KGWrites

Lillian

Rebellion Hideout, Winter District, Fallen Kingdom of Aldiron

Lillian leaned her head on her hand, stifling a yawn. Her shoulders felt like rocks, weighing her down. Junice’s training had her practicing with her dagger, but he also insisted on strength training, push ups and pull ups and carrying heavy weights around. That dagger will only hit as hard as the arms swinging it, he said.

Lillian had wanted to argue, to tell him that a dagger would do damage no matter where she put it. But he was right, she knew that. Iona’s training had left her with toned, muscular arms and broad shoulders. And while Alyx’s training hadn’t left her looking the same, the muscles that were beneath her wiry frame were taut and lithe. Lillian knew that to fight like them, she had to train like them. So, Junice was right.

And so, her days had become a blur of running resistance messages, training with Junice and collapsing into exhausted sleep before repeating it all again the next day.

It was catching up on her, she could feel it setting into her bones and muscles. But she couldn’t stop yet.

It wasn’t over yet.

“Lillian?” Haster’s voice cut into her mind with sudden clarity, making her realise she had been staring at the same wooden boards of the wall for the last while. She shook her head.

“Sorry, what?” She asked, turning her head back to him and sitting up straighter.

Haster looked at her and pursed his lips, his deep steel-grey eyes narrowing slightly.

“Just bringing you back to the room. Are you alright?” He asked, his deep, gravel tone tinged with concern.

“Just a little tired is all. I’m okay.” Lillian reassured him swiftly. Then she quickly changed the topic. “What do you need done?”

Haster looked uneasy, scratching his hand through his beard. Silver hairs were beginning to push through the dark of it, and a few more were scattered around his short hair. He sighed.

“You know that you don’t need to be on every run and mission we do Lillian? You are our youngest runner after all.” He began.

“I’m your best runner.” Lillian bristled, heat rising in her cheeks. A few heads turned to look at her, more than a few of them were her fellow runners. Some looked annoyed, others hurt. Lillian ignored them, she couldn’t help what was clearly true.

“An extremely successful runner.” Haster continued, folding his arms across his chest, undeterred by Lillian’s outburst. “The best know when its time to take a break, to recover.”

Lillian scowled at him, crossing her arms in a mirror of him. There’s still ways I can help, if I take a break, I’m not helping.

Haster held her gaze for a while before taking a long, deep sigh and turning to carry on talking.

“The weaponry we need is stored within the old barracks of the guard right here in the Winter District. It’s not enough to challenge the enemy outright, but armour, weapons and, more importantly, details of the Winter District’s layout and potential hideouts, will be inside.”

Murmurs spread across the gathered rebels. Lillian leaned back in her chair, looking from them to Haster. If it was true, if they really were capable of breaking into the militia barracks, and of stealing the weaponry and armour from them, then perhaps this would be the spark that properly lit the rebellion’s fire.

“There’s a lot that needs done before this can begin though. For starters, moving anything we steal will be difficult and could expose rebel hideouts if we’re caught. So, we need full co-operation from everyone. Which is why I need our runners to take messages back to their hideouts, informing them of this plan. Once they all give their assent, then we will begin preparing the strike.”

Nodding spread through the crowd in a ripple as everyone agreed to Haster’s plan. Lillian herself sat up straight and responded in kind. Already she was mentally plotting her fastest route back to the Pearl, to deliver the message to Marius. Haster smiled and nodded a dismissal to the gathered agents. They all began to file out, Lillian slinking from her chair to follow when Haster called out.

“Cobalt! Stay a minute, I have more to say to you.”

Lillian stopped in her tracks, trying hard to hide the self-satisfied smile from the other rebels now looking at her. Of course, he knows I’m the best runner, so he’ll give me extra information to take to Marius. Something he wouldn’t trust to any of the others.

As the last of them left the room, Lillian turned and walked back towards Haster as he leaned down, staring at the crudely drawn map on the table before him. Silence hung in the air between them.

