Sparkling Ivy

35

The sky was so bright that day. Harsh. Perhaps a warning from Nell Bright. Abigale couldn't be sure of anything now. 

She had watched from her hut as the men marched from the village, hands full with bronze and bitter determination. And she would have stayed behind. At least remained close to her solitary haven. The gods had other schemes. 

Abi had slipped from her borders, hem of her dress clinging to thistles as she clambered after the mob. She could still feel the heat in the soles of her feet as they met the sharp kiss of gravel, then sand. There, from the beach, she saw the ship.

***

"Stop looking at me like that and finish it." The witch bared her teeth, lips stretched into a cruel jeer. 

Jason's arm was trembling, the blade of his swords a breath's away from slicing her throat. Heavy pants burst from his lips. His nostrils flared like a bull, eyes narrowed like an eagle. The coward just watched her. A bastard girl with no one to save her, no one to give a fuck. 

A hoarse laugh. "Don't tell me your balls have crawled back up inside you."

Crack! His foot stamped down on her. Abigale gasped, spittle full of blood sprayed from her lips onto her neck. Burning pain spread through her abdomen down to her legs. Jason seized her by the hair with one hand, forcing her face inches from his. 

"You fucking bitch." 

Every cell in her body was buzzing. Every bit of skin itched. Every drop of blood burned. Abi sucked on her teeth, tangy red coating her tongue. The bitterness twisted her stomach in knots again and again and again. Even more than the ugly scowl on Jason's face. 

His breath was sweet on her skin. Like spring honey. She hated it. Her own was bitter. 

Jason's eyes just fixed on her, unyielding. Like nothing else in this world existed but her and her lechery. Abigale saw his knuckles tighten around the sword, felt the cool kiss of the blade as it lightly brushed her neck. Still not daring to kiss. Fucking craven. 

A wise man could see she was a moment away from death. Maybe a moment from release, if she played her cards right. Minerva would council her to spar with words, trickle that sweet nectar of lies only a woman was taught to speak. For what did men need lies for in a world they governed? 

But as she had proven time and time again, Abi wasn't a wise man. And not just because she had no cock swinging between her legs. 

With a mighty snarl she spat a glob of blood into his face. Jason hissed but he didn't let go. Abi was running out of her tricks. 

***

Men clad in leather armour scrambled across the coastal brush with shields stamped with gorgons. They were fleet-footed and balanced, their eyes fixed on Abigale's cliff. The Callkai didn't seem overly frazzled. They were faster, they knew the soil. 

Abigale couldn't help but follow the scrummage, heart leaping into her mouth whenever an archer took aim. Back and forth, back and forth the arrows flew. Few fell. It seemed neither side were favoured by Auryon. 

The witch cocked her head, kneeling down in the long grass. A small, wicked grin lit up her features. For even amongst the flashes of bodies, she could make out that hair, those eyes. What an opportunity. 

****

"I should have told Bruce everything." 

Jason tugged at her hair with a vicious growl. The sword's edge made a tiny cut. Abigale could only smile. The warmth of red oozed down her chest, staining her dress. Her breaths came in short shuddery bursts; the only inclination of her fear. Because of course she was fucking terrified. 

Gods, a few months ago she would be sobbing, begging for the shameful rubbish heap she called her life. That was the stone cold truth of the matter. 

The witch would convince herself this snake could be won over by mercy. That he would never have the balls to hurt her because deep down... Stop. Stop lying. 

Abigale sucked in a long sharp breath, chest tight. The green of her eyes paled as she turned them to the night sky, fingers limp in the dirt. 

The stars were so lovely. So bright. Even as she lay in the hands of her nemesis. Even as his sword broke her skin ever so lightly. They shone nonetheless. I can find strength in that. 

Her voice was so still as she breathed, "Tell them my secret then."

"What?"

Abi keep her eyes to the stars, legs trembling. She recognised that taste of warmth. She could let it slip. She swallowed. "Tell them everything Jason. Burn me at the stake, for fuck's sake."

Sharp pain shot through her chest as he forced her up on her knees, yanked her head to look at him. The witch set her jaw, lips dripping with blood. A soft snigger as she licked her lips, bent her eyebrows. "Burn me, drown me, whatever the fuck you'd like. But just know this: my ghost is more dangerous." 

Once again their eyes met. So much lingered between them. Green fire. Blue ice. A glance both had reserved for one thing. Their prey. 

It was hard to believe they had once cared for each other. Harder that one of them wasn't dead. Even as Jason gripped her, death at his fingertips. Somehow Abi was still dancing at the knife's edge. 

Jason's throat bobbed and he threw her backward into the grass. Abi groaned in agony, arms clutching her chest. Bastard. Stupid bastard. 

His sandals crunched in the brush brush as he walked away. She could hear him panting, swinging the sword from side to side. As if she had the strength to pursue him with the damage he'd done. 

Abi's hands clenched and unclenched as stabbing pain ricocheted through her chest. Something had cracked, splintered. Blood gushed from her mouth into the soil. From the spottiness of her vision, the stars had come down to play with her. 

The witch didn't know when Jason left. Didn't hear the hoofbeats of his steed. All she could hear was the tiny gasps that burst from her lips mixing with the gentle swaying of the grasses. 

Until the familiar voice came. Get up Abigale. Don't let the dickhead win. 

***

He'd looked so lost. It was almost comforting. Jason had always been the one to take charge and order everyone about. To see him standing in the middle of a battlefield (used in the loosest terms possible) brought a ashamedly huge satisfaction.

Here Abigale crouched in the brush - a scorned bastard witch - and she had killed more of the enemy than a man in the midst. 

"How hard can it be to kill him?"

She took the chance.