Relaxation Revoked

(hand-to-hand, necksnap)

Enyara was content with the world.

She laid in a bed of furs, sipping mulled ale in front of a crackling hearthfire. She was warm, the aches had dissipated and her life was no longer in mortal danger. She considered these good tidings.

The ginger woman glanced at the empty bed across the room. Anya had gone out to hunt, in order to pay the innkeep for an extended stay. The raven-haired archer had patched her up well, with a fresh bandage for her arm and herbal salves for her bruises/ Enyara did not know why the girl had chosen to save her but the desire to know faded with each passing hour. A companion was good to have on the road, regardless of the circumstances. She was not going to look a gift from the gods in the mouth.

She sighed in contentment, snuggled up into her bundle of furs. The flames in the hearth licked the wood and stone and she gazed into the hypnotic tongues of blazing orange light, feeling its warmth suffuse her and settle into her bones. Her eyes drooped, the world darkened and sleep claimed her.

She awoke an hour later to the soft patter of bare feet on stone. A small, dark-haired shadow stalked into the room, standing in the doorway with a knife in hand. Enyara rubbed the sleep from her eyes, to see who had disturbed her. "Mmm...Anya? Is that you?"

"No, deserter," replied the icy voice. "I am Laneth and I am your death."

A cold shiver washed over her. She glanced to her sword, leaning against the hearth, too far to reach. She sat up and shrugged off her furs as the stranger stepped into the light. Auburn-haired and tan, Laneth cut a strong figure. Light danced on her arm muscles and the freckled skin of her face. She wore a black robe with the skirt cut on both sides to reveal supple legs. Her slender feet stepped lightly on the stone and her eyes, green, blazed with hate. "You killed many loved ones today, deserter."

Enyara groaned. "Not this again," she muttered. Her eyes darted to the knife on the bedside stool. "What is it with you southerners and your blood feuds?"

"If you were a true Scotian, you'd know their sacred importance." Laneth lunged forward and swiped the knife from Enyara's reach. It clattered to the stone floor in front of the hearth. "You should be grateful that a priestess of the all-mother has chosen to end your life. I will ensure your spirit's safe passage to the afterlife."

"Oh, that's what you are?" Enyara watched her toned thigh as it pressed into the bed. The priestess threw a leg over her and straddled her, knife in a backwards grip. "Whose kin did I kill this time?"

"My sister!" Laneth pinned the shieldmaiden's hands above her head into a vise grip. "Survivors from the battle told me how you slew her and then fled from the field."

Enyara struggled against the priestess's grip. The woman was much stronger than she appeared. Her mind flashed briefly to the blonde warrior with the twin axes who had died to Anya's arrow. "Your sister attacked me," she insisted. "I tried to warn her!"

Laneth clamped a hand down on Enyara's mouth. "Be silent, coward. Embrace your death."

She felt the cold kiss of the blade against her throat. Laneth closed her eyes, lips moving in silent prayer as she moved the knife closer. Enyara braced herself and threw her head forward into Laneth's face.

The priestess howled and clutched her nose. "Heretic," she screeched, as blood dripped down her lips. "You will not escape retribution!"

Enyara shoved her off the bed and rolled away, towards the hearth and her fallen knife. She came up to her feet, blade in hand, and faced her assailant.

Laneth wiped her nose, with a baleful glare in her eyes. She charged forward, knife raised, toward the object of her hate. Enyara sidestepped and slammed her knee into the priestess's gut.

"Oof!" Laneth doubled over and leaned on her. She grabbed a handful of auburn air, forced her knee into the priestess's face and swung her fist at Laneth's jaw. She felt the bone break against her knuckles as the punch forced the woman to the floor.

Laneth fell on her stomach and laid there, groaning and writhing against the stone.

"Give up," said Enyara, breathless. "I'm not...going to warn you again."

The priestess struck out her leg in a blind kick, faster than Enyara could track. She clutched her crotch in a silent scream as waves of agony washed over her body. She tried to move, to rise, only to collapse against the stone.

Laneth struggled to her feet. "The goddess gives me strength," she cried, as she sent a swift kick into the redhead's face.

The shieldmaiden's vision exploded with stars and she tasted coppery blood on her tongue. She scrambled to rise, only to fell fingers digging into her scalp. "Don't struggle. You'll only make this worse."

She felt again the icy steel of the knife. Enyara threw her arm back in a desperate defense and closed her fingers around thin locks of hair. Her attacker's howls spurred her on. She pivoted on her hip and kicked Laneth in the gut. The priestess fell back against the mantle of the hearth, dropped her knife. Enyara rose up, grabbed the auburn head and slammed it once, twice, three times against the hard stone. Her hands came away bloody.

Laneth fell to her knees, groaning, neck bent at an awkward angle. She slumped in Enyara's grip and became like dead weight.

The shieldmaiden took hold of the priestess's head. "I warned you," she said, as she wrenched Laneth's neck. The priestess cried out in dazed shock, scrabbling for purchase along Enyara's arm. With a savage twist, she snapped the woman's neck. The sickening crunch of split bone bounced off the walls of the room, followed by a shrill peeling as the spine detached at the base. A shudder wracked Laneth's body and she twitched and jerked with a sudden violence. Urine lapped against the stone floor, ran down her supple thigh and pooled underneath her knees. Enyara wrung her neck the other way, to the sound of snapping vertebrae, and shoved the dead priestess to the ground.

She stumbled back to her bed with a sigh, looked up at the ceiling and at the twitching corpse. "Anyone else need to be killed today?"

The gods did not answer and neither did Laneth. She laid on her stomach, stared blankly at a spot on the wall next to Enyara's head, her eyes frozen in bloodshot shock. A drooling tongue hung out of a slack mouth and the muscles in her arms and thighs tensed as the dying nerves fired off at random.

Looking upon the corpse, bathed in sweat and the warm glow of firelight, the shieldmaiden felt a flicker of primal excitement in her breast. She never knew a corpse to be alluring; it was strange to think of one in that way. The arousal faded, replaced by an onset of weariness and she shook her head, as if coming out of a daze. She threw the furs over herself and let sleep swallow her up.

* * *

Anya returned, an hour later, from a successful hunt to find a dead body on the floor and Enyara snoring in a bundle of furs.

"What the..." She looked to the dead priestess, the back of her head bloody and smashed, her neck blue-black from internal bleeding.

Anya shook her head in exasperation. She figured it unwise to wake the sleeping redhead; it was clear enough what had happened. The archer grabbed hold of the corpse by the ankles and dragged her out of the room.

How was she going to explain this to the innkeep?