“Yes?” She asked, impatience propelling her forwards. Better to get Haster’s extra information and get moving. Getting to Marius would take time and this information was too important to be delivered late.

“This isn’t a game.” Haster began, his voice low and holding a hint of sternness to it. Lillian blinked in surprise, confused by what he meant. She was about to ask what he was talking about when he continued.

“If things go wrong, if any of us make a mistake here. We die. Or worse.” Haster lifted his head to look at her, the grey of his eyes now as hard as cast iron. Lillian took a step back without meaning to, a flash of fear shooting through her. “You understand that, yes?”

Lillian found her voice wouldn’t come to her, still reeling in shock from Haster’s statement. Or worse? What’s worse than dying? So, she simply nodded.

“Good. Because I need you to listen very carefully to me.” Haster replied, his voice still stern. “When you get back to Marius, when you deliver this message, I want you to stay out of the rest of this attack. No more messages, no more running. Not until it’s over and you have recovered.”

Lillian stared at him, open-mouthed.

“But… but you need me!” She objected, her voice louder than she had intended.

“We do. But not for this. You are one of the most successful runners we’ve had, the resistance has been saved by your actions, your tenacity. But tired people make mistakes, and you have been burning the candle at both ends for a long time now.” Haster straightened and placed a hand gently on her shoulder.

“I can keep fighting! Until it’s over!” Lillian argued. Haster sighed, his gaze lowering as he shook his head.

“It won’t be over Lillian, not for a long time yet. No-one can fight that long without stopping, without resting. Not even someone as stubborn as you.”

Lillian glared at him. He didn’t understand. No-one did. They all just saw the same little girl, scared and useless.

That wasn’t who she was. Not anymore. She wasn’t useless. And she certainly wasn’t scared.

“The others still get to help. Why is it just me? That’s not fair!” Fumed Lillian, crossing her arms.

“The others haven’t done as much as you have. You’ve been working every single day you could since the battle. They’ve taken breaks.” Haster reasoned.

“So, they’re not as good as I am!” Lillian replied, the logic clear to her.

“So, they know their limits!” Haster countered, his voice suddenly loud and harsh. Lillian took a step back. “They know their limits and they know that pushing past them will just get people hurt. Get them hurt.”

Lillian sighed. It was clear Haster wouldn’t listen. He wouldn’t understand. But back at the bathhouse, Junice and Marius would. They wouldn’t keep her out of the fight. She shrugged off his hand, her gaze raising to meet Haster’s, stubborn defiance clear on her face.

“Can I go now?”

Haster let out a long, exasperated exhale. But he gave a half nod. It wasn’t an admission of defeat though, merely a prolonging of this argument. Still, Lillian would be glad to get away from him.

Just as she was turning though, the chatter of raised voices began to echo from beyond the door of the room they were in. Followed by a pained cry, the sound of someone injured. Voices and movement rose in concern.

As one, Lillian and Haster turned to the door. Haster quickly lifted his sword from where it was leaning against the wall and nodded to her. A silent command to remain behind him.

Their earlier argument forgotten, Lillian fell into place behind him, one hand finding the hilt of her dagger beneath her cloak. Together, they reached the door and Haster reached out to open it.

Emerging into the space beyond, a small room which had once been the front room of a shop, Lillian and Haster found chaos beyond.

Around twenty rebels were within the space, gathered around a group of three that had entered the room. All three were barely out of their teenage years and streaked with blood and dirt. The two on either side supported the third in between them. Her head was limply hanging forwards on her neck and Lillian could make out the silhouettes of two arrows sticking out from her back.

Haster swore quietly under his breath and hurried forwards, pushing through the crowd as they guided the girl onto the former counter of the shop, laying her carefully onto her side so they didn’t disturb the arrows.

Lillian moved too, though she hurried to the side of the room, where there were a few blankets and sheets for those who slept within the hideout. Grabbing one, she hauled it over to the counter just as Haster crouched down in front of the girl, exchanging a few quiet words with her.

