Yes! At last, I can present to you Peder's story! Well... the first part... It was supposed to be a short story, but it turning into a kind of mini novel... That's my problem with writing: I tend to write TOO much.
It is still under-going some major editing, but I believe the first chapter is ready to share with you. So, without further ado...
All in a Day's Work
Part 1: The Chase Begins
The figure slunk from the shadows,
heart racing. In the dark, dead hours of the night, his sharp eyes
spotted the castle stables he'd worked in for the past two weeks. A
tall, gray stallion stood just inside the doors, waiting.
It was done.
He had succeeded in retrieving what
he'd come for. So, why the hesitation? After nearly running over
the unsuspecting guard back inside the castle, his nerves were strung
thin.
If he was caught...
He didn't want to think about that.
Mentally, he kicked himself for
agreeing to do this job. At one point in his recent history, he
could have done a job like this with ease and no after-thought. The
past was past. Why did trouble always seem to hunt him down? Once
again, he glanced both directions, then, with bundle under his arm
and a quick breath, he darted for the stables–
Only to run smack into the keeper, who
he'd thought was fast asleep with one of his best barrels at hand.
Both men were knocked down at the collision, and the figure's hood
was thrown back, revealing a shock of dark hair. Scrambling to his feet, the stablemaster's mouth
opened wide in alarm and recognition.
“Hey! You–” But the cloaked man
was faster. As if by magic, a dagger flashed in his free hand and
the hilt connected with the stablemaster's jaw, dropping the
unfortunate man like a stone.
The figure wasted no time running to
the saddled horse and mounting with the ease of an expert rider.
With a click and clatter of hooves, he was gone.
* * *
Peder
Grey looked at his Elvish partner in disbelief.
“You
can't be serious.”
Jaron's
usual, expressionless features was thrown his way, this time with a
slightly raised eyebrow, which to Peder meant he was dead serious.
“Well...”
Peder said slowly, running a hand through sandy-blonde hair. “What
do we do?”
Jaron
looked at his young partner,
his face taking on a look that could possibly pass as a grin.
“We
wait,” he replied, knowing that was exactly what Peder did not want
to hear.
“Wait?”
the young man repeated. Peder's expression of exasperation almost
made the Elf laugh. Almost. Jaron's gray eyes watched as the cadet
began pacing, opening his mouth to speak, but shutting it again. He
braced himself for a... brief argument.
“Jaron,
you're telling me that a thief just escaped with a valuable document,
containing information that could bring this kingdom to ruin, and we
are lounging about in the forest watching the leaves fall? He's
hours ahead of us by now! In fact, he's probably made his trade and
is enjoying the luxury of a well-paid job.”
He
stopped before Jaron with his hands held out and looked at his Elf
friend, who stood against a tree, arms crossed and eyes closed.
Peder
sighed, letting his arms fall to his sides.
“Aw, come on, Cap.
If there's one thing I lack, it's patience,” he huffed. “There, I
said it.”
Jaron
opened an eye and glanced his way.
“I dass carnen?” Are
you done? he asked in his native tongue. Peder
looked away, ashamed of his outburst.
He answered in the same language.
“Ná.”
Yes.
“Good.”
Jaron nodded. “Now I can tell you why
we are waiting.”
“You
mean there's a reason for this madness?” he asked sheepishly as he
rubbed the nape of his neck.
This
time the Elvish man chuckled.
“There
usually is.”
Glancing
at the rising sun, Jaron noted the time: one hour till dawn.
The
bundle had been stolen five hours earlier. It was their job to track
down the culprit, recover the bundle, and stop what could result in a
war. All considering, this was not a wholly unfamiliar situation.
At least, not to Jaron.
They
were Guards after all.
Jaron's
blank expression changed to an icy glare once Peder's waving hand
came into focus before his face. The young man took no notice,
however, accustomed as he was to the Elf's stern, quiet ways.
“Hullo?
Captain Jaron? You were saying?”
“Dragons.”
“Dragons?”
“Dragons.”
* * *
The
dark figure slowed the horse to a walk. He didn't know how far he'd
traveled. Hours, obviously, for the gradual light of dawn was nearly
visible through the canopy of branches.
His
heart still beat at a rapid pace. Urging the tired animal on, he
forced his body to relax and looked around the quiet forest,
wondering if he was pursued. After colliding with the stablemaster,
his only thought was to flee. Now, a barrage of thoughts crowded his
mind – the first being the objective of his mission.
A
hand went to the black leather vest beneath his cloak, and froze.
Gone.
Vaguely,
he remembered the soft thud of an object as it fell to the dirt of
the royal stables. In the following scuffle, he remembered kicking
something further into the shadows of the stone walls. He sighed and
signaled to the horse to move on.
