Book 7, Chapter 10: A Storm Of Fury

Walking quickly down the hall, I realized I’d neglected to ask Tienseon for women to help.  Or tools.  Something to barricade that door with.  This place wouldn’t have weapons, not that these girls would know what to do with them, so that didn’t really matter.  And it bothered me that Tienseon didn’t seem concerned enough, which made me want to care much, much less.

“It makes sense, ma’am, that she’s your aunt.”

“What?”

“I beg your pardon.  It’s not my place.”

“Mest, yeah.  Ok, here’s the problem.”

“The soldiers about to break in here?”

“Not, uh, the one I’m referring to.  My aunt.”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Why aren’t my cousins working with her?  Presumably, they’re related.”

“Possibly different aunts, ma’am.”

“Yeah, yeah, ok, but why is my maternal family on different sides of the power struggle?”

“That’s a very good question, ma’am.”

“You really don’t have to call me ma’am or my lady all the time.  Trust me on this, it gets old.”  We’d reached the main hall’s entrance.  There was nothing to block the door with, especially one that slides sideways and has no frame.  The garden had lots of trees we could use, of course, but for our lack of saws, hammers, and nails.  It was infuriating, being no more than a trophy, and relying entirely on the emperor’s support.

“Ma’am.”

“Right.  Mestamir, wait.  A moment.”  We stopped.

She faced me.  The woman was larger, more heavily muscled, and not even remotely an issue for me were we to fight.  That was unimaginable months ago.  I’d be in awe of her back then.

And that made it all the more tragic that I’d rejected Loki’s memories.  His fighting skills proved invaluable.  Imagine what I could do – that wasn’t right.  Not what I could do.  Imagine what he could do if he were here and I was but a year or so in his lifetime.  Yeah, no thanks.  This is hard, and a whole lot of not fun, but whoever Loki was, screw off and stay buried.

Loki wouldn’t love my friends.  And would consider them toys.

But without him, without a god’s knowledge and wisdom, what chance did I have?  I wasn’t wise, I couldn’t really count on my memories being real or accurate, I’d never even had a childhood!  I was a year old and warring with kingdoms, empires, and otherworldly horrors.

Although, maybe.  Maybe this was a god’s childhood.  Let’s play with action figures becomes let’s terrorize entire populations.  What if this was how gods reproduced?  I felt sick then.

“Ma’am?”

I found myself leaning against the stone wall of the hallway.  “Seriously, be quiet a moment, would you?”

Using her sleeve very carefully, Mest touched underneath each of my eyes.  “If it’s too much for you, my lady, perhaps marriage would be preferrable to replacing His Highness?”

I swept her arms away, “That’s not it,” and dragged my gaze from the ground to her eyes, “Jesus, you seriously think I’m upset about whatever the hell my, I don’t know, family politics are?”  No, little human bodyguard, it’s an entirely different family I’m more concerned with.

With a slight head tilt, she leaned in, squeezing my arm, “Ma’am, I cannot understand what it is to be you, but I am here to ensure you survive.  In the here and now.”

I took a deep breath, straightened my posture, pulled my light sundress down, tightened the belt, and looked her in the eyes, “Listen,” taking her shoulder in my hand, I gave her a squeeze, “whatever orders you have from Serce, I need you on my side now.”

“I am here to protect you.”

“Not like that.  If you want to survive the coming conflict, if you want to remain in my service, you will need to leave Serce’s employ.”  I could see in her eyes she was ready for this, trained for it probably, and would not listen to me.  I was under her care, but for another.

“Ma’am, I-”

“-yeah, I get it.  Ok, Mest, think about what I just said and decide later.  My aunt is probably going to have your emperor killed and me put in his stead.  You know this, right?  She just agreed to move ahead with those plans.”

“Yes, she did.  But you are my charge and I trust the emperor to respond appropriately to the noble houses.  It is not my duty to slay his enemies, but to protect his future wife.  In all matters.”

