See first chapter for disclaimer.
Thanks for the reviews! Long chapter!
"Caramon, you be the...... um..... commander," Gibeon said as he dealt out positions.
All the boys had a part to play except Raistlin. Gibeon pulled the other 10 year old boy who whispered into his ear before away from the group.
"Bareg, what would be a good......" his voice trailed off as the pair moved out of earshot.
A few minutes later they came back, their faces carefully blank. "Raistlin, you can be the...," Gibeon started but gave a puzzled look to Bareg.
"The watchman," Bareg jumped in.
"Ah, yes, that's was it was. That watchman," Gibeon repeated with a smile.
"Great!," Caramon shouted, "Lets go men!"
Caramon took the role of commander very seriously, keeping every "soldier" in line. His huge grin betrayed his commanding air however, and the boys only obeyed because of the amusement he provided them as he tried to sound authoritative and failed miserably.
Gibeon led the small group into the forest. Caramon kept all the boys under his command in a nice orderly line while Bareg dropped behind with the spy, tracker, and explores. Raistlin, not sure were he belonged, awkwardly following Caramon's regiment and straining to hear a bit of conversation from Bareg's group. He heard snatches, but nothing that would tell him where to go or what to do.
The groups came to a small fort in front of a huge vallenwood tree. There were crude steps meandering up the trunk about 20 feet.
"Watchman, up the tree, NOW!" Gibeon yelled.
He seemed to be pretending to give orders like a colonel would, but Raistlin caught the malicious undertone. He nodded and started climbing.
"What could go wrong?" he thought, "They can't do anything to me yet, not while Caramon is watching."
He was right. Even though Caramon was only six; he was almost as tall as Gibeon and much stronger than the wiry boy.
The other boys spread out under the tree and started planning the next path to take. Caramon beamed up at Raistlin as if to say: isn't this fun?, before hurrying over to sit beside Gibeon and listen to the next part of their plans. Raistlin, even from his high position, could see only a little ways into the thick forest. He tried to penetrate through the dark undergrowth, but he didn't get very far. Below him, the other boys stood up. Gibeon brushed his hand through his short black hair and pointed into the forest.
"The rest of us will go to a stream I found, you stay here and guard the fort," he told Raistlin.
'Oh, they just want to be rid of me," Raistlin thought, "After they leave I will go back into the village."
The boys filed off into the woods, Caramon's shouts of, "Lets go men!" and "Keep in line!" died off into the distance. Raistlin climbed down out of his perch and headed off back to town. He stopped before he even got out of the small clearing.
"I should leave a note," he thought, " I don't care about the other boys, but I will need Caramon to help me this afternoon. I need my bed moved so I can put a desk there. I can't have him running all over the forest looking for me."
He headed back, rummaging in his trousers and shirt pocket for a scrap of paper or anything he could find to write on. He didn't have any ink, but maybe there would be charcoal or mud around. He found an old scrap of paper that had fallen out of the book he was reading. Glancing at it, he saw some strange symbols but didn't take the time to study them closely. All he wanted to do what get out of this forest and back to his room and book.
Bending to the ground, Raistlin saw the remains of a torch lying there. Pondering briefly why it was there in the first place, he grabbed a splinter, wrote "gone home" on the scrap, and stuck it on a small branch near the tree where Caramon would find it. Satisfied, he turned and headed back home.
The boys returned an hour later, wet and muddy, but with huge grins plastered on their faces.
"Raist! Raist! Where are you? You'll never ever ever guess what we did!!", Caramon exclaimed.
The boys searched the whole clearing but didn't see a single sign of the small watchman or any sign of where he had gone.
They were not the only ones looking for him.
Just outside the clearing was a group of men; rough wild men who wouldn't give a second thought to killing a little baby for their own gain. They were listening to every word spoken. The group had stumbled upon the clearing in search of a book. It was a simple history book really, about mages from the years gone by, but it contained a very important slip of paper needed to figure out a puzzle on one of the pages. They fit together, giving the reader some important information on some very important subject. No one had figured out the puzzle for 135 years and the information it contains was lost. The mage who had hired them had been very adamant about finding this book and piece of paper. He would pay them handsomely for its return.
An unknowing servant, who was later tortured and executed for his folly, had sold the book to a merchant heading for Solace. The mage, in his fury, had ordered all servants to go to Solace and search all the merchants there. He had the book in his grasp and it had slipped away. The servants, much to their dismay, had not been successful. They endured half-rations and twice the work along with a few unprovoked beatings until the mage hired the mercenaries currently eavesdropping on the unsuspecting boys.
The leader of the men, a huge man known as Striker to all but his closest friends, (if you could call them friends, more like "slaves with enough brains to not rat on or challenge Striker") motioned for the rest to gather around. With a few deft hand signals, he told the group to enter and surround the boys at his command. Part of the reason he was so good at killing and plundering was the signals he used. He could tell all his men to put a pair of pink gloves on their feet and parade around quacking like a duck just through a few hand motions.
