Vengeance Upturned

Vengeance Upturned - Chapter 2

“What’s going on?” she asked out loud while lowering herself back to the ground, landing softly on her leather clad feet. Her hands trembled at the thought of not wielding her tachi again. What if they raided the town? What if they took it…

She strode to the door and hoped to see a more welcoming sight on the other side. Fortune, though, wasn’t benevolent tonight, for the crimson splatter on the wall across her cell gave way to the sight below as the stench of gore overwhelmed her senses.  A body of a man, clothed in a guard’s uniform, lay on the floor not too far away from her confinement. With his shirt shredded, Henrietta noticed the man’s chest torn open in deep clawing trenches and bits of ripped flesh scattered about; his meaty cavern missing a heart.

“What in the name of demon’s hairless balls?”

If she hadn’t seen her fair share of gruesome sights, she would have probably heaved right then.

“How in damnation am I supposed to get out?” Henrietta exasperated once she saw the keys sprawled on the ground next to the corpse.

Her heart palpitated, the pulse thundering in her ears, while she grazed her teeth over the scar on her upper lip, Is anyone even alive in the town? Henrietta paced the floor of her small cell, the headache now receding to the back of her mind.

She reached for her thick braid and felt her way through her black woven strands. Soon, her fingers brushed the leather sheath of a small blade hidden in her hair. And a nail. You never knew when you might need a nail; a very versatile accessory. Distressing her braid, Henrietta extracted one of the knives.

The spoon that lay on the floor in a corner where she kicked it to, she picked up and bent at the middle. Next, she took the thin tweed blanket from the cot. Using the blade from her braid, she cut off two long strips and tied them together into a makeshift rope.  She knotted one end around the neck of the spoon, and thus created a hook.

She could have tried and picked the lock but was afraid of jamming it. She knew her way around locks but only simple ones, these though, were harder to pick, and she didn’t have necessary tools with her, beside the nail. She opted to first try to fetch the keys.

Improvised tool ready, Henrietta walked over to the door and pushed the tied spoon through the opening, which then slid down scraping against the door, and dangled in the air. Her arms followed and she swung the spoon on the makeshift rope, trying to reach the keys so she could hook them on.

It took her a couple, or to be honest more than a couple, of frustrating tries, until she finally hooked the keys and pulled them carefully towards her door. As she hauled the keys up and they scratched against the wood, Henrietta held her breath, for if she dropped them now, she didn’t think she would have the nerves to try and catch them again.

The keys appeared in her sight, and she quickly squeezed her hand through the opening again, grabbing them tightly. Once in her grasp, Henrietta’s sigh of relief penetrated the deathly silence.

With not a moment wasted, she slid the key into the lock and the corners of her lips twitched upward when it clicked softly. She cracked the door and surveyed her surroundings. Once certain no threat lay in ambush, she escaped the confines of her cell in haste. Clutching the palm-sized knife in her hand, she prowled over the cold corpse and through the halls in search of a room that held her belongings. An uneasy silence followed her like a haunting ghost as she passed two more dead men. Feet moving stealthily, she only heard the quickened heartbeat pulsing in her ears.

Yet another door she opened without a squeak. Henrietta peeked inside, and perused the contents of the chamber; two desks paired up with chairs and papers strewn about sat to her right, and on the opposite side, seven chests lined up against the wall.  A familiar longbow rested on one of the four-foot wide trunks. Henrietta’s stomach fluttered in anticipation, her weapons so close. Seeing nobody, alive nor dead, she ventured forth stalking without making a sound.

Henrietta set the knife aside as she crouched in front of the chest, dark leather pants stretching over her taut muscles. Her fingers whispered over the longbow, made of lemon wood and hickory, until she grasped the leather grip. The tightness in her muscles lessened as she let out a deep sigh. My heart… She laid a gentle kiss to the inscribing on the bow, For Henry, before putting it down within arm’s reach. Henrietta then lifted the lid and her eyes settled on the rest of her belongings. She took her backpack out and riffled through its contents, spare clothes, towel, soap, journal, pens, pouch… hmm… few coins missing, waterskin, herbs, comb… Most of her belongings accounted for.

Eager to be reunited with her sword, Henrietta dismissed the backpack to the side. She plucked out her quiver filled with new, unused arrows as below it laid her most prized possession. My soul… the family tachi. Hilt wrapped in strands of golden silk, she picked it up reverently and unsheathed from its wooden scabbard covered in black leather. She never could stop admiring the black blade of it; curved, slender, single-edged ending in a keen point, always seeming to absorb the surrounding light.

A small smile of relief flitted across Henrietta’s features. Her muscles uncoiling, she felt complete. The tachi brought her close to her deceased family, memories of their faces, smiles, devotion and affection vivid in her clouded mind.

After sheathing the tachi, Henrietta retrieved her armor out of the chest. She donned the dark brown leather tunic over her aubergine male shirt, child sized so it fit. The six inch wide, blackened deerskin belt, she strapped around her waist and fastened the twin buckles. Next, she strapped on the tachi by its scabbard’s hangers on her left hip, edge down. She picked up her leather bracers, the intricate design of a phoenix in flight marred by cuts and years of use, and laced them on with practiced ease. After sliding her fingers into the cut-off gloves, Henrietta intertwined them and cracked her bruised knuckles. She did the same with her neck as she turned her head to the side and up. With her armor on and faithful tachi at her side, she rolled her shoulders back, stood taller and tilted her chin up. The self-confidence, power and belief in her skills buzzed through her body to the tips of her fingers.

Henrietta walked over to a wall where she had noticed a small mirror hanging. Standing on her toes so she could see into the reflective surface, being only five foot and two inches, she noted that the damage to her face wasn’t too bad. Her fingers hovered over the tender, swollen, red bruise on her left cheekbone, but she couldn’t resist the urge to poke at it. Yup… that was a good one. On the right side of her face, a scrape followed her jawline. Meh!  She shrugged. The rest of her face was only smudged with some dirt and her slightly slanted dark eyes looked back at her bright and alert although red-rimmed from the lack of decent sleep. Time to get out of here!

She quickly re-braided her hair, while tucking back in the two small sheathed blades and the nail, careful as to not cut her ebony tendrils. After pulling one arrow out of it case, she strapped the quiver to the side of her backpack and slung them both over her shoulders. She took up her bow and nocked the arrow. One last time, Henrietta surveyed the room. Nothing forgotten, she left.

On her way out, she checked the bodies for coins, they weren’t going to use them and every one of them was precious to her. All the corpses in the building had the same wounds with their hearts missing and blood decorating the surroundings in a dark ruby frenzy.

Once she reached the door that would lead her outside, Henrietta took a deep soothing breath before she squared her shoulders and pushed them open with her foot, her bow up, poised to let an arrow fly.