Two

“Well if you are supposed to kill me, then get on with it,” Ajax said. That was when he noticed the knife sheathed at her waist, on a belt that looped around the midsection of her plain, rather worse-for-wear dress. Its sheath looked as though she had wiped a lot of blood on it. It was thick and caked, still dripping in places, and thoroughly stained. “Gods, do you ever even clean that?” he asked. Her eyebrow lifted, she moved her hand towards the hilt of her knife, and Ajax realized that he really, really didn't want those to be his last words. “Um,” he continued, squeezing his eyes shut, desperately casting his mind about for something witty to say. “I die… a victim of this cold, cruel world, despite living at its fiery center.” He opened his eyes a little to see how his killer reacted to his metaphorical wordplay. He was rather proud of himself, really. That was good for something so on the spot.

            She didn’t look impressed. “You pretentious f**k,” she said.

            Ajax thought about retorting, but then remembered that he had just spoken his well-crafted last words.

            They stared at each other for about a minute more before Ajax realized that she hadn’t killed him yet.

            “Are you waiting for some special moment?” he asked.

            She raised her eyebrows, though quickly she whipped her head to look back at the door. There were more footsteps coming in its direction, ones that sounded much heavier than hers had been.

            The girl’s eyes widened. “Hide,” she said. She stood up suddenly. “Hide.”

            But even if Ajax had decided to trust her in that moment, it wouldn’t have done him any good, as in that moment the library doors swung open with force, to let a tall, lanky, pointed man, with the same coloring as the girl, pass through. He immediately spotted the girl and changed the trajectory of his strut towards her. As he went, he sheathed his sword, which looked to be dripping with as much blood as her knife.

            “You found him,” the man said. “Good.”

            She turned to him slightly, keeping her eyes on Ajax. “We should take him alive.”

            “Nobody but the Governor,” he said.

            “But he won’t want to cooperate if we kill his son,” the girl replied. “Master has to know that.”

            “Master knows what he’s doing,” the man said. “And he didn’t ask you your opinion.”

            “But he’s wrong.”

            The man was studying her now, looking confused and concerned. His eyes flicked to Ajax. “I’ll kill him, then. You get the Governor.” He made to go to Ajax, drawing his sword.

            But the girl grabbed his arm. “No, Hunter,” she said. Her teeth sounded gritted a little. “We take him alive.”

            The man was astounded. “What?” he said quietly. He glanced at Ajax, then quickly back to the girl. He tried to shake her hand off his arm, but he didn’t seem to be able to.

            “No,” she said even more forcefully.

            “Rosie,” he said, looking at her, “What’s going on?” He had a dark look, which made his features seem even more sinister. He drew his sword. The girl’s knuckles were white as they still gripped his shirt.

            Then they weren’t gripping him at all, and her knife was drawn, too.

            “What are you doing?” the man asked. He seemed more concerned than angry, still, but his sword was now pointed at the girl.

            The girl took only a moment to look the man up and down, her eyes narrowed and calculating. In that moment, the man shifted and she lunged at him, going for his sword.

            What then transpired was the most graceful fight that Ajax had ever seen. They knocked into shelves, and papers were everywhere, but through the flurry they struggled and jumped and tumbled, meeting strikes fluidly, lunging and dodging in increasingly inventive and impressive ways. Ajax felt himself go cold a little bit, as he watched this display. These people were unstoppable. He could tell, even from this small, brief scuffle.

            The girl had the man’s sword flung away, and he was gripping her knife hand so hard that it looked to be almost turned backwards. She punched and kicked at him, and he blocked her blows, twisting her arm more, so that she shrieked in agony. Yet still she persevered, landing a few blows, then, in a feat of strength Ajax wasn’t even sure he himself could do, she wrapped her legs up around his torso and brought the man down. A bookcase came crashing down from this move, right on top of the man, and he groaned from the pain of it. The girl wrestled her hands free, then, and used the time she had bought to run for it.

            She had to first go to Ajax, who was still cowering under his desk, and he was dragged from his spot and to the window. Numb, he realized, that was what he was feeling. And like jelly, which was why his legs didn’t seem to quite work properly.

            How fortunate he was that the library was on the first floor of the manor, he thought as she continued dragging him right the way out the window. He had a feeling that this would have been their method of escape regardless of elevation.

             He crumpled to the ground when he landed outside, but the girl was still dragging him behind her like he was some kind of bizarre sled. His pants tore against the dirt, and he felt something cut into one of his knees before he was able to get his feet under him. The girl still kept his hand, and was yelling something, but he didn’t hear her over the sound of the blood pounding in his ears.

            Ajax ran so fast by her side that he wondered if that was what it felt like to be the wind.

            He was wheezing by the time they made it into the streets of Volcno, and still they ran, because Ajax could feel the man coming after them, right on their heels, he could feel it in the iron grip of the girl’s hand on his. If anything, they were running faster, now. People in the streets stared, blinking in confusion still as the dust their feet kicked up was held up in the air.

            He started to wonder, his lungs feeling as though they were about to revolt, where in the blazes she was taking him, when he caught sight of the harbor at the end of the lane.

            She cannot be serious, he thought. A ship? But then again, he thought, feeling a bit of relief in the midst of his total lack of breath, that would mean they would stop running soon.

            She must have had some kind of sixth sense for ships, because the one they made for at a still-practically-breakneck speed looked to be just unmooring itself. In the middle of the crowd, too, she slowed their pace, letting them get good and mixed up in the huge port. But still, they walked more than briskly, and hastened onto the ship in the nick of time. Immediately after they crossed over it, the gangplank was raised, and the sails were dropped. 

            Ajax laid down on the deck, not even noticing the curious glances of the sailors, and waited until he didn’t feel as though he were sucking down knives instead of breaths. The girl had her hands on her knees, bent over slightly, and was lightly panting.

            “We safe?” Ajax asked in a hitching voice once his breaths had slowed enough to be close to normal.

            “For now,” the girl replied.

            “Who even are you?” Ajax groaned, kneading at a stitch in his side.

            “Just call me Rosie,” she said.