A Life Less Ordinary: Chapter 8
By Sulia Serafine
[This is a Protector of the Small fanfic, all credit goes to Tamora Pierce. I'm broke, so you can't sue me.
**And guys, I finally decided something. I know I haven't had the chance to read Page yet because I am not able to get my sorry self to the bookstore. But you see, this is a fanfic. And the number one rule of fanfics: you can do WHATEVER you want. So, how about we compromise? I've been getting a lot of feedback about Page, and I've found that I should pay some attention to that story line despite the fact that I haven't read it. Basically, whatever characters and/or plots which are present in Page will be distorted so that they can flow naturally into my story. Please be patient. I know you guys can be. Thanks for reading!
P.S. I apologize for the sudden jump of time in the story. Why I'm doing this will be made clear A FEW CHAPTERS FROM NOW.
Oh, one more thing: BAD LANGUAGE ( i.e. cursing, swearing…) You have been warned!]
So the two lost Tortallians escaped the ravaged city of Carthan, where it was made known to them what they could do to go home. Egavar escaped, as they later found out from one of the city's surviving peacekeepers. He and the Grand Nodestrum fled to a Kodestrum sanctuary, where they were accepted to stay while they looked for their own Nodestrum kind to visit. The ship that Keladry and Joren escaped on eventually ended up at the northern part of the West continent-- away from Lon Falas, away from Mira, and somewhere in the middle of the chaos. They trained and worked hard for their first year in this strange land. They performed odd jobs and slowly grew in knowledge of the lands around them. Finally, they set down upon the road. They were on a quest for the Truth Stone and the powerful labafrets. They made money as mercenaries-- the majority of the jobs they took were for the good of people. And they gained many acquaintances along the way. They sent messages from where they were back to Egavar, whom had finally gone home to his forest.
It was as legendary as any story might be. Well, except for--
"I hate it when you snore."
"I hate it when you start lecturing me on justice and equality!"
"Stop drooling. The girls you're gaping at probably don't like the drooling-type."
"Well, they're definitely girls I'd rather share the road with than you."
"Ouch. That hurts. I think I'm going to cry."
"We are getting way too sarcastic."
"It was like you said the first night we were in this land. We've gone mad."
"Don't remind me."
And thus, the quest continued.
~~
Keladry tied back her long hair. She liked long hair now. Before, the former Tortallian page had hated it. It had been four years since they had landed in a world full of strange creatures and people. Keladry was eighteen. She shuffled toward the stream and scooped up a handful of water to splash her face. She stood back up and went back to the dying embers of their campfire.
"Joren? Where are you?" She called out while bending down to pick up her vest.
"I'm right here," he said as he came through the underbrush without disturbing it. "There are some deer tracks off that way. Do you feel like hunting?"
"We just woke up. No, I don't," she replied sharply.
"Well, excuse me," he sat down. "I didn't know you were going to have a grouchy morning." He started eating a small piece of bread from their food supply. He swallowed before continuing. "Hey, there's a village up ahead. There's bound to be some business there."
"Yeah. There are also Mirans everywhere," she muttered, putting on her gray vest. It had a high gray collar that she liked and it was trimmed with gold thread. Joren also had a similar vest.
"Oh, come on. Mirans around here? After that battle at Lon Falas that we heard about, the Mira Empire has certainly weakened."
She shook her head. "That doesn't prove anything. I'll believe it when I see it."
He shrugged his shoulders. "Fine. Let's get to the village then."
They packed up, leaving no traces of their presence in that clearing. Both mounted their horses and set upon the road once again. Presently, they came to the village. It looked normal enough. The villagers went about, performing their tasks. Keladry and Joren rode behind a farmer's wagon. They took in their surroundings.
"See? No Mirans," Joren whispered to her with a smirk.
"Stop gloating," she whispered back. They dismounted from their horses and led them to something they assumed was a tavern. They went inside and sat down at the bar. The bartender was an old man with a scar running down his chin. "What do you want?"
"A drink of ale, maybe." Joren leaned on his elbows. "Or maybe just some information. How is the village here?"
