A Tale of Revenge Ch. 02

Anna spent the next week experimenting with exactly how much power the god had granted her. She hadn't actually asked for anything in particular and the gifts he bestowed seemed rather generalized. Before she set out again she decided to see exactly what she was capable of.

The morning after their interaction she had woken up, still face down on the kitchen floor, naked and shivering in the early morning chill. That day she discovered what he had meant by 'the knowledge of war.' She took her bow, which had found its way back to the burnt out house as well, and set out to the wood. She had never been an expert archer, just good enough to get by with small and medium game with some regularity.

But now the bow felt oddly comfortable in her hand, as if it was nothing more than an extension of her limb. When she drew an arrow it came back so fluidly she nearly gasped at her own movement. Each arrow hit the target's center as she practiced shooting from above, below, while running, even upside-down. Anna could feel her muscles moving with the foreign energy. While the acts looked natural, she was detached from the ability as though it wasn't her mind that was truly directing her body.

After several hours of practicing with anything she could find, including makeshift swords from tree limbs and her father's daggers, Anna began to realize these powers were not freely used. Soon, a deep exhaustion set in, one that couldn't be explained by her physical exertions. She gathered what she could from the town and set up camp in the woods nearby, refusing to sleep again in what she considered to be a mass graveyard of everyone she had ever known.

As the week went on, she learned that the more she practiced, the longer it took for the weariness to set in, as though her body was adjusting to this newest pull on her energy. She hadn't had the opportunity to change anyone's fate or to cloud the eyes of others, but she had some success using her 'clear sight' to track the men she was to set after in her mind. When she focused on her targets, she could feel their presence more than see it. Her mind somehow located them in space so she would simply know where they were when she looked for them. It was an odd sensation, but a useful one.

Exerting her will on her surroundings seemed to be the most malleable and useful gift but it also required the greatest amount of concentration and energy, something she found out very quickly when she tried to use it to finish burying the bodies of her neighbors. Eventually she had succeeded, but it meant remaining for a few days longer than she had initially intended. She also found that a sick feeling overtook her as she modified states of nature. She resolved to do that as little as possible.

The god showed no sign of himself throughout the week she spent testing herself and burying the dead. Sometimes she felt as if she was being watched but when she looked there was no one there. She tried to keep herself from hoping that this would somehow reflect what she should expect from now on, that somehow she would be spared his attentions indefinitely. In some ways the anxiety of not knowing when he would appear and what he would demand of her was its own burden. But it would do her no good to worry herself on such matters, and besides there was a heavier presence in her mind.

Throughout the week she was plagued with nightmares, finding herself locked in a burning room, hearing the cries of her family as they perished, feeling frozen, unable to help them. Each night, no matter how exhausted she was, she found herself battered and tortured by the same dreams that had followed her since the day her village was ransacked.

But now there was a new element: during each dream, as she reached a fever pitch of fear and horror, she would feel strong arms wrap around her. She would turn away from the screams and sights and bury herself in the large chest of the man who held her. Anna never dared to look up at his face, scared to acknowledge that it was the god. But she took comfort in his presence nonetheless, and would fall back into peaceful sleep. When she awoke, she would wonder if it was the god exerting his influence and invading her sleeping mind or if it were she who was seeking out and manifesting the only comfort anyone had ever offered her.

After a week of retraining her body and gathering what supplies she could from the village, Anna decided it was time to leave. The men were splintering more and more as they moved away from her. Every day she spent standing still they got further away. She packed up her camp, taking only what she could carry easily. She turned away from her village and set off a second time to find her quarry, this time with more than just the desperate suicidal grief of the first time. She felt a difference in her stride, one that didn't come from her new abilities. She knew now that she was not just seeking to end her own pain. This was about justice, and revenge, though she spent much of her time trying to suppress her more violent urges.

This time the route she took led her past the home of the village healer who had lived in the outskirts of the wooded area. The woman had been somewhat reclusive, practicing strange rituals that scared the proper villagers—whispers of 'witch' were never far behind her silver hair when she did emerge, though none of them balked at her touch when they needed healing.

