Hard times, hard people. (closed to Josette)

[redford]

Lord Ereth’s boy looked up at John again from inside the lavish carriage as they entered a small farming village between Radasanth and Yarborough. There was a small inn connected to a tavern, a blacksmith and some stables, but most of the town was spread about in houses neighboring large farms. Given the time of evening, most would be asleep, save a few staying to drink a bit in the tavern as the stars slowly began to twinkle overhead. He looked back at the boy, who continued to stare. He was a quiet, inquisitive sort, not yet old enough to draw a bow, but old enough to play with a wooden sword. John was used to stares, especially from those without the age or sense to hide them. He was a head taller than the tallest men in most cities, and the gauntlets he wore at all times only gave more cause to the looks and whispers that were so common to him. Though John could hardly blame the boy.

Lord Ereth's face appeared next to his son's, speaking up to John. John thought Ereth a respectable sort, and one of the few that didn't ogle him like some kind of monster.

"Let's set up in the inn for the night, John. I know you can travel at night, but I'd rather be on the safe side. We'll get something to drink, too."

Soon, the horses were stabled and the carriage was secure, and Ereth’s son was sleeping comfortably next to his wife, leaving John time for a drink or two at the tavern’s bar with Ereth himself. The lord was a tall man by most standards, thin and very keen, he almost seemed to know everything about anything just by looking at it. He seemed to be a kind husband and a good father, what little of him John saw at least. Still, something nagged at his mind, an uneasiness that didn’t let go since they had departed Radasanth two days prior.

“Odd, to hire armed escorts for trade agreements,” John mused, taking a sip of a dark brown liquor.

Ereth smiled, turning toward him. “You can never be too careful with your family, John. My wife Irian, she is… irreplacable, in a crude way of putting it,” He sighed, and seemed to don the visage of a much younger man as he thought of his wife. “She is a most excellent wife and mother to my son, John, and I cannot let her travel unprotected; to say nothing of my own son.”

John slid his glass away, motioning for a refill. The man was right though; There were dangerous men who did bad things to pretty women on the road. He retrieved the small cup and took a sip of the liquid, letting it bite at the back of his throat as he swallowed.

That was when the commotion started.

[Josette]

It was the screaming that woke her up. High pitched and feminine, the panicked cries cut through her slumber and buried themselves deep in her dreams. This was not uncommon for her; the wails of women had plagued Josette's nightmares for as long as she could remember. But this was not a dream, and these screams were not the broken record echoes of her haunted childhood.

Her entire body jolted awake beneath the heavy quilt. The sleep was immediately gone from her icy blue eyes as her mind quickly processed the situation, and in mere seconds, she fled her warm cocoon. In the darkness, her fingers found the cold, familiar hilt of her sword, which was propped against the bedpost. Three long strides carried her to the door, past her boots, change of clothes, and armor; all the knight needed was her weapon, and all else was traded for a few more precious moments.

The thin wooden door opened to a narrow hallway, which was already beginning to fill with curious tenants. Men and women in various states of dress spilled out of their rooms, their curious mutters lost to the continuing wails. Unapologetically, the raven-haired woman elbowed her way toward the inn's main room. The screaming seemed to come from everywhere all at once, and amidst the chaos, the entrance seemed like the best place to start.

There, she encountered an ambush. All patrons had fled the scene, save for a foursome who remained near the bar. Two men, clad entirely in black, wrestled with a pair who donned a more colorful wardrobe. Though the latter were much taller, they appeared unarmed, and fought with a panic that only accompanied surprise attacks. The first victim, whose salt-and-pepper hair revealed his older age, managed to slip beneath his attacker's arm and dash for the open door. The man in black followed.

"No, wait!" Barked the younger man, who still struggled with his own opponent. Josette, who was scrambling to piece together the scene before her, had no choice but to lunge for the nearest skirmish. Bare feet thudded across the hard wood floor as she sprinted toward the men, and when she was close enough, she wedged herself between them. Ducking down, she led with her shoulder, and forced her elbow into the black figure's stomach. Her attack, which was entirely unexpected, was enough to peel the men off of each other. It also allowed just enough room for Josette to twist her body, and bury her blade in the attackers torso.

Her weapon glimmered with beads of warm crimson as she whipped toward the stunned survivor. Her expression revealed that she was ready and willing to repeat the performance should the man give her reason to.

[redford]

Screams belonging to the Lord’s wife erupted from the floor above John and Lord Ereth. They both scrambled from the bar and made for the stairs, their stools tumbling behind them. Pain bit at John’s back, and a man clad in black tackled Ereth as he tried to make it up the stairs. John spun round, grappling with his own opponent as the Lord managed to disengage from his attacker, running out the door, presumably towards wherever his wife was being taken, followed closely by his assailant. John yelled after him, but it was too late; he was out the door and gone from sight.

A girl slammed into John’s attacker, and before he had time to react, plunged a long blade into his chest. One smooth flourish later and the assailant was on the ground, and she was pointing the stained blade at John, who took a step back, putting out a gauntleted hand. As his flash of adrenaline wore off, the pain in his back returned. He spoke slowly, remembering to make no sudden moves. He didn’t want to fight anybody he didn’t have to.

She was distinctly odd, and not just because she wore little more than a pair of breeches and a large shirt, plus the sword she pointed at him. Black hair framed a face of angular features and a look from blue eyes that John would have called harsh, if the situation hadn't warranted it. She seemed adept with the sword, and had a body that could swing it easily. She was beautiful in a hard, tough way, and seemed just as ready to help him as to attack him.

