A memory of loss

The warrior was silent again for a few long moments, and Marcus wondered if she'd even heard him.

"I have been at war a long time." She murmured at last. "In this kingdom and many others. I have lost many things and seen too much suffering. You remind me of something...someone who was very dear to me once. That is enough." Marcus stiffened, sensing the trembling in her voice for what it was.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, feeling a sharp, sympathetic ache in his chest.

"That's kind of you to say, little one." She smiled again, but there was a sadness in her eyes that made him tremble. "Now quiet if you would. If we are to escape this place, I need to concentrate." They were on the stairs now, and she was taking them two at a time, but holding him so steady he hardly even bounced in her arms. Marcus just lay against her, knowing there was nothing he could do. The thought of what was going to happen to his parents made him want to cry again, but this beautiful woman was right. She was just one warrior and Gaius had a whole army. All he could hope for was that someone else would be kind enough to save his Mother and Father too.

The warrior hit the bottom of the stairs and started jogging forward, her armored feet pounding on the floor. Suddenly she skidded to a halt, and hissed something under her breath.

"What is it?" Marcus whispered, his heart trembling.

"Soldiers, up ahead." The warrior replied. "I'm going to put you down. Stick close to me and we should be able to sneak past them." She gently laid him down on his trembling legs. Marcus straightened, his heart in his mouth. He could hear low voices from down the corridor. Gaius' men. What would they do if they caught him?

The warrior stalked forward, her footsteps so light they hardly seemed to make a sound. The young prince hurried after her as she led him along the wall of the corridor, past an open doorway on the other side. It was from there the voices were coming, rough laughter and low, muttered words he couldn't quite make out. Straining his ears to listen, Marcus didn't notice the shelf on the wall he was sticking so closely to. His arm brushed against it, hitting a pile of pots that had been carefully placed on top. One trembled as his hand hit it, then fell past his fingers, landing on the floor with an impossibly loud clattering.

The awful ringing noise seemed to go on forever as Marcus stood there, his hand still hanging limply in the air. The warrior had whirled round, and now stared at him with wide, shocked eyes. He felt a sickening flood of awful guilt at his own clumsiness as the terrible sound died away at last. How could he have been so stupid? Just when she was relying on him not to mess up! There was silence for a moment. The young prince was frozen, his whole body stiff with terror and guilt.

"Who goes there!" Someone barked from inside the door. The warrior winced. She grabbed Marcus firmly and thrust him back, then lowered her spear towards the door, just as four men in black armor darted out, carrying swords. The leader was wearing a horned helmet and had a scarlet cloak draped over his shoulders. He stiffened when he saw the warrior, his dark eyes fixed on her face. "The foreign mercenary?" He grunted. "What are you doing here?" The woman didn't reply, her spear hovering in the air between them with that long blade gleaming wickedly.

"Captain, there." One of the other soldiers pointed frantically at Marcus, who was cowering in the shadows behind the tall figure of his savior. "That's him, that's the prince!"

"You found him." The leader smiled under his helmet. "Good on you. Thought the boss wanted him dead though, right? A thousand crowns for his head. So why is he still breathing?" Again, the warrior was silent, standing there in her armor like a statue. The three men spread out slowly behind their leader, giving the woman wary looks. "Well, woman, answer me!" The Captain snapped. "Or step aside so I can kill that sniveling brat."

"You will not touch him." The warrior said. It wasn't a threat or promise. Instead, she spoke like that was a simple statement of fact. Her voice was so sure Marcus felt a flicker of hope bloom through all the helpless panic. Even the soldiers paused, uncertainty in their eyes.

"Foreign bitch." The Captain snarled, raising his sword. "I knew it. I knew you couldn't be trusted! Kill her, and the boy too!" The other men stepped forward, grim snarls on their faces. None of them looked very sure about this, but they advanced anyway with weapons at the ready. Keeping her spear low, the warrior turned her head just slightly, glancing back at Marcus over her shoulder.

"Close your eyes, little one." She murmured. "This is not something you should see." The young prince trembled, but he could not disobey that strong voice. He fell back against the wall and closed his eyes, even if it meant not seeing those four awful men who wanted him dead. The warrior was there, standing between them. He had to believe she could protect him. She'd promised him that!

He wished he could shut his ears too from the awful noises that followed, the ringing clash of steel, the shouts and screams and wet gurgles that made his stomach turn. Finally, there was one last heavy thud as something big hit the ground, and then everything was quiet. Marcus shivered against the wall for a little longer, only the cold stone keeping him from collapsing to his knees. Then he could resist his panic no longer and his eyes fluttered open.