Year of the Gods – Spring 824

Roslyn rolled over in bed. The distinct feeling of being watched sent prickles climbing up her arms. She cracked open an eye. Something furry lunged toward her face and bit the top of her nose.

“Gah!” she exclaimed, sitting up in bed and holding her wet nose. “G-gosh darn you, F-Flynn!”

The fox tittered happily, jumping on her bed and sprinting in haphazard circles until he fell over. Roslyn giggled, getting out of bed and stretching. She pulled her worn dress on and fixed her hair in a braid going down the back of her head.

“Let’s g-go get some b-breakfast,” she said softly, moving toward the front door.

Already the sun was shining brightly. Chickens from her coop cackled hungrily from the cage. Reaching in, she scooped out four eggs, giving two to Flynn. The excited animal sat patiently, waiting for her to bend down.

Roslyn crouched, patting her beloved friend on the head while giving him the eggs. “H-have a good day, F-F-Flynn,” she crooned.

The fox trotted off into the forest. She figured Flynn had a family somewhere to take the meal to. Not once since he began coming around had he tried to kill her chickens. It was astounding to her how sincere he was. Flynn could have easily gotten into the coop and killed everything, but he never did.

Taking the eggs back inside, Roslyn set them on her small countertop. It was just large enough for her to make something simple before putting it in the pot by the fireplace. Her home was small, an even eight paces from end to end, no matter from which wall she walked. Her bed was in the corner, farthest from the fireplace. One cold winter had caught her blanket on fire when she slept too close. Now she made sure she was far away.

Grabbing some strawberries out of the basket hanging from the ceiling, she popped some into her mouth. She went to the other basket to her right, checking the apples and pears. She wasn’t the best hunter. Her snares were feeble, enough for maybe a squirrel and sometimes a rabbit, if she was lucky. She had more patience with fishing than anything else.

Roslyn took an apple, munching on it while debating if she was going to hunt or fish. It had been a while since she had any good protein. Last week she ate the rest of the rabbit she got and she was loath to kill a chicken.

The bright sun filtered in through her only window. She smiled. Today seemed good to fish, she decided, going toward her fishing pole by the door.

Roslyn looked at the sun as she stepped outside. It was not yet mid-morning, with the promise of clear weather. With a sigh, she peered around, not seeing a soul or Flynn in sight. She was alone, as she always had been for the past four years since Maggie’s death. The old crone had been her only friend.

The heat of the day had yet to hit. Birds were chirping, calling to one another as they flew through the trees unhindered. Roslyn smiled wanly, wishing she had friends and could come and go so easily. Sighing, she walked down the peaceful forested pathway, turning down another toward the river.

Inhaling deeply, the smell of fir needles and fresh dirt tickled her nose. She loved the smell of spring, where the gentle breeze carried new scents to her and brought a feeling of joy. Tilting her head back, she tried to see if she could spot Zairre through the trees. The old goddess wandered across the sky daily, where the weather changed on a whim due to her moods.

“Hello, Roslyn!”

She turned around, spying the lean form of Eunji. The God of Life and Truth visited her often, but never staying for too long; it was typically a quick hello, a few words, then he was gone again. Still, the short visit was most welcome. Eunji crossed his arms over his chest as he walked beside her. The tall God grinned, his green eyes pinching a little in mirth.

“H-hello Eunji,” she replied with a bow.

“Has anything exciting happened since our last visit?”

Roslyn shook her head and whispered, “No, n-n-n-nothing exciting.”

“Well, that’s a pity,” he pouted, stopping along the trail.

Roslyn paused with him, scowling at his dour expression. “Care t-to come fishing?”

“I’m afraid I cannot. I’m being summoned,” he said, pointing to the sky.

Above her head, the great God Inder loomed over them, casting the entire forest in shadow. Inder’s short red hair was cut close to his scalp. The sun glinted off his fiery hair and made her squint. Inder smiled, holding up a hand. She timidly smiled and waved back.

Turning to Eunji, she smiled softly and shrugged. “M-M-Maybe next t-time then.”

