Notice: Before you read this, please note that this is rough, unedited and hasn't even been gazed over for structure. Please be forgiving for this, but I just wanted to share with you a part of chapter 6.
Okay....I guess you can read now.
“I wouldn’t expect anything
less.”
“Should we resume
our duties at the prince’s door?” A young soldier asked.
“Aye, it’s been
long enough. He only requested we be gone for a few hours,” a deeper voice
replied, the senior officer between the two most likely. “Maybe you can finally
get a glimpse of the lass. What are the men calling her now? The—“
“The dragon
whisperer,” the young soldier replied. “I heard it from one of the men that
were in the main battle. They said she’d been able to control the silver-winged
beast. Are there any truths to this gossip? Is she really strong enough to tame
these monsters?”
The older man
snorted. “I don’t doubt it. You’re new Jerd. You’ve only transferred, what, a
few days before we departed the kingdom?”
There was no
answer, the young soldier probably nodding.
“Then you haven’t
seen the young lady fight. She uses daggers, lad. Those small knives she
carries are more dangerous than a top-ranked knight with two swords. Three
even!”
The older soldier’s
voice returned to its regular tone. “Good man.” He patted the boy on the back,
the metal armor rattling. “Now, let us get out of this cold and back to our
station.
Leiv could feel her
heart beating faster. If the two soldiers went to check on Talen they would
find his unconscious body and immediately alert the rest of the others of her disappearance.
She needed to stop them before they reached their post.
Another whisper
reached her from the dark depths of the abandoned house; the same one that
directed her to hide there. “Use the vial sticking out of your pocket,” it said
in hushed whisper.
Looking out into
the shadows, she spotted no one. “Who’s there?”
No answer.
Had her mind been
playing tricks on her? Remembering the task at hand, she watched as the men
walked back to her prison. There was no time to waste. Leiv left the safety of
her hiding place and came out into the open.
“Hey!” She yelled
towards the men.
Both turned swiftly
at the sound of her voice and unsheathed their swords. The two soldiers eyed her
with curiosity and caution. Scrutinizing every inch of her from afar, the men
dared to close the space between them. She didn’t move, allowing them the
courtesy to see whom they were truly dealing with.
Leiv recognized the
senior officer from her time at the castle. Bramor they called him, for he was
always picking fruits from the bramored tree in the gardens. His head held a
bed of white hair with streaks of black peppering the edges. His height didn’t
rival her father’s, but came awfully close. What he seemed to lack with bulk he
made up with intelligence, automatically deciphering who she was.
“Apprentice,” he
said, slowly, unsure of what her reaction might be at the name she’d been so
often called within the king’s city.
She narrowed her
eyes. “Am I still an apprentice to you, Bramor?” Her hands rested on her
dagger, allowing the cool metal sheathe to calm her nerves. “I heard from the
guards I’ve been branded a traitor.”
Jerd fumbled with
his words. “You’re—the warrior all the men have spoken about.”
Her attention left
Bramor’s and flitted to the younger soldier. “Well now, I do hope my abilities
are still being spoken about with great revere.” She crossed her arms. The
young man squirmed under the scrutiny, unable to stop shuffling his feet. “Do I
make you nervous, Jerd.” Leiv allowed
each letter of his name to slide languidly off her tongue, as if there was all
the time in the world. She watched his features change from nervous to astonished
at the sound of his name passing through her lips.
It wasn’t an
uncommon sight for Leiv to see a man quiver when coming face to face with her, but
this one was so terribly young. Since when did they allow such younglings into
the king’s army? He looked to be
15 at most. His medium-length blonde hair barely reached his shoulders. The boy
had a small build, his armor looking far heavier than his entire frame. He was
shorter than she, reaching to about her shoulders. The lad should have been at
home, tending his family’s farm or working as an apprentice to one of the
shopkeepers. Instead, he was out in the battlefield fighting for the mad king.
The king’s army was
made of several factions of society, making it the most diverse group in the
kingdom. Most times guards at the castle would enlist for a larger stipend, but
usually their soldiers were peasants who trained for a year in the kingdom of
Lyria, which specialized in battle training.
How could the king
be so blinded by his ambition that he would put the needs of his greed over the
welfare of his people? That question always plagued her, the answering never
fully emerging. Farmlands were being destroyed, people were dying and children
were being sent into war callously with blatant disregard for their inexperience.
Bramor broke the
silence between them. “You know we can’t allow you to leave, apprentice.” He
tightened his grip on the sword, taking one step after another.
“I don’t want to
hurt you, Bramor,” she said, taking a small step back, “but I will do what I
must to ensure the safety of my companions.”
“Then arm yourself,
my lady, for I will not hold back.”
