* Pokes Chapter Three * Hello, all ^^ More reviews. Special. Don't worry
about the grammar and spelling mistakes. This is only a first draft. Hope
you enjoy it! It's short, though. Very.
A middle-aged woman, still as lovely and strong as she was in her youth, leaned against a gigantic door, held close with a large bolt, practically screamed to you it was restricted. Her hair was a fiery crimson, and eyes were tainted with a shocking shade of violet. Contrasting to her good looks, the female wore breeches and work clothes, and had knifes packed tightly against her belt. A sound proceeded from within; a man's voice. A young boy unbolted the door from the inside and walked out, motioning her to enter. The woman walked steadily in.
Inside was yet another man of exceptional looks, dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. He nodded to the entering female, who returned the nod grimly.
"'Morning, Alanna. What's the news?"
Alanna heaved a sigh, "Well, it's not good. It's the Scanrans, Jon."
"Scanrans?" Jon inquired, "What about them? I suppose they're raiding like crazy this season. Mithros help us if they ever start to move inland."
"That's just out problem," The copper topped lady replied, "We would expect Scanra to stick to their style. They're sea-folk! But there are threats about moving inward. Even the borders of Galla have been getting some trouble."
Jon rolled his eyes, "Worry? About this? Galla's inland coast is right next to Scanra. The land-dwelling rogues must have pulled it off. I doubt they even think about actually going against us for war. Why fight, anyways?"
"I don't know, Jon. I'm just getting a feeling that something's not right here."
A knock was heard at the door. "Come in!" The black-haired noble replied. The door proceeded to swing wide. There, Daine stood.
A smile crossed Jon's face. "Hello, Daine," he said cheerfully, "Any thing happened?"
"Good afternoon, Your Highness," The curly-haired woman responded, "Alanna. I wouldn't exactly say 'happened' is the right word..."
-----------------------
"Dragon tongue?" Zekan replied haughtily, "Is that a... language?"
Of course it's a language, mortal! Sirk replied in her mind.
Zekan's fingers slowly crawled to the dagger, perhaps her only chance of survival. But something held her there, not physically, but mentally. Something yearned for answers. Why am I so different? She has always wondered. Now, maybe this immortal had answers.
"Please," the girl begged, "tell me why I am different. Tell me why I can speak like that. Why? I want to know!"
The dragon's tone was firm, No. Not now. Later. The Dragonmeet will decide.
"There you go again with this Dragonmeet! What is this 'dragonmeet'?" the Scanran's voice was getting impatient. She finally managed to grasp the dagger. She held it firmly in her hand, facing the immortal. It felt good.
The Dragonmeet is the law of the dragons, all must obey its will in the Dragon Lands. Sirk replied calmly.
"Dragon Lands?" Zekan asked, "You're talking in riddles again, sir."
You just do not understand what is greater than you.
"Yes I do!" retorted the redhead hotly, "That's nonsense!" In a mild rage, she flung her dagger harshly at the pale green dragon. The dirk simply hit his scales and bounced off, harmless. "TELL ME WHY I'M DIFFERENT!" screamed Zekan irately. She immediately broke down, crying hysterically.
Mortal, Sirk told her, You will know in time. I am your mentor, I will teach you of your other gifts as well. We have little time to reach our destination.
The girl dried her tears, followed in a chorus of hiccups, as she looked at the immortal curiously, "Where are we going, Sirk?" She asked, her fears slowly subsiding.
To Tortall. He replied calmly, There, we you shall be welcomed, and your training will begin.
"Tortall?" Zekan echoed. Tortall had been an enemy of her father since the time of his birth. Scanra was a country of raiders and bandits, who often hit along Tortall's coasts. I remember one time… we hit the coast, and killed many. A woman and her band drove us out. She's famous all over… The Lioness.
Zekanvealadas? Sirk's words sliced through her mind like a knife, Are you ready to go?
"Go?!" cried Zekan in respond, "I'm stuck in a hole with a broken ankle!"
Are you? the dragon said slyly.
Zekan eyed Sirk uneasily, not understanding his word. She attempted to move her ankle, and was surprised to find it completely painless. She was cured. Standing she looking up into his frightfully large eyes once more.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
I healed you, Sirk replied bluntly.
"…Oh," Zekan saw Sirk's gigantic head moving forward into the ditch, and she opened her mouth to scream, when she clapped a hand hastily over it. He's only trying to help you! Her mind scolded, I think…
Sirk lifted Zekan up gently, and set her on the floor. She scrambled for her dagger, and held it in front of her for protection. "Don't try anything," she told him, "If you're not here to help me, I can kill you!" the Scanran girl's voice was wary. She knew it wasn't true.
