The Nameless

Nameless.

I came to while sprawled over cold earth.

It was not a gentle waking from a dream, rather a violent resurfacing to consciousness. As though I had been somewhere dark, soft, and warm...

Then something tore me upward, flinging me into a body that did not feel like mine.

A thick fog lingered low between the trees around me. The forest was immense, ancient trunks spiraled up into a canopy of branches that swallowed most of the gray sky. The air smelled of damp earth.

It was quiet, though I felt as though I was being watched.

Beyond that... there was a more pressing issue.

I did not know where I was.

I did not know who I was.

Leaves were tangled in my hair. Pale blonde strands snagged on twigs and leaves as I sat upright. When I tried to pull them free, they only crumbled and embedded deeper.

“Wonderful,” I muttered.

My own voice was startling, prompting the need to give myself a once-over.

I was filthy. My dress was once white, now stained with dirt. More troubling, it was thin, like an undergarment. This was not something one wore into the wilderness.

I searched for pockets.

Nothing.

No satchel. No boots suited for walking. No cloak.

I was barefoot and alone in a vast forest. I could not tell the exact time of day through the gray shroud, but I guessed late afternoon. It would be dark in a few hours and I shuddered to think of what would soon come to life at night.

In front of me, a path cut through the trees nearby. Wheel tracks embedded in the earth, alongside hoof prints.

The road gave me hope that I was near civilization. But with no clear direction, no idea whether I should go left or right, I sat down.

That felt logical. Someone would come for me. Someone would surely be looking for me.

Right?

Pounding hooves shattered the quiet and my thoughts.

My spine stiffened as I rose to my feet.

Three riders came through the fog. Mud and dirt lined their cloaks.

Their movements lacked formation, and I saw no flags or sigils. They were not soldiers.

They slowed at the sight of me, and I immediately regretted not hiding in the safety of the shadowed forest.

“Well, now,” the one in front said, reins wound in his fist. “Not every day the Black Forest gifts us a woman.”

His gaze slowly crawled over me, and when it landed on my face, he smirked in approval.

“It’s nearly night, love. Where are you heading?”

“And without footwear?” another man chimed in.

They all chuckled.

My eyes drifted to their brandished swords.

These were bandits-- highwaymen.

I did not give people beneath me the benefit of my reaction or words, even as they jeered at me.

Their horses shifted, nervous. More fog came in low around their legs, coiling around their hooves like wisps of smoke.

Unfazed by the changing weather, the leader dismounted.

“Let us help you find your people,” he said gently in coaxing. “A lovely thing like you must be missed somewhere, hm?”

I shook my head once, my trembling chin held high.

“Who were you waiting for?” another asked as he dismounted, too.

The bandits slowly closed in on me. My back was pressed against a tree.

"I do not need your help."

He grinned. “But no one’s around for miles." It was both statement and threat.

As if it heard the warning, too, the forest fell quiet, no chirping birds, no buzzing insects.

The three men paused, now taking note of the fog that crawled up their legs, paired with a forceful gale of wind.

It violently whipped through the trees, ripping leaves free in a spiraling column. The horses screamed, rearing.

“The fuck—?” one of them gasped.

The leader’s eyes snapped to me.

“She's magic-abled?”

“I...”

I didn’t know.

But the forest, the wind, answered for me.

“Grab her and let's get the fuck out of here--"

A large, rough hand grabbed my wrist. Panic set in as I struggled to jerk away.

Wind exploded outward in a blast of invisible energy, throwing two men clear off their feet. One smashed into a tree with a sickening thud. The other rolled hard through mud, and did not rise.

The leader staggered but remained upright.

“You little fucking wh—”

A sharp thwack cut him off. His expression turned blank.

An arrow protruded cleanly from his throat and I screamed as he collapsed. Blood spurted everywhere, sprayed red on my dress.

He dropped as a woman emerged from the fog.

She was enormous. Tall as some trees’ branches, broad-shouldered. Her bow was already drawn again as she scanned for danger.

Golden hair was was intricately woven into two braids down her back. Several faint scars were carved down the left side of her face. All telltale signs of a veteran warrior. A fierce one, at that.

The fog coiled at my feet, as if questioning my safety.

“Easy, now,” she called to me, her voice soft and low. She held her hand out, as if she were trying to tame a wild animal. “Easy, girl.”

