Lament of the Slave

Chapter 99: White World

Digging my toes into the sand of the training ground yet again, I rushed at wannabe-elf. He was brimming with determination. Sure of himself that he'd seen through me. A few moments later, I proved him wrong. Like before, I pushed him on the defensive with my fast approach.

Though not everything went my way either.

The onlooking city guards, whose crowd seemed to have grown, mocked us before for mistaking this fight for a ball. Ironically, the two of us looked like we were at one. I floundered around Freyde, like a nimble dancer, while he led the dance with his sword art. All that was missing was the music, that and any rhythm in our moves.

My effort to avoid unnecessary injuries made me less daring. So it took me a bit longer to find a gap in his defense. When I did, all I managed to do was give him a minor scratch. Barely bleeding wound, not affecting his mobility.

Caught in this bizarre dance, I noticed a brief flash with the corner of my eye just beyond the range of my perception. Paying no further attention to it and focusing on a sword-wielding bookkeeper was a mistake I realized as soon as a bolt appeared in my domain, hurling right at me. Six meters was too short to react to something approaching so fast. I tried, anyway, by throwing myself on the ground.

Pointless.

The bolt hit my calf with such force that the tip came out on the other side with a spray of blood. A painful whimper coming out of my chest as I fell to my knees was something beyond my control.

My mind blanked out for a few heartbeats. Then came the 'What the fuck happened?' moment and the realization that I was a sitting target. So, gritting my teeth, I moved.

"What the fuck, Harper?" shouted Freyde, equally surprised by the attack of the baker, who already had a reloaded crossbow in her hands. "Are you insane?"

He took the question out of my lips. What the hell was she thinking?

"Break off the tip and pull out the bolt," Deckard promptly instructed me.

His lack of response to this despicable attack baffled me.

"What?!" I barked back.

"Break off the tip, or rip the bolt out, but do it while they're giving you time to do so," he said louder and more forcefully to make me realize the gravity of the situation. It worked. Though it was not easy to follow his instructions. Break off the arrowhead/bolt? I've never done that.

Since it was embedded in my leg, and given my inexperience, it caused me quite a bit of pain. No less so than pulling it out.

Harper sneered at Freyde's rage. "From here, it looked like you needed help."

"Then there's something wrong with your eyes," he retorted.

"Is it? As far as I could see, you only hit her once. Or did I miss something?" She asked, mocking him. "Maybe the fact that you've been defending yourself the whole time?"

"That's not true," the bookkeeper growled.

"Oh, come on. Everyone could see that she had some issue in her head." the baker argued, and to make it clear, she tapped her skull. Quite rude of her and remarkable of her to notice.

The pissed-off-elf gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. "No reason for you to interfere!"

"So should I watch my squadmate get whacked?" She wondered, her voice no less sneering. I was with Freyde on this one. Why the hell did she think interfering in our fight was okay? She just fucking shot me and had the gall to act like she had the right to do it. What struck me even more was that none of the onlooking city guards found it despicable, not even Rayden. Was she allowed to do that?