Of Ash & Linen

The noise of the camp reached Ava in her shallow sleep and coaxed her into awareness. She opened her eyes and found the night sky still dark between the tree branches. She gingerly pulled her head forward as her neck protested. She had fallen asleep with her head back against the wooden post.

It felt like she had barely slept. Her body ached everywhere. She blinked several times as the noises around her sank in, shouting and yelling. When her vision cleared she saw fire everywhere.

Shaken from the last remnants of her drowsiness, Ava sought Otis, who hadn’t moved from his spot on the ground, and then Martis. He was still tied to his post beside her but was urgently working at his restraints, sweating from the exertion and the heat of the flames. The tent next to them was on fire, and the blaze was spreading closer to Martis every minute.

“Martis!” Ava screamed.

He spared her a glance for only a moment before he returned to his task. He was scraping the ropes against his post so vigorously that the cords were beginning to fray.

“What’s happening?” Ava yelled above the barrage of noises coming from all around them. The whole camp was in an uproar, tents on fire and horses galloping away riderless.

Martis let out a roar as the flames reached his wrist, and Ava screamed. A moment later he flung his arms free and lunged away from the post, which was to be the fire’s next victim. He patted the end of one of his sleeves to put out a small flame that had caught him before he got away.

“Are you hurt?” Ava asked, still overcome with confusion and fear.

“I’ve been better, ma’ lady, but I’ve also been worse,” Martis let out a nervous chuckle as he inspected his hands. Ava couldn’t see any major burns from where she sat, but she could see where his wrist has been rubbed raw from the ropes. He lowered his hands and moved quickly behind her. Letting out a string of curses, he struggled to untie her ropes. Eventually they gave way, and Ava felt the coil of anxiety that had been tightening within her release with them. With a rush of relief, she stood and tested out her stiff legs.

Immediately she stumbled over to Otis and clumsily knelt at his side as her legs gave way. Before she could run, she would need to flex her blood back into circulation. She assumed their plan was to escape into the woods during the chaos of the fire.

“Otis,” Ava shook him gently. Once again, he gave no response. She tried again, harder this time. “Otis! We must go, wake up!” The anxiety began to grow in her again. She was afraid the Deimos would catch them before she could get him moving.

Martis leaned down next to her and grabbed Otis’s wrist, concentrating for a moment. When his eyes met Ava’s, there was nothing but regret and sadness in them.

Ava looked at Otis, and gingerly reached out a hand to touch his face. Cold. He wasn’t sleeping. He was dead.

She began to crumble.

Martis grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and dragged her away.

“No!” she screamed and twisted herself free of his grasp. She crawled back toward Otis, overcome with the kind of grief that is irrationally magnified because it has been tainted by guilt.

Martis grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her atop his shoulder.

“We haveta’ go, lady, before we miss our chance,” his voice was strained as he carried her away. “This distraction will only last so long.”

“We can’t just leave him here!” Ava couldn’t bring herself to care about the Deimos in that moment. She didn’t think she could bear the weight of any more guilt and leaving Otis here to burn in enemy hands seemed so awful. Her father would call it dishonorable. She simply thought it was wrong.

She kicked and punched, but Martis, broad and strong as a tree, didn’t seem to notice as he carried her through the forest, weaving through tents and dodging fallen Deimos men and women. The sight of the Deimos bodies on the ground didn’t make sense to Ava.

Martis’s shoulder jammed into her stomach as he jumped over the ropes of a tent, and the breath was forced from her. She gasped as he set her down behind the tent. She fell to the ground and forced herself to breathe. Martis crouched beside her, peering around the edge of the tent. She heard shouting and the clash of weapons.

“What’s happening? Why is the camp on fire?” Ava asked, realizing how naïve she’d been. Of course, she would think the camp would conveniently catch on fire right when she needed an escape.

“The Deimos are under attack,” Martis told her.

“Is it the army?” she crawled to Martis’s side to see what he saw around the tent.

“Which army?” He asked, looking at her as if she were a child. “The news of our attack wouldn’t have made it back to Cincia yet. Yer father an’ yer uncle don’t even know yer missin’. The Erdenic king wouldn’t be expectin’ ye ’till tomorrow. Who do ye think has come to rescue ye, lady?”

Ava felt her cheeks heat. She looked away from Martis and back to the men she saw fighting throughout the camp.

There were the Deimos, disheveled but armed with their usual ferocity. Their numbers had dwindled substantially. They appeared to have been taken by surprise, judging by their various states of undress. The few remaining were no match for their attackers, who sped in on horseback and swiped at them with gleaming swords, and then sped away again into the trees and shadows before the Deimos could strike.

Three men on horseback surrounded a group of Deimos, who were at the disadvantage of fighting on foot, some of them barefoot. They wove in and out of the battle deftly taking out the red-eyed men and women one at a time. The horsemen never struck at the same time. Two would draw the fire of the Deimos arrows, deflecting with shields, while the third man went in for the kill. It was like a beautifully choreographed dance of death.

“We’ve got to go before the fightin’ is over. If we stay here, we’ll get swallowed up in the battle, an’ who knows what will be left of us when it’s over. We’ll make our way into the forest an’ find our direction once we’re clear of all these bastards,” Martis grabbed Ava and looked her directly in the eye. “Are ye ready, ma’ lady?”

Ava’s mouth was dry, so she nodded her head in reply.

