Purpose Kills

Chapter Nine

The journey was already harrowing. The stone that settled in the bottom of her stomach didn't leave. She swallowed against her parched throat, her scalp burning. The heat made sweat drip down her brow and back, causing her to clench the reigns harder and scowl tightly. Her hands were slick with sweat already, and if she didn't hate this desert enough, she hated it even more now. Eventually, though, she saw a small village. She let out a sigh of relief and spurred Bijesan a little more. He trotted into the village, and everything seemed to freeze as the townspeople stared at her. They seemed to.. Cower. She swallowed and tried to wipe the scowl that was etched on her features, something like neutrality. She tried to smile, and the keyword was tried. Her smile seemed to only make it worse, and she simply stopped her attempts. "Look," she began slowly, holding out her hands placatingly, "I mean you no harm. I just seek shelter for the night, maybe some food and drink if possible." She put on a mask of pleading, and it was as if the people saw the chance to get on the good side of the golden-eyed commander. 

  She dismounted Bijesan, clutching the reigns in her hands. He snorted softly, and a ragged old man approached her. She let out a soft sigh of relief, but the only way to tell was the slight part in her lips. He wore parchment colored robes, and she stood straight and tall as he stopped a few feet in front of her. "My lady-" He began. 

  "Please, Desarae will do," she offered, though she had rather rudely cut him off. 

  "We will humbly accept you into our village for the night. You may rest in one of the vacant homes, and food and water will be brought to you," he continued on, brushing off her interruption like it was nothing. 

  "Thank you for your kindness," She answered quickly, inclining her head slightly. 

  "However," He began, here we go, "we do ask that you may repay us some day..." She debated quietly, boring into the man with her fierce gaze. Her golden eyes reflected in his pale, old blue ones. She did not like deals that had an uncertain side, especially when it was coming from the other person. However, she needed a place to rest, and this looked as safe as ever. With another soft sigh, she nodded slowly. 

  "I accept your terms, as long as they aren't ridiculous when the time comes for me to pay the price of your hospitality," she spoke clearly, her eyes giving off the warning she was trying to send. He smiled warmly at her, a gap between his two front teeth visible. 

  "It's settled then. Someone will take your horse to an extra stall at our stables. I will guide you to your quarters." His tone was joyful, which worried her somewhat. However, she nodded silently and passed over Bijesan's reigns to a young boy, maybe two years beneath her. She shot her steed a look that spoke for itself. Play nice. He snorted but willingly went with the boy. She slowly made her way over to the man. She looked completely neutral, except for her eyes, which were darting every which way to map the area. When she reached the man, he began speaking.

  "My name is Isya, I'm the elder of this village. You may have heard of us, we're-" He chattered. 

  "The Iskens, I know. I learned of every village, town, city, and tribe in my studies when I was still in training," She cut him off, glancing down an alleyway. His smile faltered, he probably wasn't used to being disrespected as much. But he quickly lifted it again.  

  "I heard it's a hard thing, training to be in our army. Especially to be a commander, I can hardly imagine-" He was chattering away uselessly, babbling. 

  "You cannot imagine. You will never imagine. You would've been thrown out the minute they saw you, no matter how badly we're outnumbered," she spoke, sounding calm, but it was a sort of lethal calm. He immediately dropped his smile, and shut his trap. She stared ahead, and they didn't speak until they reached the small cottage she was to hole up in. She inclined her head once, and before he could speak, walked inside and shut the door on him. The cottage was small and wooden, a thatch roof over top. A small fireplace was nestled in the corner, unlit and without logs to occupy it. Beside it was a small armchair, which was an ugly green color. On the opposite side, a bed with a dusty, patched quilt over top of it sat. A small room guarded by a door was straight ahead of her, and she presumed that was where she could relieve herself and bathe. 

  She wrinkled her nose at the smell of dust. Cobwebs littered the place, and she quickly walked into the other room. She had been right, and a deep hole in the ground was covered by a wooden trapdoor. She made a face, but looked over to the wooden tub was. Beside it was a bucket of water and a sponge. She immediately shut the door behind her and filled the bath with the water, pushing the bucket aside. She undressed, keeping her swords on top of her clothes in case she had to grab them quickly. She dipped her foot in the water and tensed up, taking a slow breath. The water was freezing, but she slid into it anyway.

  She slid down so her lips were barely above the water, and grabbed the sponge, harshly scrubbing at her dirty skin until it was raw. Then she took the tangles out of her hair, tugging on it. She growled softly, it was rather hard, and she wished she'd had a brush at that moment. But, eventually, she finished.

  She climbed out, shivering as she quickly dressed again. She exited the room, feeling cleaner than she had in days, and sat down on the armchair. On the arm of the chair was a plate of food, mostly consisting of bread and cheese. She scarfed it down anyway, thinking to herself as she ate. Her gaze was fixated on the floor, going through all the possibilities. What would she do when she reached the Commandant? She had probably already gotten word of the disappearances already, and had sent out a small troop of people to search for them. She wouldn't be of much use, it would be old news. She just hoped the Commandant or someone in  the city would know what the creatures that took her legion and all the others were. Maybe a crazy old oracle would give her a prophecy or something. She snorted softly at the thought.

  Setting down her plate on the arm, she stood up and walked to the bed. She unbuckled her swords from across her back, losing the familiar weight was a strange feeling. She climbed into the bed, covering herself with the quilt and slowly shut her eyes. 

  It was hours before she could actually sleep, but she managed soon enough.