Anna slowed as she crossed the broken doorway. She had already buried the woman's body. The old healer's solitary lifestyle had not spared her from the bandits. Something was nagging her, drawing her into the house. Anna set her bag down at the door and crossed into the tiny room. The place was ransacked; containers and contents smashed and strewn on the floor. Anything of worth had either been trampled or taken. Anna scanned the room, wondering what had brought her here. She closed her eyes and reached into her mind, feeling for her powers of sight. When she opened them again, the objects in the room seemed to shimmer under her gaze. She spied a brighter glow coming from beneath the shredded mattress that had been hacked to death by some frustrated pillager. Anna pushed the straw and cloth away and pried the floorboard up with her fingers revealing a small space. A dusty parcel glowed brightly in Anna's vision and she brought it out into the daylight.

Inside the grey cloth was a small leather bound book. Anna was surprised, this was by far the most expensive thing in the house, maybe the village. The villagers were lucky to have parchment to write on and only a few could even read. Anna's grandfather had taught her at a young age, carving letters in the dirt. Her grandmother had produced a school book she had saved from her youth when schools had been available everywhere, but it was not bound in rich red leather as this one was. Anna hadn't had much practice reading over the years but her powers of sight helped her to make the words out more quickly than she would have been able to otherwise.

It was a book of magic and rituals, ones Anna had never heard of. Most of the people of her village, and the ones she encountered, worshipped only the most powerful gods and even then only when absolutely necessary. Sometimes there would be a merchant or a gypsy tribe that had a particular patron god but most of the secondary gods were unimportant in the daily lives of lay people. Gods as a rule were things of legends and myths, they lived in their own realm somewhere far across the sea, and were almost never seen or heard from. Only powerful families swore themselves or their children to the service of a god in order to garner favor. And fewer still had actual contact with deities. Peasants never expected any consideration and thus spent little time on rituals.

Anna's mind turned over the thought of her ancestor, one she had never heard of, and how she had managed to attract the attention of this particular god. It seemed unlikely that the daughter of a peasant farmer could trade her life for powers. Then again, Anna reminded herself, she had done just that. She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. She had avoided thinking about this so far; she would not let her mind turn to pondering her new status as the property of a god.

She turned back to the book, trying to find what was calling to her. She turned its pages, finding explanations of spells, discussions of something called convergences, and portraits of various magical runes, until one page in particular seemed to glow brighter. She read a short description of the ritual to summon the god Leonid, a powerful god of black magic. The description of the god was sadly lacking more details about his powers and intentions but Anna realized there was something familiar in the description of the god. Use cobalt glass utensils, a tribute to the god's appearance and a sign of respect.

Anna's breath caught. Leonid, his name, her owner had a name. She remembered with searing clarity the feeling of his eyes on hers, the deep pools of blue that lit into her soul. Leonid. She snapped the book closed. The shimmering light of her power went out and the house was just a heap once more. She grasped the book in her hand, allowing a brief moment of overwhelming sadness for the loss of her freedom before pushing it back and away. There was a strange feeling of darkness inside of her, not one she cared to delve into too closely. Now was not the time for self-pity. Now was the time to move. Anna took the book and packed it away in her bag, setting off again.

It took less than a week for her to reach the nearest town. She felt the pull of one of the men who had been in her village, lurking in the unsavory neighborhood. She decided to get a room at an inn near where she felt his presence. The dusty bar held most of the usual characters. Anna had been to this town several times; her father had even walked her through this part, wanting her to understand why she could never come back alone. Back then she had been scared; now she felt powerful.

"I need a room for the night," she said to the barkeep, who had been watching her since she walked in. She knew her appearance, an innocent looking country girl in a dress, was out of place here. At first she hadn't cared. Now she was beginning to realize that calling attention to herself might not be a good idea. The barkeep leered at her with his broken teeth.

