((Parts 2 and 3))
The duskwight finally loses his grip on the lance as the heavy wood of a practice blade cracks onto his knuckles. One of Chantrise’s lackies had come in from the side while she distracted him.. Evangeline had lost count of how many times they’d hit him, his dark skin cut and bleeding in places, blood dripping onto the sands.
Chantrise moves in, her perfect face marred by a line of blood dripping down from her brow. She’d been first of the four to be hit as they assaulted the Duskwight, and did not seem pleased by that fact. With a growl she knocks the lance from his weakened fingers, the padded tip of her own striking him in the chest, driving the air from his lungs. He stumbles, coughing, only for the Hyur to suddenly appear and drive a wooden cestus into his jaw.
The hyur was the most battered of all, his pale skin covered in bruises and cuts, but despite this his blow was powerful, almost sending the duskwight spinning around from the force. He staggers drunkenly, walking right into an overhead spinning strike from Chantrise’s lance. It smashes into his temple with a sickening crack, which echoes through the yard.
The battered teenager takes a few more mindless steps, then crashes into the dust, unmoving. Chantrise and her two remaining companions stand there, chests heaving. The fourth lies unmoving in the dust, a trickle of drool coming from his comatose mouth. Chantrise walks over and kicks the duskwight, her heel sinks into the man’s abdomen, yet there is no response, not even a groan.. “He’s done. One of you grab Elantiel.†She gestures at their comatose companion. “I’m getting a bath.â€
Evangeline tries to be invisible as she hides behind the water barrel, watching the two boys carry their friend out of the yard. The Duskwight however, remains motionless. She waits a few minutes after they leave, then heads to scamper out of the yard.
Then the duskwight groans, and Evangeline freezes.
No, she has to leave. What if they come back?
He hit Chantrise. She might even have a scar.
No one even talks back to Chantrise, certainly no one hits her.
If they knew she helped this man, she’d get it twice as bad next time.
Still…
Her hands clench at her breeches. That is what a coward would think, only of their own safety. She had to prove them wrong. She had to be brave.
Like him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The man was lighter than he looked, and she was able to drag him out of the sun and into the shade of an alcove.
Not knowing what else to do she wet a rag from the water barrel, wiping away his cuts and trickling a few cool droplets between his shattered lips. The man was a mess, his dark skin a patchwork of cuts and blossoming purple bruises. His breath was regular but ragged, could he have broken a rib?
She squeezes a few more drops into his mouth, and this time, he stirred. Rolling over, he gives a few hacking coughs, spitting a mixture of spit and blood into the sand. Then he notices the dark haired woman peering down at him. “Scuse me. I’m not supposed to spit in front of a lady, am I?†He chuckles softly at this, which quickly turns into a grimace of pain as he holds his ribs.
“It’s… it’s fine! How do you feel? I thought they were going to kill you! You… you didn’t have to do that you know. I didn’t need your help.â€
“Strange way to say ‘thank you’ miss.†He spits again, sitting up against the stone wall of the yard.
“I’m not thanking you!†Evangeline says in irritation, “Now the next time they see me, they’ll attack me for that too. These false accusations of my family’s cowardice are bad enough…†She furrows her brows, “Why are you laughing?â€
Indeed, the battered duskwight was holding his ribs and chuckling softly, “Miss, is that why you think they do it? Because they have reasons?†He gestures to his lance, “Get that for me, will you? My father will kill me if I lose it.â€
She walks over to grab the thing, needing two hands to lift it. How did the Duskwight and Chantrise make it look so easy? She presses the wooden pole into his hands, “Why then? Everyone has a reason.†For some reason this man pissed her off. “How about you let me know, if you’re so smart!â€
“Because miss.†He braces himself on the lance, using it like a cane as he takes his feet with a groan. “You let them.†He begins to stagger out of the training yard, leaving a small trail of blood. “Problems don’t go away by wishing.†His voice is wry, “Else we’d no need to deal with the drakes.â€
“Have a good day miss.†He rounds the corner as Evangeline stammers speechless, not even getting his name.
She sits in the yard silently for almost a bell, before taking her book and dusting it off. On the way out, she also takes one of the weighted wooden practice swords.
The next morning, and for every morning thereafter, she did not skip her training.
