Virtuous: Redemption

Chapter 1: The Satyr

Sara thought it pathetic, the way her enemy's desperate and futile effort to defend himself. She parried and dodged each of his blows with ease, using his cloven hooves to her advantage.

She darted around behind him, making him lose his footing somewhat. The satyr just barely kept his footing as he flailed his hairy arms to keep balance.

Without skipping a beat, she disarmed him, his sickle-sword sliding away across the ice. She made to stab her assailant. He pulled back and remained on the defense, using his long, spiraling horns to block her blows now.

She noted the advantage she now had.

The satyr drew back and charged at her, a fearful cry breaking from his goatlike lips.

She sidestepped, finding herself slipping on the ice and tumbling to the ground. A hint of embarrassment heated her cheeks at the clumsy footing.

The satyr charged again, and this time Sara took a handful of snow and ice they'd kicked up from the ground and flung it into the satyr's eyes, rolling out of the way and standing. Sara then glanced up at the Queen while her enemy stumbled backwards.

The woman's thin, pale lips were stretched into a pleased smile as she wrapped her white fur cloak a little tighter around herself.

Sara returned her attention to the task at hand and kicked out the satyr's knee before he could gather his wits, sending him tumbling to the ground. She closed her hand around his horn and forced his gaze up to meet her. Fear shone in his deep brown eyes, and she took a moment to revel in her victory.

"Finish him!" the Queen ordered.

Sara's heart began beating a little faster now. Her Highness hadn't allowed Sara a kill in a long while. As of late, her opponents would end up being added to the stone statues in the courtyard.

Between the satyr's blustering breaths, he croaked, "You won't get away with this." He struggled a little, weak even against Sara's grasp. "Aslan will prevail."

"Aslan isn't here," she crooned. Without another thought, her sword glided across his hairy throat and she let him slump to the ground.

She looked up at the Queen who now approached, a silver bearded dwarf trailing behind Her Highness.

"Well done, dear." The Queen applauded. "That is indeed the best I have seen you fight, save for your little slip up there."

Sara looked away, but the Queen's words drew her eyes back.

"The Narnians will not see this coming. You will have them wishing Aslan was still on their side."

Sara nodded in thanks. "Thank you, Your Highness. I certainly feel as though my skills are improving."

"You could have been quicker with some of those evasions," the dwarf, Ginarrbrik, interrupted. "You were cutting it close. And you should not have hesitated when you killed him. That's a sign of weakness."

"That's a sign of weakness," Sara repeated in a high pitched, mocking voice. "I don't see you out here besting any Narnian soldiers."

"He was freezing in our dungeons before you got ahold of him. Just wait until you fight someone rested and well fed. Then you won't think so highly of yourself."

"Well you're certainly well fed," Sara retorted, opening her mouth to continue spewing insults.

"Enough!" said the Queen. "Ginarrbrik, fetch dear Sara her cloak, and leave us to speak alone."

"As you wish, Your Majesty." Ginarrbrik bowed low to the ground and shot a glare at Sara before turning to leave.

"Come, Sara. Walk with me." The Queen pulled Sara close and wrapped her in the excess of her furs while they walked. "Each day, I wait eagerly for the remaining Sons of Adam and Daughter of Eve to appear. Each day, I send out spies and I receive information from the trees, each giving me an individual account of what they've seen. Nothing is outside of my vision now. Because of you, sweet Sara, we will reign victorious as Queens of Narnia. And, one day, should my time come, you will be responsible for all these things."