Female Stories The Messenger {original title- Nowhere to Run} ***This is a story I wrote about 2 or 3 years ago. I typed it up and uploaded it upon request- there is sneezing in it, of course, but I was writing it at the time for the plot(some of which I edited out here) :-)*** It was the most uncomfortable feeling to awake without a clue as to where I was. I could see nothing save vast darkness, dear not a sound but wind whisping about, though I could not feel it. I was lying on my right side on something soft, a mattress so far as I suspected, though I hadn't felt its like in years. When I tried to move my achy limbs, I found it not only difficult but nearly impossible for there were heavy blankets covering me to my neck. My head was tilted, higher, as if on a pillow, perhaps even two. But as warm as the blankets tried to get me, I was too wet and cold to not shiver, though most of it came from my fear. I was covered, put to bed... and had no idea not only where I was and who was there, but where my sword was. All I did know was that I still felt sick and I was much thirstier than I would have liked. I sneezed and my hear cleared a little, my nose running freely down my face so much that simple sniffing wasn't to help more than my shirt sleeve. Even lying down I felt dizzy, confused, with thoughts and images pounding my brain as I suffered from a headache all its own. Cautiously I liked my lips and winced as I tasted blood. I tried hard to think back. The last thing I could remember was... the attack. Yes, the attack... it all began to come back to me. I was delivering a message to King Dormath of Wallingston from his royal highness King Winston of Diggerhut. I was on my horse, riding like the wind through the South woods when they jumped me. One came from the branches of a tree I was passing beneath, knocking my right from the saddle. Another three came at me on the sides as I scrambled to my feet and drew my sword to fight them off, and then a fifth, as if from nowhere, with a musket. I bravely fought as anyone could have, but I'd been ill with a cold for a day and a half, and was indeed not at my best. As each of my blows was struck so heavy and so strong, ten more were made against me, cutting my face, slicing through my cloak but just managing to miss me. Then I remember feeling dizzy, as I'd never felt before, and with a splash I lost consciousness... perhaps they'd left my in the lake to die. So where was I now? The attackers never took prisoners, and if they did I would not have been placed in something so lovely and rare as a bed. My heart raced at the sound: shoes on a squeaky, hardwood floor. My impulse was to run but I could not find the strength. The sound of a doorknob turning and footsteps approaching caused me to hold my breath and hope for the best. As I did so, the air I took in tickled my nose and I felt the over-powering urge to sneeze. I closed my eyes and let my nostrils flare, hoping that if I concentrated, the urge would not reach its final mark. But that was not to be, I found out, as I let out a forceful and wet sneeze, "HaaaSHHOOO!" and then a second, "AHHCHOO!" I hoped I hadn't been heard but such, too, was not the case as the footsteps became quicker and louder. I then heard the deep sound of a man's voice. "I'm lighting the lamp. Close your eyes," he commanded. I obeyed and felt the light come on as a tiny bit of warmth danced upon my skin and the black insides of my eyelids became a dirty yellow. Squinting, I looked around. The man standing by the door looked about my age, maybe a year older to make an even 24, perhaps not even as much. He had short dark hair and a pair of dazzling blue eyes that truly mesmerized me. The corners of his mouth turned up a little as he gave me a sliver of a smile. "Glad to see you're awake." Out of instinct, the man's next step forward made me squirm another few inches under the blankets. I didn't care if he seemed nice and looked handsome- if I didn't have my sword, I wasn't going to trust the man. His smile widened. "It's alright. I'm not going to hurt you." He walked to me and squatted down to eye-level. "My name's Grayson. Kyle Grayson. I found you down by the lake three hours ago. I thought at first you were dead, for you were extremely pale, almost white. But then I saw your chest rise and fall with slow breaths and I knew you had to have been left for dead there. You were soaking wet and bleeding, so I took you here. Can you speak?" "I think so," I squeaked in a voice so uncertain it might have been funny had I been in the mood to laugh. "My sword?" I was desperate for it. Usually the attackers took what weapons they could find. But if he'd found it... if it were still mine... that would make all the difference. "It's over there on the table with your other things." I sighed and regretted it a moment later as a series of coughs struck me hard enough to render me helpless for nearly five minutes straight. When I recovered I noticed his concern and I closed my eyes. "It's