"Peaceful. We don't need the likes of you," the man gruffly said and started polishing a mug with a cloth.
"What do you mean, the likes of us?" Keladry narrowed her eyes in slight annoyance of his tone. She calmed her self and became expressionless once again.
"I know that smart-alec type… and the swords by your sides. Get out of this town."
Joren stiffened. "Well, I would have thought you would try and keep us here-- you know, us being customers."
"You haven't drank anything yet," the man retorted.
"And we won't with a tone like that!" Joren retorted. Keladry rolled her eyes.
"Stop it. Let's get out of here."
They left the tavern. Standing beside their horses, they watched the village around them. Women swept out the dirt from their doorways. A man carried bundles of wheat. Another led two cattle down the road. Keladry checked her saddlebags, content where she was. But Joren couldn't shake the feeling of something wrong. He looked closely at each villager. None of them were smiling. Perhaps it was just a busy day.
"Or perhaps it isn't," he thought. Keladry nudged him with her elbow.
"What is it?"
"Let's stay in this place tonight. Something's going to happen."
"If you say so," she said doubtfully.
That night, they ended up returning to the tavern. What amazed them was that the place was full of people-- mostly rowdy looking men. They did not appear to be from the village. Joren and Keladry assumed they were simply villagers they had not noticed before-- sons of farmers or something of the sort.
"Why are there so many people?" Keladry said to Joren as they found seats at the bar again. The same man as before put two mugs of ale in front of them and walked away to another customer before they could speak. Shrugging, Joren drank some and turned around on his stool to watch the rest of the crowd.
"That shady bunch," he gestured to the opposite side of the room, "look like they're troublemakers. We better watch them," Joren said to her. She nodded and took a small sip of the ale.
A man with a week's growth of beard on his face approached the two. He leered at Keladry. "Hey, pretty thing. Want to come dance with Bazal?"
Keladry turned so she was also facing the man like Joren. She looked him up and down. "No."
"What? You're with this little guy?" he laughed at Joren. The former-squire bristled.
"Excuse me? Hey, pal, I've seen better hair on a greasy pig," he said menacingly. "You've got another thing coming if you're calling me little." Keladry shook her head with a slight smile as Joren stood up and came toe to toe with the other man. A few other men started to notice and cleared some space for the two.
"Hey! Two guys are gonna fight!" one yelled. Immediately, cheers rang out. Men yelled as Joren and the man named Bazal stared each other down. Keladry merely yawned.
"I'm going to chew you up and spit you out, you little nobody!" Bazal shouted as he came at Joren. Joren easily stepped aside and punched the man in the jaw. Bazal recovered quicker than he anticipated and slammed his fist into his midsection. All the air rushed out of him as the bigger man grabbed the smaller's hair and yanked his head up. He wound his arm back, prepared to bust his face when Joren grabbed the man's wrist and twisted it with all his might. The man let go of his hair and Joren kicked him hard in the stomach. The man went down to the floor and the men's cheers became louder.
"Joren," Keladry called from her stool. She made her way through the crowd and watched Bazal attentively. "Joren, he's got a dagger."
He heard her and backed away from Bazal some more. Bazal got up from the floor and sneered at him. "Nobody makes a fool out of me!"
The blonde laughed. "You're such a wussy! It's a damned bar fight for Gods' sake!"
Bazal lunged at him with his dagger. Joren twisted aside and slammed his joined fists on the back of Bazal's neck. The man went down and scrambled back up just as quickly, almost catching him off guard.
"I'll kill you!" he bellowed and slashed the dagger in front of him. He thrust the dagger at Joren, who again dodged. They started to move in a circle. The cries and cheers of the men around them became louder.
"That's it! Get him and his wench!" Bazal shouted to his comrades. They joyfully joined in and leapt at Joren and Keladry.
"Watch out!" Keladry yelled as she saw them draw their swords. She had a short sword, and Joren still refrained from using his. She rushed forward. The men swung their swords in wide arcs, harming their comrades and not Keladry. She took advantage of this and moved around them in impossible space. Then she knocked the swords from their hands and struck the flat of her blade on their heads, knocking them out.