“Absolutely.”

She stepped to the side as Eunji summoned his bright silver magic to his hands. The God smiled and waved a final goodbye before the magic consumed him entirely. She thought it was interesting how each god had their own color for magic, as if the magic fit their personalities.

She cleared her throat, humming to herself. The forest was opening up. The roar of the river was close. The bright blue of the glinting river made her eyes squint. Seeing the water through the scraggly tree branches brought a broad smile to her face. If she was lucky, fish would be her supper for the evening and, quite possibly, the next few.

Roslyn found her rock near the river’s edge. Movement out of her peripheral, caught her attention. Glancing to the left, Flynn came trotting up beside her, his golden eyes merry.

“C-came to j-join me in the warm s-s-s-sun?” she asked, petting his soft head.

Flynn tugged on her dress, pulling to the left. Roslyn scowled, rising to her feet to follow. Flynn stopped pulling and yapped loudly, baring his teeth. Her blood ran icy in her veins. Slowly turning around, the hairs on her neck stood on end. She couldn't get a scream out. Men came out of the forest with a woman bound to a horse. She was riveted to the spot. There was nowhere to hide and, even if there were, she was already seen.

Roslyn backed away slowly, tripping over rocks behind her. Turning, she scrambled to her feet and floundered. The men behind her snickered. A hard hand slapped around her upper arm, pulling her upright only to drag her to the man who led the woman on the horse. Roslyn screamed, kicking as she fought to get away.

Flynn nabbed the pant leg of the man who held her, only to be kicked away with a yelp.

“H-hey!” Roslyn shouted.

“Well, well, well,” a man snarled. “Looks like we found another to have fun with.”

Wide eyed, she glanced at everyone around her. There were at least six burly looking men. The woman on the horse was slung over like she was a sack of potatoes. Blood was crusted to the right side of her head and matted to her dark brown hair. Roslyn felt her heart leap into her throat.

“What’s your name, woman?” the obvious leader purred.

Roslyn shook her head.

“Speak!” the man yelled.

Again, she shook her head. The man who held her knocked her upside the head.

“Tell me your name,” the man crooned. “Unless you like being beaten?”

She clenched her eyes shut. “R-Roslyn.”

“Well, Roslyn,” the man paused, leering at her. “Take us to your house. We need a place to stay.”

Roslyn shook her head. She didn't want to. She didn't want to be contained inside a dwelling and forced to submit to their whims. Out here she had a chance to run, but once inside, she would be trapped. Looking around her, there would be no chance to run. She was surrounded.

A stinging slap to the face brought her attention back to the man in front of her.

His dark eyes made her cringe. “I said,” he began menacingly, “take me to your house.”

Roslyn nodded. The man who still held her wrenched her arm behind her. Roslyn gasped at the sharp pain. He kept her pinned, forcing her forward.

“Lead the way,” he growled in her ear.

Tears edged along her lashes. The man holding her threw her to the ground. He pounced on top of her, straddling her.

“No!” she screamed, trying to push him off.

The man struck her jaw, using his legs to pin hers down. Hands on his chest, she tried futility to push him off. The man laughed, grabbing her hands as he tied them together. Another man came from behind her, lashing a rope around her neck, yanking it tight to force her compliance. Roslyn watched as the ruffians moved around her and up the pathway she had come down.

The man who tied her dragged her behind him. Her home was not far up the path. She fought back, using what little weight was on her body to throw it around, to try to knock him off balance to let her go. The only thing it did was tighten the rope around her neck. Roslyn stopped. It was pointless.

Reaching her home, a man untied the woman on the horse, throwing her inside. The smack of the woman’s body striking the wooden floor made her cringe. The man leading her pushed her to the door. Roslyn braced herself, trying to turn and run. The man kicked the back of her legs, sending her sprawling to lie beside the woman on the floor.

The leader kicked her in the stomach as he passed by. Roslyn coughed, trying to inhale. The screeching of chairs across the wooden floor sent shivers up her spine. A man tied her to the floor where the other woman was and walked away. Roslyn tried to undo the rope, but could not. She was stuck.