alright, I'm not dying or anything. It's only a cold." That did little to alleviate the concern from his handsome visage. "A horrible one from the sound of it." I was ready to answer with something equally blunt but instead I let out two sneezes, horribly strong but not too loud. "heeeAHchooo! heeEUAHshoo!" "Bless you," he said, fumbling in his pocket for his handkerchief and handing it to me when he'd at last found it. I thanked him, breaking in the middle to sneeze again, my head snapping forward with the force, then releasing as I let the sneeze fade out and my head sink back into the pillow. I blew my nose a few times, sounding like the horns of the court warning up before song. "I, uh, suppose you had a horse?" he asked once I'd quieted again. I nodded and tried to joke about it, despite how badly I felt. "Yes, I *had* one." I began coughing again, so much that I had to sit up, which was nearly impossible for me to do while coughing so hard. Without a word, he saw and helped me, supporting me with strong hands and propping up pillows behind so I could lean back against them as I sat upright. When I was finished, I felt even more chilled, as the cold season's air mingled with my damp clothes and skin. I began to shiver and couldn't stop, even as he brought the blankets up to cover me better. Then, leaving me shivering, coughing, nose running, he went to the trunk on the other side of the room to pull out a t-shirt and a sweat suit. "Here, change into these and you'll feel a bit drier at least. I can't do much for the cold save keep the fire going in the other room. I'm sorry." I was about to chuckle, then thought better of it after the last coughing fit. "You've done more than I could have ever wished for," I told him. "And you don't even know a thing about me." "I know enough." I began to feel flattered... but then I saw that his eyes were pointing towards the table with my things upon it... my sword, my knife, my satchel, and my cloak. My cloak. Which meant that he had to have seen the messenger insignia on the front breast pocket. Which meant that he knew who I worked for, who I am, and which side I was on. "Don't be frightened, Messenger," he said softly. "I am also of Diggerhut. And I shall not harm you. That I promise." "That's very reassuring," I lied, "but I believe it would be wise for me to leave now." I didn't know where I was going, how I was to get there, or even where I was then, but I knew that I had to leave- the sooner, the better. I rose but without him to support me, I felt too dizzy and collapsed on the floor. Kyle bent to get me up, his grip tight on my arm as he escorted me back to bed. "You're going nowhere like this," he informed me. He went to feel my forehead, hesitating and asking if it were okay with his handsome eyes. Unable to resist them, I nodded affirmatively. "I'll be right back," he said, holding his hand out towards me to tell me to say where I was. I moment later he appeared beside me again with a thermometer. At once I shook my head. "I feel the sneezes coming on... maybe you shouldn't..aahhh... ahhhhh... do that n-n-now..." He shrugged. "You do it. Just try to hold them back for a few minutes, alright?" He slid the thermometer under my tongue before I could protest any further and I closed my mouth around it as the faint tickling in my nose began to steadily grow. I sniffed, I rubbed, I pinched it shut, the tickle not going away at all by any means. It felt like forever, that wait, and my nose was burning for release as time kept going by without me sneezing. I was nearly loosing control when I felt his finger under my nose, the feel so surprising to me that I nearly forgot completely about the sneeze for just enough time for him to pull out the thermometer. "Ahhh... Ahhh... aEAHSHOO!" I sneezed loudly and I raised his handkerchief to my nose and mouth for the next. "aeahSHOOO!" And the next, "arrEEAHHCHOO!" and the next, "uhhEEAHHchoo!" and suddenly I knew I was out of complete control, my nose not skipping a beat as I sneezed so many at one time. "AhhhEASHOO! UUUHHHshoo! HuuuhEHHshoooooo! ahhhAHCHOOO! HuurrAHHSHOO! huhSHOOO! ArrAHCHEEEW!" I gasped for breath and buried my nose under the cloth to hide its runs from Kyle. "HHHEEEEAAAHHHHSSHHHHOOOO!" I sneezed unexpectedly, the last for the while, an incredibly loud and rich sneeze. "Poor thing," he whispered softly, looking at me, then at the thermometer. "You have a temperature of one hundred-and-four. Is there anything at all I can do to help you?" It felt odd that someone should ask, no one ever asked the messengers if we needed help; we were always the ones to ask first. I was still regaining my breath from the series of sneezes as I replied, "A little water... and another hankie?" He grinned. "That I can do. Just hold on a minute." He left again and I felt my eyes close. I couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so sick, maybe when I was younger, six or seven years old. I vaguely remembered spending time in the clinic and