As she got close enough, Lillian bundled up the blanket and passed it to Haster, who laid it beneath the girl’s head like a pillow. She didn’t speak, only silently sobbed, her eyes squeezed shut against the pain. Haster sighed deeply, pulling his gaze away from the wounded girl and stood to face her friends.

“What happened?” He asked, his voice carrying across the little space and drawing everyone into the conversation.

“They were waiting for us, near the old aqueduct. Militia and Accursed. They rained arrows all around us, we didn’t even know they were there.” One of them hurriedly explained, his expression haunted as he never moved his gaze from his wounded friend.

Haster swore under his breath and turned away, scratching at his beard.

“You got lucky to be away from the others, to avoid the worst of it. How many did we lose?” He said eventually, turning back.

The young man looked confused as he looked back at Haster, shaking his head slightly.

“No-one sir. It was… it was just us.” He replied.

Haster straightened at this, a confused look crossing his face. Then he turned away, talking quietly to himself as he thought.

“You were the only ones in the ambush… but they didn’t kill you. They had the drop, it should have been easy. But all they did was wound you, let you flee…” He trailed off as his eyes widened and he quickly whipped his head around to the door. Lillian’s blood ran cold as she quickly understood what had panicked him.

Let you lead them here.

“Weapons! Now!” Haster yelled out.

But he was too late.

As people stalled, trying to understand the order he’d just given them, the door and front windows to the shop exploded inwards in a shower of shattered wood fragments and glass shards.

The horrific carrion call of Accursed warriors’ bloodthirsty laughter echoed across the space as the dark armoured monsters dashed into the space. The first few rebels fell instantly, overwhelmed by blades before they could even get near their own weapons, disappearing beneath a wave of splashing scarlet red.

Lillian fell backwards, her hand finding and drawing her dagger. But the blade felt impossibly small in the face of the monsters now flooding in. The icy grip of fear closed around her chest and she scrambled back, seeking the shadows at the shop’s rear.

Haster screamed out a battle cry and threw himself forwards, drawing his sword and engaging with the enemy. But within a second he was lost from Lillian’s view, disappearing into the chaos of the fight.

Lillian looked around, searching for a place to run, to escape, to hide. Anything. The young woman pierced by the arrows screamed out in horror as an Accursed landed above her on the table, straddling her and pinning her down. Seemingly purely out of cruelty, the monster reached down and twisted one of the arrows in her back, causing her to writhe and scream in pain. A sound it answered with a cackle, before it brought the war axe in its hand down on her face with enough force that the weapon stuck fast into the table.

Lillian screamed too, terror gripping her heart, weighing her limbs like iron.

The Accursed must have heard her, as its head whipped upwards, the eyeless helmet focussing on her and the sharpened teeth spreading in a lipless, salivating grin. It started forwards, dragging the axe from the girl’s skull with a sick crunching sound.

But it didn’t even leave the table before Haster appeared, slicing downwards with his sword and hacking off the Accursed’s arm at the elbow. Not wasting a second he twisted his sword into a thrust that drove deep into the creature’s chest, punching through the plate of its armour. Quickly, Haster’s head turned to her.

“Cobalt! Get out of here! Now! Warn the others!” He yelled out. Lillian’s head snapped up to him, the world around her clearing.

The others. Marius and Junice and everyone else. Yes! They have to be warned.

She would be of no use to anyone here in the fight. But she was still the resistance’s best runner. There was a window in the room she and Haster had been in, raised up from the floor. It led into the alley behind the shop. She could get away.

Looking up to Haster, Lillian nodded firmly. As she stood, he returned the nod.

Right as a member of Trident’s militia landed a punch to his jaw that sent him stumbling backwards, again disappearing into the chaotic mass of bodies and blood.

Lillian couldn’t waste time worrying about him right now though. Haster could handle himself in a fight. She had a job to do, one the entire resistance was relying on her for.

Dashing across the space, Lillian reached the door in only a few steps. Thanking every God of The Village that it was still open, she dived through. The window was there, out of reach normally, but Lillian could kick off the wall and jump to reach it. She just needed to get it open first.

