Faded Scars Trilogy

Chapter five: Waiting

Nightmare, Part Two

Luta

            Five days and I still hadn't heard a single word regarding my parents.  Every day I had hovered around the streets, eavesdropping on whoever happened to be nearest, never hearing the news I yearned for.  But still I listened, lingering overlooked in the shadows.

            I pulled up my hood, shadowing my face.  I had good hopes for today, a market day.  If I was lucky, some soldier would get drunk and mention something they shouldn’t.  That is if I was lucky, which I rarely was.  But still a small flicker of hope burned inside me.

            Stepping out of the forest was always a strange experience for me, someone who had lived their whole life in the shadowed corners of the immense forests.  I always shuddered at the transition from the vast expanse of forestry to the narrow crowded streets.  It was silence to ringing clamor, from fresh pine to filth.  No longer did I wonder why Mandisa so avoided these places.

            Today the narrow streets were choked with people, soldiers coming to spend their wages, merchants to sell wares from overseas, travelers to buy them, dancers to enchant the crowd, bards to tell tall tales to eager listeners.  Music floated in the air, covered by loud chatter, bawdy laughter issuing from a small tavern on the corners, the crying of children, the growling of dogs, the yells of merchants trying to net customers for some ware or another.  The acrid scent of muck punctuated the air, mixing with the tantalizing smell of roasted meats and fresh baked goods, occasionally swept away by a cool pine breeze.  My head spun with all of the smells and sounds.  How could anyone stand it?

            I withdrew to a back alley in an effort to clear my head.  People passed my hiding place, oblivious in their hurried errands, bustling past purposefully, unaffected by the commotion surrounding them.  One man hurried past, laden with goods, a woman passed, doting on a young child.  More people passed, men, women, and children, even stray dogs and squawking chickens chased by little boys.  I watched in fascination, never had I imagined there could be so many people in one place!  Gathering my courage, I stepped out of the shadows and looked around.

            I began to walk along the street’s edge where I was least jostled by the lively crowds.  “Thief!” someone yelled behind me, causing me to whirl around in surprise.  The crowd pressed against the edge of the street, creating a lane in the center of the street.  A small boy charged down the street, two soldiers at his heels.  The boy appeared just older than me, with bright blue eyes and disheveled sandy hair.  His eyes were wide with fear, his knuckles white as he clenched a small pouch of stolen coins. He looked around wildly, but nobody made a move to help him, simply gawked at the spectacle as if this were some production put on for their amusement.  The boy looked at me, pleading.  I swore he could see my face.  That did it for me, the knowledge in his frightened eyes, the hope in them. 

            Pushing through the crowd, I stepped in to the center of the lane and drew Mandisa’s sword, revealing the full blade from beneath my dark red cloak.    The boy shot past me, not stopping.  Ingrate.  The soldiers on the other hand came to a halt surprised someone would dare stop them.  I tugged off my hood, letting my fiery red hair tumble across my shoulders.  “My name is Luta,” I said calmly, “and if you don’t leave now, I promise you will die.”  The guards laughed, clutching their guts as they rocked with laughter.  One looked at me mirthfully.  “I’d really love to see you try girlie!” he replied, chuckling.  The word girlie stung at me.  “Gladly,” I hissed.  In an instant a knife was in my hand, a second later in his stomach.  “Was it as good as you anticipated?” I spat.  His companion paled.  I turned to him, daring him to look away.  “I’d suggest running if you value your life,” I said icily.  I didn’t need to tell him twice.  He turned tail and fled, leaving me alone in the street with a dead, or dying, man and a street’s worth of shocked spectators.  A whisper rippled through the crowd.  I pulled up my hood and turned to leave the silent lane, feeling the weight of every person’s gaze.  Who knew how long it would be until a soldier worked up their bravery to challenge me?  I walked briskly to the corner, not looking back, but my ears open to any hint of attack.