Memoir of Xayah - The lost sparrow and the lonley fox

[7.3]

He smiled sadistically and charged a sword against her. She waited for him and shifted aside. The blade fell only some centimeters away from her arm. The darkness had also made him quicker, not only stronger. She had observed him during his training so that she could find her weak points. And she was sure that, even if she was quite able in the sword combat, he could not exceed her agility.

She picked two feathers and threw them when she shifted again. One was split, but the other reached its objective, stabbing Zakai's side. Her enemy stopped as if he was bothered by that attack. He removed it and squeezed it in his hand, breaking it with a dry sound.

She shivered, looking at that behavior with the laugh of the witch in the background.

That crystalline echo made her remember that she gave Zakai his powers. She was amused by their fight as if she was happy of her work.

An idea passed on her mid, probably a suicidal one, but she had to try. She concentrated her magic energy on the feathers still on the boy's body and was able to recall them with difficulty. His enemy screamed again, while a black gush started to come out on his chest.

She had blocked him for a while and, with her weapons again on her hand, she threw them against the witch, the only responsible for those powers. They never reached their objective; they became smoke before they hit her, burned because of her potential.

A knot tightened her throat. She realized that she was powerless. She could only hope to stop Zakai, but she feared that she had to use most of her energy. Only a significant amount of feathers would have damaged him. A single piece was just useless.

She turned just in time against the boy and avoided his sword. A counter-attack came immediately, and he was able to scratch her cheek before she jumped back. She felt her blood coming down on her face, so hot inside that cold cave.

She cleaned the wound with her hand. She was ready to shift Zakai again and to throw him other feathers. The boy raised his sword furious and was going to lower it, but a golden and glow arrow hit him on a shoulder.

His scream was worse than the others. He seemed to suffer endless pain, while the skin around the dart was almost evaporating, free form the black signs of corruption.

She turned and saw that the platform was coming down. On it, there was a woman, with her long black hair tied in a ponytail. Some of her strands were white as her eyes. Her necked arms were full of golden tattoos that were shining as if they were magic.

Zakai recovered and was ready to attack again, but the woman was quicker. After she nocked her wooden bow, she threw the arrow and hit the boy's leg.

His screams forced her to cover her ears while she fell back from him. She could have felt pity for him; anyone would have done it because of his situation. But in her heart, there was only satisfaction. She was happy to see him in that condition; there was no better punishment for him.

Too much arrogance needed a payback.

She had also to find a way out and feared that under the grim eyes of the archer, there was no mercy. After all, she also had lured inside the witch's hideout, at her eyes, she could be a problem as Zakai.

The woman was going to throw another arrow, but the platform fell violently on the ground, and she lost her balance.

Go, it's your chance.

She recognized that voice, she had heard it some minutes ago. She turned and saw the witch looking at her, with her usual grin.

She wanted to help her, that was obvious, but why?

A creature like that was capable of using the others, of making them her puppets, not to let them escape. She did not trust her, she would have never trusted her, but at that moment, it was her only way out.

She hoped not to make another mistake and climbed on the platform, while the archer at her feet was trying to stand up. The woman did not have the time to reach an arrow that the huge rock went up quickly.

We will see again, Vastaya, our conversation is not over, jet.

Those were the last words of the witch on her mind before she reached the floor on the temple. The darkness covered the place again, making her realized that the cave was enlightened, even if there were no candles. She had no time for such a question, in front of her, there were two men, armed with gold and glowing guandao.

They had only a long braid, but the rest of the head was bald. Their eyes were white as the ones of the archer, and they also had the same tattoos.

They had to be the monks of the temple and had stood in the shadow since that moment. In the dim light of the building, they looked like ghostly figures not belonging to the living realm. And they were also similar as they were two drops of water. They could be twins, but when she turned, she saw another woman with a bow. And she could not notice the resemblance with the other one in the cave.

There was something wrong in that place, and it was not just the presence of the witch.

The archer nocked her bow, and she sprinted away, running right to the two men. She heard the shot resonate behind her, the only sound audible. The priests did not make any noise when they started to chase her. Not a single word came out from their mouths.

Their steps were light on the wooden floor, so much that hers were like massive rocks.

She heard another arrow and avoided it, letting it sticking on the floor.

She ran along the hallway, but one of the two men or a third one appeared in front of her, blocking her way out. She stopped scratching her nails on the pavement and turned. She heard some steps coming from that direction too. She was trapped inside those walls.

There was only one escape route next to her, and she hoped that the courtyard was not full of monks. She threw herself against the window, breaking the thin axis. The wooden splinters scratched her body, a forgettable pain when she found herself falling down the hill.

She was unlucky, the back of the temple was on a short cliff, impossible to notice from the other side.

The wind slapped her skin while she was trying to find some handholds. As more the trees came near as more her heart raised its beats, becoming a pounding tachycardia. Fate had been against her. It had put her in a situation without any chance to escape. Her fall would have been wasteful and noting would have stopped it.

Maybe she could slow it down.

She had a wing, useless to fly, but perfect for making a difference between a direct hug with the ground and a more graceful fall. She opened it, winning against the strength of the wind. It blew less, and her speed decreased.

She tried to flap it, but she swerved on the right. How much life was foolish and full of ironic, Lothlans were famous for her resemblance with birds, but they were not able to sail the winds. And she could die because of this bitter fate.

The tress arrived, and their thin branches broke under her weight, stabbing part of their wood on her body. The world started to swirl in a blue and green spiral, while her skin was still scratched.

She noticed the bigger branches only when she hit them with her womb, without breaking them. The pain was atrocious, also adding the scratches. She did not even have the strength to stop her body and slipped on another one, landing with her waist.

She wheezed while she fell again, powerless. There were no more branches to stop her, just thin twig that tickled her skin.

The impact with the ground was brutal, along with the sound of the bones of her right arm. It broke with a dry and creepy noise. She had no more breathe and she was not able to express her pain. Her only outlet was her tears, so big that they clouded her sight. Little by little, the eyelids became too heavy and her body lost his energy, leaving her defenseless inside that forest.