The Warrior Within
The carriage ride is bumpy as I listen to the chirp of birds and rustle of leaves. I knew this day was coming, the day they would send me away to learn how to be a lady, how to become a true princess. I just wish that day wasn’t already here. My dress scrapes across the wooden floor boards as I lean to look out the window, my elbow to my knee. I never liked wearing dresses, I never liked having to sit a certain way, and I most certainly didn’t like when people assumed they knew me because they knew of me. Sometimes it feels as though my uncle may be the only one in my family who knows the slightest bit about me, and even then he still chose to send me away.
I’m still wallowing in self pity when the carriage comes to such a jolting halt that I’m thrown to the floor. There’s men shouting as the horses whinny, and I stand and steady myself with my hand against the door. I know I’m heavily guarded, and I could just stay inside. In fact I would probably be advised to stay inside, but I still find my hand pushing the door open and the rest of me follows suit. Something pulls me to go outside and my heart pounds as my feet land on the soft soil, looking around to see swords cutting swiftly through the air. The guards are in a tight formation, but blood stains the grass and there are both men in armor and men in rags strewn about as they continue to defend me.
I’d seen such things before, but never so close. The men attacking us look as though they could be bandits of some sort, but I notice a branding on the wrist of one of the fallen that I’d never seen before. A crude and simple rendering of two arrows crossing over a shield. I’m still looking when one of my guards stumbles back against the carriage, breaking from the line of defense. He quickly grabs my arm and tries to usher me back inside, but I turn my head at the sound of a groan on the ground nearby. Recognizing a golden wolf necklace around his neck, I shout, “Maurice!” My voice cuts through the sound of fighting as I yank myself from the guards grasp, running to the aid of my friend.
I push him gently from his side and onto his back and push his blonde hair from his face. He lets out a groan as his eyelids flicker open, the blue of his eyes only visible for a moment before they close again. “Hold on, Maurice.” I whisper, and look to see where he’s injured. He’s been my friend since we were children, slightly older than I am, and had only just become a knight. I didn’t even know he’d been assigned to guard me on the way to the academy. Lifting his arm from across his stomach, I see blood seeping through his shirt on the exposed part of his lower left abdomen, his sword still sheathed by his side. I rip at the seam of my dress and push the fabric into the gash on his side and he moans in pain.
“It’s not that deep,” he says through gritted teeth, and I’m thankful to look up and see his pale blue eyes looking back at me. His gaze shifts past me and his eyes widen, “Aleah, move!” As if by instinct my hand wraps around the hilt of his sword, the weight of it straining my shoulders as I swivel on my heels, wielding it in front of me. The sound of metal on metal is shrill as it rings out, a stranger's sword bearing down on the one I’m bracing. My arms give a little under the weight, and my feet slide in the mud as I push back with every muscle in my body. Only seconds had passed when another man, one of the attackers, came up from behind grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him away from me as he yelled, “Not her!” My arms gave way and I collapsed to the ground, dropping the sword. My savior's brown eyes lock with mine as he calls for the last of his men to retreat, and I swear there’s an apologetic look as he nods at me and runs off.
It isn’t long before I’m being ushered back into the carriage, our injured men laid in the cart being towed behind us. However, I insisted Maurice be situated with me so I could look after him as we continued on our way to the academy. My pink dress is ripped and stained with blood and dirt, and we mostly sit in silence with the exception of his occasional groan when we hit a bump in the road. I can’t stop thinking about the branding on those men's wrists, or why they attacked us but didn’t take any of our belongings. I can’t stop thinking about the look in the eyes of the attacker that saved me, and why he saved me. I look at the sweat pooling on Maurice’s upper lip, his face pale and contorted in pain. I want to ask him about these things, but I think he’d probably prefer silence.
I look down at my hands, red and blistering from only a moment of wielding the weaponry. Of all the things flooding my mind, what I’m intrigued by most is how badly I want to feel the weight of that steel in my hands once more. I loved the power I felt, and the surge through my body as I held steady to protect not only myself, but also my friend. The instinctual way I grabbed the hilt, how my body moved in tandem with it, as if I was meant to hold it. I close my hands, making a fist. I’m on my way to learn how to be a proper princess, not to learn how to become a knight. I’ve always dreaded the day I would have to fulfill my role, but never expected to feel so drawn to another purpose. I can’t let that be the last time I hold a sword. I look at my friend and tentatively start to speak, “Maurice, did you notice anything different about those guys?”
His face is pained as he looks at me, but not just in the physical sense. “Yes,” he sighs, “You noticed their brandings?” He asks as more of a statement than a question, and I nod before he continues, “They are a part of some sort of rebellion against the crown. We were warned before we left that they might show up on the path, that’s why I was assigned as an extra guard. I don’t know much else,” he pauses and looks at me solemnly, “except that they are specifically trying to get to you.”
“Why? What could they possibly want with me?” My body is tingling with both excitement and fear. “Your uncle thinks they want you as some sort of leader, that they think you are some warrior destined to lead them. He says he tried to tell them they were mistaken, but communicating with them doesn’t exactly go well.” Maurice’s voice is raspy, and I can tell he’s starting to grow weary from the pain. I can’t tell him that my heart skips at the thought, not when he’s bleeding from a wound those very same men granted him. It won’t be much longer before we arrive at the academy, and I won’t be given a choice. “Maurice, will you stay with me at the academy and teach me to wield a sword?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind, “It’ll be in secret of course, and it’s just so I can defend myself.” This seems to reassure him, and he nods in agreement, probably too exhausted to try and argue with me anyway.
He doesn’t need to know how my heart thumps at the word warrior. He doesn’t need to know how my body aches to fight, and how my stomach turns at the idea of spending my days in the palace. I yearn to hear the clash of steel, and feel the dirt beneath my boots. I want to belt a battle cry as I run through the woods, leather on my back in place of an intricate bodice. The moment I picked up that sword, something inside me clicked, like I’d been waiting my whole life for that moment. I know he couldn’t understand, nor could my uncle, but the moment he mentioned my supposed destiny, I knew it was true. As the carriage comes to a stop at the gates, I know in my bones that I am destined to be a warrior. I will train in secret until I’m able to meet once more with the men who came for me.