The forest did not obey.

Wind surged toward her, and she braced for impact. Her body staggered back half a step.

“Careful! She’s spooked worse than the horses.”

I did not linger to find out who she was talking to. With a swift spin to flee, I instead collided with something solid.

Slowly, reluctantly, I looked up.

It was a man. A black cloak made of heavy wool hung from his shoulders with a silver family emblem clasped at his throat that I did not recognize.

My brow furrowed as I studied it, wondering if I was supposed to know what it meant.

I did, almost. Like a word you cannot recall, but sits at the tip of your tongue.

His hair was black and on the longer side, mostly brushed back. The rest fell over his cheekbones in loose strands. A noble-looking nose, a pleasingly wide mouth...

He was handsome, if not for his scowl and the fresh, angry red marks on his face.

Some of the tiny cuts were bleeding.

Oh, from the wind. My wind. His gray eyes focused on me with annoyance.

“Going somewhere?” he asked. His voice was low, setting off alarm bells in my mind.

I inhaled deep and the man's face dropped.

Wind gathered again to my call, and I forced it at him.

He was hit fully in the chest, he was driven back into a tree hard enough to rattle the branches. He grunted, I ran.

I disappeared into the thicket, hoping to lose him, but I could feel his pursuit.

Twigs and branches snapped behind me, but I continued pumping my legs fast as I could.

I broke past another thicket and almost flew right off a gorge that lead into a large body of water tens of feet below.

An arm tightly wound around my waist and yanked me onto solid ground.

I gasped loudly, staring off the cliff's edge, then looked up at the man.

What was better, I wondered... falling into the water or being held captive?

I twisted into his hold, trying to break myself free. His brow was furrowed as he grasped both of my arms and forcefully held them to my sides, pinning me against his chest.

"Gods. Wily, aren't you?"

I scowled loudly.

The female warrior came to his side and handed him a round piece of jewelry that looked like a silver bracelet of some kind. A cuff.

The cold metal wrapped around my throat. Then sealed closed.

Instantly, the wind vanished. The forest no longer listened to me.

My only ally was gone and it felt like a part of my insides had been ripped away from me.

Speechless, I stared at him with a gaping mouth.

“There,” he said, fully loosening his grip. “No magic for you. Fucking rabid little thing.” I couldn't tell if he sounded annoyed or amused.

“Seems cruel to put it on her throat, Cas,” the woman muttered. “It should go on her wrist.”

“Shut up, Belma. It's fitting there.”

Like an animal's collar. The inference was not lost on me.

When his arms finally let go, my hand flew to the smooth metal at my throat. It was seamless and fused to my skin.

I couldn't tug it off.

He watched me panicking with cool gray eyes. “What’s your name?”

I did not want to give the bandits any responses. But this man carried himself far differently than that of a mere highwayman. Based on the sigil he wore, he had to be a soldier.

Perhaps someone with rank, given the fact he looked to be in his late thirties or early forties.

“I don’t have a name at present," I replied, trying to look as indignant and aloof as one could when cornered and forced into cooperation.

The blonde, Belma, blinked and shifted her weight to one side. “Everyone has a name.”

“I don’t remember mine.”

The man’s grip returned, fingers tight around my jaw and forced my head back to look up at him.

“Liar."

“I woke up here,” I insisted, my eyes narrowed and dark. “I remember nothing else.”

His eyes assessed mine, weighing out the truth in my words.

When his gaze softened, I began to relax.

“I see,” he said, straightening up. "Let us see if we can jog your memory, then."

He shoved me.

For a breathless second, there was nothing beneath my feet as I flew off the cliff.

I was free-falling. A scream couldn't rip from my throat before I crashed hard into water.

My body sank instantly. I stared up at the distorted surface, dazed.

Light fractured above me.

Iron bars suddenly came into my vision. A man’s hands reached through them.

I grasped them, eager for the warmth of a friend's touch.

“Are you certain you want to do this?” he asked.

I smiled, even though my apprehension. “I am, yes.”

His face blurred. I tried to see more of the memory, to hold on for any other precious detail.

Something seized my shoulders and I was yanked upward, violently out of the water and out of the vision.

Air burned into my lungs as I took in a loud, rasping breath.