“Do not worry, my brother is coming,” the woman told her.

Roslyn just stared incredulously at her. No one was coming. Her cottage was hard to find, secluded deep in the Ukelenori Forest where Hoklen and Yemerling bordered. No one was going to find her.

“I’m Ellanora. But you can call me Ellie.”

Roslyn nodded. She didn’t feel like talking. She was angry, scared. She had to get away. The pleading look in Ellie’s eyes made her pause. Ellie was looking for a friend in this scary time too.

“My n-name’s R-R-R-Roslyn.”

“Where are you from?”

“Here.”

Ellie looked around. “It’s very… quaint.”

Roslyn nodded her head as she tried the bindings again. She had to get out of here with Ellie. She could not, in good conscience, leave her here either.

“Well, not to worry. Zorion is coming for me as we speak. I know he is!”

Roslyn looked at her seriously and was about to speak when something struck the back of her head.

“No talking!” the lead man boomed.

“Hey! You leave her alone!” Ellie cried out. “She did nothing wrong!”

“Take that as a lesson to you too, Princess,” he sneered. “Talk and you will end up like the mistake lying at your feet!” The man then turned and yelled, “Dirk! Pick her up and stick her in the chicken coop!”

Roslyn glared. “I’m n-not a m-mm-mistake!”

“Aye, Jarl,” Dirk answered.

The only blue-eyed brute strode into her house with her dead chickens hanging from his broad hands. Her heart sank. Those were hers to get her through the coming winter.

Roslyn was forced to her feet. Dirk grabbed her by the upper arm, squeezing tightly. Roslyn winced, swearing she felt a bruise forming.

Jarl towered over Ellie. “Now, as for you,” Jarl began, glaring malevolently at Ellie. “The only thing saving your thin little neck is because I want your father’s money. Understand?”

Roslyn swallowed, completely scared out of her wits. Helplessly, she was dragged to the small chicken coop and tossed inside. Roslyn sucked back tears that wanted to flow freely. Ellie was wrong. No one was coming. She would survive their abuse and fight for her life.

The sky was darkening, and so was her heart. From what she could see from her left eye, it was night. She wasn’t scared; at least, not anymore. She had been left outside since yesterday. No food, no water, no nothing. At first, she started to cry, but when there were no more tears, she resolved herself. Crying like a babe was not going to get her out of this.

She would see her captors here and there. They would come out and check to see if she was still breathing. After that, they would leave her alone again in the cramped chicken coop.

She heard them inside the cottage, a couple hundred feet away, laughing. She knew whatever they were doing to Ellie had to be worse than the beatings she was taking. Aye, they had to be torturing her. The brutal men captured the poor lady and brought her here for a reason. She figured it was for ransom or to spite the brother who loved her. Whatever the reason, it landed her in deep water with Ellie. Roslyn tried to undo the bindings to her hands but could not. They were much too tight.

Darkness crept over the canopy of leafy trees. Zairre wandered over the heavens, moving west with her hands spread wide as her gentle green magic flowed freely from her open palms. Roslyn huddled closer to herself. It was going to be another night out in the cold, another night being bound and hopeless. Three men came out of the cottage, making their way toward her. She tucked her head toward her chest.

Jarl, the leader of this deplorable group, stood outside of her enclosure with a sneer. He was tall, built strong like a blacksmith forge, with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. His presence sent fearful shivers down her spine. He came within inches of her. She tried her hardest to look brave, but she was thankful the coop offered her some measure of protection.

His eyes roved her body. From the look on his face, he was planning his next move against her. Whatever he was going to do to her this time, she promised herself she wouldn’t cry or scream. She would save her breath, keep a level head and escape. Jarl snarled at her, gnashing his teeth. Roslyn cringed, eliciting a laugh from him.

“Stupid chit,” Jarl growled, spitting on her dress. Rounding on his men, he roared, “Where’s Xenon and his brother? They haven’t returned with our money!”

“I sent Watcher to look for them,” Dirk replied evenly.