She didn’t have time to look for a latch though. The enemy could follow her any second. So she dashed to the table that Haster had been looking at the map on. Next to the parchment was a quill and inkwell. She had to hope that would be heavy enough. But this was still the Winter District, the glass wouldn’t be that good.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Lillian hurled the inkwell through the air. She was already moving to follow it when she heard the satisfying smash of breaking glass. Pulling the hood of her cloak up to protect her head, Lillian followed.

Jumping up, Lillian placed one foot on the wall and kicked downwards, propelling herself further. Stretching out with her hands, her fingertips closed around the frame of the window. Tiny shards of glass scratched and cut at her palms as she held tight and hauled herself upwards.

Then, freedom.

First her head, then shoulders emerged from the window, hanging loose above the muddy ground of the alley below.

Just as she was pulling herself through though, a vice like grip closed around her right ankle, almost hauling her back inside. She cried out in surprise and was answered by a horrific, maddened laugh.

No.

An Accursed had hold of her leg and was going to pull her back inside.

Or maybe it’ll just kill me here.

She got her answer as a series of sharp jabs tore into the soft flesh of her calf. Horror gripped her heart and she screamed as she realised what the feeling was.

The sharp teeth. It bit me. It’s going to eat me!

Darkness descended on Lillian’s mind, and she screamed again. But then another voice entered her mind, louder than the terrified little girl that struggled in the monster’s grip.

Fight back! You’re not beaten, not until you’re already dead.

Alyx’s voice. And with it, Alyx’s fury.

Not looking back, Lillian redoubled her grip on the wall, pushing forwards with her hands and twisting to jam her shoulders in the small gap, plugging it from pulling her back in. And then she kicked out with her other leg, focussing just above the pain of the biting monster.

Her boot connected with something hard, and she felt the bite slacken somewhat.

So, she kicked again.

And again.

And again.

With every kick, a scream built in her throat until she was bellowing out her rage at the world around her. There were no words in that scream, just primal emotions. Rage, fear, pain, all gathered up together into one guttural sound.

The fourth kick came, and this time she felt the creature’s bite leave her body, a few of its teeth breaking as it struggled to hold on. Its grip left her ankle, and she heaved forwards with her arms, tumbling through the window and slamming down onto the cold ground with a thud.

Rolling and sucking air through her teeth in a pained hiss, Lillian hugged her injured leg to her chest. As the immediate pain dulled, she looked down at the wound. It was bloody and had soaked the bottom of her pant leg in dark blood. But it wasn’t actively pouring blood, and it didn’t look deep, just an ugly mess.

Wincing, Lillian rose to her feet, finding herself able to stand on the wound without excessive pain. It still hurt, but she could move. Which was all she needed.

And then the hand clamped across her mouth from behind and she felt the cold press of a blade at her side. Lillian expected herself to freeze as her assailant stepped close behind her, but some part of the rage that Alyx had just imparted to her must have remained.

In a single smooth motion, Lillian spun the dagger in her left hand into a reverse grip. It must have been hidden beneath her cloak, seeing as her attacker hadn’t done anything about it. Then she stabbed it backwards, catching the enemy in the soft flesh of their side.

They cried out in pain and their grip slackened, the blade falling away from her side.

Lillian wasted no time, spinning in their grip and leaping at them.

She collided with the figure, a leather armour clad warrior, one of Trident’s militia. Their face was hidden beneath a leather helmet, and they wore an iron reinforced club on their belt. Blood was already soaking their side from Lillian’s first stab as she drove them both into the mud, landing atop them.

Wasting no time, Lillian lifted her dagger and stabbed downwards. It sliced across her opponent’s forearm as they raised it to shield themselves before she plunged it down into their chest. Blood, hot and sticky, fountained outwards.

Another primal scream came bursting from Lillian as she stabbed downwards repeatedly, driving the blade deep into the warrior over and over. Her hands soaked in their blood which splashed across her clothing and face.

