Ashtik: The Champion of Black.

Chapter Four: Stolen Sacrifice.

                Dirt entombed her. It caught in her hair, her clothes, her teeth. She clawed along the half-dug tunnel in complete darkness. Even with her slim frame, half breaths were all she could draw. She felt her untreated wounds gather dirt. The thin slash at her hip parted further as the walls dragged it open. She wasn't worried about infection. "Pack it with dirt." Was time tested advice. The cause of her pain would be her shield.

She could hear them above her. The dull thumping steps as they battled the flame. The muffled cries of careless men as they got too close and caught their deaths. The march of reinforcements and the revelrous cries of far past drunken merriment. They drank on the pyres of their friends, their brothers.

Dirt settled around her as the little tunnel caved under their dancing. She continued on, ignoring her rising fear. She felt the air thin as she moved along. Shapes danced in the darkness. The thousand-legged spider stepped over her. The blue giant crawled behind her. The sparrow dug ahead of her.

And then there was light.

She had found the end of the tunnel, and the first stirrings of dawn. The stars weren't hidden here, from beneath the dirt. They shone in a vast band of liquid gold. Heaven's belt slashed across the space between. It twinkled violet and indigo. There was barely a spec of empty space behind it.

She crowned arm first, then she pushed her head through. The first breath she took was ecstasy. Then the rain collapsed the dirt onto her. The mud gave her no purchase and she slipped under again. Grit and stones snapped her nails as she clawed her way upwards. She gave no thoughts to stealth; gasping and gaping as she did. She thrust her gauntlet into the mud and finally found her leverage.

She rose, her red leather stained black by mud. Her face caked in dirt. Her hair, still bloody though now much darker. She must have looked half a shadow in this early morning light. The sunrise had yet to crest, but its sapphire crown sat on the horizon. The black of night would soon give way to the blue of dawn, and the red of day.

But her duty must be fulfilled by then.

                Ash trudged through their backlines. No man saw her, or he saw six of her through his empty bottles. It seemed the toasts of the night had caught up with the bandits, though they would be ready to attack come the day. She doubted the flame would last much longer under this ever-growing rain.

They had set up a small siege camp. It wasn't much. A hide padded tent to stop arrows from burning through. A couple of wooden chairs and amenities. It wasn't luxury, but it was the best spot in the camp. The 'Duke' must have been there.

She strolled past some sleeping sentry with her spear held tightly. He lay in the dirt with a wooden tankard spilt over his chest. She considered ending him while he slept, but the idea of murdering a man while he slept still gave her pause, even after all she had done that night. Ash skulked along somewhat further, unharried.
They had left their vast stain on her home. The golden grasses were burnt black, and the flowers were trampled to dirt. It was no paradise at the best of days, but it deserved better than this. She would grant it better than this with a single fell swoop.

The velvet palace with its hide roof came into reach. She found the front door, unguarded and unbarred, and simply walked in.

The quality of man that awaited within cannot be understated. His diseased flesh had been obfuscated by a pure white paste, close to makeup but not nearly as elegant. What should have been his hair could more aptly be described as a thin crown of disgrace. Closer to a scorched tuft of grass than a proud mane. His beard was different at first glance. It could almost be described as noble, until she noticed the lace behind it. The proudest part of him was attached by some adhesive. He still wore his garish pink breastplate and its green and blue striped accompaniment.