The Chase - Lace

Ripples spread across the surface of the lake, drawing nearer as she watched from the shore. She swallowed, lifting another stone to pitch into the water, so that her reflection would be drowned out in its waves. She never wanted to see her own face again—to see anything that reminded her of who she had been.

“I’m different now,” she reminded herself, turning from the water and making sure her sword was secure in its sheath over her shoulder. “I carry this sword to protect, not to destroy.” To give herself another reminder, she reached into the bag she carried and ran her hand across the rough leather surface of the book. “I have purpose now.”

“Hey. You.” The gruff voice, unfriendly in tone, echoed from the woods at the water’s edge. She froze, hand on the sword hilt.

“Who is there?”

A tall man with a dark beard and long dark hair that hung untidily on either side of his face stepped from the shadows. “Hand over the book and I might let you live.”

“Never.”

He drew his own sword, a heavy, two-handed weapon that glinted as black as the tunic he wore, the symbol s of the Chasers etched menacingly along the surface of the blade. “I know who you are, and you are not worthy to guard those words.”

“The Council chose me,” she replied, her voice tight at the reminder of before. “I am more worthy than you are, at any rate. I am not a thief. I did not seek to steal the book—”

“You are no thief, true,” the Chaser snarled, a cruel smile stretching across his pale face. “You are a murderer.”

The word set her shuddering. “I never killed except out of self-defense.”

“You killed my brother.”

“He was trying to kill me!” she protested, aware that her voice had grown far too shrill. As her mind spun, she realized that she had not yet drawn her sword, and sought to remedy that. The blade slid from its sheath with a whisper, the silver blade hopelessly light compared to the Chaser’s dark one.

“You killed him. Killers cannot be Guardians.”

“The Council disagrees.”

“We all know the Council lies.”

Her face grew white. She knew that the Council wasn’t perfect…but they always sought to do right, didn’t they? The few times they’d made mistakes, they had realized them and sought to correct them…at least, that was what she’d been taught. “They…they don’t lie,” she replied lamely. Don’t sound so nervous! she chided herself. You can’t afford to give him any ground!

The Chaser advanced several steps. “They told you that you could carry the Book. That is a lie. And therefore, any pawn of the council ought to be relieved of such authority. Hand over the book.”

“No!” There. That sounded strong enough.

With a roar of anger, the Chaser charged, his sword lifted. She swung her own blade up to block his, the clash echoing off of the tree trunks and across the lake. Her arms shuddered at the impact, and her sword creaked with the strain of the man’s blow.

Quickly she spun to the side, striking at him. He parried her blow and struck again, his swings wild. She easily dodged backward, using some of the stones on the riverbank as points to launch herself lightly backward. As the Chaser continued to advance, she continued to leap toward the lake, step by step, until her feet splashed into the small waves on the shore.

Suddenly she switched direction and sped forward, under one of his unbalanced strikes, and sped toward the trees. The Chaser shouted after her, regaining his balance and running after her, his boots impacting loudly on the hard-packed dirt. Faster…faster, she told herself, finally reaching the trees and ducking behind one of them. In that moment, when he could no longer see her, she withdrew a second book—identical to the first, but empty—from a hidden pocket, and traded it for the one in her satchel.  As the Chaser advanced once again, she spun out from behind the tree and flung the bag onto the ground.

“Fine! Fine! Take it!” She squeezed her eyes shut. Got to make this convincing. “I…I don’t want to die.”

The man chuckled. “Smart. I suppose I can give you your freedom. You won’t dare show your face in any of the cities again, I’ll wager.”

She bowed her head, feigning sorrow and anguish at her ‘failed’ duty. Then she turned and ran off, sword still in hand. She would have only a few moments before he discovered her ruse, but by then she might be able to find one of the Guardian paths—

The man’s cry of anger echoed, and she knew she was almost out of time. He had opened the book, then, and discovered its empty pages. Gritting her teeth, she sped forward, once again urging herself to go faster. There’s a path just over here…through these trees…this brush…over this stream…Ha!