Rebel Run

The storm raged on as Elara and Darius stood at the edge of the ridge, rain soaking their clothes, the wind threatening to shove them over. Across from them, Dravok soldiers emerged from the shadows, armored figures blocking every path except the sheer drop behind them.

Elara tightened her grip on her sword. “They don’t look friendly.”

Darius let out a dry chuckle. “They never are.”

The leader of the group stepped forward, war axe resting on his shoulder. “Hand over what you stole, and we’ll grant you a swift death.”

Darius scoffed. “Generous.”

Elara shifted her stance, ready to fight; but before she could react, Darius grabbed her by the arm. “Trust me,” he muttered.

Before she could ask why, he shoved her backward.

Her stomach lurched as she tumbled over the edge, the roar of the river below swallowing her scream. “Darius!”

The icy water hit her like a hammer, stealing the breath from her lungs. The current yanked her under, dragging her downstream in a merciless pull. She barely managed to surface in time to see, through the rain and mist, Darius caused a distraction by leg sweeping a couple of their assailants, then, hurling a dagger into the chaos; before he, too, leapt into the river.

The current carried them both, spinning and thrashing, until finally, it spat them out onto a muddy bank. Elara gasped for air, dragging herself onto solid ground before rolling onto her back, panting.

A few feet away, Darius groaned, shaking water from his face. He barely had time to sit up before Elara crawled over and punched him square in the chin.

He blinked, stunned. “Ow.”

“That,” she huffed, shoving wet hair from her face, “was for pushing me without warning.”

Darius rubbed his jaw. “I did say ‘trust me.’”




Written for: "Daily Flash Fiction Challenge" 
Prompt Words: “They don't look friendly.”
Word Count: 300