Leaning closer to the clearing, he continued to listen, maybe he could gain some info on the book's whereabouts. He already had the paper tucked in a little pouch, a rather small man compared to the rest of the group (but huge next to a normal man) named Paclaw had found it stuck on a branch with the words "gone home" crudely drawn on the back with charcoal. The entrance of the other boys into the clearing led Striker to believe a child had the book.
"This will be easy," he thought, "Just a bratty kid. To think the mage gave me 100 gold pieces in advance, never mind the reward when I return, just to take out a little kid!"
Snickering, he refocused on the small group.
The boys inside the clearing had all decided Raistlin wasn't worth the effort, all except Caramon of course. He was frantic now, searching every inch of the fort.
"Come, Caramon," Bareg called, "I'm sure he is fine. He just went back to the village."
"But Raistlin would always leave a note. He needs me! He wouldn't just leave!" Caramon wailed.
"Aha! So the boy I am looking for is named Raistlin. Now, where does the little whiner live?" Striker gave the signal to the others to grab the boys.
They quickly surrounded the kids, forcing the smallest into a circle in the middle and gabbing the oldest so they couldn't run away. Striker headed straight for Caramon and wrapped a thick hand around his mouth. Pulling his head back, he hissed, "Who is this Raistlin and where does he live? Tell me, brat, or you will never live to see another day!"
Caramon froze, his young mind running over all his options. Before he could act however, Gibeon wriggled a bit under his captor's grasp and called, "I know!"
In a flash Striker was beside him.
"What do you know?" he demanded, twisting Gibeon's arm roughly in an effort to make him talk.
" I know where he lives. Let me go and I will show you."
Striker mulled over this suggestion for a few seconds and motioned his fellows over.
"Any movement from any of you and I will personally track you down and slit your throat!" he called back to them.
Gibeon pulled the boys together.
"Relax, I have it under control. This is just part of our little adventure. Raistlin is perfectly safe! My father paid these guys to pretend to be the bad guys for us!" he told them all, hoping he sounded convincing.
He knew this was a lie. Gibeon himself was scared to death, but figured he could scare Raistlin a little too. Striker wouldn't seriously hurt him, he probably only wanted money or food or something. It wouldn't hurt the scrawny little brat to be scared for a while.
He watched Caramon's face fill with relief and grinned. He must have sounded convincing. He wouldn't have any trouble with Raistlin's big brother today. Now, how would he convince the big men not to kill them? Hopefully, they thought him too useful to kill, but what about the others? By this time, Raistlin was back in his room reading the book once again. He had come upon a page marked with strange figures and they seemed a tiny bit familiar, but he didn't dwell on it too long. Too much to do and too little time.
Little did he known what was coming for him this afternoon.
So, did it get more interesting? I had no real plan for this story, just decided to let it go as it pleased. I actually like the way it turned and hope I get more inspiration.
Thanks for the reviews! Long chapter!
"Caramon, you be the...... um..... commander," Gibeon said as he dealt out positions.
All the boys had a part to play except Raistlin. Gibeon pulled the other 10 year old boy who whispered into his ear before away from the group.
"Bareg, what would be a good......" his voice trailed off as the pair moved out of earshot.
A few minutes later they came back, their faces carefully blank. "Raistlin, you can be the...," Gibeon started but gave a puzzled look to Bareg.
"The watchman," Bareg jumped in.
"Ah, yes, that's was it was. That watchman," Gibeon repeated with a smile.
"Great!," Caramon shouted, "Lets go men!"
Caramon took the role of commander very seriously, keeping every "soldier" in line. His huge grin betrayed his commanding air however, and the boys only obeyed because of the amusement he provided them as he tried to sound authoritative and failed miserably.
Gibeon led the small group into the forest. Caramon kept all the boys under his command in a nice orderly line while Bareg dropped behind with the spy, tracker, and explores. Raistlin, not sure were he belonged, awkwardly following Caramon's regiment and straining to hear a bit of conversation from Bareg's group. He heard snatches, but nothing that would tell him where to go or what to do.
The groups came to a small fort in front of a huge vallenwood tree. There were crude steps meandering up the trunk about 20 feet.
"Watchman, up the tree, NOW!" Gibeon yelled.
He seemed to be pretending to give orders like a colonel would, but Raistlin caught the malicious undertone. He nodded and started climbing.
"What could go wrong?" he thought, "They can't do anything to me yet, not while Caramon is watching."
He was right. Even though Caramon was only six; he was almost as tall as Gibeon and much stronger than the wiry boy.
The other boys spread out under the tree and started planning the next path to take. Caramon beamed up at Raistlin as if to say: isn't this fun?, before hurrying over to sit beside Gibeon and listen to the next part of their plans. Raistlin, even from his high position, could see only a little ways into the thick forest. He tried to penetrate through the dark undergrowth, but he didn't get very far. Below him, the other boys stood up. Gibeon brushed his hand through his short black hair and pointed into the forest.
"The rest of us will go to a stream I found, you stay here and guard the fort," he told Raistlin.
'Oh, they just want to be rid of me," Raistlin thought, "After they leave I will go back into the village."