Martis remained in a crouch as he moved to the other side of the tent and glanced around. He looked back at Ava and waved his hand, signaling her to follow. Ava obeyed, following Martis’s example and staying low to the ground. She heard a yell and a horrible grunt from the other side of the tent but didn’t stop to look. All of her attention was on Martis’s broad back and keeping up with him. He had suddenly become her lifeline.

He came to a stop several times throughout their trek, kneeling behind a tent or leaning on a tree for a moment, checking that their path was clear. Once, a Deimos man cut across their path while they were hidden behind a tree. The man crossed not ten feet away. He was sprinting and cursing, driven by fear. He had no time to notice Martis and Ava crouched in the shadows. The sound of hooves drove him away. A moment later, a man on horseback burst onto the path, charging after the Deimos. Ava heard his death screams. She didn’t look. She had learned by now not to look. Martis dragged her onward, deeper into the forest.

They had cleared the edged of the camp now, and Ava began to grasp at threads of hope. She had remained on Martis’s trail the whole time, him keeping her safely behind her. When she found herself running beside him she knew something was wrong. He stopped abruptly and grabbed her arm to pull her to stop. She stumbled and grabbed his sleeve to keep from falling. They were in the middle of a clearing. With no cover, Ava immediately felt exposed.

“This way,” Martis said between his heavy breaths. He dragged Ava to the left, aiming for the closest trees at the edge of the clearing. That was when she heard the footsteps.

Her breaths were so labored at this point that she was sure her lungs would burst, but she pushed forward after Martis. Fear proved to be a great motivator. She strained to hear more, but her breathing had become too loud in her ears. She focused instead on the trees before her.

Shouts rang out behind her, and she knew they had been spotted.

“Quickly, Lady!” Martis hissed at her right before an arrow flew past them and landed inches deep in a tree to Ava’s right. They had made it out of the clearing but not soon enough. The Deimos were after them.

She pushed her legs even harder, trying to keep pace with Martis. She had been carrying her skirts in a messy bundle in her arms, and she felt the cumbersome mass slowing her down. Another arrow flew past, landing somewhere in the shadows of the forest.

Martis stopped so suddenly this time that Ava slammed into his back. She fell to the ground landing hard on her right shoulder.

When she looked up Martis was locked in a battle with a red-eyed man. Martis pushed the man away from him and crouched in a fighting stance, ready to take the man on. The man swiped at Martis with a knife, and he dodged the blade, grabbing the man’s wrist in the process. Ava shuffled back from the fighting until her back pressed against a tree.

In a flash, the blade disappeared from the man’s hand. She saw a flicker of steel as Martis, now wielding he knife, twisted the red-eyed man’s arm behind him, then cut his throat with his own blade. He turned to her just as an arrow hit him in the shoulder. He grunted and fell to a knee with a grimace.

Ava gasped and ran to him. She grabbed his uninjured shoulder and hoisted him into a standing position.

“I’m alright,” his voice strained as he told her.

“I’ll get it out later,” the words rushed out of her as another arrow flew past them. “We have to go!”

She could hear the pleading in her voice, and so could Martis because he followed with no objection. They made it no more than three steps before she heard the hooves. The Deimos were nearly upon them, and now the horse-men were on their trail as well.

Suddenly, Martis ripped his arm from her grasp and bellowed. She stumbled a few more feet before turning to see him wrestle another Deimos to the ground and finish him with the knife. Ava let out a small scream this time. Each time she saw a man die she felt her soul become increasingly brittle. Eventually it would fragment.

“Martis!” Ava screamed and reached for him, begging him to come to her. They had to keep running. The hoof beats grew louder and the shouts of the Deimos were upon them. Martis let out a wild bellow as three more red-eyed men burst from the trees, running straight for him. Two of them lunged at him viscous snarls, while the third hastily changed his target and fired an arrow in Ava’s direction. It sped past her right ear so closely that she could hear it’s whisper as it sliced the air.

“Go!” Martis shouted between throwing one man to the ground and dodging the slash of the other’s blade.

“I can’t,” Ava yelled back, grabbing the tree behind her, feeling utterly trapped. She couldn’t leave him. She couldn’t lose another. A sob ripped its way through her throat as she saw the archer notch another arrow. She was frozen with fear, wide eyed and stupid.

A flash of silver, a blink, and a knife suddenly protruded from the archer’s chest. He lowered his bow and stared at the knife, his red eyes filled with as much shock as Ava’s.

“Go now! Run!” Martis roared again. Ava saw him wresting the last Deimos with his bare hands. He had thrown his only weapon into the chest of the archer to save Ava. The other man he had been fighting lay prone on the ground, run through with a sword.

“Run!” This time, Ava obeyed. She would not let Martis’s efforts go to waste. He was fighting to save her and himself, and she was standing there doing nothing.

“You’ll find me?” she screamed the question to him, her voice laced with uncertainty as she pushed away from the tree.

He landed a punch to his attacker’s jaw and glanced at her. He nodded, and Ava searched his eyes for any trace of a lie. She had to believe him, or she wouldn’t go.

An arrow thudded into the tree she had just left and another red-eyed man ran into view.

“I’ll find ye!” Martis hastily said between gritted teeth as he faced off against the Deimos. “Now go, damn it!”

She went.

If she stayed she’d only distract him. She’d already cost him a knife. She gathered her skirts and ran away from her last remaining lifeline. He wouldn’t die, he couldn’t. He would defeat those last two Deimos, and then he’d catch up to her. They would have no pursuers left and they’d have a real chance of making it. She only had to keep running.