A Series of Stories

The Death of Lysandra Caraverre

It was a dark rainy night, the muddy road sucking on the wheels of an elegant black and gold lined carriage. Inside the carriage sat a young, dark-haired woman, her moss green eyes narrowed slightly as she examined her painted nails. The woman had just finished with her last  client of the night, a tiring, older man who talked too much and was too loud. The courtesan sighed as she glanced out the window, watching the old buildings pass by.

Suddenly, the carriage jerked to a stop, the woman nearly toppling from her seat. "Joseph!" she yelped, putting her hand to the wall of the carriage. "Joseph, what the hell?"

"I apologize, Miss Lysandra, someone ra-" The man's voice was cut short, a wet gargling noise coming from outside.

The woman, Lysandra, frowned, tilting her head to the side in confusion. A worried look came upon her face as she heard a wet "THUD." 'Oh no...' she thought, putting a hand to her mouth. Taking a deep breath, the young courtesan leaned across the small space and wrapped her fingers around the door handle. Twisting it, Lysandra carefully opened the door, peeking out. She didn't hear anything, so the woman hopped down from the compartment, her booted feet hitting the ground with a "squelch."

Lysandra looked around, hoping she wouldn't see anything or anyone. But, of course, a couple feet in front of her carriage were two older men crouched around something, the sound of sobbing coming from it. 'What are they doing,' she thought as she edged around the corner of the carriage. The woman already knew Joseph was dead, the man's body laying across the driver's seat.

Looking back to the men, Lysandra realized that they were huddled over a young girl, her sobbing now muffled by a rag that had been stuffed into her mouth. The young courtesan gasped, her hand going to her mouth. Lysandra hastily pulled her dress up around her knees, reaching down and pulling her long dagger from her boot. She had hoped she wouldn't have to use the blade, but it turned out she was wrong.

With a deep breath, Lysandra pulled her arm back and took a moment to aim. Letting the breath go, the woman flicked her wrist, letting the blade fly. With as soft "thunk," the blade sunk into one of their throats. The now dead man went stiff and fell, face-first into the frozen mud. The man's companion turned in surprise, locking his gaze and the young courtesan. A laugh bubbled from his mouth as he stood, letting the girl go.

The young girl looked at Lysandra with wide eyes, reaching out as if she were to help. The woman shook her head before looking back to the man, who was only feet from her, watching the young girl run away from the corner of her eye.

Lysandra whimpered slightly as she took a step back. She yelped as she fell backwards, having tripped over the combination of the hem of her dress and her boot getting stuck in the mud.

"Well, well, young lady," the man muttered as he stepped over the woman.

Lysandra bared her teeth menacingly at the man as she reached into the bodice of her dress, pulling the one other knife she kept on her person out. She had been about to attack when the man launched himself onto her, taking a hold of her wrists.

"Let me go!" Lysandra screamed, kicking and twisting as she tried to get free.

The man chuckled, his rancid breath scorching the woman's nose. "You made me lose my prey and killed my friend. Not happening."

Lysandra let out a growl from her throat, baring her teeth as she struggled. Finally, she was able get the hand holding the knife free, as the man had been using his other hand to try and get her dress open.

With his attention elsewhere, the courtesan swung her arm forward, stabbing the man in the shoulder. 'Damn... Missed...' she thought in terror as the man growled down at her.

"I've had enough of you," the man ground out as he pulled the knife from his shoulder, blood pouring from the wound. With a grunt, his arm fell, the knife settling itself in the young woman's gut. The man pulled it out and stabbed her again, a scream escaping Lysandra's throat.

With that, the man let go of the knife, leaving it in the woman's gut. She wrapped her hands around the hilt, groaning. The man, with an angry look on his face, turned, leaving Lysandra to die in the middle of the frozen road.

If the stabs didn't kill her first, the cold definitely would.

Well, there's the first one! I hope everyone enjoys this. I worked pretty hard on it.
I would appreciate it if no one left any negative comments.
I'm not that good of a writer, I know.
If you wish for any more stories, please leave a comment :)
    ~Cam