One last squeeze, I dropped my hand, slightly turned to continue down the hall, and said, “If you really are going to defend me, follow my lead.  Don’t hesitate, just do what I tell you.”  I knew what her answer would be – an affirmative – and I knew she’d do what she thought was best to protect me.  The thing is, if matters got serious, she’d probably just be in the way.

“Yes, my lady.”

We continued down the hall and, just before the garden, the etiquette class was gathering.  The teacher had brought double the eunuchs.  Not stopping, I waved my hand in their direction, “No time for pleasantries, we’re about to be attacked.”

The teacher stepped out to say something, Mest pushed her away.  The eunuchs, half of them bruised badly, stared at the floor and shifted their feet, and my bodyguard and I left them behind, entering the garden.  I could have, I suppose, attempted to reason with her, borrow these guards, but that’d take time and frustration and, probably, I’d have to beat them up first.

***

We soon stood in front of the hidden door.  A few women and girls were strolling about the greenhouse, and no foreign soldiers bothering them.  That was good.  Two nearby seemed happy, walking hand in hand, delighting in each flower.  Peaceful.

I shouted at them anyway, pointing at each in turn, “You and you!  Grab that bench, bring it over here!”

At first they looked at me like I was covered in mud and screaming obscenities.  Then one leaned over, whispering to the other, and they shouted their agreement, all smiles, one waved, and each took a side of the bench to haul it over.

“We’re going to need more than a bench.  Thoughts?”

“With apologies, I do not believe anything we put in front of that door will keep it shut from an army.  If, indeed, the army knows where this door is.”

The young women dropped the bench in front of the wall and stood waiting.  Smiling.  They were attractive and I worried for them.

“I think you’re right, Mest.  If only it wasn’t flush with the wall, we could stop it with a stick.  Until they broke it off its hinges, I guess.  Wait.”  Outside fighting sounds were closer, but something scraped nearby.

“My lady?”

Then a bang on the door, loud click, I stopped listening and grabbed the nearby girl, “Go!  Tell Tienseon enemy soldiers have entered the palace!” and pushed her toward the stairs.  The two left, running, hopefully to do as I asked.

As the door was thrown open and two sweaty, grimy soldiers stepped into the garden, I turned to face them.  Smiles on their faces.  Looking up and down my body, the closer one pushed his greasy hair back, saying, “Finally, a little leisure time.”  They were skirmishers, wearing only leather armor, leather skirts, sword and dagger each.  At least my plate mail hadn’t been copied.

To my right, Mest placed a hand on her hilt, ready to draw, saying, “My lady, I will give my life to protect you.”

Without looking at her, dropping into a loose fighting stance, I said, “Stay behind me.”

The shorter one stepped out from behind the first guy, blond and rough shaven, “Come on, pretty girl, no need to get hurt.  I just want to see the place.  You can show me around.  Here, I’ll even put my sword away,” he sheathed it, stepping forward and reaching out, the smell of sweat wafting over.  “Never been in a harem before.”

These weren’t harem guards lacking testosterone, and there were probably a lot of them.  Fudge.  I was in for a world of hurt and, I had to say, it really, really sucked not having an army around when you needed one.

I should have smiled, acted cute or naïve or whatever to draw him in, but he had friends waiting in the hallway who’d soon be ransacking our harem.  His mouth opened for more words, I front-kicked his chin with all my force, snapping his head back and stepping into his space.  I took his dagger from his belt in reverse grip, slammed it into his right eye, drawing his sword while backing up.

His friend’s face lost all its joy, “What the . . . hell?” and drew his sword, holding it level to my chest.  “Girl, you are going to suffer.”

Slapping the top of his blade with mine, stepping past him, I slid my blade right up and into his neck, then threw my dagger into a new solder breaching the door.  He grabbed his neck, gurgling and falling backwards.  The next through the door had his weapon out, hitting my blade sideways, forcing me to back up.

