group and was taking on three men, so she turned back to face the Brute and his sidekick. The smaller man attacked first, flinging his hatchet at her, then charging with a dagger. She avoided both blades, twisted around him and stabbed him in the back.

The Brute lunged for her the moment her sword entered the other man's body, forcing her to leave her weapon to get out of his reach. Unarmed now, she ducked out of the way of the beefy bastard's fists while looking for something she could use against him. Her eyes landed on the blade in his boot. Avoiding yet another swing of his hatchet, Leyla kicked the weapon out of his hand then flung herself at his feet. The confused Bone Eater looked down just as she thrust his blade up into his throat.

Blood splattered over her face, sticky warm, but there was no time to hesitate. More Bone Eaters came out of the huts, some running at the Rider while others ran at her.

After retrieving her sword, Leyla lost track of time as well as the number of Bone Eaters she killed. At some point the surviving villagers started fighting alongside her and the Rider; the children threw rocks while women took up the daggers of their fallen men.

By the time the last Bone Eater was dead, Leyla's arms were shaking with exhaustion. The Rider who had fought beside her the entire time, now gathered the survivors and instructed them on how to put out the fires. Seeing he had everything under control Leyla ignored her protesting muscles and began collecting the strings of bones from off the dead bodies.

Once the fires were out, the villagers crowded around the Rider to give their thanks. "Thank you kind sir." "Bless you." Leyla saw him smile and speak words of consolation as she moved between bodies. A few villagers looked her way too, but none dared to approach; she preferred  it that way.

"Don't mind them, they're probably intimated because they can't see your face," the now familiar voice of the Rider came from over her shoulder. "Why do you hide it, by the way? A scar?"

He sure liked asking questions. Leyla ignored him and was moving to the last few corpses when he blocked her way. "Alright, too soon for personal questions," he smiled, then held out a fist full of bone necklaces. When she hesitated, the Rider dangled the strings closer and pointed to corpses she had yet to check, "those guys are clean."

Taking the bones without comment, Leyla moved to a quiet spot beside the hut at the entrance of village and began to dig. The bones click-clicked as they piled on top of each other in the shallow grave; dozens upon dozens of them. How many people had those murderous bastards killed to make these accessories? How painfully had the victims died? Her mind conjured up images of the different ways her mother might have drawn her last breath while she pushed earth onto the bones with shaking fingers. 

Leyla was so lost in thought, that it took a moment for her to realise a small girl had come to stand beside her. Her dress torn, her face covered in streaks of ash, the girl who was maybe six years old, regarded Leyla with a calm blue gaze. Michael. Leyla's heart squeezed painfully as she looked at the eyes that reminded her of the brother she left behind.

The little girl reached up and removed a battered crown of flowers from her hair and laid it on the small grave. Then her small fingers reached forward hesitantly and held the end of Leyla's shirt sleeve. "Thank you, Protector, for saving our lives."

Something seemed to shatter inside her chest and for a moment Leyla found it hard to breathe. She looked over the little girl's head to where women were drawing symbols on the foreheads of their dead while the Rider was helping the few men folk that were left to pile the bodies of the Bone Eaters together. These people had lost their fathers, their brothers, their sons... and yet not one screamed out in rage over the injustice. Not one attacked the bodies of the murderers or broke down in tears. Young or old, they were all performing the duties of survivors...the way a true Warrior would.

Leyla looked back at the girl whose dry eyes were on her still. There was little chance that this child had not lost loved ones this day, but she was here, thanking a stranger for helping her survive... for protecting her.

The desire for revenge drained away as shame took its place. Leyla had not raised her sword to protect these people; she had raised it in anger, in hatred...in misguided grief.

She deserved no praise, nor gratitude. 

Pulling her arm away gently, Leyla laid her hand on the girls head for a brief moment, then turned to leave.

Her mother would not come back to life, no matter how many Bone Eaters she killed. 

It was time to move on...