"I can offer ye a bed. Ask anyone here, they'd be happy to take 'un as you home tonight." He licked his lips. Anna suppressed a gag. Slowly, so as not to startle to him, she reached into her cloak and withdrew one of her father's daggers. She twisted it slowly between her fingers, allowing for it to gather speed until it was a blur in her hand and then released it, letting it sink into the wood of the bar near where the barkeeps dirty hand was resting.

"I'd prefer to sleep alone, thank you," she said, trying not to smirk too much at his stricken face as she jerked the blade out of the countertop. "With hospitality such as you offer I imagine you have some vacancies, do you not?"

The barman stammered an apology and quickly arranged for her room upstairs. The other patrons at the bar all seemed suddenly immune to her presence, keeping their eyes anywhere but her form. Anna noted a few twitches as she walked by with some satisfaction. The day was growing late and she had been walking for a long time. After locking her room, she fell deeply asleep on the first bed she had slept in since hers had been burnt to ash.

Anna sat up with a gasp. She had been in the throes of another dream, hearing the screams of her sister and the calls of the men who had cheered each other on as they took turns with her. She had been waiting, hoping for the arms of the god to close around her, to take her away from the scene, but instead her vision had become blindingly bright as if looking at the sun. Now awake, she realized her sight was calling her, telling her the man she had come to find was near.

Anna scrambled out of bed, disoriented in the darkness. Night had long since fallen, but unlike at home, where it was complete, the city kept much of the dark out. She peered out of her window. Guessing by the lack of people in the street it was getting late. Anna slipped on her cloak, checking that her daggers were all in place. Instead of going out through the tavern downstairs, which still sounded well occupied, she decided it best to leave through her window. She climbed out to the low roof and slipped down a supporting beam, landing softly in the street below. She silently cursed her long skirts, realizing that though her body could handle the impediment, the garment was proving more of a hassle than it was worth.

Her sight led her through the thinning crowds, onto deserted back streets. Finally a light flared in a dark alley where Anna could just make out the sounds of a muffled struggle. She quickly slipped to the entrance of the narrow alley and glanced in. The lights of the city didn't illuminate this place, but she saw two dark forms grappling with each other. He was here. She watched as the dark form suddenly slammed into the wall and she could hear masculine grunts of pain as well as the sound of a woman whimpering.

"You little slag," the male voice hissed in the darkness. "I offered to pay. As you can see, I didn' hav'ta." Anna heard the sound of clothing ripping. The woman's muffled whimpers became more urgent. For a moment Anna was back in the woods, outside her village, frozen in fear as she watched the smoke rise above the trees. Her muscles wouldn't move as her mind seized up.

The sounds of distress in the alley were getting more frantic as the ripping continued. "Quit yer squirming," the man grunted. "All you bitches are the same. Screamin' when you are just servin' yer purpose."

Something about the man's mention of other women snapped Anna out of her daze. Her sister, mother and friends had been subjected to this man and his comrades. Now she was idling while he did it again. Anna pushed off the wall and made her way to the mouth of the alley, kicking some forgotten garbage on her way to draw his attention.

The figures stopped moving, both growing quiet. She knew she was silhouetted by the dim light behind her, so he could make her out easily. Her sight allowed her to make out the details in the dark that no human would be able to see normally. The woman was desperate—wide frightened eyes stared at her while half her face was obscured by his large dirty hand clamped over her mouth. His other hand was still inside her ripped bodice. The man was rough looking and though unfamiliar to Anna, her power told her he had been in her village inflicting himself on the women there.

"The lady seems to be protesting your advances. Perhaps you should find someone more likely to accept your penny," Anna said, trying to keep her voice steady. Being confronted with the realities of what the women in her village had endured was raising a burning anger in her chest.

