emmel
2009-03-22 19:15:44 UTC
Fresh out of the keyboard. I know, I shouldn't, but I want to put and
end to it, well, this instalment at least. I don't know if the last
paragraph should better be separate, or not, so I'd appreciate your
opinion on that. And everything else. Yeah, sure, as if anyone cares.
OK, that's not that true anymore - post got held up six hours or so by
news server unavailability.
Which obviously didn't matter. Anyway, superseded with a slightly bug
fixed version.
*****
'All right, move along.'
The gate guard stepped back from the cart and let the merchant
pass, the rumbling of the wheels slowly dying away as it rolled north.
Traffic was still slow that early, just a few merchants leaving the
town before they'd get stuck in the queues that would inevitably form,
now that they'd have to double check everyone coming or leaving,
because of the previous night.
'What do you reckon it was this time? Owl again?' his
counterpart on the other side of the archway asked, as if he read his
thoughts.
'Nah, Yasin from night patrol says that it was for real this
time. Werewolf or elf or something.'
'Since when do werewolves climb walls?'
'Still leaves elves.'
'Yeah, because they wouldn't just do some hocus-pocus and walk
through the gate. Besides, aren't we supposed to be at peace with
them?'
The other guard shrugged.
'Who cares. All I know it that we are stuck with the angry
folks. I can already hear them complaining about hour-long waiting
times before the gate.
'Oh, come on. It was never more than half an hour. And you
should be used to it by now? It's not like we don't get that every
other week for some reason or... Was that a wolf? With a bag?'
'Not my problem, buddy, I only do outgoing.'
The streets seemed to grow more narrow with every step, and the houses
and pavement turned darker and darker with dirt and grime. Laiva
wouldn't want to live in a place like this, but she had the uneasy
feeling that the people who lived here didn't do by choice.
And that wasn't the only uneasy feeling this place gave her.
It was far too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that you got from people
still sleeping, but the quiet of someone holding his breath, of
someone stringing a bow, of someone sneaking up from behind...
She whirled around, but there was no more behind her than had
been in front, and all she achieved was reigniting the pain in her
head. These little alleys were giving her the creeps; she should get
away from here, as quickly as possible. If only she knew where exactly
she was.
She had thought that she was somewhere in the southern half of
the city, but in that case she should have come across any of the main
streets by now. Either she had gotten farther in the night than she
had thought, or maybe she had lost track of direction. It was quite
possible that the sun wasn't at all where she thought it would be. The
houses were overhanging so far around here, that there was hardly a
little strip of sky left between the roofs; hardly enough to guess
where the sun was, much less see it.
She sighed. What she needed was a homing spell. Tired and with
an aching head, that was asking no less than a miracle; that kind of
magic was hard enough for her under the best of circumstances. But she
had no choice, had she? And maybe this was a day for miracles.
She cleared her mind and tried hard to think of the bazaar,
with all the people and the stalls offering exotic spices and precious
gems as well as carrots and apples. She focused on the multitude of
colours, the red of the tomatoes, the green of cucumbers, the smell of
golden honey and roasted chestnuts...
Her tummy rumbled. No, this wasn't going to work. Before
breakfast, the only thing she would be able to concentrate on was,
well, breakfast. And that wouldn't even help her to find an inn, much
less the bazaar. Except for home, of course. Every child learned that
at an early age, but then again that was much easier. But there was no
way she was going back there. On the other hand, all she needed was a
direction.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on her home, conjuring up
in her mind the image of the house, and started intoning the
syllables, as she had a thousand times before. Before her inner eye
she saw the magic solidifying, taking on the shape of a little little
arrow, spinning around its axis.
She opened her eyes again and, for a moment, she could see the
little arrow of blueish light hanging before her in midair. Then she
was grabbed from behind. Powerful hands twisted her arms together
behind her back and lifted her off her feet, sending waves of white
hot pain through her already bruised body. She screamed.
'Stuff that crybaby's mouth!' a voice said from behind. Three
grubby looking youths stepped into view, several years older and half
a head taller than her. Even being in pain, she couldn't help but feel
revolted at their appearance. Their greasy hair looked as if it hadn't
seen a comb in life, and both their skin and the rags that hanging off
them were covered in a layer of grime that rivalled that on the
ground.
The one in the middle was pulling an even dirtier piece of
cloth from one of his pockets, crumpling in together into what looked
suspiciously like a gag. Only seeing it was enough to make her retch.
Where were the guards when you needed them?
The boy stepped up to her, leaned in - and Laiva kicked him
between his legs with all the power she could muster. That send
another wave of pain through her body, but better that than getting
anything that vile even close to her mouth. Besides, seeing the boy
curled on the pavement and crying in pain was worth it. Who was the
crybaby now?