“For fuck’s sake,” the dark-haired man snapped as he dragged me onto a dry bank by the arm. I was dropped like a sack of flour on the rocky ground. “You don’t even know how to tread water?”

I rolled so I could lift myself up by the elbows. “You... you pushed me!”

“For a laugh,” he shot back dryly, as if I were overreacting. “And it was quite amusing until you failed to resurface.”

I glared at him, but beneath the anger, something faltered.

Down there… I remembered something. Rather, someone. And an important choice I had made.

He had not been entirely wrong about jogging my memory. Still...

“You would use people for your own entertainment?”

Wet black hair was heaved away from his eyes to meet my gaze. He had shed his boots and cloak before rescuing me-- now only dressed in black trousers and a soaked black long-sleeved shirt.

“No, not people," he answered with a sneering smile. "Just prisoners.”

We stared at each other for a moment longer, both quietly panting. His gaze dropped to my soaked dress clinging to my skin. I wore nothing beneath, Gods help me, and I crossed my arms over my chest.

“Usually they deserve it,” he added, focusing a little too long upon my covered breasts for my comfort.

I wanted to order him to look away, but understood I presently carried no power in this relationship.

I probably should have been grateful he dived in. ... Even though he was the bastard who pushed me.

“You need a name.” The man rubbed at his chin’s faint stubble while his eyes lifted back to my face. I studied him, frowning again.

With the cloak gone, I found his form... elegant. Broad-shouldered, but not overly muscular. He was almost ethereal, his face, especially. Strong black eyebrows, heavy dark lashes that lined his gray eyes. I almost regretted being the cause of the tiny red cuts across his pale cheeks.

But the rest of him... What a damned waste of beauty.

“You behaved like a feral animal back there. Far too wild for a proper name, like Lady."

I glowered, making a smirk curve his sinfully plush lips.

"Stray will do, I think."

“That is not a name,” I retorted without even thinking.

“It is, now.”

Belma approached with a good-natured grin, carrying the man's cloak and boots. As he dressed, she pulled on my elbow and made me stand.

I was led through the forest for only a few minutes until we reached a small clearing. Several soldiers were congregated, all donning the same emblem as my captor.

“Where are we going?” I demanded.

“Home,” Belma answered, as if that gave me any clarity. “You can ride with me, Princess.”

“She rides with me,” the black-haired man corrected.

Belma’s eyebrow shot up, but she didn't challenge him.

I wish she had. I would have much preferred her over him.

The man's larger hands circled my waist and hoisted me onto the horse's saddle. He quickly mounted behind me, commandeering the reins.

“Why would you call me that?” I asked Belma as we began our trek, her horse moved alongside us.

"What?"

"Princess."

"Well, look at your hands."

I glanced down at my palms.

“They're soft, I see no calluses. You're clearly a lady of leisure."

"Or a prostitute," the man muttered behind me.

"And--" Belma continued after giving the man a dry side-glance. "You had magic. Nobility breeds that. I'd bet good money you're a noble from Galesseine. Perhaps a Duke's wife or daughter."

"Galesseine." The word sounded strange in my mouth, yet it seemed so familiar. "A neighboring Kingdom?"

She nodded. “And their King, Ronan, is the finest tactician of his generation,” Belma went on. “He’s been swallowing territories whole all over the continent the past few years.”

The man in black snorted derisively behind me.

“The only reason we still stand independent, is the Black Forest. It guards Hothram like a wall. Outsiders get lost... the forest either consumes them or spits them out.”

Hothram. Another Kingdom. But I didn't recognize the name, either.

“You speak as though the forest is alive," I mused.

Belma grinned at me, waggling her eyebrows. “Well... some believe it is. Children's tales, of course, to keep them from wandering at night.”

I turned slightly in the saddle. Belma was knowledgeable and quite friendly. Given her skill sets, perhaps she was a commander or general.

“And... you know the King of Hothram?” I asked.

A small tingle of hope rose in me. Perhaps I could plead my case to their monarch. Get my freedom. Return home. Or... find my home, at least.

Belma barked a laugh.

“Yes. Castian. He sits behind you.”

My stomach dropped.

The man holding my reins. The one who had collared me, thrown me into a river, named me Stray like a damned animal... he was the fucking King.