Isabel seizes the back of her cuirass, shoving Aura onto her back.
“No one is here to save you! Sigvid would not dare interrupt a match. My family will taste our sweet vengeance!”
Isabel swings her axe above her head and strikes. Aura finds a discarded round shield next to her in the field, holding it up in time for Isabel’s axe to splinter the wood, lodging the blade. She tosses them aside, her heart thundering so hard that a ringing resounds in her ears.
Isabel drops to her knees and punches her in the face. Blood runs from her nose and onto her tongue.
“I am going to rip your fucking face off!” She screams as she repeatedly strikes her face.
Aura desperately tries to shield herself from the blows, but the pain coursing through her and the weight of Isabel make it nearly impossible. She rolls side to side, struggling to escape Isabel’s fists. Finally, Isabel leaps to her feet, standing on Aura’s arm. The tip of her boot repeatedly connects to her stomach and legs.
They are so close to the gate…if her father or Bjorn are still near…
“Enough!” Her father’s gruff voice booms across the field as a blackwood-handled axe just barely misses Isabel’s head, sinking into the ground.
A shadow falls over Aura as her father appears, effectively forfeiting her Trial. He punches Isabel in the face with a loud crack, causing her to roll away.
“Open the fucking gate!” Sigvid roars over his shoulder. It is then that she realizes he must have climbed the fence.
She feels her eyelids droop under the pummeling of the rain as her wounds get the best of her, dragging her to the darkness. She must tell her father of Isabel’s crusade.
They are all in danger.
“Aura!” He abandons his pursuit of Isabel, who bounds through the open gate.
She fights against the dark haze that grips the world. Her father, the great Sigvid Thordsson, cradles her in his chest, his expression hauntingly despairing.
And then everything goes black.
4
AURA
July 21st, Year 21, 10th Era
Toftlund City, Treland
Aura tosses on the rigid cot beneath her back. Aches and pains permeate every crease of her body, yet she does not fully awaken. Only when she concedes she is not safe in her bed at the family home of Blackwood, do her lashes flutter open.
The chaotic noises of the city filter in from the streets, and so do the flickering street lamps. Through the weariness of the day, she groans into a sitting position to discover herself in the Healer’s Infirmary.
Fuck it all!
All of the Trial's events rush back with a fury, and suddenly, she is stumbling to her slippered feet in the darkness, searching for her armor. Instead, she finds three other empty cots, a bucket of bloodied rags, and a collection of surgical tools.
“Careful, Your Highness.” A young woman approaches her in stained white robes. “How are you feeling?”
Like my axe is thirsty for treasonist blood. “Sore.”
“You sustained quite a beating. It will take time for you to heal completely. You need rest-”
“Healer!” Someone shouts from outside.
“Drengr Trials,” the young woman mutters under her breath. “Please relax, Princess. I shall return!” She shouts over her shoulder, leaving Aura alone again.
Outside, the thick wooden walls of the Infirmary muffle a myriad of voices. She sees the lights of Toftlund dancing through the windows and knows she needs to move swiftly if she expects to catch Isabel before she has a chance to flee the Salt Province.
Aura intends to explain the betrayal atop the tower to her parents.