The man smiled at her with dirty teeth. "You offerin' young'n? Cause there be plenty of me to go 'round. Once I finish with this slut I'll be pleased to oblige ye." With that his hand moved, pinching the woman's nipple painfully and making her shriek into his hand. "I prefer a bit of a fight anyway. Be on yer way whore. I dun' take so kindly to yer interruption." He turned his attention back to his struggling captive.

"Oh I wasn't offering," Anna said, stepping into the alley. "I was only giving you a chance to back away from her, which you'd best do now, so I don't have to be more forceful with you."

The man turned to her with a snarl, pulling his hand out of the woman's dress and reaching for a short knife in his belt. "Be gone, slag, no cunt threatens me and lives. Be grateful I got a bett'r prize than ye to play wit."

Anna's eyes shone in the darkness with her power, causing the man to pause for a moment. Her voice was a poisonous hiss in his ears, "Oh this will be your last night with such prizes at your disposal. Take your hand off her before I relieve you of your manhood."

The man's other hand released the woman but he stepped between her and Anna, drawing another short knife from his belt and facing her with both fists glinting with metal. "Let's have this ovr wit then," he growled "I'm nun' so picky that I can't have ye once yer heart's stopped."

The man lunged at her in the darkness, thinking her unarmed. Anna quickly spun to the side, allowing his body to pass her, and raking his arm with her own dagger. The man turned again, cursing and spitting as he lunged again. This time Anna dodged later, allowing herself time to grab his arm and twist his wrist painfully, so that he dropped his knife and fell to his knees. He swept the other knife up towards her face, blindly trying to reach her and escape her iron grip on his limb. She blocked his swipe with her own knife, letting the metal clang together loudly and jarring his good arm. She released him and let him stagger back into the better-lit street next to the alley. She was vaguely aware of the sounds of the woman scurrying further away from them down the dead end.

Anna focused on the man who was still intent on her. For a moment she worried he might run from her as he was obviously outmatched. She stepped into the light and he saw her face for the first time. She saw the realization of her youth and the subsequent fury at being bested by a mere girl. She gave him a wicked smile, aggravating his temper further. He threw himself at her once more. She didn't step aside, instead grabbed his knife wielding hand away from his attack, again gripping his wrist and causing the weapon to fall from his grip. At the same moment she landed a solid blow to the center of his chest with her knife hilt, driving the wind from him and sending his sputtering back to the wall behind him.

He collapsed to his knees, gasping and holding his chest. She stalked slowly over to him, grabbed his hair and pulled his head back so he stared straight into her face. None of the pulsing fury within her chest had diminished during their pathetically short tumble. She still needed satisfaction.

"You should heed the words of strangers more carefully," she hissed at him. "Unwilling women are not a playground for your cock."

The man's face shifted, almost as if he recognized her. His breath had recovered enough for him to wheeze his response, a crooked smirk on his lips. "I suppose this is about the slag from the village a fortnight ago. Yer sister? Hardly unwillin'. Begged for each of us." Anna's vision flashed white as she saw this man's face from her sister's perspective, rocking above her and grinning down at her tears. The anger in her chest seemed to burst through her and she screamed at his broken smile.

It was as if in a dream but, at the same moment, all too real. The feeling of her knife slicing through living flesh reverberated up her arm with sickening clarity, though she couldn't recall her intention to strike him. His sputtering as his heart beat around the perforating metal seemed to be muffled by the roaring of her anger in her ears. The feeling of the hot blood splashing from his chest onto her hand felt like it was searing her flesh and yet she could barely feel the hair still clenched in her other fist. In a second he was still at her feet.

Reason returned. Anna stepped back, releasing his dead weight from her fist and knife, backing out of the pool of blood that had gathered at her feet. She stared down at her hand which was now drenched in blood that seemed almost black in the dim light of the small street. She felt suddenly deaf; the sounds of the world were completely blocked out. Her eyes moved of their own accord over to the body of the man she had just killed. An icy feeling trickled down her back and spread throughout her veins. She stared at his crumpled corpse, unsure suddenly. Her anger was gone, replaced by a void that felt much more frightening than her grief ever had.