“Brain-dead mongrels,” Jarl cursed.

“G-go to hell!” Roslyn snarled.

“Keep your mouth shut,” Jarl warned.

Roslyn refrained from sticking out her tongue as she watched them go back inside. Letting out a relieved breath, she tried the ropes again; the scratchy burn on her skin made it raw. She stopped fighting the ropes. It was useless. If she fought anymore, her skin would bleed and the possibility of infection would kill her quicker than being locked in a decrepit coop.

Roslyn curled herself in a ball tighter, hoping it would block out the biting wind. What am I going to do? She was going to die in this small hut. She made her peace with that, but wished she had been able to know what it felt like to kiss a man. It was odd to her that was all she wanted to know.

Since being on her own at the age of ten, she didn’t know many people, let alone their kindness. Her verbal affliction was treated like a disease. The only person who didn’t treat her unkindly was Maggie. But the poor old woman died when she was fifteen. Now, at nearly twenty, she had no life experiences to show for herself.

She closed her eyes, smiling at the fond memories of the old woman. Maggie was gentle and patient; often trying to get her to sing instead of talk to help with the stuttering. And it worked for a few years until Maggie’s death. After that, she had no one to talk to, so singing was moot.

Roslyn wiped a tear from her eye. She didn’t know how to control her problem sometimes, and it ran away with her; especially when she got over stimulated or excited. So, she stopped talking. She stopped going to the market in Hoklen to sell wares for wool or money, since people paid her less than she wanted for her work and she cared not to speak up. Speaking meant disclosing her faults, and it was almost worse than being paid less.

Roslyn hung her head. No man was going to love her because of her affliction. She had a good life. She knew the unconditional love of a fox, so there’s that. But like all animals, their time on Zerelon would come to an end. It was only a matter of time before Flynn left her side too.

Glancing at the cottage door, she scowled. She remembered Ellie speaking about a man named Zorion coming for her. She wanted to believe the young woman, but no one was coming. No one ventured into this forest besides her. But if Ellie had money like Jarl claimed she did, then maybe someone might. In her experience, though, however little it was, she would have to save herself.

As the night grew darker still, despair clung to her heart. Jarl would be coming soon to see if she was still breathing. He would open up the coop to grope her body just to watch her writhe and cry. Thankfully, it hadn’t gone beyond that yet. Her wrists bled with each twist of the rope she tried. She didn’t wish to breathe anymore.

The wind stirred the trees. The light breeze poured in through the open holes in the coop, giving her some much needed fresh air. She turned on her side, facing the more open part of the coop where boards barely held her chickens inside. Rustling branches pulled her eyes to the west. Roslyn prayed it was a beast that was going to slash her throat and end her torment. A set of eyes appeared in front of the coop and stared into hers briefly before darkness claimed her.

Zorion worked his way through the woods. He’d been tracking his sister since he was informed of her disappearance. What he didn’t understand was why? All the areas of Zerelon were at peace. Hoklen was always questionable, but they stayed on their mountaintops most of the time. Whatever the reason for taking his beloved sister, the pukes were going to pay.

The men he found earlier demanding a ransom were cut down and hanging from a tree once he got the needed information. Men like them didn’t belong in this world. And if the Goddess Hela decided to damn his soul, then so be it. He would do it again, given the opportunity.

The hound he brought with them growled, pointing toward a brushy area. Zorion patted the large beast on the head. Ulger ceased growling, opting for a small whimper. The eagerness in Ulger’s eyes made him smile. They’d found his sister.

“Men,” Zorion softly called.

Seven other men slicked their swords from their sheaths. With his sword drawn, he pressed his way through the brush, coming face to face with a small rundown cottage. He would have completely missed it if it weren't for Ulger. It was a small dwelling with only one window, allowing the candlelight to shine through the front of the cottage.

To the south of the cottage was a dilapidated chicken coop. Something large inside stirred. Carefully, he edged closer, scowling in hopes of peering through the holes in the wood just right to see what it was.

