The Skabelse

It Is Finnished

Clinging to Blanche's head in one hand and grasping the reigns in the other, galloped back to the battlefield. Her face still trickled with blood and she subconsciously wiped it away with her shoulder, causing a sharp flash of pain as it connected with her broken nose.

She winced slightly and urged the pale horse to go faster. The combatants in the distance grew larger in size as she drew closer, and when she reached them she barreled through, almost knocking down an Olandryman.

Rowan yanked on the reigns of the horse, imploring it to stop. The horse protested with a loud neigh but quickly locked its legs, bringing them to a halt. She looked around, pondering what to do next. How am I supposed to get this to end?

The soldiers and enemies that were closest to her glanced at her and froze when they saw the severed head in her hands, but the battle stretched on for hundreds of yards and many were still fighting. Rowan quickly stood up and balanced herself on her saddle, raising the head for all to see. She didn't know if it would be effective or not but decided to give it a try. "Stop! It is finished! Your leader is gone!" she yelled, flashing a glimpse at the object in her hand before returning it to the mass of people before her. Her nostrils flared and the familiar scent of metallic blood and sweat filled her senses as a soft breeze blew.

She skimmed the sea of faces and a quick movement caught her eye. A pale freckled man was nocking his bow with an arrow and pulled back the string about to shoot when his comrade next to him raised up his hand, ceasing him, "Have honor Stevin."

The Gladeswoman was surprised at his action and gave him a curt nod of gratitude. She then returned her regard farther out into the crowd and waited until the combatants noticed that the battle has stopped. One by one, allies and enemies turned their gaze to her on her horse.

Beneath her, her mount shifted its weight and she slightly wobbled and a Morrstick woman quickly made her way to stead and comfort it so Rowan could continue. A few yards away, a tousled head of raven curls caught her attention and she subconsciously relaxed that Bjorn was still alive. She had hardly had any time to tarry on the matter as she was too engrossed with her mother and Blanche. His stature was tensed, his legs slightly bent as he gripped his sword. He did not trust his foes and wanted to be ready if they proceeded with the battle. He would let his eyes flit to his Gladeswoman before returning them to the bleeding brute that stood before him. They had been at it for a while now, both were breathing heavily with fatigue.

"Blanche is dead by my hand. If you wish to seek your vengeance, do so only on me. Do not retaliate on anyone but," she said, lowering her arm down which still clung to her enemies coarse mane of hair. "What she has promised you is false. She only wished to poison your minds and lead you into the darkness of a slave's life. She fed you lies and empty possibilities and only cared about herself and becoming your queen. If she really cared about you and about her so-called dream and new world," she said, spitting the words, "then why did she not take up arms and join you as your friends and loved ones fought and lost their lives? Instead, she sat on her horse and watched with a content smirk as you did her dirty work for her. Why did she run and leave you when she saw potential danger? She never cared about you or your aspirations or ambitions, only hers. Is that someone you really want to follow? To die for?"

Rowan looked around at the numbers that were left as the men and women murmured against themselves. Even though she and her allies had arrived greatly outnumbered, their looked to be an even number of warriors left on each side. Bjorn was right, she thought, thinking about to what he had said to her. They did indeed have some of the most skilled warriors on their side and it was enough that they would soon have victory regardless if their enemies decided to take up arms again.

"Look around you," she commanded, "The score is even between us even though you greatly outnumbered us on our arrival. Within the hour your remnants will fall and all of you will lose your life for a cause that is lost."

The men and women looked back and forth between one another, thinking about their options. Rowan could sense the tension in the air as the sun slowly began to set over the flat horizon. With the wisps of fog that remained, the orange glow was soft on their faces.

Another moment passed and then suddenly, the soft thuds of weapons hitting the ground sounded, marking their surrender.

The Gladeswoman set her face as many of her allies cheered and clapped at their victory. She didn't feel even remotely cheerful or celebratory and she slowly climbed down from her mount, tossing Blanche's head onto the ground. She was tired and just wanted to begin to bury her dead.

A tall, dark skinned woman with half of her head shaved made her way through the crowd towards Rowan, who was wiping her blade off with the hem of her tunic. When she noticed the woman, she stopped and rose a dark eyebrow.

The woman flashed her teeth, offering a smile that clashed against her dark skin. "Hello, my name is Nafriti, leader of the Ugalan clan. I came to give my thanks for offering us our lives. Is there anything I can do to lend aid?"

Rowan half smiled, dumbfounded at the woman's words. She would have assumed that they would have shown resentment against her and her allies, not give thanks and offer their help. Is this some sort of hoax?

"It is nice to meet you Nafriti. I'm Rowan of the Glade and you are very welcome. As for the assistance, I think it is best if we collect our dead first and then figure out what happens next once we are done."

The woman smiled softly and bowed once before walking away and becoming lost in the mass of people.

Rowan took a deep breath and tried to run a hand through her hair, but it was sticky and matted with dry blood and only had gotten stuck. She pulled her hand away and quickly began to examine her dirty hands which were caked with dirt and body fluids from all of those she had killed, as well as her mothers. What am I to do now? She felt confused and lost, never having to deal with such emotions before.

"Hello love," a deep voice said behind her, drawing her from her thoughts.

She turned around to find Bjorn smiling sadly. His eyes were full of both joy yet devastation. Seeing his face was like finding a small crack of light at the end of a dark tunnel and gave her hope. Closing in the distance with a few wide steps, she threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest. She bit her bottom lip, willing herself not to cry and show weakness.

He wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly and kissed the top of her head. He had suffered many great losses today and she was the only person who could fill the void in his heart at the moment. A single tear managed to fall from his eye and he quickly wiped it away with his shoulder.

"We did it," he said, pressing his lips to the top of her head again. But at what cost?

Rowan slowly nodded her head and pulled back, looking him over. He didn't look to be severely wounded, though he would need some stitches for a deep cut on his forearm. His armor and face were splattered in the blood of those he had cut down and his left eye was starting to swell from when a combatant drove his elbow into his face. But his usually green eyes that were bright with life were dull and filled with grief.

He knew she could read it easily on his face and was glad that she did not push him to talk about it.

The two looked around them at the bodies that lay on the ground. Some were moaning, others lay silent. Rowan shuddered once at the image, then somberly said, "Come, let us bury our friends and end this day."

Sorry it took a while to update, I had a busy week/weekend :) Also, I have had a few thoughts about trying to get this published once it is finished, what do you think? Update:THIS IS NOT THE END OF THE BOOK.