A
phrase entered his mind and he nearly laughed despite himself.
Well,
there goes my reputation.
*
* *
“It
is important to answer a dragon with the utmost respect, being, as
they are, one of the High Kynds. I needn't explain to you the
consequences of getting on their bad side, do I?” Peder shook his
head, visibly nervous at actually meeting one of these revered
creatures, much less ride one, as Jaron had mentioned earlier. He'd
heard of them before, of course, but they weren't usually known to
associate with Men. At least not in Gondoa.
“Cap?
Have you ever ridden a dragon before?”
After
a moment's hesitation, the Elf answered.
“Yes,”
he said, pulling on the reigns of his horse. Both horses stopped.
“In my home country, dragon riding is as common as horse-back.”
With
a flick of his wrist, Jaron started his horse once more. Peder had
never heard the Elf mention a home. He'd always assumed his friend
had been raised here, in Gondoa, or at least in the neighboring
kingdom of Ardos. But now that he thought about it, Jaron was
different from the few other Elves he'd met. His dark-brown hair,
pulled into a small ponytail at the nape of his neck, blended well
with the Gondian Men and Elves who lived there, but his skin shone as
ivory-bronze, rich and deep in color – rivaling that of the
fairer-skinned Elves native to Gondoa's forests.
“Your
home country?” He clicked his tongue to the stubborn horse and
moved to catch up with Jaron.
“Ná.
Yes, Aranarth
Nerisiir, or in your tongue: the
realm of Neris.” This time Peder stared anew at his mentor.
Neris? Neris was a legend. The Unreachable Kingdom.
He
pushed aside the onslaught of questions and followed Jaron into the
large, open clearing that had been scouted as their place of meeting,
about five miles from the Castle Gond. The hour was a quarter past
dawn.
Dismounting a good distance from the creatures, Peder had difficulty keeping the
look of awe from his face when they approached the massive beasts.
Only two dragons rested on their haunches in the mid-morning sun.
Peder's sense of adventure had him thinking there would be a whole
squadron of the creatures, but that was absurd. It was just one man.
Another thought entered his mind:
Why would we need dragons, of all creatures, to run down one man?
Following
Jaron, he found himself before the larger of the two dragons. His
name was Keighvyn, a magnificent white dragon of impressive size.
Valtiiramir was the name of the second – a crimson female, whose
slight, delicate build seemed quite the opposite of her companion's,
though there was no doubt of her strength.
“Hail,
Lord Keighvyn and Lady Valtiramiir, mellon
nîn,
my friends. May your wings never feel an ill wind. Welcome to the
realm of Gondoa.” Jaron finished this greeting with a low bow and
dropped to one knee. Peder did the same, and to his surprise Jaron
actually moved and embraced the dragon Keighvyn, in a kind of
forehead to forehead greeting.
“Greetings,
Elvin-son and Man-son of Gondoa,” spoke the white dragon, raising
his large head to look at them both. Addressing the Elf, he said,
“It is good to see you once more, young Jaron Wandersong, son of
Jeremiel. We have answered your call. Is there someway we may be of
service?” As Keighvyn spoke, his large mouth barely moved, yet his
words were as clear to Peder as if the dragon had said them into his
ear. Jaron introduced Peder, then explained the situation and asked
respectfully if they would agree to assist. Both dragons eagerly
accepted the challenge. Within moments, plans were made to leave at
once. Nervous, Peder moved to where Valtiramiir waited.
“Well
met, young Peder,” greeted the she-dragon, her voice smooth
and silky. She chuckled softly, “Have you ever ridden dragon-kynd
before?” Rubbing his neck, Peder shook his head as he climbed
astride her golden-red form, but quickly answered.
“No,
my lady. This will be a first.”
“Well
then, we shall make it one to remember. The saddle you see is rather
simple. Your queer little feet fit into – what do you call them?
horse steer-ups? – yes, like so. Next, comes the belt.” This was
a leather strap that went about a rider's waist and was connected to
the saddle by another strap. Used only as a precaution should the
rider somehow lose his seat while flying mid-air. After a few more
common-sense instructions and with a loud swoosh, both dragons
leapt into the air and were soon above the heights of the great
trees.
Thanks for reading! Don't forget to check back for the next part!!
Elves? Dragons? All my favorite things right here! I loved it! And your writing style is so good! I can just feel like I'm in another world. Their speech patterns and use of words really gives you the flavor of a fantasy world. I very much look forward to the next part!
ReplyDeleteAnd writing too much...that is my exact problem. My stories get so ridiculously long and I am completely incapable of writing short stories. It's quite annoying sometimes. Lol.
Thank you so much, Lauri! Your sweet words just made a great day even better! ^__^ I so love compliments!
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading!