Chapter 3: Lone Survivor
Eliana is awoken with the sudden halt of the carriage.
“Princess, you must be incredibly quiet, we are surrounded. We must have been followed from the castle.”
It takes a moment for Eliana to register what her handmaid has said and shakes off the grogginess of her slumber. “Who is it,” she questions in horror.
“We do not know, they are hidden by the trees, but the men say that they are Pivurlion.”
Eliana’s heart drops. She does not dare to look out the window when Selma mentions the trees. They have been traveling for a day and are close to the border they share with Murduk. Climont is only another half day’s journey.
Eliana gulps as she stares at her handmaid. She wonders which country has hired these assassins and which clan the Pivurlion associate with. Surely it would have to either be the werewolves or the werebears.
“When they attack, we must escape from the caravan without being seen,” Selma explains. Her voice softens, her dull eyes wide with fear.
“What about the men?”
“This is the entire reason they have come. To protect you, and that is what they shall do.”
“I cannot leave them,” Eliana argues her heart pounding.
“You must listen to me, Princess, these creatures will not stop. We do not know if they want you alive, dead, or if they are really even after you specifically. In any case, you must be led to safety. I will not allow you to die at such a young age.” She tightens her on the door to the carriage. A grim shadow falls on her expression.
“Selma, I cannot.” Eliana tries to protest but the elderly woman pushes her to the other side of the caravan where the door is.
She risks a peek outside. The trees sway, but the breeze is too soft. “It is still too quiet.”
“Are you sure this is a good idea,” Eliana questions, but one look from Selma and she stops. She feels weak and helpless as she relies on her maid to protect her. She closes her eyes not able to relax her muscles. She finds herself begging, pleading with the spirits, that both her and her people will get to safety.
“Please, do not let them die. Let us survive.”
Tears sting Eliana’s eyes but she wipes them away quickly before Selma has a chance to notice.
“Are they on the ground, or in the trees?” She whispers as the crunch of one of the horses shifting its weight anxiously screams in her ears.
“They come from the ground. They are waiting too patiently. They must be Xefol.”
“Are you sure it is not any other clan?” Eliana’s skin crawls with hundreds of little shivers as she thinks about the large bears. An image of her mother flashes behind her eyes.
Before Selma can respond, a deafening screech shakes the entire wagon. Eliana’s heart drops and her vision blurs with dread. One of her soldiers closer to the tree line is mauled by a large, burly creature. Her tears are finally freed as she watches the blood run down the body of her bodyguard. The horse he is on screams and tries to run, but the creature, a hulking bear, latches onto the animal as well, tearing it to shreds. The Xefol roars in triumph before pivoting and facing one of the other soldiers who has drawn his sword. He towers over the caravan on his hind legs, heaving with the excursion of attacking the first soldier.
Another bear bounds from the forest and rams its shoulder into one of the horses, sending both it and it’s rider to the ground.
“We must go now, while they are distracted,” Selma hisses grabbing the handle of the carriage and slowly opening the door.
Trying to escape undetected is futile, as they exit the wagon in plain view of the bears.
“Run,” Selma shrieks and pushes Eliana forward.
The Princess stumbles over her own feet and almost tumbles to the ground. She picks up her long dress and begins to sprint towards the forest, her long braid flowing behind her.
The cries of the soldiers resound in her head and as her heart jumps into her throat, she glances back, almost running into a tree.
“Don’t look back Milady,” Selma orders, but it is too late.
Eliana burns the image into her mind.
Every solider is now on the ground, their horses either dead or have fled. The two Xefol bring up their heads in the women’s direction and Eliana’s body is filled with dread. They really are after her.
The creatures begin to charge at them, stomping over the dead bodies of Eliana’s caravan.
“How are we going to escape? They are too fast,” she cries in her mind. Panic starts to overtake Eliana’s mind and body as the werebears get closer.
“Go on ahead without me My Lady, I will distract them.” Selma calls after her as the Princess is already a few yards ahead.
“No, I will not leave you behind to die.” Eliana stumbles to a stop before pivoting back around.
“Yes, you shall. If you do not survive, our kingdom is doomed. King Krite will kill your father and no one will remember Drein throughout history. Climont will overtake us.”
Eliana’s vision blurs with tears, “I do not want to lose you.”
“I will always be with you, just trust in me.” Selma smiles at her kindly, and Eliana closes her eyes tightly, trying to hold herself together.
“Run, Selma. Run as fast as you can, and if it is not quick enough, climb. Climb the trees and hide.”
“I shall, My Lady,” the handmaid smiles, “Now go.
Eliana spins around and begins barreling through the forest once more. Her heart is twisted, and her lungs refuse to allow oxygen through. She left Selma behind. The same accusation runs through her mind, “I abandoned her.”
Agony erupts in Eliana’s scalp as she is forced to a stop. She groans in pain as she reaches back and tears her braid from a branch. Parts of her locks are torn in the process, floating to the forest floor.
Without stopping to assess the damage, Eliana continues on, still able to hear the distant roars of the two Xefol. Her dress is rendered useless as it is snagged on crevices and branches, in which she has had to wrench it free several times. She steps in a dip in the thickly covered forest bed, her ankle twisting. She yelps in pain, but gently pushes off the tree, limping on.
Eliana continues to run, until she enters a small clearing. There is an expanse of flowers, bees flying around them. A small cottage sits to the right of the meadow, a neat garden spread out next to it.
Her breathing is labored while her calves and back ache. It takes all of her willpower to not drop to the ground where she is. There are no other life forms within eyesight. She limps to the front stoop only pausing for a moment.
“I just need to get inside. If those bears find me, I will die. Selma and my soldiers will have died in vain.” Swallowing her tears, Eliana quickly enters the cottage and shuts the door behind her.
“Hello,” she calls after clearing her dry throat. She knows her voice is raspy, and she winces as she speaks, “Is anyone home?” When no one answers, she grabs a firepoker that is leaning against the wall. The cold metal sends a shiver throughout her body.
“Hello,” she calls once more as she gives herself a moment to catch her bearings. The cottage is warm, a small fire blazing in the fire pit and the smell of stew wafts around the home.
Eliana ventures even further into the cottage, her heart rate calming. Her curiosity gets the better of her once she spots the three doors to the left. As she moves to investigate, a large roar shakes the entire cottage. Fear heightening her senses once more, Eliana rushes into the first bedroom and slams the door closed. She scrambles onto the small bed that has a dark green blanket laying on top. She huddles in the corner, wrapping her arms around her tattered dress and knees, gripping the firepoker. Although she tries to focus on the sounds outside, she can only hear the beat of her own heart pounding in her ears. Her ankle throbs in agony, causing a soft groan to build u in her throat.
“Am I safe here? Should I have kept running? What do I do now? Will the owners come back soon?”
Eliana sits as still as she possibly can, her body tense as she waits for what will come.