April Fiction

It’s a day or so late, but here’s the fiction piece for April, set in a world where the blood of dead gods is used for tattoos and magic!

Chessa bit her lip as she watched the feet and ankles of the bandits stomping through the town’s storehouse, laughing and joking about how easily the town’s feeble militia had been dealt with. Her fingers unconsciously traced across the hard lines of the tattoo on her shoulder – a godsblood tattoo, which the tattoo maker had said was a glyph that meant hope. Her parents had paid for it with a year’s savings, betting a small fortune on the beliefs of scholars.

Chessa thought she might have been better off without it, so far; she’d drawn more than a fair load of ill fortune, starting with her parents falling ill and not having the savings to hire a proper healer. She still had the farm, but no one wanted to work the fields or help her with the upkeep on it, thinking the farm itself cursed. She’d gradually been reduced to the kitchen – too useful to let fall into disrepair – and her bedroom, the rest of it leaking and slowly crumbling. She’d survived mostly thanks to the pity and charity of others, quietly gifting her food and the materials to patch things herself.

There was an old sword laying in a layer of dust next to her; somehow it’d been lost, long enough ago that it was almost buried. She’d had the same basic militia training that had failed everyone already, but maybe with the element of surprise she could cut down one or two of the bandits and make it easier for the rest of the town to drive them off.

She managed to take the first bandit by surprise; the sword was heavier than she expected, making it hard for her to control, but she cut deeply enough that he went down with a scream, clutching his arm as his blood splattered across the floor. The second one got his sword in the way, blocking her clumsy swing easily enough; he shoved her away, sending her stumbling into the wall with the old sword barely in the grip.

The uninjured bandits had all turned to stare at her with disbelief, now; the injured one was bleeding heavily, but not yet dead for sure. And there, under the bins on the other side of the room, were the faces of three more townfolk – Sunne, the miller, Mona, the baker, and Chii, their daughter. She bit back a curse as she realized that the bandits would certainly find them now, when she’d burst from beneath a bin to take them by surprise. More of her ill luck, condemning people who’d tried to be kind to her.

The bandits took a step back, to her surprise. “What kind of bloody magic have you got, witch?”

Magic? She glanced at the godsblood tattoo, half concealed by her shirt, and saw that it was glowing a dull, pulsing red instead of its usual inert brown color. It wasn’t until she locked eyes with Chii – with her huge eyes focused on Chessa and no sign of fear on her face – that she realized what it must be.

“Come try me and find out.” The words came out steady and resolute as she lifted the sword – each pulse of red light making it seem lighter, easier to handle. “I’ll do for you what you did for the town militia.” The glow crept from her shoulder, spreading down her arms until the whole room was lit by the glow.

“It’s just a trick.” The bandit who’d pushed her away started forward, his weapon in one hand and the other reaching out to grab her.

Chessa was barely aware that she’d moved, the sword barely making a sound as it cut the man’s outstretched hand off at the wrist; his startled scream and the sound of his hand hitting the floor seemed disconnected from anything else, the red pulse carrying her from one moment to the next.

“Witch!”

Chessa spat at them. “Get out of our town and tell the rest of your friends to stay away, or I’ll do it for you all.” She jerked her chin at the two injured men. “Take them with you. I don’t want you fouling up our graveyard.”

The bandits hesitated, clearly thinking about trying to rush her, but a groan from the first man down broke their nerve. They gathered the two up, hastily binding their wounds, and hurried to leave, Chessa and the townfolk following them to the edge of town. By then, the red glow had wrapped intself completely around her, leaving her feeling as light as a drifting leaf; every house that she passed, with more eyes peering out through closed shutters, only made it stronger.

By the time the bandits were scurrying away from the edge of town, she had a following of dozens of townfolk, with Chii excitedly telling them how Chessa had swung her sword and defeated the bandits by scaring them all into leaving. Mona stepped up next to her, placing a hand on the shoulder opposite the godsblood tattoo. “Thank you. I was trying to figure out what to do to save Chii when you did that.”

“It was the right thing to do.” Chessa shrugged, the red glow ebbing back toward the symbol. She looked down at the sword in her hand, getting heavier as the magic bled off. “I’m going to go back to my farm. If the bandits come back, have someone come get me.”

“We will. And-” Mona paused, looking over the rest of the townfolk. “And we’ll see if we can get someone to come help fix your house and all. It’s the least we can do. Right?”

Chessa walked away before she could hear any answer; her bed seemed like the most important thing in the world right now, and anything else could wait.

Particularly the legend the townfolk were beginning to build, about the paladin living among them, blessed by the lost gods.