Very well, Sirk replied with a smirk, Let's go.
A middle-aged woman, still as lovely and strong as she was in her youth, leaned against a gigantic door, held close with a large bolt, practically screamed to you it was restricted. Her hair was a fiery crimson, and eyes were tainted with a shocking shade of violet. Contrasting to her good looks, the female wore breeches and work clothes, and had knifes packed tightly against her belt. A sound proceeded from within; a man's voice. A young boy unbolted the door from the inside and walked out, motioning her to enter. The woman walked steadily in.
Inside was yet another man of exceptional looks, dark hair and brilliant blue eyes. He nodded to the entering female, who returned the nod grimly.
"'Morning, Alanna. What's the news?"
Alanna heaved a sigh, "Well, it's not good. It's the Scanrans, Jon."
"Scanrans?" Jon inquired, "What about them? I suppose they're raiding like crazy this season. Mithros help us if they ever start to move inland."
"That's just out problem," The copper topped lady replied, "We would expect Scanra to stick to their style. They're sea-folk! But there are threats about moving inward. Even the borders of Galla have been getting some trouble."
Jon rolled his eyes, "Worry? About this? Galla's inland coast is right next to Scanra. The land-dwelling rogues must have pulled it off. I doubt they even think about actually going against us for war. Why fight, anyways?"
"I don't know, Jon. I'm just getting a feeling that something's not right here."
A knock was heard at the door. "Come in!" The black-haired noble replied. The door proceeded to swing wide. There, Daine stood.
A smile crossed Jon's face. "Hello, Daine," he said cheerfully, "Any thing happened?"
"Good afternoon, Your Highness," The curly-haired woman responded, "Alanna. I wouldn't exactly say 'happened' is the right word..."
-----------------------
"Dragon tongue?" Zekan replied haughtily, "Is that a... language?"
Of course it's a language, mortal! Sirk replied in her mind.
Zekan's fingers slowly crawled to the dagger, perhaps her only chance of survival. But something held her there, not physically, but mentally. Something yearned for answers. Why am I so different? She has always wondered. Now, maybe this immortal had answers.
"Please," the girl begged, "tell me why I am different. Tell me why I can speak like that. Why? I want to know!"
The dragon's tone was firm, No. Not now. Later. The Dragonmeet will decide.
"There you go again with this Dragonmeet! What is this 'dragonmeet'?" the Scanran's voice was getting impatient. She finally managed to grasp the dagger. She held it firmly in her hand, facing the immortal. It felt good.
The Dragonmeet is the law of the dragons, all must obey its will in the Dragon Lands. Sirk replied calmly.
"Dragon Lands?" Zekan asked, "You're talking in riddles again, sir."
You just do not understand what is greater than you.
"Yes I do!" retorted the redhead hotly, "That's nonsense!" In a mild rage, she flung her dagger harshly at the pale green dragon. The dirk simply hit his scales and bounced off, harmless. "TELL ME WHY I'M DIFFERENT!" screamed Zekan irately. She immediately broke down, crying hysterically.
Mortal, Sirk told her, You will know in time. I am your mentor, I will teach you of your other gifts as well. We have little time to reach our destination.
The girl dried her tears, followed in a chorus of hiccups, as she looked at the immortal curiously, "Where are we going, Sirk?" She asked, her fears slowly subsiding.
To Tortall. He replied calmly, There, we you shall be welcomed, and your training will begin.
"Tortall?" Zekan echoed. Tortall had been an enemy of her father since the time of his birth. Scanra was a country of raiders and bandits, who often hit along Tortall's coasts. I remember one time… we hit the coast, and killed many. A woman and her band drove us out. She's famous all over… The Lioness.
Zekanvealadas? Sirk's words sliced through her mind like a knife, Are you ready to go?
"Go?!" cried Zekan in respond, "I'm stuck in a hole with a broken ankle!"
Are you? the dragon said slyly.
Zekan eyed Sirk uneasily, not understanding his word. She attempted to move her ankle, and was surprised to find it completely painless. She was cured. Standing she looking up into his frightfully large eyes once more.
"What did you do?" she demanded.
I healed you, Sirk replied bluntly.
"…Oh," Zekan saw Sirk's gigantic head moving forward into the ditch, and she opened her mouth to scream, when she clapped a hand hastily over it. He's only trying to help you! Her mind scolded, I think…
Sirk lifted Zekan up gently, and set her on the floor. She scrambled for her dagger, and held it in front of her for protection. "Don't try anything," she told him, "If you're not here to help me, I can kill you!" the Scanran girl's voice was wary. She knew it wasn't true.
Very well, Sirk replied with a smirk, Let's go.