Prologue
A short gasp left Jolenta’s mouth as she crashed onto the hard ground, a shock wave running up her legs and threatening her balance.
No, now is not the time to fall!
She silently cursed herself within her mind, while also talking a moment to regain her footing and breath. Shouts sounded from the woods behind her and she took off again, running as fast as her two legs could carry her. Her long ebony hair fanned out with the wind brought from her chase. Twisting and turning through the air, getting caught in the branches of trees that loomed overhead, it was just being a general nuisance to her at the present time.
Her feet ached and she felt sharp jabs of pain shoot through them each time her blister-ridden toes made contact with the harsh leather of her boots. She had been running for the past three days, trying to get to Camelot as fast as possible, while also evading Lord Eadric’s men. They had been after her for the past seventy-six hours, refusing to give up as they pursued her. This was her third day without rest; and it was beginning to show as she continued to misplace her feet and trip over things that normally wouldn’t have troubled her.
One of those times was right now, as she stumbled over the toe of her boot, crashing down through the brush and landing flat on the cold ground that had previously been underfoot. Jolenta groaned and placed her small hands beneath her shoulders, struggling to push herself up from the ground and failing the first time. With massive effort she finally succeeded at getting back up to her feet, only to be rewarded with one of Eadric’s men standing before her, a crossbow in his hands.
She glared at the large man before her, hating his whole entire being, straight from the heels of his feet to the tips of sandy blond hair. The man smiled devilishly at her, showing two rows of cavity-ridden chipped teeth. She raised a hand at him, and with her palms facing outward whispered, “Folge min bebod.” The last thing the poor man saw were Jolenta’s violet eyes flashing silver before the spell sent him spiraling into the afterlife.
She cringed slightly at the sight of the dead man, but kept running, as she sensed that she was near her final destination. She glanced quickly over her shoulder, the crashes behind her seeming to get closer as time went on, and each second they were gaining on her. Jolenta’s legs burned with the effort, but she pushed harder, pushing her legs faster than they had been going before. Her breathing was coming out rough and ragged, getting caught in her dry lungs and tangled in her chapped lips. A strong cramp had already established in her side, but it flared in a roar of pain as the movement and effort jostled her body. A low groan came out from her mouth as she tried to ignore it, but she could tell that her pace was slipping as she started up a short incline and could see a man behind her.
She uttered the killing spell once more and pointed at the man, diminishing his life in a single movement. She faced forward as she ran, desperate to move fast and avoid the trees and bushes that presented themselves.
As she reached the top of the hill, she stopped and looked down into the small clearing below; within it, there were two young men, one with light blond hair and in chain mail, the other wearing normal peasant clothes with a black cap of hair that rested messily atop two large ears. Jolenta was about to call out to them, gain their attention and ask for help, but before she could say anything, something hit her in the back, hard, and sent her falling over the edge. She felt herself falling through the air, arms waving like a madwoman, grasping at imaginary ledges and branches. Then, with a thud, she hit the cold, hard packed ground and the world was lost to her.