The boys filed off into the woods, Caramon's shouts of, "Lets go men!" and "Keep in line!" died off into the distance. Raistlin climbed down out of his perch and headed off back to town. He stopped before he even got out of the small clearing.
"I should leave a note," he thought, " I don't care about the other boys, but I will need Caramon to help me this afternoon. I need my bed moved so I can put a desk there. I can't have him running all over the forest looking for me."
He headed back, rummaging in his trousers and shirt pocket for a scrap of paper or anything he could find to write on. He didn't have any ink, but maybe there would be charcoal or mud around. He found an old scrap of paper that had fallen out of the book he was reading. Glancing at it, he saw some strange symbols but didn't take the time to study them closely. All he wanted to do what get out of this forest and back to his room and book.
Bending to the ground, Raistlin saw the remains of a torch lying there. Pondering briefly why it was there in the first place, he grabbed a splinter, wrote "gone home" on the scrap, and stuck it on a small branch near the tree where Caramon would find it. Satisfied, he turned and headed back home.
The boys returned an hour later, wet and muddy, but with huge grins plastered on their faces.
"Raist! Raist! Where are you? You'll never ever ever guess what we did!!", Caramon exclaimed.
The boys searched the whole clearing but didn't see a single sign of the small watchman or any sign of where he had gone.
They were not the only ones looking for him.
Just outside the clearing was a group of men; rough wild men who wouldn't give a second thought to killing a little baby for their own gain. They were listening to every word spoken. The group had stumbled upon the clearing in search of a book. It was a simple history book really, about mages from the years gone by, but it contained a very important slip of paper needed to figure out a puzzle on one of the pages. They fit together, giving the reader some important information on some very important subject. No one had figured out the puzzle for 135 years and the information it contains was lost. The mage who had hired them had been very adamant about finding this book and piece of paper. He would pay them handsomely for its return.
An unknowing servant, who was later tortured and executed for his folly, had sold the book to a merchant heading for Solace. The mage, in his fury, had ordered all servants to go to Solace and search all the merchants there. He had the book in his grasp and it had slipped away. The servants, much to their dismay, had not been successful. They endured half-rations and twice the work along with a few unprovoked beatings until the mage hired the mercenaries currently eavesdropping on the unsuspecting boys.
The leader of the men, a huge man known as Striker to all but his closest friends, (if you could call them friends, more like "slaves with enough brains to not rat on or challenge Striker") motioned for the rest to gather around. With a few deft hand signals, he told the group to enter and surround the boys at his command. Part of the reason he was so good at killing and plundering was the signals he used. He could tell all his men to put a pair of pink gloves on their feet and parade around quacking like a duck just through a few hand motions.
Leaning closer to the clearing, he continued to listen, maybe he could gain some info on the book's whereabouts. He already had the paper tucked in a little pouch, a rather small man compared to the rest of the group (but huge next to a normal man) named Paclaw had found it stuck on a branch with the words "gone home" crudely drawn on the back with charcoal. The entrance of the other boys into the clearing led Striker to believe a child had the book.
"This will be easy," he thought, "Just a bratty kid. To think the mage gave me 100 gold pieces in advance, never mind the reward when I return, just to take out a little kid!"
Snickering, he refocused on the small group.
The boys inside the clearing had all decided Raistlin wasn't worth the effort, all except Caramon of course. He was frantic now, searching every inch of the fort.
"Come, Caramon," Bareg called, "I'm sure he is fine. He just went back to the village."
"But Raistlin would always leave a note. He needs me! He wouldn't just leave!" Caramon wailed.
"Aha! So the boy I am looking for is named Raistlin. Now, where does the little whiner live?" Striker gave the signal to the others to grab the boys.
They quickly surrounded the kids, forcing the smallest into a circle in the middle and gabbing the oldest so they couldn't run away. Striker headed straight for Caramon and wrapped a thick hand around his mouth. Pulling his head back, he hissed, "Who is this Raistlin and where does he live? Tell me, brat, or you will never live to see another day!"
Caramon froze, his young mind running over all his options. Before he could act however, Gibeon wriggled a bit under his captor's grasp and called, "I know!"
In a flash Striker was beside him.
"What do you know?" he demanded, twisting Gibeon's arm roughly in an effort to make him talk.
" I know where he lives. Let me go and I will show you."
Striker mulled over this suggestion for a few seconds and motioned his fellows over.
"Any movement from any of you and I will personally track you down and slit your throat!" he called back to them.
Gibeon pulled the boys together.
"Relax, I have it under control. This is just part of our little adventure. Raistlin is perfectly safe! My father paid these guys to pretend to be the bad guys for us!" he told them all, hoping he sounded convincing.
He knew this was a lie. Gibeon himself was scared to death, but figured he could scare Raistlin a little too. Striker wouldn't seriously hurt him, he probably only wanted money or food or something. It wouldn't hurt the scrawny little brat to be scared for a while.
He watched Caramon's face fill with relief and grinned. He must have sounded convincing. He wouldn't have any trouble with Raistlin's big brother today. