Predawn light crept over the eastern bluffs and down to the camp on the
border. The light touched everything equally. It touched the bodies of the
men sleeping, who stirred under its touch. It touched the bodies of the
dead that lay in the line of battle, who did not stir. It touched the
bodies of the men fighting that stood in a line almost shoulder to
shoulder. They were the embodiment of the borderline between Scanra and
Tortal. All the men held swords, with bloody edges, which glimmered in the
light's sweet caress. The battle raged with Scanran men rushing at the
line. The battle had raged since sundown. It was normal; the Scanrans liked
the cover of darkness. Before Joren came into position as first Scanran men
had crept across from the North to raid. There is still many on Torillian
soil - people thought that the Lady had passed over before. One Scanran man
paused to raise his eyes to the light rising over the bluff. He raised his
hands and gave a blood-curling yell. All the Scanrans paused and retreated
to the dark forests around them. Torillian men collapsed on the spot. It
was always the same, at sundown the Scanrans attacked and retreated at the
first sight of light. They raided through the day but nothing like through
the night. Men were helped up and hugged - glad to see that they survived
the Night. Then the toll was counted and identified and a notice was set
out who had not survived. The Night watch retreated as the Day watch
approached. Close behind them walked the gravediggers.
Light came to touch a man who had not slept the night. His hair was curly and dark above a well-tanned face. He could have been considered tall next to many men. His eyes held unbearable sadness. This was the same man who had confronted Joren of the fallen Stone Mountain the Night before. Daren had spent the rest of the night walking around the camp. He had not been sure that that was the former lord of Stone Mountain when he had first approached him, but when he turned to him he was sure. Many people talked of his eyes that betrayed nothing. As he walked he had thought about many things. He thought of what his life had been before the raid on Ta'rome. It was his town, he had lived his whole life their.
It was a town in the North and was used to raids, therefore he had learned early on in life the value of stealth and blade. While other village boys learned to till and harvest crops he learned the value of good self- defense. His family and the love of his life had lived there. Then a small riot group decided that his village would be easy meat. He learned later that they had been Scanran men. Although it was well over a year ago it seemed to be the day before. It always had been. His life long friends lay on the ground. His neighbors strung across their lawns. The innkeeper, the blacksmith, the healer, the farmers, all of them laid across the town roads as if they were sleeping. He could never forget the blood of his sister smeared on the floor. Never the body of his father's body strung valiantly in front of his mother's or her lifeless stare. He could never forget his love's last words. Or the sight of his village wreathed in flames. There had been to many bodies to dig graves for them all. So he set the village a flame. He watched as his home turned into ash. He traveled North, to avenge his family. He had heard many stories of men doing the same as he.
When he had approached the fallen noble the night before his story stirred in his mind. The only man to return from Scanran territory. One question had came before him - why? Why had he returned? He had asked and had received his answer. "It was force that called me back, but what kept me here was that the longer I stayed alive the more Scanrans would die." So simple and yet truth. He paused to see the light come over the hills. A single pinprick of light rose along the bluff. The darkness of the night faded to a paler blue edged with violet. As it began to rise further the violet rose with it. Beyond that pinks, reds and oranges rose beside it. The sun was an orb of red. It was as beautiful as the harvest moon. Beholding this the man felt a sense of hope and serenity that he had not felt since he left home. A new day. A chance to start anew.
He knew what his choice would be. Men hurried around him eager to be on their way. He stood in the middle of traffic of men. They were wide-awake and had obviously been up for a long time. Some hurried to their tents, the night watch. Others hurried to the border, the day watch. None paid any mind to him. His eyes searched the crowd but he did not dare ask someone. He first searched the inner camp areas and then around the outskirts. When he came to an opening the person he was searching stood there. Joren stood just as impressive as the night before. Next to him stood a middle height woman with brown wavy hair that fell below her shoulders. Her amber eyes sparkled with a light that seemed to come from within. She wore the clothes of a man, which was odd even to his eyes. She did not seem to be a fighter but yet someone of obvious importance. The man next to him had long dark hair pulled back into a bind at the nape of his neck. Even pulled back it was obvious that just as long as the woman next to him. His clothes were better than the other two's and reeked of importance. His black eyes glimmered with the same type of light, as the woman's but yet different. The woman's seemed more humble than the man's - easier not to notice. The three of them standing together would humble even a noble.
They talked together quietly so that he could not hear what they were saying. Daren let out a sigh and approached them as humbly as possible. "The barriers are weakening." The woman trailed off as she saw him approach. He dropped to one knee before Joren. He made his voice as humble as possible. "M'lord, I wish to be taken under your service - as a servant if it pleases you." The two people next to him looked stunned at his motions. Joren pulled him to his feet almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. His eyes were fire. "Never, never do that again." His voice trembled with rage. He obviously tried to calm down. "The men around here try not to show which people are in charge. Scanrans could be watching at this very moment with an arrow nocked - where do you think they would aim now?" He was in awe of his words. He had not thought of that. Gathering his courage he humbly said, "I am sorry M'lord, but if I even did not know who you are, I would know by just they way you stand. You have an aura of power." He licked his lips wondering if he had said too much. "M'lord."
There was an awkward silence until the woman let out a giggle. It was bells to his ears. How long had it been since he had last heard laughter? Taking Daren's hand in hers, "I am sorry, lad, but Joren here has no sense of humor. You have good courage to say such a thing. You do not seem like a servant, why do you ask to be one?" The man next to her let out an exasperated sigh. "Daine forgets herself. I am called Numair Salmalin and my lovely companion is Daine Sarrasri." The word companion seemed to have something behind it. Daine blushed scarlet. Daren stared openly at the two. The name Daine was well known even in his small town. The wildmage who could talk to animals and one of the most powerful mages in the realm. He caught himself in mid bow. His eyes flickered to Joren. Daine looked as if she wanted to giggle again. And yesterday he met the fallen lord of Stone Mountain. He collected his wits to answer her question. "No, I am not. But if that is where I have to start I will. I wish to serve under . Joren. Directly."
Once again there was a silence. Joren cleared his throat before speaking again, "Where did you grow up, lad?" Daren's face became stone; he would not let him see his despair at the simple question. "Ta'rome." Joren raised one cool eyebrow, he could not tell if he recognized the name or not, "That is in the North, is it not?" Daren gave a curt nod as his answer. "Then you have more than enough training. People in the North learn the blade while still in the cradle. What is your name?" He was caught off guard by the question, he supposed he should have introduced himself when Daine and Numair did but it was too late for that. "Daren Avvare."
"Well then, Daren, I accept you as my squire." He caught himself before pinching his arm. Never, never had he even thought of this! His words came out in a rough voice, "M'lord, I-I am nothing but a simple village boy! I have had no page training and I a-am not a noble, I am too old-" While he said this Joren's face came as close to amusement as he had ever seen. He cut him off "A page is given four years training in the ways of battle and mind. You have easily accomplished the battle area of this by your lifetime of battle in the North. You can accomplish the thinking part in double here. You will have to be a squire longer than usual, though, if just to answer questions. Men older than you have been a page and as for being nobly born," his eyes grew deeper, obviously deep in thought, "you have not heard of the new decree given by the king. He declared that all men of all statuses may train to become a knight."
When he said the last part he seemed to be thinking out loud, rather than talking to Daren. His eyes widened when it was clear that this was real and nothing stood in his way. He forgot himself so much that he forgot to ask why he had picked him. Joren came out of the thought and blinked his eyes once. He cleared his voice, "Now go find Master Lunhand and tell him of your new status he will see that you get everything you need." Daren stopped in mid bow and hurried away. He heard the conversation pick up as he left. He was so excited that he forgot to head in the right direction. As he hurried towards the trees pain shot through him and he gave a startled cry. Everything went black.
Joren turned when he heard a cry come from the trees. The lad, Daren, lay there with a black arrow shot in his chest. Joren looked at the tree lines and froze. A figure in black stood just beyond the first tress. You could not tell by the thick clothes that she wore, but in her eyes it was clear she was a woman. Her eyes glimmered with a light close to madness. She glared at him and then disappeared amongst the trees. Numair's voice broke his trance, "He is dead." Joren stood frozen. I should have let him go over the border. Daine looked up at him curiously, "Did you see the shooter?" Joren shook his head - it must have been his imagination. There was no way that he just saw the Lady herself. She looked puzzled, "Because who ever it was got past without my birds giving alarm."
[oooh - the plot thickens. This takes place about five years after Joren became a knight. This is AU so he is not dead - obviously. It is AU in a couple other ways but you'll find out later. Kel and the others will be showing up in a few chapters. I'll be away for about a week, so don't expect another chapter till' then. Thank you to all my reviewers and especially to mementoisthebestmovieever for reviewing both chapters. Please review. ]
Light came to touch a man who had not slept the night. His hair was curly and dark above a well-tanned face. He could have been considered tall next to many men. His eyes held unbearable sadness. This was the same man who had confronted Joren of the fallen Stone Mountain the Night before. Daren had spent the rest of the night walking around the camp. He had not been sure that that was the former lord of Stone Mountain when he had first approached him, but when he turned to him he was sure. Many people talked of his eyes that betrayed nothing. As he walked he had thought about many things. He thought of what his life had been before the raid on Ta'rome. It was his town, he had lived his whole life their.
It was a town in the North and was used to raids, therefore he had learned early on in life the value of stealth and blade. While other village boys learned to till and harvest crops he learned the value of good self- defense. His family and the love of his life had lived there. Then a small riot group decided that his village would be easy meat. He learned later that they had been Scanran men. Although it was well over a year ago it seemed to be the day before. It always had been. His life long friends lay on the ground. His neighbors strung across their lawns. The innkeeper, the blacksmith, the healer, the farmers, all of them laid across the town roads as if they were sleeping. He could never forget the blood of his sister smeared on the floor. Never the body of his father's body strung valiantly in front of his mother's or her lifeless stare. He could never forget his love's last words. Or the sight of his village wreathed in flames. There had been to many bodies to dig graves for them all. So he set the village a flame. He watched as his home turned into ash. He traveled North, to avenge his family. He had heard many stories of men doing the same as he.
When he had approached the fallen noble the night before his story stirred in his mind. The only man to return from Scanran territory. One question had came before him - why? Why had he returned? He had asked and had received his answer. "It was force that called me back, but what kept me here was that the longer I stayed alive the more Scanrans would die." So simple and yet truth. He paused to see the light come over the hills. A single pinprick of light rose along the bluff. The darkness of the night faded to a paler blue edged with violet. As it began to rise further the violet rose with it. Beyond that pinks, reds and oranges rose beside it. The sun was an orb of red. It was as beautiful as the harvest moon. Beholding this the man felt a sense of hope and serenity that he had not felt since he left home. A new day. A chance to start anew.
He knew what his choice would be. Men hurried around him eager to be on their way. He stood in the middle of traffic of men. They were wide-awake and had obviously been up for a long time. Some hurried to their tents, the night watch. Others hurried to the border, the day watch. None paid any mind to him. His eyes searched the crowd but he did not dare ask someone. He first searched the inner camp areas and then around the outskirts. When he came to an opening the person he was searching stood there. Joren stood just as impressive as the night before. Next to him stood a middle height woman with brown wavy hair that fell below her shoulders. Her amber eyes sparkled with a light that seemed to come from within. She wore the clothes of a man, which was odd even to his eyes. She did not seem to be a fighter but yet someone of obvious importance. The man next to him had long dark hair pulled back into a bind at the nape of his neck. Even pulled back it was obvious that just as long as the woman next to him. His clothes were better than the other two's and reeked of importance. His black eyes glimmered with the same type of light, as the woman's but yet different. The woman's seemed more humble than the man's - easier not to notice. The three of them standing together would humble even a noble.