She didn’t care. She needed to live. This was how she did that.

The soldier beneath her stilled, breathing in quick shallow breaths that came as a drowning wet wheeze. Lillian remained on their chest, panting heavily, sweat and blood soaking her, sticking her hair to her face.

Slowly the figure tried to lift their head, to look at her. At some point the strap holding their helmet in place had been cut in her assault, causing it to fall away as they did so.

And making Lillian’s blood freeze in her veins in horror.

“Elias?”

His face was soaked in blood that came bubbling and foaming from his lips as he choked. Already the skin beneath was pale, bloodless. But it was definitely the friend Lillian had believed dead, taken in an ambush by the enemy.

There was something wrong though. More than the myriad wounds Lillian had dealt him.

Elias eyes, usually vibrant, sun kissed brown, were pale and dull. The whites of his eyes were crimson with a spiderweb of burst blood vessels. His nose was odd, it was too thin and the skin of it looked even more dead than the rest of his now pale skin. The laughter lines she remembered so clearly on his cheeks seemed stretched, permanently etched into his face.

He looked half Accursed.

And yet the pain and fear that crossed his face was so very human. Worse still, was the recognition that she saw grow in his eyes as he looked at her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but a barely audible gurgle was all that emerged, accompanied by a river of frothing blood that spilled down his chin.

“No. No, no, no.” Lillian repeated the word, scrambling off of Elias’ chest and pulling his head into her lap. Tears came pouring from her eyes, running down her cheeks and dropping onto Elias’ blood-soaked face as she bent over him, pressing her forehead to his.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Her voice was hoarse, barely a whisper and broken by sobs as she rocked him in her arms. Elias’ hand raised and gripped onto her upper arm, squeezing tight. Holding on like a sailor holds their lifeline in a storm. She could feel his muscles trembling as his lifeblood slipped away, soaking into her hands. Her clothes. Her soul.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, hugging her dying friend to her. A friend that, even corrupted by some evil magic, had remembered her. And she had killed him. She wept and begged and apologised. To Elias, to the Gods, to anyone that would listen.

Slowly, Elias’ breathing began to get softer and weaker. And slowly his hand lifted from her arm and pointed down the alleyway. He looked up at her and mouthed a single word.

Run.

And then he was gone. His head lulled back, and his arm dropped, his entire body went limp in her arms.

Lillian stared at him, her lip quivering uncontrollably as she swallowed back endless sobs. If she broke now, she wasn’t sure that she would ever stop.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered to him, one final time, raising her hand to close his eyes and then carefully laying him down in the dirt.

Struggling to her feet, Lillian limped hurriedly down the alleyway, away from Elias. She didn’t look back, she didn’t need to. She knew with absolute certainty that she’d remember everything from that little space for the rest of her life. She dared not look at her blood-soaked dagger as she placed it back in its sheathe.

She didn’t stop, moving through the alleyways in a long, snaking path that took her far into the Winter District. She needed to get away from the hideout before she circled back towards Autumn and the bathhouse. She needed to wrap her leg, to wait until things calmed down. They’d be watching the roads right now.

But she knew exactly where to go.

It took her nearly half an hour of limping along and dodging the enemy before she reached the tiny square of shanty houses she was looking for. The Kindling, it had been called, when names like that had mattered.

Ducking into the square, Lillian crossed it quickly and dropped down to a small rickety door that led into a basement space beneath one of the houses.

It opened into a dark, damp space. It was long abandoned, with moth eaten curtains hanging as the only separation between three sagging beds made of wooden pallets, now partially rotten with damp.

It was cold, and hard, and unwelcoming.

And it had been home.

The home of Alyx and James before their recruitment to the palace, the home they had brought Lillian into when they’d promised to keep her safe.

Closing the door behind her, Lillian moved to the pallet that had once been her bed. It was still the most intact, protected by a treated bearskin blanket she had personally haggled for. And she collapsed onto it, pain and fear and sorrow spilling from her in a wave of horrid sobs that soon became little more than a scream of horror and loss.