1213 A.B.

  Elle was getting close to the end of her run. It had become her custom to run for exercise at some point every day. With the ugliness in her life, running helped her to feel like she was going somewhere. Escaping. Though in her heart, she felt true escape would never come. Currently she was running around the inside of the lower city walls, and she was coming up on a talon of trainees, who were trying to run the same course she was, but in armor. Elle passed them like they were standing still.

  “What’s this, then?!” The drill sergeant shouted. “Are you going to let some waif of a girl make you look like slugs? Move it! Move it!” The armored soldiers increased their pace.

  Elle couldn’t help but smile. She wasn’t wearing any kind of armor, unlike the trainees. Most of the recruits wore chainmail, and that stuff looked pretty heavy. She was getting close to her home, and the sun had set behind the walls. There was still plenty of light, so she made the final turn and started walking, trying to cool down a bit. The candle shop was just ahead.

  She walked into the shop, which was unsurprisingly unlocked, and held her long, blonde hair away from her neck, fanning herself with her other hand. She took her time cooling off, letting the cooler air inside the shop do its work. She noticed again the two broken windows at the store front that her father had never even tried to fix. The shelves were empty, after all, so what was the point? There was nothing to steal. Just like the empty shelves, there was nothing left to hope in here.

  If it weren’t for the Smith family lunches, Elle wouldn’t even have anything to eat most days. Her father, Pyter, was a wreck of a man. His addictions had only gotten worse once he had gotten hooked on dreamweed. Her mother’s had also. Elle was pretty sure that her mother was working the streets at night when Elle was in bed. With the shop gone, her income was the only thing they had to pay for their drugs. Corinne had become a broken thing, her youth and beauty drained away with only a few bitter dregs left. Pyter had become dependent on her for money, and if he didn’t get it, he beat Corinne mercilessly. Elle only knew this because she wasn’t always able to sleep. Fear kept her awake much of the time, and the dark circles under her eyes betrayed her constant fear.

  This day, Elle came home to the sounds of the voices of several men upstairs. Her breathing had slowed enough to hear what they were saying as she padded silently up the stairs barefoot.

  “Look, I can pay you what I owe you on Sixday,” Pyter said. “You know I’m good for it.”

  “No, we don’t know you’re good for it, Pyter,” said a deep voice.

  Elle opened the door just enough to slip through. She was trying to get around the men in her home without anyone noticing her, then climb the ladder to her attic pallet. There were three men in the room with her mother and father. Elle could see her father’s hands shaking from the lack of drugs, whichever one he was dependent on now. Elle’s mother saw her come in but tried to keep her eyes on the leader. Her hands shook, too. Unfortunately, the leader noticed her eyes had shifted, and he looked behind him for the source of the distraction. His eyes met Elle’s, and she froze in fear.

  “Well, well,” he said in a soft voice, a leer spreading across his unshaven face. He paused for a long moment to let his eyes linger on Elle.

  “I think I have a new arrangement in mind,” the leader said.

  “No! You leave our daughter out of this! I’ll pay you what we owe!” Corinne exclaimed.

  “Let’s have a closer look,” the leader said, dangerously.

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  One of the lackeys stepped over, grabbed Elle roughly by the arm, and dragged her before the leader.

  “Let me go!” Elle shouted.

  The thug clamped an arm across her waist from behind, trapping her. She tried to scream then, but the lackey clamped a hand over her mouth. He had her in an iron grip, and Elle struggled to escape in futility. She cried uncontrollably.

  “Let her go! Please let her go,” Corinne sobbed.

  The three thugs had a laugh, thoroughly enjoying the moment.

  “Let’s see the wares, boys,” the leader said.

  With that, the second thug stepped up and grabbed Elle’s dress by the collar, then ripped it straight down, exposing her upper body. Elle screamed into the thug’s hand and struggled fruitlessly to escape.

  “I think we have a use for this one at the Boudoir,” the leader said to Pyter with a malicious grin. “Say goodbye to your little flower.”

  Something in Corinne snapped. She grabbed a knife from the table, then leapt forward and stabbed the man holding Elle in the eye. He immediately let Elle go, screaming and clutching his face. Chaos erupted. The leader pulled a dagger from his belt and rammed it into Corinne’s chest. He pulled the dagger out and blood sprayed in an arc. Pyter looked at Corinne with a shocked expression, then at the leader. His face contorting with rage, he swung his right fist as hard as he could at the leader, catching him on the side of his head. The leader staggered to his knees, dropping the dagger. Corinne looked down at her bloody chest, then at Elle.

  “Run! Run, Elle!” Corinne gasped out through bloodied lips.

  The second thug, unhurt, closed the distance quickly and stabbed Pyter in the throat with a long knife. Elle panicked and ran down the stairs. As she ran into the street, Elle heard her mother scream, which was cut short suddenly, and all the crashing sounds stopped. Elle ran as hard as she could, not caring which direction she was going. It was night now, and the moon was near the horizon, barely giving its pale light. She just ran and ran through the night, clutching the ragged cloth of her dress to her chest, her eyes streaming the whole way.

  Elle found herself at the outer gate where she would watch the farmers tend their fields. In her state of mind, she would have run straight out the gates and into the dark forest beyond but was saved from that fate by the closed city gates and guards standing close by. She thought of telling the guards what had happened, but what would be the use? Could they raise her mother from the dead? Instead, she clutched her ruined dress to her chest and ran past the gate on the road to the market. The gate to the upper city was still open, as there was still a fair amount of pedestrian traffic at that early hour, so she ran there to get to the Smiths’ house, the only place in the world she felt safe.

  When Elle finally got there, she crashed right into the smithy door, which was closed on its rails. She cried and frantically pounded on the door, even clawing at it, trying to get in any way she could. A light shone in a window as the doorway to the stairs flew open. Suddenly the door slid open and Dortham was standing there with a raised sword in his clenched fist. Heedless of the sword, Elle flung herself onto him, clinging to his waist with everything she had, sobbing in anguish.

  A few neighbors had heard the noise and were looking out their doors or windows. Dortham propped his sword against the wall near the door and held her gently as she cried. Nora, Juleen, Elric and Hituren had all come down by then, the men with weapons in hand. Nora made soothing sounds as she came close and took Elle in her arms. She let Elle cry there for a while as Dortham picked up his sword and had a look outside with Elric and Hituren, alert for danger. Seeing none, they went back inside the smithy and closed and locked the door.

  “They killed them! They killed my mama!” Elle sobbed.

  Nora soothed Elle enough to bring her up the stairs. Seeing the state of Elle’s dress, Juleen had raced up to her room to find another dress for Elle. Juleen came down the stairs and gave it to Elle as the family was in the kitchen comforting her. Elle clutched the dress to her chest, staring at her lap blankly, still clearly in shock. She just looked down at the dress and sniffled. Nora gave her a damp towel to clean her face with.

  “Why don’t you stay with us for now, dear?” Nora said. “We can talk about things in the morning. Juleen, why don’t you take Elle up to your bedroom to sleep tonight?”

  “Of course. There’s plenty of room, Elle. Come on up,” Juleen said, holding out her hand.

  Elle ascended the stairs, one shaking hand holding Juleen’s hand, the other clutching the dress to her chest, a stunned look in her eyes. Nora held a hand over her heart and wiped her red eyes. Dortham brought her into his gentle embrace.

  “She’s got no one and nothing now,” Nora cried softly. “That man has ruined everything.”

  “She has us,” Dortham said firmly. “We’re her family now.”