I was trembling inside. Anger, disgust, disbelief all hailed me as one . There was a short but overwhelming sense of nausea that almost caused my knees to give way.
Then came the sound of hurried footsteps ascending the stairs, as he ran to my side.
“Stop!”
His word was a command, for my own safety I knew. I saw only filth in that upper room of my childhood home. He saw the possibility of someone with their blade at my throat.
Had I really just slain a man on those stairs I used to play on? Had I actually plunged my knife into someone’s chest, just below the rib cage, and twisted and raised it to bring them down?
With the sound of heavier breathing from his own exertion in battle with the men downstairs, he was beside me, seeing for himself there was no further threat. But his presence, normally so warmly reassuring, was still that of a cold, battle-hardened killer.
“Yllfa?
A flurry of thoughts were in my mind. My family (now long gone, thankfully that they did not see this wreck of a home), a warm hearth, the smell of fresh bread, light through the open window...and then men, brigands grovelling in drunken stupor at that same hearth. I saw the face of a kind and gentle man turn into that of some ‘monster', calmly slicing the throats of others.
“Yllfa! Are you hurt?”
Again he spoke, though with urgency even as the rich tone returned to his voice.
I shook my head. ‘No. I am unharmed. The sword was knocked from my hand so I had to use my knife on him.”
A moment of silence passed by. He lowered his own blood covered sword as he understood.
“You have never killed a man before?”
I could not speak out my answer for a moment.
“No. I battle against death, not aid it.” my voice was as small as I felt.
Part of me wanted to turn to him then, to feel his arms about me with the sense of protection I had once experienced from my parents..my grandparents. Well, maybe not quite like that….but I was far from a child. I knew what life could demand.
He moved around the dark, stench-filled room, sword held at the ready, in case anyone hid beneath the bed, behind the tall cupboard, while I merely stood in my self indulgence a moment longer. Now I grew angry with myself. He had risked much to be there with me, knowing it was possible we would come across something like this. I owed it to him to explain.
“I have seen death many times”’ I said, as he opened the wall cupboard and checked inside. “I have slain wolf and bear at need. I have slain orcs.”
Then he was back beside me again, a hand laid supportively on my shoulder. “It never gets easy.” His eyes softened slightly, perhaps wondering if it was his transformation that had frightened me most of all. “I am sorry you had to see that, Yllfa..to see me like that. I hope it never happens again. But know I will do everything I can to keep you and Ethel safe, no matter the cost.”
And I smiled up at him as the old soldier gave way to his usual demeanour, that new and strange feeling of belonging flooding me back with life. I had slain one drunken man, coming at him from behind. He had slain several to regain my home ... our home. I would learn. I would do my very best not to fail him again.
