Angels of Freedom: The Rise Of Nova

Olivia Bickens

Her left hand slipped on the rock she tried to grasp. She cursed under her breath as the warm, red liquid streamed down her arm and stained her shirt. Getting her hand back in a supported place, she caught a glimpse of the long drop below.

Despite the nervous tick she had, her calloused fingers and hands, the fresh cut, and her dry mouth, she kept going. She had to. There was only twenty yards left to climb. Besides, there was no turning back; the guards already had men climbing after her.

The sword on her back weighed her down, pulling at her shoulders and pattering against her back. Sweat dripped down her face and stung her eyes. Her coal black hair stuck to her face. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she listened to the voices shouting below. She held her breath once her hand felt the top of the cliff and she pulled herself up. She lay on the grassy surface for only enough time to catch her breath before pushing off of the ground and bolting across the field.

The castle's men weren't too far behind her, in fact one reached the top right after she began to run. Although, when she tumbled into a guard who was already on the cliff--thanks to his trusty dragon--she halted and drew her sword.

"Olivia Bickens of Almagar, we advise that you put your weapon down and surrender to the court of the Royals," One guard said lowly, getting off of the back of the horse he rode on.

Olivia smirked smugly before standing on guard. The one who spoke sighed audibly before waving for two men to seize the raven. Their swords clashed before they were easily slain. Removing her silver blade from the last man's chest, she scowled at the man who spoke.

"Is that all you got?" She asked, raising her voice a tad bit.

The guard shrugged before raising his hand and signaling to others. Over a hundred men stomped out of the trees, weapons at the ready. Her shoulders sunk and she dropped her sword. She knew for a fact that she wouldn't be able to get through all of those men. The guard who reached the top of the cliff behind her grabbed her arms, combining them with rope behind her back. She blew a strand of hair out of her face, considering her hands weren't available. It bugged her that her loose tank-top was stuck to her skin, because of her sweat, and she couldn't unstick it.

. . . . . .

Olivia stood in the middle of the cell and pulled her arm from the guard. He grunted before leaving, slamming the door and locking it behind him. She eyed daggers at his back as he left. The scent of manure and rotten flesh filled her nostils. She definitely missed the smell of freshly baked bread at her family's bakery on the outskirts of the kingdom. As she closed her eyes to imagine the small building, she unconsciously picked at the cut on her palm. She just had to give it all up--the only family she had who cared for her--for a damn piece of jewelry.

The woman's crystal blue eyes went dark as that thought crossed her mind. Her fist slammed against the cobblestone wall to her right, and she hissed at the pain that shot through her arm afterwards. She stared at her shaking hand before sitting down on the stone mattress. She knew what came next, and waited, and waited, and waited for them to come. They finally did.

They bounded her arms again, snatched onto her biceps, and escorted her out of the cell. Their grip was tight, and bruises formed underneath. She didn't bother pulling away. Her head hung low, but her eyes stayed on the beings in front of her. She could kill them in hundreds of different ways in that exact moment, and wouldn't even shed a tear of remorse. Sure, they had families and loved ones, but they dedicated their time to the king, and he was not a good man. Her breath was shallow as they climbed the steep set of stairs. Her fists clenched and her eye twitched as they swung the door to the throne room open.