“They attacked us. I need to find the man that escaped and his family,” he said. He felt blood begin to trail down his back, as well as something buried just under his right shoulderblade. He reached for it with his left arm, but couldn’t quite get to it, wincing at the pain of contorting the wound. He turned, keeping his eyes on the woman. Hopefully this would prove that he bore no ill will to her, and that he was the defender in the scuffle.

“Do you mind getting that?”

[Josette]

Though her stone-etched face revealed nothing, her eyes betrayed the unease she felt at the sight of his wound. Josette was no stranger to injuries, and this was certainly not the worst case that she had played witness to. Regardless, a knife protruding from a man's back was certainly unnerving.

But doubt mingled with the concern she felt for the stranger. Who was he? In what may have been a slightly hasty decision, she had killed for him. Now he stood before her, requesting her aid. And as she watched the dark stain in his shirt expand, the knight knew she had to act quickly.

"Not until you tell me who you are," came her response in a voice as rigid as the expression she wore.

The enormous man blinked back at her, clearly surprised by her demeanor. Josette was familiar with this reaction; most did not expect such a cold, calculating tone to come from a young lady. He stared for a moment, and she stared back, neither willing to back down. It was not until the creeping pain beat out his pride that the injured man finally sighed.

"John," he said with a hard finality that told her he would not be providing a last name. With a nod toward the door. "I was hired to protect that man."

A hired sword, the woman mused. She was no stranger to such work herself, and it certainly gave a reasonable explanation for the scene she had involved herself in.

Josette tore her gaze from his long enough to drag a whicker chair from a nearby table. "Sit," she commanded, and he did so without question. Without flourish or apology, she plucked the ornate dagger from his back. John winced, the pain slipping past his lips with a soft groan, as the weapon clattered across the tabletop. There was no embarrassment as she peeled his shirt from his back. John, who had not expected her to do anything but remove the dagger, tensed.

Gently, she placed her fingers on either side of the wound. His skin was soft and slippery with blood beneath her touch, but the knight was pleased to see that the wound was not deep.

John's voice was heavy with unease. "What are you doing?"

"Healing this."

His eyes widened. "Oh." The tingling warmth that began to seep into his muscles was not unpleasant, but the entire situation put the large man on edge. "How long will it take?"

"I don't know. I have never done it before."

[redford]

The extraction of the dagger was expected.

The gentle touches were not.

The sensation was so sudden and foreign to John that his breath hitched for a moment before she assured him she meant no harm. He still felt uneasy. her healing touch burned comfortably against the pain of his wound. He heard her speak again.

"I don't know. I have never done it before."

John stood quickly as the warm sensation stopped.

"I'll be fine," he said, grabbing his stained shirt, which the woman grabbed hold of as well.

"No you wont."

"I've had worse,"

"And I," she said, yanking it from his hands, "can make it better," She finished. "Now sit down before you bleed all over the floor."

John looked warily back at the woman, hesitating before he sat down again, still eyeing her. She placed her hands at his back again and the sensations resumed, covering the sharp pain with a warmth that was almost uncomfortable, just below a burning sensation.

Soon, her hands left his back, and his shirt was returned to him. He stood, pulling it over his body, and picked up the knife that had wounded him. He held it clumsily in his gauntleted hands, and looked back to the woman, speaking quickly. Hopefully he'd be able to find out which direction they went in.

"Did you see where they went?"

[Josette]

"No, I did not."

Though her own hands had just healed the man that stood before her, the knight trusted him no more than she had when they first met. Her eyes, dark as a raging sea, never left his form as she stepped toward the bar. Her bare foot grazed a still-warm corpse as she stepped over it, but the woman did not flinch. Rather, she reached for a cloth that had been hastily dropped by a panicked barmaid. With the same ease as a woman wiping a bit of grime from her palms, she darkened the white fabric with John's blood.

John stood expectantly, waiting for the raven-haired swordswoman to say more. She did not. "Well," he continued with a short, awkward cough. "Thank you for your help." Tightening his grip on the foreign knife, John bid the woman a quick farewell with a nod of his head. Hurried steps carried him to the door, which he would have crossed through had it not been for a final thought. Her healing powers could come in handy, as could her sword skills. If those men hurt Lord Ereth's family, I'll need her, he reminded himself silently. "Do you want to come with me?"

"To rescue your charge? No." Slowly, the inn's other occupants were beginning to bleed back into the bar. A wide-eyed barmaid and a tipsy patron both peered around the kitchen door, ensuring that they were safe from any further swordsplay. This, Josette recognized, was her queue to leave; the last thing that the knight needed was unnecessary questions.

"I can pay you."

"I'm not interested in money," she countered, voice bereft of emotion as she plucked her sword off the bar-top. "You're the one who was hired for this job, not me. You shouldn't have lost him in the first place."

The giant's expression hardened. "Fine," he spat. "I'll get them myself."

Now Jo's eyes flashed with surprise. "Them?" she echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yes. Lord Ereth, and his family."

The feminine screams that had pierced Josette's sleep filled her mind once more. Her pale lips formed a tight line, and through clenched teeth, she added, "I did not know a family was involved."

Though his eyes still burned with suspicion, John nodded. "A wife and a young son."

Now, the room held over a dozen men and women; sleep and confusion dulled their senses as they stumbled from their hiding spots. They swirled about the edge's of Josette's vision as she held John's gaze. "Give me a moment to dress," she replied finally. "I will go with you."