having my temperature taken. He cleared his throat to let me know of his presence, so I opened my eyes and took the objects from him. First I slowly drank the water down, discovering only then how much I needed it; it was as important to me then as sleep. I'd been working for several days straight with only a couple two-hour breaks here and there which served as my meal time. I blew my nose and began to plot my escape. Yes, this man was being very kind, but I was a messenger and all of the land was counting on me. We were currently fighting the greatest war in all our history, we of Diggerhut and Wallingston against those from Ranstone. It started with the first kings and queens. The kings of each of the three kingdom were triplets and fighting over only one woman who would become queen. She chose the King of Diggerhut and in a fit of rage, the jealous King of Ranstone murdered both his brothers, as well as the queen. Naturally war was declared against Ranstone and it's lasted ever since for over seven hundred years. I was one of thirty- six messengers who rode back and forth in the woods behind the bottle ground to deliver messages to each current king. We were highly respected figures in Diggerhut and Wallingston, which was no doubt why Kyle took me in. "Where am I, anyway?" I asked, firing off a double sneeze directly after, "HeeeEAHHCHOO!AHSHOW!" "Bless you," he said, looking at me pitifully, wanting to help. "You're in the South Woods, in my cabin. We're in Diggerhut still, though very close to Wallingston's boarder." I shivered with chill and sneezed again, helplessly, sending me forward in bed. "Come on," he said softly, "I'll help you change and you'll feel a lot warmer." As I Kyle assisted me in taking off the wet clothes which were nearly stuck to my skin, I had an odd feeling. But I did need his help, so I let him, feeling weak just to stand as I pulled up the sweat pants. Then he tucked me back into bed, and I had to admit I felt much better because of it. "Thank you for this, for helping me, for saving my life." He blushed again. "My pleasure, um, Messenger." "Sharron," I told him. I had no last name. Perhaps at one time I had, before I became an orphan, then a part of the messengers, but not now- no messengers did. I was simply Sharron of Diggerhut. "Call me Sharron." Kyle placed my clothes in the other room by the fire to dry them. "If you need me," he said softly as he stroked my cheek with his hand. "Just call. I'll be right in the other room. Get some sleep now, alright?" I snuggled under the blankets, smiling bravely, despite how poorly I was feeling. Though, I had to admit, it felt marvelous to have someone taking care of me. "Goodnight, Kyle. And thank you, really." "It's the least I can do, Sharron, believe me. Goodnight, Sharron, sleep well." I closed my eyes. "Sharron?" Opening them, I saw him still hovering over me. I rubbed my eyes, trying to keep them open. "Yes?" He looked uncomfortable, hesitant. "Um, are you alright?" I nodded, noticing that my head was throbbing much more than before. "I'm ok, I'd just like to get some sleep for the night, that's all." "Um," he repeated. "It's seven at night. You've been asleep nearly a day." "Great," I mumbled. I had planned on sneaking out before dawn but by now anther messenger would have been sent to deliver the message I had been assigned to. That was the way things worked. We'd send a messenger to Wallingston. Once there, the messenger would return within five hours with another message. And then, back to Wallingston with another, and so on. This way, if a messenger did not show up at one kingdom within five hours, she was assumed hurt, dead or captured, and another messenger would be sent to deliver the message again. It was a good system giving up five hours to accomplish what usually took only three or four, giving us extra time to sleep and eat. I had figured that I could have been back within five if I'd left the moment Kyle fell asleep and if I sprinted the entire way. "How're you feeling?" Kyle asked me. I noticed is hair looked different., parted to the side, flopping over part of his face. Had I been a few years younger and not a messenger... I think I would have found myself desperately attracted to him; how could I not after all the kindness he'd given me? "About the same," I replied, noticing my scratchy throat, runny nose and throbbing head. I sneezed, "KAAHHCHOO!" catching the wet spray in the handkerchief I still grasped in my hand, and rolled over from my right side onto my back. "Do I still feel warm to you?" His hand was cool and gentle on my forehead, and I wished the moment would never end; I loved how it felt to have him hovering over me protectively. I'd been with the messengers since I was five. I remember only bits and pieces from before then, and nothing about the family which had abandoned me on the doorstep of the orphanage when I was three. The messengers, through united in our cause, were a loosely knit group. We'd die for each other in a