The Maiden's Mad Meanderings
Note: Image associated is from Ironage.media, specifically their prompt, 'The Edge'
Sarah snapped out of her delirium as she felt something slide off of her face. Her immediate thought was that her nightmare would've been the more pleasant place to stay. At least there it was only her mind tormenting her. It took some time before she finally recognized where she was, what she was holding, the sickly smell of liquid scarlet in the room and the cloying feeling upon her naked flesh. Snippets of her nightmare filtered back into her waking mind as she felt the ache of exhaustion in her every muscle, but none more potent than in her legs and her right arm.
She had been being chased; no, she had been chasing someone.
It had all started days ago, the first time the blade in her hands had caught her eye in the merchant's wagon. The merchant had claimed it was a cooking knife, repurposed from something he called a seax, a design standard in the barbarous north. A bold man if he dared trade with the flaxen-haired killers who haunted the snows and seas.
Sarah remembered feeling drawn to the knife. Called to it. Even though she hated cooking. Hated the busywork of it, endless chopping, peeling, checking on this, tasting that, and hoping that your oven hadn't cooled off too much to bake bread if she was that bit too slow in making it. And yet, the shining edge dazzled her, the subtle waves in the steel nearly as hypnotic as the sea herself. And what should have required a goodly sum was all but given to her for a few coins. The blood now soaking the knife seemed to twist upon the blade, an arrow pushing her along. That merchant. He must have known. He had closed his shop as Sarah had left, even though this was the sea's last, mostly honest port, especially when travelling south. He knew. Her wrists ached as her hand clenched on the wooden handle, the feeling all too familiar. Had she done this before?
Sarah woke again as the creaking boat groaned in her ears, her hand feeling empty and lost. She brushed it against the knife at her belt, and the feeling melted away. She needed a drink, she thought as the sea pitched and rolled. After two days at sea, the freshwater had already run dry or gone sick on the waves. If these crewmen could be trusted, and their captain seemed a decent sort, the only things worth drinking were wine, beer, and mead. But she knew the smell of drink, the burning tang it gave off. To drink it was a sin, a transgression against her God. Not that she had been free of sin in recent weeks, she thought as her hand absently touched the knife handle. She was thirsty damn it, and thirst should be quenched.
Days later, they landed in a foreign port, the sharp-eyed lookout spotting her quarry's sail as they pulled in. The man tried to recoil as she kissed him in thanks, and the rest of the crew kept their distance as she left the ship. Each man breathed easier as the waifish lass left, easier still as they quickly escaped the doomed port behind them, and easiest of any breath of their lives as several splashes reached their ears, all while the decks wept the blood of their brothers into the sea.
That evening, she tailed the merchant as twilight took over the bazaar, the man utterly unaware of the blade inching closer to his supple flesh, the steel that would touch his heart that night. She watched him as he wasted the coin he'd traded trinkets for on drink, food, and appallingly, even to her twisting mind, flesh. And yet, an idea took root in her thoughts. Better that they be alone for her revenge. Better that he not be expected to rise early tomorrow, and far better for her that any man should be less than willing to point to her, lest they admit to their own sins. A smile crept across her lips as she laid a veil upon herself, moving as luridly as she could manage to the merchant's side. Tonight, her sins would be worth something. Tonight, her thirst would be fully quenched. Not teased as it was on the ship. Tonight would set the world right once more. Wouldn't it?
A story like coffee -- bitter, pungent, and delicious.