The Rewrite, Part 5

 The original rewritten scene which began "The Rewrite". I wished to include a call back to Rurik, as he was created by me later on in the process of this storytelling, but became a larger and larger force in Ailith's life as her time in my head continued. Rurik's role is quite important now. Gris is not my character. I guess I took a few liberties with him here, but I changed very little dialogue as it was all to my liking, generally.

Ailith felt her body falling to the ground and landing on a person, but she couldn’t control any of her limbs. For a minute, her head just pounded so loudly that she could hardly hear, her anger and desperation overwhelming her senses.

But the stranger grunted for her to get off, and she scrambled up, tripping on her skirts and falling again.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she blurted out as she stumbled away from the body and slumped to the ground.

“Not your fault. I understand.” From the voice, she could tell her cellmate was male. He did not seem to be a threat, but she remained on guard, just in case.

Ailith looked around, trying to make sense of her surroundings. Pale moonlight crept in through a crevice not wide enough for a fist to fit through.

She shivered in the cold damp. Her cellmate pulled himself up and dragged his body to the far side of the little box they were in. His breathing was labored; a rattling, strangled sound.

He did not seem in good health.

In good health.

Kyle’s face flashed through her mind and she panicked. Was he here, somewhere, in the darkness? Just nearby?

“Kyle! Kyle, Kyle are you there?!”

No sound.

“I don't mean to sound rude, but yelling will only annoy the bandits. This "Kyle" probably can't hear you. Settle back. Once you stop trying to escape, bread crumbs and acrid water become a meal fit for a king.”

Ailith bit her lip. It sounded like he’d been here for a while. She squinted in the darkness, and noted the stranger’s messy brown hair, longer than most commoners. He lay nearly motionless, his body a heap of old, ratty clothes and thin limbs.

She determined he would not hurt her. But what was he doing here?

“I'm Gris. I've been stuck here for 2 years, why, I know not.” He answered her question before she asked.

“I’m Ailith.”

“Hello Ailith. Listen, the rules are simple. Learn them from me, and you'll save yourself a couple of bruises. 1; Stay relatively quiet. 2; Do what the bandits tell you, even if you might harm yourself. They will harm you worse if you don't. 3; Give up all hope of escaping. I lost track of how many times I've tried and failed. Only came up with rule 3 a week ago.”

Ailith blinked. Give up...all hope…?




“Don’t give up hope. No matter what happens, don’t ever, ever give up hope. You’ll be free one day. I know you will.”




She blinked back tears at the recollection. His lifeless eyes. His tan skin gone grayish with death and splattered with his own blood. It was her fiercest, most evil memory. She shook her head.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to stay here, and I most certainly don’t want to do whatever those men tell me to.” She didn’t dare let pass from her lips the things the men had said to her earlier. “My name is Ailith. My older brother is Kyle…” Ailith trailed off, thinking of the moment when she had last seen him, lying on the ground. Perhaps, he was already dead, and she was alone in this world.

Very well then.

She’d still escape this awful place.

Gris shifted himself and crawled across the cell. At first, this made her jump, as she’d been certain he was incapacitated. After a few moments of trying to puzzle out what he was doing, she noticed Gris was trying to pick the lock.

“Gris?”

“Remember rule number two? Well, I'm following it right now. Stay here. I don't want to see another noble with arrows in their back.”

“But-what? How is that…” she trailed off. She didn’t want arrows in her back, and if they did have Kyle, she didn’t want them to punish him for her bad behavior, either.

He turned to her then, though she could barely make out his face in the low light.

“Close your eyes. Open them in about a minute.”

She didn’t close her eyes. She wasn’t about to close her eyes with a strange man standing there. He opened the door of the cell, and bright torchlight streamed in. She squinted in the brightness to see someone thin enough that the bones stuck through his clothes.

Then he was gone, and she was left alone.



She pulled her knees up to her chest and tried to think.

The Rewrite Part 4

 Jan is, in fact, my own original character, drawn up today on the spot. The post was written from the POV of a different bandit before (I have given him the name Oda) but I changed it. I thought having a sympathetic but dirty POV would be interesting. I've become fiercer in my writing, but let it be known that the creator of this scene wished for "the bad guys to be bad, not half-good half-bad". This reminds me of the "half-good, half-bad, half-boy " line from that comedy sketch song. Anyway. 

