CHAPTER TWO – THE TAKING
They barged in.
The door swung open with a force that rattled the beams of the house and three soldiers stepped in, swallowing the little space that remained in the house with their burly build and towering height. Their shining silver armor held the cold reflection of old looking cottage that looked about to crumble if the men were to jump at once.
Barely could the girls hide their panic and fear. Rhea's fingers dug into the book she pretended to read, gripping it so tightly, her knuckles turned white. Izara's steady stitching faltered, the needle pricking her thumb. She bit down on her tongue to hide her pain as she slowly placed down the cloth, her palms facing down at it.
Near the staircase, Arwen widened her stance, her legs wide apart, positioning herself as if she might sprint at any given moment. Her left foot edged back, half hidden behind the stair rail. But she managed to make her face look relaxed and calm, eyebrows raised in mock surprise.
The lead soldier stepped forward, a jagged scar running from the base of his nose to his right ear. It made him appear even more deadly than the gleaming silver armor he wore or the royal flag draped like a cape over his shoulders.
Admist the turmoil in her her mind, Arwen eyes flickered to the scar wondering how he earned such a wound. The man's steely gaze settled on Izara who met his gaze head on unflinchingly. She even straightened in her seat. With a tight mocking smile, she finally spoke, her voice laced with sickening sweetness, sarcasm tinged each word. "Can we help you, soldiers?" her tone was unshaken and calm, masking the thumping of her heart in her chest.
The men didn't return her smile. Their faces remained stone-cold. Ruthless, cold eyes looking ready to kill. The lead soldiers ignored Izara. Instead, he scanned the entirety of their home, lips pulling up to a nasty scowl, clearly disgusted by the sight of faded pastel colored walls and cracked plaster.
He rolled his right shoulder, turning his scowl back to Izara as he spoke, sounding every bit masculine and brute. His voice low and dripping with malice. "You know why we're here," he snarled, his tone harsh and cold. "We received word that there is a girl- a slimy little witch named Rhea,"
Blood from Izara's pricked finger was starting to stain the material, she clutched it tightly, Resisting the urge to throw a look at her youngest sister, Rhea who had gone still and frozen like a rock. The smile on Izara's lips twitched, she tilted her head, sizing up the scarred dangerous—looking soldier as though he was nothing more than a mere man.
Her voice dripped with sweetness mocking, but unwavering. "I believe your mistaken," her tone betrayed no fear though her heart pulsed in her veins.
The lead soldiers lips pulled into a sinister grin, revealing rows of golden teeth that striked fear into the bravest of hearts. he opened his mouth to speak, his voice was low and gravelly, his words spelt nothing but fear.
He growled like a beast, full of malice as he sneered. "I knew you'd say that," he mocked. "Which is why we brought a witness," Rhea paled at the word.
The soldier's wicked grin widened as he signaled the men behind him without tearing his gaze off the girls. They returned with a young brawny boy whose torn and dirty shirt was all he wore, the shirt barely touching his knee. His body marred with scars old and new.
Izara's wide eyes slid from the boy's bruised, frightened face to her sister. Her hand clutched the clothe in her hand so tightly that her nails dug through the material and drew blood from her palm, her knuckles turning white when she saw the recognition in Rhea's eyes, the slight tremble of her lips.
Arwen's hand balled to fist, wanting to march over there and punch the soldiers in their faces, giving her sisters time to run but she knew that was physically impossible.
The lead soldier seemed to enjoy watching the sisters slowly squirm in their places. His grin widening as he gripped the boy's shirt and dragged him forward, barking at him, "Speak, peasant! What you saw,"
The boy's leg shook greatly and Arwen could see that it was only the soldiers iron grip that kept him from collapsing. Her eyes squinted at the boy, she didn't recognized him but when her eyes darted back to her younger sister, Rhea, she knew the two had met and it was her turn for her knees to buckle.
"I." the boy's voice was barely audible over the tense silence, his lips shaking. "I saw,"
"Louder! Peasant!" the lead soldier roared, his voice boomed like thunder.
Rhea jerked in her seat, her heart drumming. In her glistening eyes was a plea to the boy to lie, to forget, to vanish. But the boy simply looked down. His gazed fixed on his dirt caked feet, tears filling his eyes.
His voice croaked when he spoke like it took great effort for his throat to work "She was the witch that healed my dying dog," he confessed. Tears streamed down Rhea's pale cheeks, one after the other as the soldiers cruel laughter bubbled, filling the air with dread.
The boy let out a short scream when the male soldier violently tossed him to the foot of the staircase like he was nothing but garbage. Arwen's wide eyes fell on the body briefly before they shot back to see the soldiers as they marched forward, their lips lined in a taunting smile.
"Grab the slimy witch!" the lead soldier barked. The men closed in on Rhea who clung desperately to Izara's arm, her lips trembling.
Tears rushed down her face, her voice breaking as she pleaded. "No. don't let them take me, Izara! Please, do something!" she shook her head frantically, her terrified gaze darting between the soldiers and her sister who went still and frozen.
Arwen watched in horror. She shifted on her feat, wanting to do something. Her mind racing as she scanned the room for anything sharp or pointy that she could use as a weapon to stop the men from taking her sister but when Izara's voice booms across the walls, she froze. A shout so loud that dust sprinkled from the ceiling.
So slowly, Arwen turned to see her elder sister, a ball of fire hovering her outstretched hand, her gray eyes glowing fiercely. Arwen's eyebrows pulled to a frown. The sight sending a chill down her spine as the realization dawned on her. Izara could wields magic. Arwen's heart sank. They were in big trouble now.
Izara rose. Her movements slow and stiff as though she was no longer in control of her body. Her eyes glowed and blazed with fury, her chest rose and dipped as she faced the soldiers with the fire growing larger over her hand. Rhea shot up to her feet and scurried behind her elder sister.
Izara's authoritative voice cut the air sharply like a blade, her words like falling ice, "Take one more step and you shall regret it," she threatened.
The lead soldier grinned evilly, drawing his sword, a gleaming blade edged with a faint blue light that Arwen recognized immediately. It was a magic repellent blade. Fear stirred in her gut. An untrained girl like Izara would not stand a chance. They will capture her sisters.
Just then, the wandering ghosts cornered her vision, mouthing and chanting the word; run. Arwen's heart raced, her stomach churned. Her eyes darting between her cornered sisters and the soldiers, unsure of what to do.
Time slowed. The lead soldier moved like speed of lightning. Izara's fire flared and Arwen's feet moved before she could think, before she could watch them clash. She sprinted, out the backdoor. Her eyes burned, her mind blank except for the roar of her heartbeat.
Arwen ran. She didn't look back, she didn't' pause, she ran. Not even when she could feel heat licking her feet from the explosion Izara caused, not even when she heard Rhea's scream.
Arwen ran until everywhere suddenly went silent. she tripped over her foot and fell down a deep dark hole.