She only got a short reprieve, though. The other two were
already advancing from the sides, and the grip behind her back
tightened even more. But she was past the point where she cared about
pain anymore. She was kicking and thrashing like wild, holding her
torturers at distance, but unable to break free from the one holding
her. Finally, she threw her feet as far up as she could, and then
slammed her them backwards, adding the momentum of her whole body.
One foot hit only air, but the other struck true. Near her
head there was a cry, and then she was being dragged to the ground.
But the grip had loosened. She rolled to the side, and in no time was
back on her feet, for the first time facing all four of her attackers.
The one that had been holding her was a grown up, with mean looking
eyes in a brutal face and the build of an bear.
She had no time to dwell on his features, though. All of them
were already back on their feet and advancing at her. She grabbed for
her dagger - and found it gone. The shock had to have shown on her
face, for the four stopped and the large one thrust out his right
hand, pointing at her with her daddy's dagger.
'Oh, has the little farm girl lost her toy?' he mocked her,
but he might as well not. Laiva was furious. How could they dare?
This dagger had been passed down in the family for generations. She'd
liked to rip them in little pieces for even touching it, let alone
threatening her with it. They were going to pay for that; she would
make them pay for that, no matter what. She clenched her fists and
tensed her whole body like a spring, readying herself for attack.
At this moment the man toppled over, as if he had been pushed
from behind. He smashed lengthwise onto the ground and the dagger
slipped from his grasp, skidding over the cobbles towards her, while
something large and grey jumped over the body and landed to her right.
Laiva hunkered down next to Mynor, removed her backpack from
his mouth and crawled him behind the ears, while collecting the dagger
with her other hand. Then she slowly stood back up.
Mynor lowered his head, until it was level with back and tail,
bared his teeth and let go a low growl. Laiva gave the four a broad
smile and said only one word: 'Run.' And run they did.
Once they were out of sight, she sheathed the dagger. The
smile dropped from her face and was replaced with a blend of pain and
exhaustion. She slumped down onto the ground and hugged Mynor, holding
him tight.
--
emmel <the_emmel*you-know-what-that's-for*@gmx.net>
(Don't forget to remove the ** bit)
story archives available at http://ranira.wordpress.com
Official AGC feedback maniac
Proud owner of 1 (one) DISOBEDIENCE point.
Former owner of 1 (one) eating point (eaten, sigh).
end to it, well, this instalment at least. I don't know if the last
paragraph should better be separate, or not, so I'd appreciate your
opinion on that. And everything else. Yeah, sure, as if anyone cares.
OK, that's not that true anymore - post got held up six hours or so by
news server unavailability.
Which obviously didn't matter. Anyway, superseded with a slightly bug
fixed version.
*****
'All right, move along.'
The gate guard stepped back from the cart and let the merchant
pass, the rumbling of the wheels slowly dying away as it rolled north.
Traffic was still slow that early, just a few merchants leaving the
town before they'd get stuck in the queues that would inevitably form,
now that they'd have to double check everyone coming or leaving,
because of the previous night.
'What do you reckon it was this time? Owl again?' his
counterpart on the other side of the archway asked, as if he read his
thoughts.
'Nah, Yasin from night patrol says that it was for real this
time. Werewolf or elf or something.'
'Since when do werewolves climb walls?'
'Still leaves elves.'
'Yeah, because they wouldn't just do some hocus-pocus and walk
through the gate. Besides, aren't we supposed to be at peace with
them?'
The other guard shrugged.
'Who cares. All I know it that we are stuck with the angry
folks. I can already hear them complaining about hour-long waiting
times before the gate.
'Oh, come on. It was never more than half an hour. And you
should be used to it by now? It's not like we don't get that every
other week for some reason or... Was that a wolf? With a bag?'
'Not my problem, buddy, I only do outgoing.'
The streets seemed to grow more narrow with every step, and the houses
and pavement turned darker and darker with dirt and grime. Laiva
wouldn't want to live in a place like this, but she had the uneasy
feeling that the people who lived here didn't do by choice.
And that wasn't the only uneasy feeling this place gave her.
It was far too quiet. Not the kind of quiet that you got from people
still sleeping, but the quiet of someone holding his breath, of
someone stringing a bow, of someone sneaking up from behind...
She whirled around, but there was no more behind her than had
been in front, and all she achieved was reigniting the pain in her
head. These little alleys were giving her the creeps; she should get
away from here, as quickly as possible. If only she knew where exactly
she was.
