Chapter 7

Nyx

Chapter 7

            Something poked her in the forehead. Nyx groaned, rolling over mumbling for the annoyance to go away. It came again in the form of a hand shaking her shoulder. Nyx smacked the hand away, curling into a ball in an attempt to hold onto the last vestiges of her sleep. The cot was overturned and Nyx fell to the floor with a startled yelp.

            The smith stood over her with a look of mild amusement. “Get up, you have work to do.” She stood up, yawning and drowsily accepted the bread and fruit he thrust into her hands. “Eat.”

            She sat down on the bench, nibbling on the food and watching as he prepared his tent for the day of work ahead of him. There was much to do, setting out the weapons, heating the smelter, and of course, setting a pot of tea to boil. She finished off her meager breakfast, and he shooed her out of the tent.

            “Go. Get new clothes. You can’t sell my wares looking like the undead.” Nyx looked down at her clothes. What little that was still in one piece was caked with mud and blood. The smith gave her one last push, and she was on her way.

            The market was just opening, so it wasn’t particularly busy yet. Nyx wandered the stalls looking at the different goods for sale. Her eyes caught on a pair of shoes that were in style at the moment, and she wandered up to them. The trader jumped up, trying to shoo her away.

            “Leave! I’ll have no pickpockets and thieves drooling over my wares!” Nyx raised an eyebrow at him.

            “I’m training to be a Huntress. I just killed an Ursa, pardon me for not looking my best!” She decided it best not to tell him it wasn’t a full grown Ursa.

            “And I’m the king of Vale!” The vendor laughed at her, and her scowl deepened. She opened her bag and slammed one of the massive Ursa teeth into the table, impaling deep into the wood.

            “Is this proof enough?” The trader’s demeanor changed drastically as he looked greedily at the Ursa tooth. Monster pelts, teeth and claws sold for quite a respectable price. “Nevermind, you’re products look rather cheap and poorly stitched!” She turned on her heel and stomped away, despite the apologies the trader was calling after her.

            The next stall was much friendlier. The trader gave her one glance over before wandering over to help her. “Rough night?”

            Nyx smiled at him. “You have no idea.” She browsed his selection, buying a pair of knee length boots, new tights, a fresh blouse and a light coat to go over it to hide her wings. She thanked him, paying with one of the teeth. She wandered back to the Smith’s tent, watching as the crowd began to fill in the market. The smith was already at his anvil, prepping to make a new blade. He looked up as she approached and gestured to his tent.

            “There is a bath in there, go wash, preen, then come out and man the stall.” Nyx didn’t need to be told twice. Her hair was coated with blood and sweat and it took all her willpower not to sprint into the tent.

            About an hour later a knock came from outside. “Come in.” Nyx called, trying to work a stubborn twig out of her feathers. The smith walked in and, noticing what she was doing, came to help her. She sat there while he gently removed the stick, admonishing her for flying so low in the forest.

            “There. Now extend your wing.” Nyx did as told, wincing slightly as the torn muscle throbbed in protest. The smith took measurements of her primary flight feathers, before nodding in satisfaction. “I will get started on these. Go sell.” With that, he turned and strode once more out of the tent.

            Nyx stepped into her new boots, pulling the coat over her wings, and rechecking the bandage around her hand. On the way out, she stopped to admire herself in the mirror. She really did look different with her hair down, and out of those bulky sweaters.

            There was no one near the stall, so Nyx took a few minutes to inspect the weapons for sale. All of them were expertly crafted, with amazing balance. Intricate designs had been forged into the steel, and she spent a while admiring their craftsmanship. It seemed the smith specialized in larger weapons, as the only thing she had seen him craft smaller than a longsword was his feather blades. She looked around the market place, knowing that before she headed back she would need to purchase some new daggers. The thought excited her. Nyx loved the idea of getting new weapons.

            As she stood there day dreaming about different daggers, her vision was obstructed by a massive dark haired man. He stood there looking curiously at one of the smith’s finer swords.

            “How much for this piece of junk?” Nyx gasped in shock and outrage. That was a beautiful sword!

            “More than you have. Maybe you should go look in the dump for a new weapon.” She crossed her arms angrily.

            He dropped the sword to the table with a thunk, and then grabbed her by the shirt wrenching her forward over the counter of the stall. “Don’t toy with me girl.” He growled. Her feet scrabbled for purchase, trying to regain her balance.

            She snarled and punched him in the face. He dropped her, stumbling backwards holding a bloody nose. “I don’t trade with filth. LEAVE!” She screamed. The man pushed off the ground and stomped forward.

             “You’re gonna regret that.” He slammed his fist into the girl’s face. Nyx collapsed to the floor, an explosion of stars filling her vision. She crawled away, her fingers reaching for something, anything to help her. The thug strode forward and drove his foot into her stomach, right as her hand grasped the hilt of a sword. Air whooshed out of her lungs, and she was sent rolling into the dirt.

            Nyx struggled to her feet, gasping as the air and pulling the sword into a feeble on guard position. The thug laughed and walked forward, totally unconcerned about the deadly blade held centered at his heart. Nyx, finally able to breath once again, steadied the sword. The man stopped, a grin spreading across his face, and drew his own sword.

            “Big mistake little girl” he laughed, then slammed his sword into her guard. Nyx stumbled back from the force of the blow, gritting her teeth in pain. She could feel the wounds in her hand reopening. She deflected his next strike, skittering a few feet away from him.

            Nyx wasn’t very skilled with a sword, but the Academy required all their students to undertake training in swordplay. She was pretty out of practice with the sword, but the oaf in front of her obviously had never received any formal training with the sword. He put all his weight behind his attacks in great loping hacks. Nyx blocked a few, and turned away others, each time her arm jarring from the shock.

            The crowds of people parted for them as they traded blows across the market square. Vendors stopped selling and customers stopped buying to watch the spectacle. A few mutters went around wondering if it was a demonstration. Others asked if they should intervene, concerned for the small girl fighting the lumbering giant.

            Nyx fought as hard as she could with her injured hand. Each time she was forced to block a strike, a wave of pain would shoot up her arm as the deep gashes leaked blood. Her attacker showed no signs of slowing down the fight anytime soon, still coming at her with incredibly strong strikes. She would have to find some way to end this quick, or she would end up sliced in half, and that wouldn’t make the smith very happy…

            The attacker bull rushed her again and she noticed a dagger fastened to his side. She rolled to the right, ducking under the horizontal strike that would have cut her in two. He snarled and twisted around, his muscles bunching up as he prepared to charge again. She wouldn’t be able to roll away again like that. This was her last chance.

            Nyx took her sword in both hands and flung it with all her strength at the attacker. The sword flipped end over end flying at his chest. She didn’t take the time to watch if it struck or not. Nyx dove for the dagger at his side, ripping it out of its scabbard and plunging it deep into his foot.

            The crowd roared with approval, the man hollered in pain and Nyx quickly backed away from him. He struggled, thrashing, but his foot was pinned to the wood planks below him. The crowd converged on her, offering congratulations, and someone handing back her borrowed sword. She looked around, trying to find some way of escaping. Her bandage was once again soaked through with her blood, and was stinging something fierce. A gap in the crowd drew her eye, and she dived for it, finally breaking free of the mass of people. Nyx ran back to the smith’s tent, unaware of the police arresting the thug for disturbing the peace and attempted murder.

            The smith was not happy. Nyx slid to a stop right in front of him, peering up into a face that was etched with disapproval. Her shoulders slumped and she looked down at the floor like a child being punished. The smith pulled the sword from her hand and dropped it back on the table, then dragged her by arm into the tent.

            “I told you to sell! Not to fight. Don’t you realize you are injured? If you keep this up, the wounds will never heal.” He took her hand and began to remove the bandage.

            “But he attacked me! I just defended myself. Besides, I won!” She winced as he tightly wrapped her hand in some fresh gauze and moved on to inspect her black eye.

            “Then you should have yelled for me! …I know you were able to win on your own, but if you keep doing things like this, your hand will end up getting infected!”

            Nyx frowned, staying quiet and letting him finish his lecture. A short time later, he finished venting his frustration and told her to go sell things, but not before she promised not to get into any more fights.    

            She walked outside the tent and froze, eyes going wide. There was a large crowd standing around the stall, inspecting the smith’s weapons. A wide smile grew on her face and she approached them. “How can I help you?”