Joren faired much worse, still fighting without a weapon despite the unfair fight. Bazal and a few other men surrounded him.
"Is this how cowards really fight?" Joren said to them. He dodged one after another, taking a few blows to his unprotected flanks. "Come on, you can do better than that!"
"Shut up you little punk!"
"Could you stop using that word little so much? It's annoying!" Joren punctuated each word with a blow to Bazal. He knocked the dagger out of his hand. Bazal rammed into Joren, tackling him to the floor. They grappled for the dagger while Keladry still held her own a few feet away.
"Joren!" Keladry cried. She made her way toward him, fighting off the men who continued to come at her. Bazal shoved Joren away and, instead of reaching for the dagger, grabbed her ankle and tripped her. She fell, her sword clattering on the floor. Joren jumped on Bazal, the dagger in his hand. He put it to Bazal's throat.
"Call them off! I swear, I'll kill you."
"Joren," Keladry said in a warning tone.
"Don't worry about it, Kel. Get up."
She got her sword and stood up. The men backed away reluctantly, watching their friend with a dagger pressed to his throat. Joren yanked Bazal to his feet. He kept a careful grip on the weapon and the man. "Clear a path to the door, damn it!"
"I'll hunt you down for this," Bazal threatened.
"Oh, please. I'm laughing on the inside," Joren said with a cold expression. Keladry came closer.
"Joren, we have to get out of here now." She sheathed her sword and glanced around.
"We're going, don't worry," he replied and made Bazal move with them as they made their way toward the door. Joren loosened his grip on the man for one moment…
But it was enough for Bazal to grab him and wrench the dagger from his hands. He lunged at Joren, who started to run for his horse. Keladry responded a split second afterward, following him. Bazal yelled at them and threw the dagger. It cut threw the air toward Keladry. Joren twisted around.
"Watch out!"
The dagger missed Keladry's head, but it did cut her hair. She gasped as she watched her long ponytail fall to the ground. The men from the tavern rushed out. They were going to give chase. She reached for her sword with fury in her eyes.
"Forget about them. We've got to get out of here," he said urgently and grabbed her wrist.
"No! They're going to pay for that!" she said furiously. "Since when do you run from a fight?"
"Since we got outnumbered by Miran soldiers!" he said right back. Her eyes went wide with realization as she looked back at the mob about to chase them. The shady bunch he had pointed out earlier now revealed their Miran crests on their tunics. She quickly obliged. They ran to their horses and mounted, riding away into the night.
When they were far into the woods, they turned off the road and made a small hasty camp with no fire. Keladry calmed the horses and gave them some food. "Damn it. I knew I was right. There are Mirans in this part of the country."
"Don't rub it in," Joren snapped. He lay back against a tree and let out a deep breath. "We're going back there tomorrow and dealing with those Mirans. I'm sick and tired of them!"
"Well, they are the ones waging war in every nation on this world," she reminded. "And they are not our concern. There are millions of them and two of us. We're after the Truth Stone, remember? And after all the jewels we've seen and examined, we still haven't got it." She also settled down for sleep. "The labafrets are still no where to be seen. You see? We have no time to fight the evil of the world."
Joren stared at her. "I swear, that's the speech I usually give to you when you're being too damned righteous. Aren't you mad they cut your hair?"
"That's besides the point," she said through gritted teeth. He backed off the subject.
"Well, I'm going back with or without you tomorrow."
She growled. "Fine, I'll go. Maybe they have the Truth Stone among their spoils. But this time, we won't be caught off guard. That fight back there was so sloppy. I can't even begin to express how terrible it was."
He yawned. "Tell me about it. Well, goodnight. Hope you enjoy the tomboy haircut. I mean, you always acted like one, but now you look like one. Nice change."
She glared at his back. "Well, at least I don't have long blonde hair that makes some of the girls ask you whether you're a girl or not before playing to your flirts."
"I hate you."
"Yeah, I hate you, too. Goodnight."