The Ringing of the Bells
Lineage
Chapter One:
At the end of autumn in the marketplace of Corus, the capital of Tortall, a man wandered through the crowds, methodically checking every face he saw. He walked with the precision of a soldier, not bothering to look inconspicuous. The crowds took no notice of him; everyone was busy with their own transactions. The marketplace was packed this week, because the last of the crops had been harvested, and people were stocking for the bad winter that was rumored to be coming. The year's crops had been good, and venders were filling their purses with copper nobles.
The man never faltered until midday, when the sun began to beat down its last warm rays of the year. He pulled off the cloak he had been wearing to reveal his uniform of maroon and beige, the uniform of the Palace Guard. He stepped behind a meat-vender's stall, and three more Guards melted out of the shadows to greet him. The filed out one at a time and turned to stand in a half circle facing him.
"Anything?" he asked them in a low voice.
They all shook their heads negative.
One pale, perspiring man had the courage to speak out despite orders. "We'll never find her at the rate we're lookin'. Why's it our job to look for the blasted wench anyway? It's unnatural hot for this time of year. If we'd a had any sense we would've just held up a sign, or had crier announce who we're lookin' for-" He broke off suddenly when the flat of a blade descended sharply onto his shoulder.
"You fool," the man with the cloak told him harshly. "Do you dare go against orders? Do you know what will happen if the girl is captured? Her kidnappers could ask ransom - anything they wanted. And if something happens to her, we will have her brother and their country's army to deal with." He sheathed his sword slowly again. "Would anyone else like to speak out? May I remind you what will happen to those who question orders, especially those that come from the king?" He gestured towards a dead chicken hanging from the back of the stall.
The only reply he got was a low muttering. The outspoken man had come back to his senses and was looking properly chastened.
The Guard pulled three glass spheres out of his cloak, and threw one to each of the other men. Red fire streaked from his hands to settle into the glass. He held up his thumb and forefinger to show them his own ball of fire he conjured there.
"I will expect to know immediately if anyone sees or hears anything. Ashan, take five men and make sure to check down by the river. The rest of you continue as you were. Now go."
The men nodded and slipped quietly back into the shadows from where they had come. The remaining Guard folded his cloak carefully and tucked it into his belt, then set off back down Market Way. His search continued with increasing urgency as the day wore on and he heard no word of the missing girl. He held several more whispered conferences with his fellow Guards, each time assigning them likely spots to search, and each time the tensions ran high. The permanent scowl he always wore deepened and was etched sharply in the shadows of the dying sun, but his good training refused to allow his weariness to show. Instincts told him this search would continue through the night.
A minstrel sat propped up against an aging building, his legs splayed out in front of him. To anyone who passed he appeared to be sleeping, but he kept watchful eyes slitted open, never missing anything. A cloaked Guard wandered around the corner and didn't see him in the dying light. He tripped over the minstrel's large feet, and muttered curses under his breath at being seen in an act of clumsiness.
"Watch where you put your feet!" he growled.
"Mithros knows I have to look out for them," the minstrel replied cheerily. "Soldiers have a habit of tripping over me every time I sit down. Of course, my feet are quite large."
"Watch your tongue next time too." The Guard glared a warning look, but all he could see of the man was bright blue eyes underneath a hood.
The minstrel called Immen only saluted him and immediately went back to his feigned sleep. The Guard appeared to be looking for something, or someone, but apparently he didn't have very good eyes. Twenty paces away, a girl slept undisturbed on an old pile of straw, wrapped up in a tattered blanket. Her clothes were odd, and there was something foreign about her. She had lain undisturbed all evening; in fact, no one had seemed to see her at all. The Guard was no exception. He walked right by without a glance, and he never looked back. Immen noted all of this with interest, then gathered his magic for the first time that day and send it out towards the girl to see what was shielding her.
The force of the impact was like hitting a brick wall head on. His magic bounced back before he could even retrieve it. He rubbed his aching head with trembling hands. Never had he encountered anything like it. The innocent looking girl was shielded by pure, raw, power. No mortal could command that much power and still live. He shook his head and walked away, part in awe, part in fear, and part in gratitude that he was still breathing. The girl would be safe, he knew that for certain. Whatever protected her was certainly powerful enough. Yes, she was definitely safe for now.
A/N - So what do you think? This is a story I will be working on for a long time. Here's a quick summary: About two hundred years after Alanna's time, a princess who hates palace life gets caught up in an overthrow when she accidentally finds her way to the headquarters of renegade knights. The king and queen (they are not her parents) are the first rulers who are not Contés. The girl would rather be a warrior than a princess, but she has one huge secret that gets in her way.
Please please please tell me what you think; I love criticism. By the way, a lot of people have said it's a bummer that none of the original characters can be in it, but don't worry, there will be some original characters in it, one way or another.