Drawing her curved sword, Mest jumped in, downward swing, the guy deflected and punched at her face, catching her cheek.  Rolling with it, she backed up, he thrust toward her gut, and they moved down the path behind my sight, which bothered me to no end, but there was nothing I could do about it as more were coming through.

I shouted, “Mest, go!  Make sure that old bag is getting the army!”

The newest through the door looked first at me, I began to move toward him, then he saw the fresh, still bleeding bodies, shock on his face, he pulled his sword, more shock as I ran him through, leaving the sword there, I took his.  Right foot down, pivot, slicing down across the next soldier’s face, pushing his sword across his body and away from me, my left puts the dagger into his temple.  I drop then, his friend’s sword going over my head, back-roll, stand, sword up in guard position.

Mest yelps in pain behind me, but the guy in front of me slices down with an overhead blow, I can’t help.  I slide left, directing his blade away, my sword using his arm as a guide, slice through his neck, blood sprays into my face, he stumbles forward.  More are coming, so I follow him down, take his dagger and bury it in the next man, grab this guy’s sword while looking down the stairs to see Mest rushing up, blood running down her left arm, she’s panting hard and favoring that arm.

Her eyes widen, I time the footsteps approaching me, slam my sword straight back at groin height, wrench it free with the scream, and circle counterclockwise, slicing down across the back of his neck as he doubles over.  I begin to spin into the soldier nearer the wall, but Mest leaps ahead of me, forcing me to stop and change angles.

The solder thrusts his sword into her already wounded left arm, she kicks him in the balls, bringing her own down, which he parries, thrusting for her face.  I bring my blade through his arm, a jolt when I hit the bone, bring my sword back, raised, and forward cut across his neck, but no time to rest as the soldier to his right swings wide at Mest and I’m on the wrong side to stop it, so I grab her sleeve, yanking her back and using the momentum to step into his guard, stabbing through his Adam’s apple, crunching sound, man drops.

Using my hold on Mest’s clothing to pull me to her, I’ve just enough time to shout, “Go!  You’re only slowing me down!”

“I must protect you!”  She draws her dagger, stepping forward.

“Damnit, go!”  The next guy thrusts at me with all his force, I pivot backwards on my right, take him by the sword hand with his own force, sending him into the tangled bushes, then my right-hand blade into his neck.  I stop, look at Mest, “Please.”

Footsteps behind me, I twist, dropping and spinning low, cutting across this guys knees, his blade slicing overhead.  He falls backwards, I glare at the wounded bodyguard for a moment, finish off the fallen guy, then face the oncoming attackers, my back to her.  “I cannot protect you and fight!”

“Gods!”  Mest’s dagger thumps into a soldier waiting behind these guys I’m engaging.  “I’ll deliver your message!”

I duck under a blade, pushing my own up into this guy’s neck when another dagger flies past, taking out a guy further back.  Letting the man I killed fall, I take his sword, side rolling left toward the bushes, my right sword sliding up a soldier’s arm, his sword whistling past where I was, then I turn, blade running through his neck, and he drops.  Mest’s sword cracks into someone on the other side of the hall, hilt first, pushing him back.  Leaping forward, I stab him through the eye, letting go my sword, taking up her’s.

It’s curved and better metal than these soldiers’.  In my peripheral, I see Mest running down the steps, and around the bend.  Good.

No one comes through the door, I breathe, chest heaving, and take a peak.  They’ve stopped a ways back, forming up, probably thinking there’s a contingent here.  But it’s just me.

Stepping into the doorway, I let my eyes adjust to the dark.  Mest’s curved sword in my right, another in my left, I give them my silhouette.

An entire skirmisher regiment as far as I can tell.  The agent who’d approached me is there, standing behind some twenty men.  Endless men behind her.  Seeing me, she nods.  Her eyes are all eagerness and triumph, she knows she’s going to win this.