His eyes landed on a young woman staring up at him through the wooden fissures. Even though his view was obscured, she looked pretty. Her curly blonde hair stuck out around her head and was illuminated by the moonlight. Noting the bruises on her face, his blood heated. Immediately, he went to work to get her out of the blasted small space she was in.

Going around to the back of the coop, Zorion undid the latch containing the woman. The men holding his sister hostage had crammed this poor woman inside and bound her legs, hands, and feet. She was a slight little thing wrapped up tight in a ratted dress that barely came to her knees.

Zorion reached in, scooping her in his arms. She weighed nary a thing. The bones in her ribs could be easily counted by his fingertips. Her curly head lolled to the side, resting against his chest. Carefully, he carried her back to his men, setting her down against the trunk of a tree. Ulger whined, licking her bare hand. Zorion arched a brow at the act of compassion by his dog. Ulger tolerated Ellie. However, this woman compelled his dog to show affection.

“Och, the poor thing,” Blake whispered, clucking his tongue.

“Here,” Kieve said, handing him a blanket to put over her.

Zorion opened the thick woolen blanket and covered her up. Ulger laid stoically at her feet. Zorion patted the dog on the head. The woman’s eyes fluttered open. She held a breath, her eyes widening.

Zorion gently set a hand over her mouth. “We’re not here to hurt you,” he said softly. “Is my sister, Ellie, here?”

She nodded. Her bright gray eyes staring tearfully into his. She glanced from him to his men and sobered, relief pouring from every pore on her sweet face. He lifted her face gently to inspect her. Her lips were swollen and cracked. Dried blood was caked to the side of her head and in her hair. Her right eye sported a deep purple bruise. This poor woman had been to Hela’s Hell and back at the hands of these men.

“Is she inside?”

Again, she nodded.

“How many men are in the house?” he asked, taking his hand off her mouth.

“S-six.”

Zorion put his hands on her shoulders. “Stay here,” he commanded. Getting up from his squatted position, he put a hand on Blake’s shoulder. “Stay with her and try to get her to drink some water. The rest of you, we have men to kill.”

Blake nodded, stepping around the rest of the men.

Zorion adjusted the black studded leather armor upon his chest. Whisking the sword from his sheath, he moved forward. Cautiously, he approached the small cottage and peered through the window. There were six men sitting around the table, but he couldn’t see his sister. He walked around to the front door and kicked it in with one blow of his booted heel.

The men around the table scrambled to their feet. Zorion growled, quickly scanning the room for his sister, still unable to find her.

“Where’s Ellie?” His voice boomed.

No one answered. No one moved. Five pairs of eyes stared fearfully back at him, but only one man glared.

“Ellanora!” his voice thundered.

The shocked gasp of his sister reached his ear. “Zorion!”

Without hesitating, Zorion lunged for the nearest man. His sword crossed with the first one while his men came in from behind him to aid him in dispatching the enemies. It surprised him these men were not better at defending themselves. For taking a defenseless woman and desiring to barter her for ransom, he assumed they would have fought better, or at least had more than six guarding her. Or maybe it was all his training to become the best soldier he could be that made these men appear like wilted lilies.

Zorion slicked his blade through the gut of a young man who hadn’t even begun shaving yet. He quickly looked away, not liking the fact he’d killed a kid not off his mother’s breast. Bodies thumped lifeless to the floor. One of his men began dragging them outside by their feet.

The one who glared at him was held between two of his men. Zorion strode over to the man, sheathing his sword in the process.

“What did you want with Ellie?” Zorion asked, flexing his hand.

The man spat at his feet. Zorion landed a hard blow to his gut.

“What did you want with my sister?”

The man sputtered. “Money.”

“From who?” Zorion pried, landing another blow to the man’s ribs.

The man didn’t answer; sucking in a breath from the audible crunch of his broken bones. Zorion rocked a blow to the man’s face, hearing a large crack when his knuckles struck his cheekbone.

That was a preview of Reviving Roslyn. To read the rest purchase the book.

Add «Reviving Roslyn» to Cart