They talked together quietly so that he could not hear what they were saying. Daren let out a sigh and approached them as humbly as possible. "The barriers are weakening." The woman trailed off as she saw him approach. He dropped to one knee before Joren. He made his voice as humble as possible. "M'lord, I wish to be taken under your service - as a servant if it pleases you." The two people next to him looked stunned at his motions. Joren pulled him to his feet almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth. His eyes were fire. "Never, never do that again." His voice trembled with rage. He obviously tried to calm down. "The men around here try not to show which people are in charge. Scanrans could be watching at this very moment with an arrow nocked - where do you think they would aim now?" He was in awe of his words. He had not thought of that. Gathering his courage he humbly said, "I am sorry M'lord, but if I even did not know who you are, I would know by just they way you stand. You have an aura of power." He licked his lips wondering if he had said too much. "M'lord."
There was an awkward silence until the woman let out a giggle. It was bells to his ears. How long had it been since he had last heard laughter? Taking Daren's hand in hers, "I am sorry, lad, but Joren here has no sense of humor. You have good courage to say such a thing. You do not seem like a servant, why do you ask to be one?" The man next to her let out an exasperated sigh. "Daine forgets herself. I am called Numair Salmalin and my lovely companion is Daine Sarrasri." The word companion seemed to have something behind it. Daine blushed scarlet. Daren stared openly at the two. The name Daine was well known even in his small town. The wildmage who could talk to animals and one of the most powerful mages in the realm. He caught himself in mid bow. His eyes flickered to Joren. Daine looked as if she wanted to giggle again. And yesterday he met the fallen lord of Stone Mountain. He collected his wits to answer her question. "No, I am not. But if that is where I have to start I will. I wish to serve under . Joren. Directly."
Once again there was a silence. Joren cleared his throat before speaking again, "Where did you grow up, lad?" Daren's face became stone; he would not let him see his despair at the simple question. "Ta'rome." Joren raised one cool eyebrow, he could not tell if he recognized the name or not, "That is in the North, is it not?" Daren gave a curt nod as his answer. "Then you have more than enough training. People in the North learn the blade while still in the cradle. What is your name?" He was caught off guard by the question, he supposed he should have introduced himself when Daine and Numair did but it was too late for that. "Daren Avvare."
"Well then, Daren, I accept you as my squire." He caught himself before pinching his arm. Never, never had he even thought of this! His words came out in a rough voice, "M'lord, I-I am nothing but a simple village boy! I have had no page training and I a-am not a noble, I am too old-" While he said this Joren's face came as close to amusement as he had ever seen. He cut him off "A page is given four years training in the ways of battle and mind. You have easily accomplished the battle area of this by your lifetime of battle in the North. You can accomplish the thinking part in double here. You will have to be a squire longer than usual, though, if just to answer questions. Men older than you have been a page and as for being nobly born," his eyes grew deeper, obviously deep in thought, "you have not heard of the new decree given by the king. He declared that all men of all statuses may train to become a knight."
When he said the last part he seemed to be thinking out loud, rather than talking to Daren. His eyes widened when it was clear that this was real and nothing stood in his way. He forgot himself so much that he forgot to ask why he had picked him. Joren came out of the thought and blinked his eyes once. He cleared his voice, "Now go find Master Lunhand and tell him of your new status he will see that you get everything you need." Daren stopped in mid bow and hurried away. He heard the conversation pick up as he left. He was so excited that he forgot to head in the right direction. As he hurried towards the trees pain shot through him and he gave a startled cry. Everything went black.
Joren turned when he heard a cry come from the trees. The lad, Daren, lay there with a black arrow shot in his chest. Joren looked at the tree lines and froze. A figure in black stood just beyond the first tress. You could not tell by the thick clothes that she wore, but in her eyes it was clear she was a woman. Her eyes glimmered with a light close to madness. She glared at him and then disappeared amongst the trees. Numair's voice broke his trance, "He is dead." Joren stood frozen. I should have let him go over the border. Daine looked up at him curiously, "Did you see the shooter?" Joren shook his head - it must have been his imagination. There was no way that he just saw the Lady herself. She looked puzzled, "Because who ever it was got past without my birds giving alarm."
[oooh - the plot thickens. This takes place about five years after Joren became a knight. This is AU so he is not dead - obviously. It is AU in a couple other ways but you'll find out later. Kel and the others will be showing up in a few chapters. I'll be away for about a week, so don't expect another chapter till' then. Thank you to all my reviewers and especially to mementoisthebestmovieever for reviewing both chapters. Please review. ]