Destiny Enslaved (editing)

Part 6

Without any further interference, we came to a door of tarnished metal and wood- it was built for practicality rather than beauty. Bjorn looked at me with a question, that he couldn't convey, on his mind. I nodded, slowly, the jewels silent as the anticipation crawled over my body. I couldn't look at Bjorn, I couldn't take my eyes from the door, couldn't wait to see the truly precious things which lay beyond.

Bjorn gave a breathless laugh as he eyed me. it was at this I gave him a side glance and saw he was turning back. It was a curious thing to do. I was worried he was suddenly leaving me to be burned for helping. But as soon as he had vanished from sight he was back again. this time holding a key. He had searched the guard assuming he had one and had been right... he was getting to be more and more formidable in every way.

He carefully placed the small palm sized key into the lock. He looked at me raising his eyebrows in annoyance. I was completely unsure as to why he was becoming angry, till I realised I was still stood at his side ready to bust into the room and find its treasures. When the realisation hit I slapped my forehead, almost comically, and retreated to stand behind the battle ready man. My action seemed to have soothed the anger caused by my initial obtuse nature as Bjorn rocked back on his left foot with a small smile. As he rocked back he turned the key.

once the sound of the latch undoing began echoing around us his foot came down on the doors with the force of a smith's hammer. It was a thunderous boom that filled the air and sent shock waves through my body. I shrank behind Bjorn as I heard the aggressive shouts of more men of the Umayyad empire who had sworn on their eternal souls to defend this place.

It would be a hard won fight. Bjorn must have sensed my unease as he placed a hand on my arm to stay me. I look at his back again; strong and broad. He must have carried many souls on his back. I had no doubt he would fight beyond reason to see his people survive. He moved off from me without a look back. I felt exposed and to my shame quickly hid behind a door. From my vantage point, I could see there were 4 men who stood in this court opposing the marauder whom I found I was rooting for once more.

My heart began its beat of anxiety as the guards began to circle.

The taste of copper coated my tongue as I bit my lip to suppress the need to shout.

Bjorn kept himself loose, facing forward waiting for them to make the first move, his arm slithered in the air as he made his sword twirl and dance.

Then it began.

The first was a man behind who was armed with two daggers. He moved to strike with the metal fangs. My heart stopped as I saw the silver dance in near darkness. But Bjorn was far more experienced than I could know. His sword ended its dance as it's tip dove under his left arm, his body twisting with it, the clean metal washed in the blood of another man as it disappeared into his stomach. With sharp swiftness the blade almost bounced from the, now most certainly dead, man's abdomen to join his unsheathed dagger in deflecting the oncoming attack of another.

From there the melee became a frenzied jumble screams from the guards and the metal they bared. Swords and daggers dived and ducked looking for weak spots. The guards tried to avoid each other- fearing they would end up as collateral. But Bjorn had no restraint. Sword, arm, hilt, foot, knee- all were used to debilitate his enemy before he went in for the kill. As I watched the scene I became entranced with the precise and improvised movements. The sword was a part of him as much as the rest of his body. The talon that made you search for his black wings. And they were there. In the shadows the bristled and flapped. They writhed under the dancing light and mingling darkness of the city. I could feel the chilling wind of death they brought. Were all his people like this?

My fingers had dug into the door. I imagined I could feel the grooves they left as the tension in my body built. But they were still bound and I felt the choking fear that I was defenceless. I relaxed my hands completely. Stretching them- trying to make them thin. Luckily my flexing when I was first tied had meant the rope was now loose. Bjorn pushed another to the floor then the next fell. Each had a different gruesome wound. I watched the exhilaration which filled the barbarians face. Blood flowed freely as the oasis onto the cold marble floor. It was horrifying in its ruthlessness. And beautiful in its freedom. Free from morals, from civility from anything that wasn't the simple and basic need to survive.

He was to his last opponent now. They circled until Bjorn's back was again fully to me. I had wide eyes focused on his whipping braid- stupidly thinking of its connotations of innocence. When I glimpsed the guard's eyes flicker to the floor. It was only by chance that I caught it but as my own eyes darted to the same direction I felt the bile tumble in my stomach like the eddies of the sea. The man whom I was sure had died first, who had been cut so cleanly, began to rise achingly slowly. He was weak yet, in his left hand, a dagger ascended as he supported his weight with the other. He was going to bring it down on Bjorn at the opportune moment. He was going to kill my only way out of this life that wasn't in a shroud.

I had to act quickly. Panic rose and only my biting down on the rope, twisting it off of my hands, stopped me from screaming.

I couldn't scream because the other man waited to give the death blow when Bjorn was distracted.

I took the only action that was available to me.

I pushed myself from behind the door, gathering my dress in one hand, I ran towards the man on the ground. The fight between Bjorn and what was supposed to be the last guard had grown intense. A large sabre struggled against Bjorn's Carolingian sword. Both men had locked eyes and I couldn't tell who would prevail. But I was about to make my bed.

I made it to the wounded and obviously dying guard. He drew back his hand and then brought it down. It was an involuntary reaction. Instinct. And muscle memory. My palm came down hard on the crook of the man's elbow, pushing with as much force as my weight and strength could give. It gave way. With my other hand I took control of the dagger. my sudden pressured attack had weakened his grip. I dominated this weakness, twisting his wrist, I directed the blade toward him. in this motion I watched as his dagger buried into his neck. I stood over him a soft gurgle came from his open mouth as the blood bubbled up and spilt over his lips. I watched his eyes search mine for reason. Then they went out.

Behind me I was suddenly aware of the fight climaxing in a shriek of pain. Bjorn had swung his blade up into the gaurds groin. He would bleed out slowly from there. Bjorn knew it too and, with some mercy, he stabbed deep into the man's chest. But the man's eyes were filled with anger till the end.

With that done bjorn turned around finding me unexpectedly close. He raised his sword to press in on my veil and lift my chin. With suspiscion apparent in his features he drawled '' Hvorfor?'' as his eyes sized me up. Again I could only presume he asked me 'why?'. And though I thought about flailing about trying to mime out the rather heartless and complicated reason I couldn't really give that idea any credibility. He word probably kill me half way to stop my sorcere's dance.

Instead I went for simple and impacting. I locked eye's with bjorn and lead his to the dead guard at my feet. He lost oall individuality then. He was no longer one man working for a master- he was the whole empire- the whole fucking system of this world which had brought me here. I snarled, an audible growl slipping from parted lips, before I spat onto his corpse trailing a chain of venomous swears; '' dandet narm!! - jadh dodet bozde!!- kir lisidan !!- haram-zadaah!!'' I yelled it until my lungs burned with the strain and my body folded with past pain. Panting I looked back to Bjorn with heat behind my eyes. I rose chewing my lip as I prepared for the next bit. I knew my little outburst would not bbe enough to convince a clearly seasoned warrior, not of my loyalty exactly, more that I wasn't loyal to my captors. I stared knowing he couldn't see my expression. So I finally threw off the dirtied viel he had made me wear. Now revealed I let him take in my angry and apprehensive scowl. I grabbed the cuff of my sleeve and wrenched it up to my elbow. It tore some, as an indication I was pulling too hard. The sound seemed to fill the air as it marked a point of no return. I had exposed flesh on which they had carved their superstitions and hopes. It was tarted up with petty and seductive colours but, espescially after my rough treatment, you could see the reddening of the pale lines which roamed my sienna skin.