The only thing I like about this situation is the mismatched armor the skirmishers have.  Some wore chain, with and without sleeves, some with plates strapped to their arms and shins.  Nor were their weapons uniform.  Thank whoever is holy she didn’t bring spearmen or regular infantry.

The hallway is a better choke point than the garden.  I need to buy Tienseon, Mest, as much time as I can, but there’s no way I’m surviving this battle if our soldiers don’t get here soon.

Crossing her arms, their agent says, “Take her, take her alive.”

Dropping into combat ready, left sword front, right up, I let the helplessness and impotent anger wash over me, turn it into rage, trapped in this lowly body without my godhood, I shout violence, roaring at the top of my lungs, “Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!” and charge.

One man runs forward, his peers pointing and laughing, I put both blades left and back, ready to slice.  He swings sideways at my chest and I snap my left down on his blade, rotating it away, right up across his neck, and then I stop, head down, blades as they were.  His body falls.  Raising my curved sword above my head, freeze for a second, then snap it downward to my right, flicking blood away.

Laughter dies, their smirks fade, some into horror, and I hear the head hit the floor, roll a bit.  The first group of soldiers runs at me, some snarling, others yelling.  Moving into the first’s reach, I duck under his downward attack, my right blade slicing his triceps to the bone, stab my left into another man’s neck, parry a sword swinging at my own, shoulder roll forward, up on my left foot, pivot around, edges of my dress whirling around, a blade whips past my face, hitting the stone wall behind.  I go down, cutting across that man’s thigh, shoulder roll, stab my sword up the armored skirt of another, ignore his screech, wheel about, two left standing and working together.

The left one attacks with a thrust feint, I let it touch my blade, left foot down, spin around low, slicing through his right thigh, my left goes into his neck, and somehow I manage to pull the blade out, using his bodyweight as he falls.  The last man standing is shaking, piss runs down his leg, he looks back desperately to see if anyone’s coming and loses his right jugular for the effort.  In a spray of blood, he collapses.  It trickles down my face and neck.

The ones I didn’t kill are desperately holding their wounds closed, moaning.  I dispatch the nearest through his neck, staring the entire time at the next men in line.  Then I draw a mask in blood around my eyes, lines down my cheek, under my mouth.

Their agent, eyes wide and jaw open, turns and leaves, pushing her way through the men she’s brought here.  I guess she understands my answer well enough.

The front soldiers take a wedge formation, but the point man’s face is pale and he keeps mouthing, “She’s just a girl, she’s just a girl, she’s just a girl . . .”  His friends push him from behind and he advances.

I step forward.

The terrified point-man first, friends angled behind him, two on each side.  The hallway is too wide.  Five men could stand shoulder to shoulder, with a touch of space left over.  I wished it were narrow and knew I’d have to trade hallway for time.

He stabs at me, I party and riposte, about to slide to his left shoulder, but he snaps his sword back, then down on my blade, forcing me to lower my right sword, bringing up my left as a feint, pivoting on that foot and going low and spinning around, I swing a right backhand slice at him, and he steps into my attack, left sword stopped by his, my right hilt hits his shoulder, his blade swinging for my stomach.  My blade slides along the chain on his right arm as I pull it back, he brings his low to stab me, and I swat the blade away, but he’s succeeded tactically, for his friends are moving along the wall, about to flank me.

No time, I thrust with my left at his face, dropping the sword as he parries desperately, and dive roll low and past him, spin to cut through both hamstrings with my right, and quick back roll away.  He collapses backwards and I’m in real danger with four soldiers in front, an army at my back, and only one sword in my hand.

He’s good.  Very, very good and gambled his life for position.  I hoped that guy got a signing bonus.

The far left and right soldiers attack, middle two preventing my easy exit and shouting to their compatriots behind me, “Come on!  Come on!”  I take left as he slices downward at my exposed flesh, stepping forward with my right foot, stabbing into his neck, pivot on the right foot, I spin kick just above the next guy’s knee, he drops, then dive roll forward to the closet attacker on the right.

