Strings - Camp NaNoWriMo 2017

«Forbidden - 2»

I seethed, trying to control the spark of rebellion within me. It would be no use to let it out now. "I don't know," I replied in a measured tome. "But-" I continued, instinctively bracing myself for an impact. "I do know that it flares up in times of danger. Paired with adrenaline, in some cases."

"Huh," said the man, evidently pleased with the way things were moving along. "What about now?"

"I'm not in danger," I replied calmly, keeping my voice low and quiet, calling as little attention to myself as possible.

"Oh?" said the man with the hints of a smile. "But what if you were?" With almost an imperceptible flick of his fingers, the guard on my right slipped towards me, wrapping his arm around my neck in a chokehold. With his other hand he held a blade up to my chin.

"It's not going to work," I said, my voice unwavering. "Too predictable. It's been done." All the while I eyed the knife warily. "You think you're the first one to come up with a strategy like this? Think again. Where do you think my scars came from?"

"You think you can address me like that, girl?" the man growled. I stared back, matching the ice in his gaze. He sat back in his seat, crossing his legs, evidently irritated. "So you have any better ideas, in that case?" he huffed.

"You tell me," I said lightly, my features unchanging. "I can't help plan my own surprise."

The man thought for a while. I went back to staring at the marble.

"Very well then," he finally said airily. "Throw her out the window."

I kept my composure as the two guards grabbed my arms and led me to the glass. "That's been done too," I pointed out. "I-" Suddenly a flash of light went off in my mind, wiping everything for a split second. My eyes rolled back and everything went dark as I slumped in the arms of my captors. As if from underwater, I heard the man stand up in a flurry, cursing under his breath. I clutched my temples as the ringing in my ears grew louder and my shaking form was released, thrown onto the floor.

Then suddenly, it was gone. I could see again. The static in my mind was clear.

I looked around. As expected. It was as if everyone had a second, blurrier version of them standing in front of them, moving at the same pace, yet showing a different image.

I blinked a few times to adjust. I knew enough to realize that the next few seconds would be crucial, likely the only cushion between life and death. Suddenly the blur-glass shattered. Without a sound the shards scattered across the floor, coating the marble. I scrambled backwards, covering myself as the normal glass followed, breaking in the exact same way.

I whirled around, watching the shadow-figures all around me leap up, running for exits, towards weapons. Soon after, everyone reacted as well. One guard covered the man as he fled the room, and the other grabbed me, scooping up my small form. The pain in my head intensified and I winced, the attack currently the least of my concerns. I had lived through worse. Suddenly the shadow-glass in front of us exploded, raining down on the blurred figure of he guard who held me. I squirmed in his arms, tumbling to the ground. Something swung in through the window and collided with the back of the guard's head. I frantically scrambled away on all fours.

It took me a few moments to realize that the object had actually been a person, clad in all black save for the three diagonal streaks of crimson paint across his face. I couldn't tear my eyes away. He dove in and dove out with professional precision. This wasn't an ordinary rebel attack. This had been planned, thought out. An organization of some sort, perhaps.

I took a few ragged breaths as I ducked into a hallway, trying to stay upright. I was nearly completely worn out from hunger, the sharp, frequent pains in my head, and general exhaustion. I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to ten. When I opened then, I was ready.

I dashed through the unfamiliar surroundings, trying to avoid being seen, which wasn't hard, given that most people that would normally be searching for me were dashing to assist in the other wing, arming themselves.

Another bend, another long hall. It seemed as if I were stuck in an endless labyrinth. Finally I managed to stumble across some sort of armory. It was almost completely looted, but I managed to scavenge a few knives and one large mace. I casted that aside, grabbing the daggers and exiting.

I had only taken a few more bounds before I hit a stone wall, dotted with small, glassless windows along its length. I sighed in relief. A lookout post. I ran to it, pressing myself against the stone as I looked over the edge. What I saw nearly made me want to throw up.

I was far up. Really far up. To be exact, I was in some sort of tower, at least fifteen stories from the ground. My eyes widened as I scrambled to duck back inside, sliding down the wall's surface into a seated position.

"Great," I muttered to myself. "This is perfect." I resumed my trek, albeit at a slower pace as I tried to assure myself. Just don't think about it. You're perfectly safe. You wouldn't even have noticed the height if you hadn't looked over the edge. Perhaps I was just overreacting, but something about even the knowledge that I was up high enough to die if I ever fell really unnerved me.

I located the stairs soon after and began my hurried descent. The steps were thin and steep, way too much so for my liking. I kept my eyes glued to where I placed my feet.

I had just made it back onto flat ground when the blurred image of a person clad in black stepped in front of me, blocking my path. I backtracked a few steps, dashing into an open door, but it was no use. Whoever this person was, they hadn't just stumbled upon me by accident. They stopped, slowing to a walk. The shadow-like form came into the room, stopping right in front of me. I took out one of my knives as the real person caught up.

To my surprise, they did nothing. I tensed, waiting for an opening.

"Mae? Mae Androthein?" they finally said. I started, nearly dropping my weapon.

"That's me," I replied before I even realized what I was doing. "Why?"

"My name is Amelie." The girl took off the cloth covering her face, letting it drape across her neck. She had copper-colored hair, tied in a loose side braid, and hazel eyes, alight with fiery determination. Her skin was fair, dotted with freckles, and bore the mark of the three red stripes. The mark of the rebels.

"You will come with me."