moment, but we very rarely even talked to one another. I could repeat the names and identification numbers of each but not a thing else about any of them. Since as far back as I can remember, there was never someone I loved-- the messengers weren't supposed to have time for it. Kyle sat down on the bed beside me. "Still warm." He swallowed. "Do you want to tell me what happened?" Once I realized that besides the fact that he wasn't going to let me go, that I didn't want to go, and that once gone, I had no where to go, I decided to be as open an honest with him as I could. I explained everything, or at least everything I could remember, with only a few minor interruptions in between as I sneezed or coughed. I fell asleep again later that night, with Kyle's hand stoking my arm comfortingly, and his presence alone enough to make me feel better. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * I stayed with kenny for three more days until I had most of my strength back and I was able to travel. I thanked him again a trillion times and told him that if he ever needed anything, I would help. His only answer was that he made me swear to tell no one of his existence. I did so without even asking why and kissed him goodbye on the cheek before leaving... and he kissed me back. Before nightfall, I found myself back in front of my king, pleading desperately for my job back. I had to lie, of course, as to where I'd been. I told him that I had been attacked, knocked off my horse, and lost in the woods. Then I explained that I was ambushed and knocked unconscious, then taken prisoner. I'd only managed to escape using my knife and fast legs, and I hid up in a tree for a day while I was searched for. Thankfully, the king believed every word and reinstated me as a messenger. Then it was back to the regular routine. My first job came early the next morning at four. I was given a new horse and rode out fast on my mission to Wallingston. The wind chopped at me as I rode, my ears were numb at the end of the first mile, I had no feeling in my hands by the end of the second. I pulled the hook of my cloak up over my heard, the thick velvet protecting me little, but making me just a little warmer for it. My horse slowed at the sixth mile and I got up in jumping position to make it easier for the horse. "You're just out of practice!" I yelled to the horse over the fierce wind, though I could have been telling the same to myself. The castle was a relief to see after such a long, three hour ride. I stopped at the gate, the guards checked my identification, and took my horse to the stable for water and rest before I had to leave again. It was the waiting time I hated most, standing(not sitting) before the king as he read the message and wrote up a response. Then I bowed before him and accepted the new message on a purple velvet pillow, taking it off when out of the throne room, to stuff it in the breast pocket of my cloak. I had an hour left, so I scrounged around for food and someone I could bum another handkerchief off of, as my cold was nearly gone but I was sniffling a bit still. But as I blew my nose of Kyle's now rather soiled handkerchief, I felt another strange feeling pass through me. And, though it meant a slow and very painful death, I suddenly found myself reading the letter. When finished, I knew there was nothing I could do but run to my horse and ride it out of the kingdom as fast as I possibly could. I didn't stop until I'd reached the little cabin that stood deep in the heart of the South woods. I got together all my courage and banged on the door of his cabin. My hands were so cold I could barely even make a fist, but I managed to make them loud enough for get him to open the door. "Sharron?" he asked in surprise at seeing me. "Come on in and get warmed up." Whether my breath was gone from the ride or from fright, all I could do was enter and hand him the note. I watched as his face fell and hit bit his lower lip. I cleared my throat, whispering a tiny, "Is it true that you're a deserter, Kyle?" "Yes," was his answer, simple but effective. The tears were falling slowly from my eyes as I wrapped my arms around him in a hug. "You poor thing. You must have been through so much." "That doesn't matter now," he said, pushing away from me. "It was a mistake, I know that now." "You have to leave, Kyle. Right now. They're coming for you as we speak." I wiped the tears from my eyes. He shook his head. "Don't you see? I'm not worth it! Let them come and kill me, it doesn't matter." I heard footsteps and unrecognizable shouts from the outside. "Kyle,' I whispered. "It matters to me." He looked in my eyes, and I in his, and together we bolted from the room, out the window and upon my horse to ride off deeper into the woods. We hid ourselves from one and all that day, and for the rest of our lives, as we lived them happily but together. ~tarotgal(2 or 3 years ago) ***In the first draft, Kyle shot himself. I rewrote it here for the sake of a happier ending! :-)***