She had thought that she was somewhere in the southern half of
the city, but in that case she should have come across any of the main
streets by now. Either she had gotten farther in the night than she
had thought, or maybe she had lost track of direction. It was quite
possible that the sun wasn't at all where she thought it would be. The
houses were overhanging so far around here, that there was hardly a
little strip of sky left between the roofs; hardly enough to guess
where the sun was, much less see it.
She sighed. What she needed was a homing spell. Tired and with
an aching head, that was asking no less than a miracle; that kind of
magic was hard enough for her under the best of circumstances. But she
had no choice, had she? And maybe this was a day for miracles.
She cleared her mind and tried hard to think of the bazaar,
with all the people and the stalls offering exotic spices and precious
gems as well as carrots and apples. She focused on the multitude of
colours, the red of the tomatoes, the green of cucumbers, the smell of
golden honey and roasted chestnuts...
Her tummy rumbled. No, this wasn't going to work. Before
breakfast, the only thing she would be able to concentrate on was,
well, breakfast. And that wouldn't even help her to find an inn, much
less the bazaar. Except for home, of course. Every child learned that
at an early age, but then again that was much easier. But there was no
way she was going back there. On the other hand, all she needed was a
direction.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on her home, conjuring up
in her mind the image of the house, and started intoning the
syllables, as she had a thousand times before. Before her inner eye
she saw the magic solidifying, taking on the shape of a little little
arrow, spinning around its axis.
She opened her eyes again and, for a moment, she could see the
little arrow of blueish light hanging before her in midair. Then she
was grabbed from behind. Powerful hands twisted her arms together
behind her back and lifted her off her feet, sending waves of white
hot pain through her already bruised body. She screamed.
'Stuff that crybaby's mouth!' a voice said from behind. Three
grubby looking youths stepped into view, several years older and half
a head taller than her. Even being in pain, she couldn't help but feel
revolted at their appearance. Their greasy hair looked as if it hadn't
seen a comb in life, and both their skin and the rags that hanging off
them were covered in a layer of grime that rivalled that on the
ground.
The one in the middle was pulling an even dirtier piece of
cloth from one of his pockets, crumpling in together into what looked
suspiciously like a gag. Only seeing it was enough to make her retch.
Where were the guards when you needed them?
The boy stepped up to her, leaned in - and Laiva kicked him
between his legs with all the power she could muster. That send
another wave of pain through her body, but better that than getting
anything that vile even close to her mouth. Besides, seeing the boy
curled on the pavement and crying in pain was worth it. Who was the
crybaby now?
She only got a short reprieve, though. The other two were
already advancing from the sides, and the grip behind her back
tightened even more. But she was past the point where she cared about
pain anymore. She was kicking and thrashing like wild, holding her
torturers at distance, but unable to break free from the one holding
her. Finally, she threw her feet as far up as she could, and then
slammed her them backwards, adding the momentum of her whole body.
One foot hit only air, but the other struck true. Near her
head there was a cry, and then she was being dragged to the ground.
But the grip had loosened. She rolled to the side, and in no time was
back on her feet, for the first time facing all four of her attackers.
The one that had been holding her was a grown up, with mean looking
eyes in a brutal face and the build of an bear.
She had no time to dwell on his features, though. All of them
were already back on their feet and advancing at her. She grabbed for
her dagger - and found it gone. The shock had to have shown on her
face, for the four stopped and the large one thrust out his right
hand, pointing at her with her daddy's dagger.
'Oh, has the little farm girl lost her toy?' he mocked her,
but he might as well not. Laiva was furious. How could they dare?
This dagger had been passed down in the family for generations. She'd
liked to rip them in little pieces for even touching it, let alone
threatening her with it. They were going to pay for that; she would
make them pay for that, no matter what. She clenched her fists and
tensed her whole body like a spring, readying herself for attack.
At this moment the man toppled over, as if he had been pushed
from behind. He smashed lengthwise onto the ground and the dagger
slipped from his grasp, skidding over the cobbles towards her, while
something large and grey jumped over the body and landed to her right.
Laiva hunkered down next to Mynor, removed her backpack from
his mouth and crawled him behind the ears, while collecting the dagger
with her other hand. Then she slowly stood back up.
Mynor lowered his head, until it was level with back and tail,
bared his teeth and let go a low growl. Laiva gave the four a broad
smile and said only one word: 'Run.' And run they did.
Once they were out of sight, she sheathed the dagger. The
smile dropped from her face and was replaced with a blend of pain and
exhaustion. She slumped down onto the ground and hugged Mynor, holding
him tight.
--
emmel <the_emmel*you-know-what-that's-for*@gmx.net>
(Don't forget to remove the ** bit)
story archives available at http://ranira.wordpress.com
Official AGC feedback maniac
Proud owner of 1 (one) DISOBEDIENCE point.
Former owner of 1 (one) eating point (eaten, sigh).