The duskwight finally loses his grip on the lance as the heavy wood of a practice blade cracks onto his knuckles. One of Chantrise’s lackies had come in from the side while she distracted him.. Evangeline had lost count of how many times they’d hit him, his dark skin cut and bleeding in places, blood dripping onto the sands.
Chantrise moves in, her perfect face marred by a line of blood dripping down from her brow. She’d been first of the four to be hit as they assaulted the Duskwight, and did not seem pleased by that fact. With a growl she knocks the lance from his weakened fingers, the padded tip of her own striking him in the chest, driving the air from his lungs. He stumbles, coughing, only for the Hyur to suddenly appear and drive a wooden cestus into his jaw.
The hyur was the most battered of all, his pale skin covered in bruises and cuts, but despite this his blow was powerful, almost sending the duskwight spinning around from the force. He staggers drunkenly, walking right into an overhead spinning strike from Chantrise’s lance. It smashes into his temple with a sickening crack, which echoes through the yard.
The battered teenager takes a few more mindless steps, then crashes into the dust, unmoving. Chantrise and her two remaining companions stand there, chests heaving. The fourth lies unmoving in the dust, a trickle of drool coming from his comatose mouth. Chantrise walks over and kicks the duskwight, her heel sinks into the man’s abdomen, yet there is no response, not even a groan.. “He’s done. One of you grab Elantiel.†She gestures at their comatose companion. “I’m getting a bath.â€
Evangeline tries to be invisible as she hides behind the water barrel, watching the two boys carry their friend out of the yard. The Duskwight however, remains motionless. She waits a few minutes after they leave, then heads to scamper out of the yard.
Then the duskwight groans, and Evangeline freezes.
No, she has to leave. What if they come back?
He hit Chantrise. She might even have a scar.
No one even talks back to Chantrise, certainly no one hits her.
If they knew she helped this man, she’d get it twice as bad next time.
Still…
Her hands clench at her breeches. That is what a coward would think, only of their own safety. She had to prove them wrong. She had to be brave.
Like him.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The man was lighter than he looked, and she was able to drag him out of the sun and into the shade of an alcove.
Not knowing what else to do she wet a rag from the water barrel, wiping away his cuts and trickling a few cool droplets between his shattered lips. The man was a mess, his dark skin a patchwork of cuts and blossoming purple bruises. His breath was regular but ragged, could he have broken a rib?
She squeezes a few more drops into his mouth, and this time, he stirred. Rolling over, he gives a few hacking coughs, spitting a mixture of spit and blood into the sand. Then he notices the dark haired woman peering down at him. “Scuse me. I’m not supposed to spit in front of a lady, am I?†He chuckles softly at this, which quickly turns into a grimace of pain as he holds his ribs.
“It’s… it’s fine! How do you feel? I thought they were going to kill you! You… you didn’t have to do that you know. I didn’t need your help.â€
“Strange way to say ‘thank you’ miss.†He spits again, sitting up against the stone wall of the yard.
“I’m not thanking you!†Evangeline says in irritation, “Now the next time they see me, they’ll attack me for that too. These false accusations of my family’s cowardice are bad enough…†She furrows her brows, “Why are you laughing?â€
Indeed, the battered duskwight was holding his ribs and chuckling softly, “Miss, is that why you think they do it? Because they have reasons?†He gestures to his lance, “Get that for me, will you? My father will kill me if I lose it.â€
She walks over to grab the thing, needing two hands to lift it. How did the Duskwight and Chantrise make it look so easy? She presses the wooden pole into his hands, “Why then? Everyone has a reason.†For some reason this man pissed her off. “How about you let me know, if you’re so smart!â€
“Because miss.†He braces himself on the lance, using it like a cane as he takes his feet with a groan. “You let them.†He begins to stagger out of the training yard, leaving a small trail of blood. “Problems don’t go away by wishing.†His voice is wry, “Else we’d no need to deal with the drakes.â€
“Have a good day miss.†He rounds the corner as Evangeline stammers speechless, not even getting his name.
She sits in the yard silently for almost a bell, before taking her book and dusting it off. On the way out, she also takes one of the weighted wooden practice swords.
The next morning, and for every morning thereafter, she did not skip her training.
![[Image: yr2A1Eo.png]](http://i.imgur.com/yr2A1Eo.png)
