Wow, am I tired.
But it's true! It's time again for snippets, and yes, although I realize that I must be the last person to post snippets in November (the month is up in 2 days!), better late than never. Besides, I know you were all just dying to read some of what I wrote on Children of a Legend during NaNoWriMo, and I couldn't post snippets until I had actually finished writing my 50K.
Okay, maybe not dying, but I hope you were excited to read these. And don't forget to check out Katie's blog for more snippets from great writers!
Directly
behind Lord Vernd entered a man that Gimnder unfortunately knew all
too well. He was dressed in black from head to toe, his black boots
smeared with the dust of heavy traveling, his black cloak torn
plentifully from use and battles, his black tunic laced tightly
against his chest, his black gloves covering his powerful hands, and
his black scabbard hanging grandly and hiding the sharp blade to a
majestic double edged sword. The only other color he presented on
himself, other than the pale skin of his face, came in two, bold
accents of sharp contrast: a jagged scar that ran horizontally across
his face beneath his eyes and over his nose, dark from age and pain,
and a thick sash tied about his waist the exact color of blood.
***
Jimena,
the older of the two, looked up shyly at the visitors through her
thick hair with a small hello, but Lyndee watched the group
unabashedly. Her little, freckled nose wrinkled as she studied them,
and her dark, quick eyes, Davin promptly noted, didn't miss a thing.
“Why
are you so dirty?” She asked, looking at Grant skeptically.
Rodnal
spoke up quickly before Grant could say anything. “We've been on
the road fer a long time, little one, and we haven't got the chance
yet ta take a bath.”
“Then
you should get washed up.” The little girl replied seriously.
“Lettie never lets me go to bed with that much dirt on my
face.”
***
Recognition struck Davin instantly. “You're the man I saw last night at the inn! You sat at the table in the corner, in the shadows. You were watching us, weren't you?”
“You
are most observant.” The man congratulated him with an air of
mockery.
Davin
wasn't certain whether or not to describe him as a man, for the
stranger looked no older than Davin himself. His brown hair was
slicked down neatly, and his chin held the faintest signs of
scattered stubble. His clothing resembled the garb of a simple
hunter, mostly greens and browns, but made to withstand the taxing
use of the outdoors and the biting colds of winter. Leather gauntlets
laced about his wrists, and across his chest lay a thick belt to
which on his back was strapped a quiver full of arrows. His bow lay
with the quiver, but the curved wood was, at the moment, unstrung. It
was still too dark in the alley to clearly see his eyes, but Davin
felt as if they were dark and accusing, focusing on his every move.
He
kept his eyes on Davin as he spoke. “But yes, I was watching you.”
The
statement wasn't said in shame nor in a threatening manner. It was
simply stated, without any comprehensive feeling, and heard.
But
Davin didn't like the way it was stated or heard.
***
By
the time they had gained the end of the alley, Davin noted with
relief that the violent shouts and lethal clashes of the fight no
longer permeated the air. Instead, angry voices were thrown against
the close walls of the alley. Davin recognized them instantly as two
distinct voices, those of Olette and his brother, Grant.
...
“That
was dumb! Completely and entirely foolish! Stupid and senseless! What
in all of Dron were you thinking?”
“That
wasn't dumb! How can ya call it dumb? I probably saved yer life!”
“Saved
my life? Ha!”
“I
did!”
“By
almost getting yourself killed? Oh, sure, that was really smart!”
“I'm
not killed! And it was a smart move!”
“Smart
by whose standards? Girls don't belong in battle anyway!”
“I
have jest as much right ta a fight as you! They wanted my head jest
as much as they wanted yours!”
“I
haven't the least idea why they would want your head when it has
nothing in it that they would find useful!”
“If
it wasn't fer me, yer head might be rolling around on the
ground right now!”
“So
you expect me to be grateful for what you did?”
“I
would expect some thanks, but since it's from the likes of ya, I
don't!”
“That
soldier could have killed you.”
“But
he didn't!”
“You
had no business stepping in here! We were handling well enough on our
own!”
“I
could tell! You handled that man going for yer back with a sword very
well!”
“I
was going to stop him.”
“When?
When it was too late?”
Davin
raised his voice before his brother could fire another retort back at
Olette. “Grant!”
Every
head in the alley whipped towards Davin.
He
kept his words even. “Let's go.”
***
Brice's
speech broke through the despair on Davin's face, and he looked up at
the sandy haired boy, his lips twitching with the beginnings of a
smile. “When did you become so smart?”
Brice
pretended to take offense to his words, crossing his arms defiantly
against the accusation, but he couldn't keep the chuckle out of his
voice as he responded. “Why, I've been smart for years! It just
took your little brain this long to recognize that fact.”
***
When
the man had fallen, Brice turned back to Davin. “I think we could
stand with a new plan. It's time to play a new card from your hand.
What do you say, General?”
“I'm
not...” Davin protested, but Brice wasn't listening. He was rushing
back to assist Grant.
“A
general.” Davin finished lamely. But he knew Brice was right. They
were holding for now, but for how long? Sooner or later the soldiers
would overwhelm them with the sheer number of the force they had on
their side. The strength of Davin's friends was waning fast, and he
knew that they counted fight forever.
But
he had no plan. No card that he knew of that he could play. What more
could they do?
His
mind flitted to the skirmish they had fought in West Delt, after
Essore had taken Niana on her first flight, carrying her out of town
and later decimating the soldiers following him with a fiery blast.
Davin could still see the charred remains of the men in his mind, and
he shuddered. It was horrible, the destruction a dragon's fire could
do.
A
dragon's fire...
All
at once, Davin lit on a plan. It wasn't anything great, not a sound
plan with clever strategy. It was more of a thought, a ray of an idea
that was a simple help. It was a card he could play.
“Essore!”
He shouted as loudly as he could, disregarding the threat of
avalanche. If the dragon could do what he did before and distract the
soldiers long enough for the four friends to get away, they might
make it to the stronghold and bar themselves inside before Vernd's
troops had a chance to rally.
Davin
hated to pull Essore into the fight, especially since the bitter cold
affected his wings so, but there was nothing left for him to do.
Essore was the last and only card Davin could play for their side.
And he was playing it.
He
waited a full five minutes, eyes probing the sky, voice and heart
calling out to the black dragon, listening to the sounds of battle
further down in the pass. He waited for the roar of the approaching
dragon, waited for the deadly stream of heat to come flying forth
from the deep pits of the dragon's insides. He waited for the black
form of the dragon flying toward them in the sky.
But
Essore never came.
Davin
had played his card, but the card had proved empty and useless.
God bless!
.png)