Jan looked down at Patrick. Blood flowed out of the wound in his side, and his face had gone all gray and clammy. 

“Well, Pate’s dead,” he muttered to himself. He reached down to feel the man’s pulse. Nothing. 

Henny, their leader, tied the little girl up before she came to. By Jan’s estimate, she couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen. Just a delicate flower, a spring bloom. He grinned to himself and riffled through Pate’s pockets for valuables before the others did. Nothing much, a few coins. 

Oda came scrambling over and started feeling up the filthy noble boy, looking for gold. 

Damn, Jan thought, I should’ve checked him first. 

Oda came up with a little pouch of coins, but Henny was quick to step in. 

“Gimme that,” he snapped, taking the pouch from Oda’s hands. Jan shook his head at Oda. He was always an idiot, worse than Pate. It would’ve been better if Oda had died instead. 

The noble boy was not dead. Jan could see his shallow breathing. But he didn’t say anything to Henny. He preferred to not get involved, ever, in Henny’s business. It was always better that way. 

Plus, Jan wasn’t the one who had “killed” the kid. Oda could take the hit if his lack of competence came back to bite him. Jan had no part in it. 

“Let’s move,” Henny barked. They all stood up and began the trek through the woods back “home”. Jan watched the young girl stir back awake, her eyes widening when she realized she was slung over Henny’s back, heading somewhere she didn’t know. Jan thought it was cute, charming really, how she started to cry without screaming. She was a smart little thing. 

They stopped by the creek to get a drink of water and wash the blood off their hands. Henny threw the little girl on the ground by a tree. She curled up in a ball and didn’t say anything. 

Oda was gazing in her direction with that dumb look on his face when he decided to open his good-for-nothing mouth. 

“Ey, sir,” they all called Henny ‘sir’, “that little one’s so quiet. Whatdya say we have some fun with her before we get back? Make her scr-” 

“Oh shaddup, Oda. If I see you lay a finger on her, I’ll behead you.” Henny snapped. Oda shrunk back, but kept casting lustful gazes in the direction of the girl. Jan shook his head again. Obviously, if anything were to happen to the girl, Henny would be the one in charge. He was unlikely to share his plunder with anyone. It was like Oda didn’t learn anything. 

They stood up. Henny claimed the girl was heavy, so he made Jan carry her. Jan knew that this was Henny’s way of testing Jan, to see if he was trustworthy. Jan flung her over his shoulder and kept his hands to himself the whole way back. He didn’t want to lose a hand just for being a pig. 

When they arrived at the encampment, Jan greeted Riley, his friend, and shared the news that Pate was a goner. Word travelled fast in their large band of thieves, totaling more than forty men and one...well, one witch. 

They took the captive to the cell, a stone box with a heavy wooden door. Jan let her slide to the ground and Henny cut her ropes. She struggled then, her little white face turning red as she thrashed around on the ground. Jan held her legs down before she could kick Henny, and then Henny picked her up and tossed her in in one swift motion, laughing as he shut the door with a whump. 

The Rewrite, part 3

I've been quite productive today in my output of this little project. I'm slowly running out of material in my inbox; I do recall there being more material elsewhere, but that txt document is somewhere far and away. Perhaps if I dig around enough, I could find it. If not, we write by memory! 

             In the afternoon, a crossroads appeared. A beggar sat between the two roads, and Kyle dropped a coin in the man’s cup. Ailith had only seen a beggar once in the village by their keep. He’d been chased out by the priest after stealing from the parish. It had been humorous to see the priest violently waving his ax about, raining down God’s fury on the snivelling man. She and Rurik had laughed. 

This beggar was...different. She quickly noted his odd demeanor. He seemed quite at peace until Kyle put in the coin. It didn’t make sense. 

“Which way to the next village, sir?” Kyle asked him. 

The man stood up and bowed, very deeply, then sat back down with a sigh. 

“Kin sir, pretty maid. If you take the left path, a village is in a few hour’s walk.” Ailith sighed in response. She did not want to be walking until night. But there was no other option. 

“Thank you,” Kyle replied. They headed left, continuing round a bend in the road, deeper into the forest. Kyle suddenly stopped. 

“Well, that was interesting.”

Ailith noted his tone of voice and knew something was suspicious. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“Didn’t you notice something odd about him?”

“Yes,” she breathed. Her heart started to race. What was going on? 

“If that was a real beggar,” Kyle ran his fingers across the hilt of his shortsword. Ailith did not miss the gesture. 

“If-?” 

“He’d have asked for another coin before he gave us directions. Most beggars only talk after money. Also, did you notice the bow?”

She had noticed it. 

“He knew who we were, to some degree,” she said quietly. 

“Exactly. Much as I prefer not to, maybe we should cut through the forest here to the other road.” Kyle’s expression was a dead giveaway. Sure, he and Ailith had grown farther apart in recent years. But she knew the meaning of such a gaze; she’d seen it countless times. He was scared. 

Her heart jumped again, beating like a drum now. She knew, though she didn’t wish to admit it, that she would have trouble cutting through the woods in her current outfit.

“What about-- it’s getting late. What if we’re just being overly suspicious?” 

“Could be. Are you just saying that because you can’t make it through the woods in that frock?” His tone was bitter. 

Ailith narrowed her eyes at him. There it was again, the blasted attitude from earlier. 

“I can. I’ll have you know I am more than capable of tying my skirts above my knees! Stop being a jerk.” 

“A jerk? I’m just worried about you. If you tie your skirts up, your legs will get all scratched.” 

“I’m wearing stockings and a chemise! What do you want, an inventory of my underclothing?” She watched with satisfaction as her brother’s face reddened. 

Serves your right, she thought, treating me like a liability. 

“You...you’re being ridiculous! All over some time spent in the woods. If we get attacked, you can’t fight! What do you want me to say? That you aren’t a burden, that you’ll be just fine on your own?” 

Ailith took a step back, tears welling up. It had been years since they’d fought. 

“That’s not my fault! Which of us was born as the oldest son? No one taught me to fight!” 

Kyle was about to respond when four men appeared on the road, two in front, and two behind them. Ailith stepped closer to Kyle, and he drew his sword almost simultaneously. 

“State your business,” he barked. One of the strangers cackled. 

“Oh, I think you know,” he said, and drew a sword. They descended upon them, all at once. Kyle slid into a ready position and parried a thrust from the first attacker. Ailith watched, dagger in hand, but body frozen as her brother dodged and blocked, shifted his weight, and took care of one man in what seemed like mere seconds, his sword plunging into the stranger’s gut. Kyle pushed the man’s body off of his sword and blocked a strike from another oncoming attacker. 

Suddenly, a large hand clamped over Ailith’s mouth. She tried to scream, but the bandit squeezed her nose between his fingers, blocking her from breathing. 

He was a huge man, lifting her off her feet and holding her in one large arm. As she lost consciousness, she saw the bandits hit Kyle on the back of the head. 

Kyle…

The Rewrite, Part 2

Well, it's been fun to write from Kyle's perspective for the first time. He's not my character, so if his creator gets wind of this, that would be funny. Anyway, here it is. Part 2 of the Rewrite. I'm having great fun. 

She’d gone from a sweet, friendly girl-wild and opinionated, true- to a shell of herself. Her usual chatty nature, which he’d grown so accustomed to, was gone. 

They began their walk in silence. Kyle regretted the comment about Rurik. He knew the stable-boy, son of a farmer in the town, had meant something to her. What, exactly, was unclear. 

They’d found him down the hall from their parent’s room on that fateful morning. His throat was slit, blood all down his tunic, face frozen. Lifeless. 

Kyle had never heard that sound from Ailith’s mouth before- a strangled cry. She’d sobbed for nearly an hour when they’d discovered their parents, dead in their bed. Kyle knew it was their uncle’s men, but he’d been unable to believe that the feud between his father and uncle had reached such a point. He’d stared at their lifeless forms as Ailith cried, unable to process. 

But then again, it had been a peaceful, ethereal scene compared to what waited for them in the hallway. Kyle still couldn’t understand why Rurik had been murdered. Had he known about the plot? Had he simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time? 

Kyle assumed Rurik had been sneaking down the hall in the night or even early dawn to visit his sister in her bedroom. This disturbed him, but all questions of their relationship aside, she surely also knew this. His absence from their rendezvous must have troubled her through the night. Kyle did not claim to know his sister well, but one thing he was certain of, was that they were both the worrying type. 

This made her discovery all the more heartrending. She’d buried her face in his bloody shoulder, tears still fresh from mourning their parents. Kyle had watched the exchange with an increasingly hardening heart. He could not show emotion, not now. The boy’s empty, glazed green eyes were closed by her small white hand. Kyle had looked away. 

They had no time to bury any of them. If they didn’t leave soon, Kyle would be the next one on his uncle’s hit list. In fact, he was probably coming now, to “discover” Kyle’s death; only Kyle had been lucky to feel ill and not consume the poisoned wine which his parents had. His father’s will, putting all of their personal possessions and lands into Kyle’s hands, was tucked in the folds of his clothing. 

Nothing hurt him more than to leave his parents lying in their deathbed with no proper burial. It was not right. 

But Ailith...her face smeared with Rurik’s blood, she was most pitiful. She’d kissed his cold mouth and stood, tears and blood mixing on her cheeks. 

“Let’s go,” she’d breathed. 

When he looked at her now, it almost seemed like the blood was still smattered on her face. In an effort to lift her spirits, he’d tried to have conversations with her. But she was like a wall he could not climb over. 

His focus, so often affected by those around him, narrowed to a sharp, desperate point now. No one would restore their lands; his uncle would claim he had abandoned them. He might even claim Kyle had killed his own parents. Everything was so messed up, Kyle could barely make sense of it all. But a high court in London could make it right. Royalty. Justice. High court. London. The words repeated in his head all day and all night, a mantra beneath Ailith’s silence, a quiet but persistent cry of hope. 

Perhaps he could not avenge the death of her dearest friend, but he would not make her live under uncle Hamon. Hamon would quickly marry her off to some disgusting cretin before she had even a moment to mourn Rurik. To Kyle, that was greatly unfair, even if it was the custom. Ailith was not custom. Ailith was his sister. 

He aimed to be declared the inheritor of not only their serfdom but also all of his father’s assets. That would keep her under his wing forever. 

Until then, though, he could not keep her from the evils of the world. If he failed, she was left a life of destitution. He had to prepare her for the worst, and as such, he wouldn’t shelter her. He no longer watched his words around her. 

Noon passed. She still had not spoken. The roads were empty. He sat down on a rock and beckoned for her to join him. She sat down with a sigh. 

“There’s no need to attempt to hide our destination. Hamon knows it, as I said before. He is aware that I was not killed. We can, however, avoid entering the city directly. I’m thinking we should circle round, stop in a village on the West.” He paused for her input, but she gave none, staring off into the distance. He continued, “we can find a suitable place to hide the will, so that if by some mishap I am captured, it is safe.” 

She scoffed at that. 

“What shall I do with it? Fold it up and use it as a fan when I sit in the courts?” 

“Just...let’s try, Aili. Please. Perhaps someone will hear our case.” He gave her a pleading look. He needed her cooperation. He couldn’t hold out on his own forever. Something in her eyes changed then, a little softening of the steely gaze. She’d forgive him, at least. 

“Alright. For your inheritance.”

“Our inheritance.” 

She made a face. 

“You and I both know the only name on that will is Kyle son of Ekkehart.” 

He kicked at dirt in the road. 

“Kyle son of Ekkehart will become head of the household and all therein. That’s you.” 

She smiled. 

“Well, All, daughter of Therein, will now go to the creek which is bubbling in the distance, to wash her face.” 

He grinned. That was her. 

“Allow me to join you, m’lady. I’m feeling quite grubby myself.” 

They wandered off the path and soon found the creek, it’s watery sounds mixing with the afternoon bird calls. The sunlight was a rare occurrence for February. Ailith washed her hands, and after inspecting if the water was clean, splashed her face. Kyle kept an eye open for any movement in the forest. Seeing nothing, he also leaned down to splash his face, and shivered at the bracing cold of the water. It appeared clean, so they each took a few sips before heading on their way. 

Rewrite, Part 1

Where else to post something like a rewrite, than this old dead blog? So here's part 1 of my rewrite. :)

Ailith awoke to the sound of a loud thud. It was a shock, her senses unusually alert after that. The memories of that flooded into her mind at the thought, and she turned her head, expecting to see Kyle on the other side of the straw mattress.
Nothing but lumps greeted her.
The morning was blue, she could tell by the way the light entered the room, and she sat up, gazing out the single window of the room. It was so bare, so simple, and so rustic compared to the place she’d slept in just a few nights prior. But the sky, brilliant with the light of the morning, was all the same.
Suddenly, there was shouting. “No what?!”
A muttered response, the deep voice of the innkeeper. “No horses!? What’s happened to them? Tell me, you stupid bastard!”
The screaming voice was, undoubtedly, Kyle. Ailith would usually spring out of bed and race to wherever her brother was, interrupting his argument. Kyle did not usually shout.
But because of that...she sat still in her bed for a moment, listening. The horses are gone. She thought distantly. “Tell me!!! Stop blubbering!!”
She stood up and got her dress from where it lay draped over the only other furniture in the room; a tiny wooden chair. She pulled the deep blue garment on over her chemise, shivering in the cold February air. Her heart pounded in her ears as she pulled up her stockings and tied them, then put on her shoes.
Opening the door, she was greeted with the sight of her brother, towering over the little innkeeper, who was babbling on about how they’d lost their horses. He looked angry, threatening, but she knew he wouldn’t actually hurt the man. His bark was worse than his bite. Kyle was tall now, probably reaching five-foot-nine, which was big for an Englishman. He had eaten well as a child. His hair, such a dark brown that it looked black, hung loosely around his tan face, cropped across the forehead so his bangs didn’t get in his eyes. He turned to her when he sensed her presence.
“Our horses are gone,” he rasped, “and this brainless peasant won’t breathe a word of what happened.”
“I said, they was taken by a man,” the innkeeper, a skinny farmer in his early thirties, had wild eyes filled with fear.
“How could you just let someone take a customer’s horses?” “He treatened me an’ me wife! He had sev’ral men withhem. Said he’d let’em all have a go!”
Ailith’s face flushed with the vulgarity of it. She looked away.
“You’d letem have a go at your sister? I bet you wouldn’t!” Ailith turned back towards the man, her eyes widening. She couldn’t believe what was coming out of his mouth. But Kyle seemed unaffected. He smiled bitterly, leaning down to roughly grab the man by the collar.
“A real man-” he paused, taking in a deep breath, obviously trying to calm his fury, “would take his sword and skewer a bandit through the pelvis the very moment they tried to touch his woman. You worthless coward.”
“Kyle-” Ailith hated seeing him like this; anger was one thing, but this kind of denigration coming from his mouth made her stomach twist up. “What?” he spat.
“Let the man go. It won’t change anything. Let’s just get breakfast and go.”
His brown eyes, dark and glimmering with an emotion she’d never seen before, met her gaze. He let the man go; the innkeeper scrambled away, muttering about how he’d bring breakfast fast. Ailith held Kyle’s gaze.
“You can’t take some men’s talk?” Kyle’s voice was firm and his face red.
“That’s not it-”
“Well, get used to it, lass. We aren’t in our parent’s arms anymore. We’re as good as filth like him.” His face had lost the proud look which she’d grown accustomed to. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“The man isn’t filth. I’m just as upset about the horses as you are-”
“We have to walk half-way to London. You, in your skirts, tromping along the roads?”
Ailith felt anger rising up then.
“I’ll be fine. You always underestimate me.”
Breakfast was set down at the large table, but the innkeeper wandered off to ‘check on something’, clearly terrified of Kyle now.
“I’m not underestimating you,” Kyle protested as they began eating. Gruel, as usual.
“I can do it.”
“This isn’t some forest romp with Rurik, Ailith. This isn’t a game.” The gruel caught in her throat and her spoon plopped back into the bowl. That sprung to mind more clearly than ever. She forced herself to swallow while her stomach churned. Kyle looked at her. His eyes turned softer. “Sorry...I didn’t mean to-”
Ailith sat frozen.
“I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth.
Kyle continued shovelling food in his mouth.
“Eat,” he grumbled.
“I’m-”
“Just eat.”
She picked her spoon up and forced the food down her throat.
Things were bad for him, sure. But as far as she was concerned, her life was already over.