laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Echoing up into the rafters as if to Yaeby himself, the angelic voices from the choiry filled her body with a shiver. So much was happening, had happened in the last few years that it was hard to keep up sometimes. Her wedding to Isaac had been arranged to quell the disputes between her father and the duke of Zariva, her new father-in-law, and she had made the best of it. It was the way of the world, women were second class, no matter their station unless she was the queen or empress, of course. As she sat and listened, shadows of knights riding by darkened the far windows and reminded her why she was here on a weekday. The invasions had started again and those not involved needed to strengthen their faith. War trolls and orcs had breached the southern walls last time and everyone prayed the resolve of their men would keep that from happening again.

She sighed, her hands resting atop her bible that sat in her lap. All of the men in her life were involved in this fight somewhere in the empire and she tried to put the thoughts of their demise out of her mind. Dreams lately had been fraught with dark images which was why she spent much of her free time here with her newborn daughter, Breeana who now rested within a thick, white blanket in Sarah's arms, her lady-in-waiting. John, ever vigilant sat to Sarah's right and listened intently also to the choir whose pleas to their patron deity continued to fill the large church.

Soon, she rose with Sarah and John as they headed back to the front doors, now open to the morning light. Her long green, silk dress covered by a dark green, velvet coat whose shoulders puffed out and all reflected the sun as they walked out onto the flagstoned walkway. John quickly jogged around her and opened the door to the awaiting coach and stepped aside as Nyrellia climbed in and sat down. Sarah and John joined her and the driver's whip slapped the rumps of their horses and sped them away as wagons arrived with the wounded and dying. As the wooden carriers passed, she stole a look down into their body-filled interiors, looking for anyone familiar, but found no one. 'Thank you,' she thought.

"All of my lady's things are packed and ready as soon as she wishes," Sarah informed.

Nyrellia's emerald green eyes turned. "Thank you, Sarah. I just have to get one final thing and we'll be away."

"I wish that you had decided to leave last night as your husband wished, my lady," John's deeper, authoritative voice stated. "I can't hold back an army by myself."

Nyrellia smiled, the first time in a long while. "I doubt that however, your concerns are noted. I hate running, that's all."

John nodded, his deeply tanned face showed years of service to the duchy and herself, the combined heraldry of Kecel and Zariva revealed his duty to her which was paramount to anyone else now. He had proven that many times in the past. As she smiled to him, she noticed a flash in an alleyway as the coach raced passed which gave her a chill. Their dark clothing and glowing eyes alerted her to the danger as John drew his sword as he looked out through the windows beyond Sarah.

Nyrellia reached for the door handle as the wagon rocked to the left as John stabbed outward while Sarah leaned over against Nyrellia, screaming. She reached into her jacket and produced a dagger and looked upward to the rear of the enclosed cabin, seeing a clawed hand gripped to the side. She reached and cut the fingers as her blade's bluish glow pulsed even in the bright sunlight. A deep scream erupted as she drew back for another strike and the hand was soon joined by the dark grey grimacing face of her attacker. The eyes gripped her soul and she knew that this thing was no orc. Another quick stab ended with her arm gripped by his hand as he smiled and yanked. Now that the door was opened, she felt her body glide outside of the coach as John tried to reach for her foot, but missed. As she fell to the flagstoned road, her captor dropped in one swift motion to the ground running as he lifted and scooped her up into his arms, then stopped as his partner continued his struggle with John.
His stench and her fear made her nearly sick as she tried to wrestle from his grasp which prompted his claws to dig deeper into her flesh around her small waist.

"Stop struggling," he hissed, hot breath burning her neck. "He wants you strong and unbruised."

"I'll die first, you animal," she spat as tears of anger streamed and turned the knife's edge downward, cutting his fingers again which bled a dark ooze. Suddenly, a hit to the back of her head sent the world into a spin that soon drifted into darkness.