A Court of Illyrian Hearts

Chapter One

I peak around the corner of the rock I'm leaning against, trying to keep my breathing even. I had been in this mountain for five days if my calculations were correct. As part of the Illyrian Blood Rite I have to make it to the top of the Mountain, Ramiel, within one week, scale its side by hand, and touch the onyx Monolith at the top to pass.

Deciding that it's safe to move, I slowly sneak around the corner and walk, keeping my hand along the wall of mountain so as not to lose my path or go the wrong way.

These past five days had been the hardest of my life. We are forced to enter the mountain without any food, water, power or weapons, nothing but the clothes on our backs. The Illyrians with wings have them bound and tied. My wings were taken, long ago. I could still feel the cold sharp blade of the knife that had cut them off my back. They had not given me anything for the pain. I was held down, my screams muffled by a rough hand covering my mouth.

I shudder at the memory.

I keep making my way through the mountain, my hand never leaving the wall.

I had encountered seven males so far and got away from each with only minor cuts and bruises, but they still hurt like hell. I managed to knock out two of them and had taken what I could from their pockets. One had food I had no idea where he got, and didn't want to know if it was animal meat or one far worse to be eating. The other somehow found a water canteen which he had emptied. I had met a little stream coming out of the mountain three days ago and had drank until I could drink no more, making sure I was full of it not knowing when I would find again, then I filled the canteen to the brim. I savoured it as best I could, drinking only when I absolutely had to.

Two more days. That was all the time I had left. Two days to reach the top of Ramiel and touch the monolith. Then it would all be over, and I would finally complete my training and become part of the Illyrian army.

Some part of me wandered if it had been too easy, I mean sure I was so hungry I felt as if I would pass out, and keeping myself going required a great deal of perseverance and mental strength, but I hadn't encountered any of the monsters that lived in the mountain, and I hadn't been beaten up or killed by one of the other Illyrians taking part in the Rite. I only hoped my luck would last long enough to make it to the top.

The pathway turned and I found myself in a small but spacious cave within the mountain.

Up. I had to be going up.

My eyes had long since adjusted to the dimness and as I looked around, I saw a tall figure standing about five feet from me. My breath caught in my throat. I tried to slip away quietly without being noticed, but it was too late.
The figure slowly approached me.

'Who are you?' a rough voice spoke startling me.

When I don't reply he walks closer leaving only three feet between us.

'Who are you?' louder this time.

I lose my composure, whipping around back the way I came and running, but his hard-callused hands catch me by the shoulders and pull me back towards him. He pauses as my body slammed against his, as if he only just realised, that I am a woman. His grip tightened and I feel his hot breath on my neck as he says, 'Where do you think you're going?'

He pulls me to the back of the cave.

I move fast, elbowing him in the gut. He let go of me leaning forward with a hand pressed to his side. Before I could run, he swung his left arm at my head. I duck, dodging it, and go for his legs, grabbing his left knee and forcing it to bend, causing him to fall flat against the hard ground. In a flash I'm on top of him and punch his abdomen as hard as I can, my knuckles stinging. He lets out a groan in pain, and I go in for another punch, but his fist collides with my jaw and in my moment of shock he rolls over on top of me and draws a sharp stone from his Illyrian leathers slicing down my right arm. I scream, and try to roll back on top of him, but he's too heavy. I kick my legs fiercely, and manage to land one right in between his legs, giving me enough time to free my left arm and punch him in the throat; knocking the air out of him. His breathing is ragged as he tries to get air into his body. I grab his throat with both hands squeezing hard. He tries to get them off, but I don't let go. After a moment of struggling with my hands, he seems to remember the weapon he still held and angled it at my stomach, pressing hard, cutting into my skin, slicing from one side to the other in one slow, agonizing motion. I scream in pain, tears falling from my eyes, but only squeeze tighter, my nails digging into his skin. Thick, hot blood pooled around my lower back. I grit my teeth, ignoring the pain. I squeezed as hard as I could, and he dropped the makeshift weapon on the ground beside me. I let go with one of my hands, grabbed the stone, pushed off the ground and slammed his body hard against the ground and stabbed him right in the heart. Blood streamed over my hands. With one final, agonized grunt, he died.