He makes the mistake of backing up, and as I leap up, thrust through his neck and into his skull, leave the sword, bolt toward the door, jumping into a dive roll over the bodies, and everything goes bright as I come into daylight, and it takes me a few precious seconds to pick up new swords – sorry, Mest!

Two burst through and it’s all I can do to parry their attacks and it’s a bad use of my movement, tiring me out too fast.  I can’t fight these guys with strength, they’ll all bigger and stronger.  One on my left pulls his sword back, thrusting quickly forward and I just manage to knock his blade off course, into the plants behind me, then dive roll out of there as the right one’s blade comes crashing down.

I back up, losing ground too fast.  And it’s going to get worse with the downward stairs behind me.  Left guy sees that, presses forward, wildly swinging two-handed right and left and not giving his partner an opening.  I follow his next swing right with my right blade to keep it from coming back, step into him, slamming my left into his left armpit as deep as I can, and let go.  As his sword drops, I snatch it out of the air.  The other guy steps around his falling friend, thrusting wildly at me and I cut my right blade through his unprotected wrist.  He steps forward, still swinging his severed arm and I move forward and slightly past him, then spin with all my weight, hitting into his back with both hilts, throwing him face first into the needle tree.

It seems to me, just a guess really, that these guys aren’t listening to the capture order.  I scoot down the stairs as soldiers flood into the garden. 

Not going to chance the lower ground, I race around the walkway to the stairs going back up, pause, taking deep breaths.  Sweat is dripping off my nose, cheeks, and ears, I wipe it off my face, probably smudging all that nice blood-paint, wishing I had water.

With a snarl, three soldiers take lead, endless soldiers behind them.  One tosses a dagger and I reflexively smack it out of the air with my left blade.

He says, “You little bitch!”

The first one up slices at my legs, forcing me up.  Their reach is greater, I can’t find an attack, so I back up the stairs.  A sword thrusts through the bushes on my left, I spin away right, but it cuts along my left shoulder, and I curse myself for thinking of the thorny raspberry bushes as walls, then race up the stairs, tearing off the remnants of the sleeve as I go.  The attacker breaks through the plants, creating a path for more to follow, and joins his compatriots on the stairs, coming up at me.

Seeing their prey flee, they rush after.  At the top, I swing around, thrust through one’s voice box, he barrels into the ground in front of his friends tripping one of them.  Daggerboy thrusts at my legs and it’s all I can do to smack his sword off course, slicing shallowly through his neck with my right, he grabs the wound, dropping, and I don’t have time to finish him as treeboy punches at my face and I back roll into the hallway, the last hallway before the great hall and all those women and girls.

In the corner of my eye, I see the etiquette teacher, now with even more eunuchs and an entire class of girls.  Treeboy rushes in and I mess up, thrusting into his leather armor, piercing into and through his stomach.  He instantly collapses, keeping the sword, and I back up, but that cost me energy.

As the next guy rushes in, I backhand slice his head off, notice a break in the soldiers and pick up his sword in my left.  It’s straight.

I turn to the eunuchs and girls, blood dripping off every part of me, two swords at the ready and growl.  The girls scream and flee.  Seven eunuchs drop their batons and run, a couple simply collapse in fear, the rest bolt, leaving the teacher frozen, standing wide eyed, mouth open.

More soldiers burst into the hallway, and I don’t have time to tell her to go, one yelling and swinging diagonally down.  I parry the sword with my right, stabbing with my left, he collapses, but that leaves my left exposed and the next soldier grabs my dress, pulling me toward him and my right sword into his neck.  I’m off balance, footsteps behind my right shoulder, I drop, sword hits stone above my head, sparks flying, the best I can do is hit him with both hilts in the stomach, uselessly.  A lefty, he backhands me with his hilt and fist, throwing me into the wall.  I drop down, the sword hits wall above and I slice through his thigh right to the bone, side roll to the opposite wall, regain my feet and barely parry a sword thrust, and stick my own sword up into that man’s jaw, his skull, he drops.

