The cold was back. Perhaps it had never left him at all. Perhaps the words he had spoken earlier were induced into some kind of emotion through only the weakness and whatever lingered from his dreaming mind. She didn’t know and would probably never know. His answers, all three of them if one could even call them answers, brushed it aside as inconsequential. She knew he was avoiding the truth of why he saved her though part of her wondered if he even knew the answer to that himself. Had his impulses taken over? Did his instincts say to do it or had some small amount of emotion crept into the forefront of his mind and whittled away at his conscious with guilt until he’d responded and done as he’d promised?
She wanted to press him for further answers. She wanted to get up and back him into a corner in the room where he couldn’t get away from her. But it would be futile. She couldn’t keep him here, especially as weakened as she was now. Perhaps it would have been better if she’d left him tied to the bed as she asked her questions. Then he couldn’t get away. He could still avoid giving answers but when you’re tied to a bed and it looks like your only chance of freedom is responding sincerely to a few questions he might have just given her the answers she sought. Or he might have found a way to lash out at her until she freed him. Either way, there was nothing she could do about it now. He was already gone and without him the large room just seemed kind of empty. There was no relief that the murdering psychopath was finally away from her and no hateful curses hoping a runaway herd of horses ran him over. Just a kind of lonely feeling that she couldn’t quite explain.
Some things are best left in the dark.
There was a good chance he was right. Perhaps she should just leave it in the dark. Stop analyzing the emotions and stop looking too deeply into everything. It had been a chance encounter between the two of them that had nearly cost her, her life and now it was over. She should be relieved, but she wasn’t. Ira only hoped she wouldn’t start missing the barbarian, then she knew she’d be in trouble.
Sliding back onto the bed, Ira looked over at the tray of food half eaten on the bedside table. She should probably finish it but she didn’t feel up to it anymore. Perhaps she should just go back to sleep. The door to the room creaked open and Gerrard poked his head inside, quickly followed by the rest of his body.
“I thought I heard somebody leave…”
He looked from her to the empty bed that had moments before held Malagen.
Uh oh. “He managed to get out of his bonds and left.”
The old man looked from the rope, which he knew he’d tied rather securely to Ira. She carried no weapons on her either now nor when that man Malagen had brought her in, but the ropes were cleanly cut. Gerrard knew the man could not have freed himself; she’d done it for him but why he could only fathom. Women truly were odd creatures and foreign ones even more so. They operated in ways he would never understand.
Shaking his head, the old man gave her a knowing smile, “You should get some more rest.”
That was exactly what she’d been thinking of doing. Trying not to smile herself, Ira slid back down onto the bed and snuggled herself into a tight ball, wincing every time she moved her leg the wrong way or too fast. It didn’t take long for the exhaustion to claim her.
----------------------------
Ira took a deep, unsteady breath as she stood upon the threshold of The Citadel. Two weeks had gone by, four days of which had been spent at the healers and then the rest of the time in her room at the Inn. In a fortnight she’d healed miraculously fast, knowing that it was the balms the healer had been covering her wound with that made it so much easier. But in that same fortnight she hadn’t been able to do much of anything except lay in a bed and think and thinking could get her into a lot of trouble. And now that she was recovered she found herself in the one place she thought she wouldn’t come back to. Just what she was doing here evaded even her own logic. Her first visit had left her with a visible scar she could add to the growing amount she seemed to be accumulating.
Uncertainty warred within her mind. She turned to go, but stopped herself. As she stood there a rather bulky man wearing chain mail armour bumped into her and sent her stumbling down to the next step. Why people always had to be so rude was beyond her, perhaps they just needed someone to teach them some manners. Her foot shot out as he passed by and tripped him. The man fell face first onto the stone steps and quickly pushed himself up, cursing her and all her family along with it.
Maybe I shouldn’t take out my frustration on random people…
She glanced towards the man from the corner of her eye, his words still flying through the air though her ears ignored them.
Or maybe he deserved it.
He grabbed her shoulder, his fingers digging through the thin white material covering her and into flesh. Her instincts took over. Ira wrapped her fingers around his wrist pulled him forward against her back, leaned forward and then threw him onto the stone steps once more.
“It’s not nice to touch a lady without her permission.”
Before he could get up and retaliate Ira quickly stepped over him and began heading towards the massive wooden doors of The Citadel. She didn’t want to start a battle in the middle of the street. It seemed the man behind her didn’t care about that though. Once the air had returned to his lungs he launched himself onto his feet and chased her inside.
“ ‘ey, em talkin’ to ya!”
Wondering if what she’d done had been such a good idea, the Calerian continued to ignore him and remind herself why she came here, which was…well, she didn’t really know. Saying she came here to train and fight some more would be a lie but saying she came here to see Malagen would be too much for her to admit. So just why was she here? Her mind rationalized that it just wanted answers from Malagen, after all he had sidestepped her question and there was more she wanted to ask him than that. If only she could completely believe what her mind rationalized.
Ira meandered through the crowds noting that The Citadel was relatively the same as she’d last been here. The boasting continued, the fight continued and like last time, few real warriors graced the halls of this place. The halls were filled with people and their voices bounced off the high ceilings and the undecorated walls. The man behind her was still shouting curses she could barely understand and didn’t show any sign of giving up. He must have something against women, or a woman hurting his pride. When she wandered into a small clearing with three different paths for her to choose from, the man finally caught up. By now his shouts had drawn a little attention towards him and unfortunately her as well.
“I ken we should settle this in a match.”
The Calerian sighed and turned around. The man already had his hand lightly resting on his sheathed sword. His face may have been handsome but it was twisted with the smirk he currently portrayed and his nose looked like it had been broken and reset improperly. He reminded her of someone someone who enjoyed hurting others.
“I think that would be a waste of my time, you wouldn’t even last long enough for me to break a sweat.”
His face turned into a mask of rage. Men like him hated being talked back to and it didn’t take much to push him in the wrong way.
“Little whore!”
There were only a few feet between them and he tried to cross it quickly, but it didn’t work. Instead of unsheathing his sword he charged her with a rigid fist, but she stepped out of the way, grabbed his wrist and pulled the same move on him she had on the stairs, flipping him over her back.
“You’d think you’d have learned your lesson the first time. Most people don’t fall for the same move twice.”
Now she was just taunting him but she couldn’t help it. A small crowd had gathered around Ira and the stranger, including one or two monks. She got the distinct feeling they would not intervene in the fight until one of them drew a weapon though. Perhaps squabbles like this happened often within The Citadel.
The man charged her again, clumsy in his moves. They were easy to read and easy to counter. He came in fists swinging and she deftly ducked and stepped away from each one. But while she wasn’t looking he slipped a small dagger into his freehand and lunged at her. Bringing her arms up in an X in front of her, Ira stopped his blow and his strength met hers. Grabbing his wrist, she twisted it to the side until he was forced to drop the dagger then quickly twisted it behind his back and kicked out his knees at the same time, leaving him kneeling before her. She felt like breaking his arm and knew she could if she wanted to but controlled the impulse. Instead she let him go and turned to walk away, ignoring the fact that a crowd of eyes were upon her.