Blaekerian: An Epic Fantasy Novel (In Progress)

Patterns of Red

"You just gonna stand there or are you gonna do something?"

Vyra's arms began to hurt as she held her sword raised behind her in position ready to strike. Her teeth were clenched tight and grinding.

"Are you still mad about how I treated you?"

Her face felt hot like she had suddenly gotten a raging fever. Her palms on the sword had begun to get sticky with sweat.

"You're going to hold a grudge that was years ago? And besides you look fine now. Didn't scar you too much now did I?" The man on the floor chuckled, which turned into a hacking cough.

Vyra wavered, lowering her sword slightly. The tension in her arms and legs became less. She took a step back. and glanced behind her father at the window.

The sky was getting dim and only a small stream of light still broke through the tattered fabric covering. The room was colored in a red haze creating light that added to the surreal nature of the scene.

"You know you made her leave don't you? You made your mother leave this island. And then you left too." Her eye twitched.

"I left because you didn't want me." said Vyra, her voice came out in a choking, weak tone. She suddenly felt as if she had lost all her years of training and was once again the small girl who had ran away all those years ago.

"That's right. You destroyed my life..."

"Oh I know." Vyra broke in, her voice gaining in volume. "You only reminded me every time I woke up or any time I did anything at all not to your liking."

"You can't make me feel sorry for you girl. Not after what you pulled. First you took my wife and then that poor gnarmoc boy." He smiled, an evil leer. "And now you're here to finish the job and kill me." Vyra looked at her sword as if only now realizing that she was holding it aloft ready to strike, to kill. She lowered it and breathed out slowly, shakily.

"You're not worth it." She said, sheathing the blade. "You're just a sad angry old man who ruined his life and tried to destroy mine. Well, I'm done with you." She turned and made for the door.

Just as she placed one foot in the hallway, her father spoke for the last time.

"Yeah that's right, go ahead. You always were useless." Vyra froze in the doorway. The man started to laugh again hysterically and loud, as if this was the greatest joke. Like all of Vyra's life had been a great joke and every unearned punishment was a new punchline. Her life, nothing more than that.

And then her anger burned alive once again and her stomach went tight. The anxiety pulled and ripped at her insides like a great serrated blade. Her blood became a furnace and she didn't care.

"You know what?" She hissed, her voice like venom, her back still to him. "I think I've changed my mind."

Almost instantaneously, Vyra abruptly turned and whipped out her sword with a "shing" sound. She was across the small room, where she had spent so much of her childhood, in two powerful bounds. The sword flew through the air with a blur. This time she didn't hesitate.

The man that was her father wouldn't say anything to her again. Wouldn't laugh at her again. Wouldn't laugh at anything again.

The suns had now retreated behind the mountains and the room was gloomy. The newly created patterns of red sprayed on the walls and floor could barely be seen in the dim light. She stood there in silence for a full minute before leaving the ruined home. She forced herself not to look back even as she brushed away fresh tears from her eyes.