I take his dagger this time and toss it immediately into the next soldier’s eye, and there’s a lull.  The soldiers are forming up behind shields – damn! – I reach down and pick up a sword, hoping for more time.  Lefty sits down, desperately trying to stop his life from bleeding out his ruined thigh.  The etiquette teacher might as well be invisible, no one pays attention to her, and she stands perfectly still except for the shaking.  The eunuchs whimper, one sneaking away, pulling another long.

My heart’s racing, I can’t breathe fast enough, and the shield wall rushes me.  The guy on my right is a little shorter than the other two, I feint at his legs with my left sword, he lowers the shield, I jump up, left foot onto the shield, right foot pushes off against the wall into a cartwheel with my right sword straight down behind his clavicle and into his heart, I let the momentum of the flip pull the sword out, landing on my feet behind them, and cut through the back of the middle shieldman’s neck as he didn’t turn fast enough.

The last one’s faster, thrusts at my face while turning around but doesn’t overextend and all I can do is parry, then at my stomach, which I move aside with my left blade, stepping forward and he smashes me with his shield, forcing me to back roll into oncoming attackers.

I stab someone’s thigh, roll right, sword goes through my dress under my right arm into the wall and I feel a pinch and kick him in the solar plexus, a mistake as it takes too much effort, his fist lands on my right cheek, the dress tears free of the blade as I side shoulder roll left and away, losing more hallway to these guys, but giving myself some space to adjust.

Three of them advance wide, thinking to flank me.  Fuck it, I roll into the lead guy, coming up with both swords slicing through his thighs forward and then backward, circling left on my knees into the left guy, my right sword deflecting his thrust, left slices overtop his right kneecap, and then I have to back roll to avoid the right guy’s sword coming down.

I back up out of range to breathe, he turns, says something with a smile, and backhand swings at my neck.  I back up out of reach again for rest, but more men are coming and on his next thrust, I step into it with both swords coming down on his bicep, opening up his arm but not severing the bone.  He lets go his sword to hold his arm together.

And I lean on the wall, heavy, chest heaving.

Only two are in fighting distance, but behind them another group of shieldmen forming up.  Damn.  A swordsman advances, grim look on his face.  He stabs quick, fast, and I move out of the way instead of engaging, waiting, giving myself recovery time, giving up hallway, getting closer to losing this fight.

He finally swings hard at my right shoulder, and I step toward his left, right sword up to deflect his blow, left thrusting to his neck, but the second guy is there, swinging at my other arm, leaving me no choice but to take the blow hard against my left sword, opening up my midsection to attacks, and the first swordsman kicks me savagely, doubling me over.  As he moves in, I stab through his ankle, losing my sword, roll past on his right, get up, and the second guy is in my armlength, thrusting into my belly.  I just manage to deflect with my right sword, and he grabs my neck, pinning me against the wall.  Dropping the sword, no space to use it, I hold onto his arm, front kicking his jaw with everything I have, then collapse onto the ground as he releases.

He recovers, shakes his head, and thrusts, hitting the wall as I barely dodge left, dive rolling left and away from him, picking up my other sword, rising as his backhand swing is coming down on me.  I move into it, guiding his sword arm with my left wrist, right leg in front of his left, tossing him clumsily into the ground, and then stab through his spine.

Ankleboy is pulling himself away, leaving a blood trail.  Kneecapboy is tense, shaking.  Bicepboy is sitting, squeezing his ruined arm, panic breathing, thighboy collapsed, blood pooling.  I pick up my other sword, backing up, taking stock of what’s to come.  Three shieldmen.

