Sorceress

Chapter 9:

"FILTH," he yells at me, striking me in the stomach. I stumble backwards, pain blistering in my torso. Fury sparks along my veins- what right does he have to call me names? He has Una. He has a shoulder on which to lay his precious head. His brother murdered out late chief. We should be moving forwards, but if he wants a fight, I am prepared to represent the dead of my tribe. As he starts to strike another blow, I mentally grasp a handful of wind, and opening my eyes, I throw it at him. Keiran sprawls backwards, stuttering, "You are no match for me." As he throws a knife at me, I jump backwards, and grab it off of the floor, and I throw it with all the strength that I can muster. The knife embeds in Kieran's shoulder, and he collapses, panting. Una kicks me, and I hit the ground, my head making a horrible crunching sound against the icy stone. Directing my full rage at this stupid girl, I strike her in the shins, sending her next to her shocked brother. Snarling, Una picks up her sword, and throws one in my direction. I clumsily grasp the handle,

"Fight me, sorceress," she taunts me. Swinging her sword, she thrusts forward, attempting to strike me in the chest. I swiftly bring my sword glancing up against her own. Spitting in her face, I whirl our swords around, and hear a satisfying crunch in her shoulder as her sword is dragged into a painful position for her. Hissing, she wildly swings her sword towards me, I jump back, startled. I can feel my back against icy cold stone, trapped by Una's arm. My energy is beginning to fade, and I cannot connect with the magick, as my head starts to throb, and my throat goes dry. "Where's your fight gone?" Una laughs, her sword descending down on me, scratching Una's arm, I stumble away, desperately grabbing another hand full of air, and sloppily throwing it at her. "You'll have to do better than that," she dives away. Suddenly, we are both grabbed from behind, me by Dale, Una by Allil. Kieran is roughly pulled to his feet by some other woman.

Allil places her hands over my forehead, sighs, and says,

"You need to dress that cut with this moss," I place the moss against my head, fixing it with a strip of bark. We are hidden by the trees just before The Ravine. After being told that we stop fighting, or we do not fight against the Vikings in this battle, we were led to where the rest of the runaway slaves were preparing for battle. Once finishing my long awaited bowl of rabbit broth, I felt some return of my energy. Night has descended on us, and the only light as far as the eyes can see is that of the Vikings across from us. Allil suddenly stands up and addresses her people,

"TODAY WILL BE THE DAY WE AVENGE OUR PROUDLY FALLEN! TODAY WE GET REVENGE! TODAY WE SHOW THE VIKINGS THAT WE ARE NOT EASILY SUPPRESSED!" We all roar in acknowledgement of how much we have been wronged. I scramble up to the top of a tree along with the rest of the sorcerers and sorceresses. There are about twenty of us. As torches are lit along our edge of The Ravine, those of us wielding magic, start calling to the trees, and in response they stretch their roots out across the ravine, forming bridges. Below, the first of the runaway slaves rush across to the shocked Vikings. Jumping down from the tree, I land in a crouch, and grab a torch. Loosening my sword from my belt, I rush across the ravine. I run a further fifteen metres until I reach where the Vikings are camped. A sword rushes down in front of me, jumping backwards, I swing my own weapon round to glance against the Viking one. Muttering, I ask the flames on my torch to jump onto my assailant. The sword rushing towards me suddenly drops away as guttural screams start up in front of me. Staggering backwards, I realise that my energy has suddenly taken a severe beating. Dale rushes past me, yelling,

"IT WILL TAKE EXPERIENCE TO GAIN STAMINA, FOR THE MEANTIME, FOCUS ON FIGHTING WITH YOUR SWORD AND KNIVES," nodding, I furiously push myself forwards, determined to get my revenge. I see fires blazing everywhere, and swords glancing silver in the flickering light. Swords appear in front of me, and I push through them, plunging through the dense mass of bodies, body after body becomes lifeless as our desperation to be avenged speeding our reactions. To the left of me, Una is on the ground, her sword two metres from her shuddering body. She glares at the Viking bearing down on her, jumping forwards, I throw a knife, and am painfully reminded of that fateful night with Brea. Una jumps up, grabs her sword, and turns to me with big eyes,

"Thank you,"