I’m exhausted, desperately thirsty.  I turn and run.

They give chase.  Three large men, barreling down on me, catching up, and I do not have the energy to outrace them.  The end of the hallway is in sight and if they get in there, it will all be so much worse.

I slow down, listen to their footsteps catching up, turn and side roll low into the middle guy’s feet.  He flies over, the others stop and turn to face me.  I run forward and stab him while he’s down, but it’s nasty and through his left kidney into his gut, the best I can do.

The guy on the right thrusts into my face, I bat his sword away.  The left guy thrusts the same, I deflect it barely and it moves the hair near my neck.  They’re pushing me into the oncoming soldiers, so the next time the thrust comes, I cut into that guy’s wrist, yanking my sword down hard, blood sprays but it’s not severed.  The other guy lunges, I roll past him, pivot, stabbing into wristboy’s liver and losing that blade.

I’m slowing down and the remaining soldier’s shield bash catches me, hitting me against the wall.  Flatten my arms to take the force, but I feel it, loud crack inside my head, blade racing toward my face, I drop, it hits the wall, and I slam my own up his groin as far as I can, to the hilt, clumsily roll away, bringing myself up to my knees.

He can keep that sword.

Sitting there, breathing and breathing.  I was spent.  Arms and legs burning.  I somehow stand, using a hand to push off the ground and struggle up, almost not making it.  Unwise to not move after a fight like that.  Walking in a little circle, I extend my arms to open my chest, and take breath after breath, my heart pounding.

Sweat dripping off my face, taking blood with it, down my neck.  My ragged dress is all blood.  For movement, I should really toss the damn thing.  But, modesty and all that.  Looking down, weird, it wasn’t sticking to my skin as much as it should.  Maybe it was the fine weave?  I hated to think why harem silk repelled sweat and blood.

No one was near me.  No one living.  The soldiers chasing me had stopped.  They were arguing, one guy pointing at me and shouting, then pointing at body after body.  Not helping the wounded, they continued arguing.

Oh, my god.  I should run into the hall, see if our troops were coming.  No, no, then I couldn’t hold these guys.  I needed them in the hallway, or they’d corral me and I’d die.  Except, the other girls.  That’d give me some cover, and I felt horrible thinking like that.  Inhaling deeply and deeply, into my diaphragm, lungs, exhale.

Damn.  I had to, I really had to stay here.

More soldiers caught up to them as I watched. 

I continued pacing, eventually kneeling down to the bodies.  Dagger, dagger, dagger.  Into my delicate dress’s belt, meaning I’d have to use them quickly as they wouldn’t stay put.  I pick up swords.  A curved one, a straight one.  I switched them around.  Right sword straight, left sword curve.  This’ll be different.

The newly arrived soldiers ignore the three, walking around them.  The one who’d been warning everyone shouted, “No, wait!” and began waving his hands in front of himself wildly to stop them.  I couldn’t hear their argument, and the new men burst into laughter, gesturing toward me.  But the others were shaking their heads, again pointing at each body and more vigorously at me.  It takes the new soldiers to notice the dying men, who nod, but can’t muster enough strength to point.

I’d caught up to my heartbeat, and long since my breath, shook my arms and legs, loosened up, cracked joints that needed cracking, which weren’t many since, you know, teenage body, and watched.

They opened up, pushed four men with shields out in front.  A fifth joined them.  That covered the hallway, nearly edge to edge.  The five shield holders began to advance, then the three who warned everyone, terror on their faces, then more soldiers.  Too many soldiers.

Far, far more than I could take.

Head bent over, looking at the floor, shoulders curled forward, I sighed heavily, swiveled my neck to look at them sideways, slid my left foot slightly leftward, ever so slightly back, bent my knees a bit, swords dangling straight down, and snapped into fighting posture, blades up and at the ready.

I’d decided.

I’d fight for women.  I’d fight for girls.  I’d fight for . . .  virginity.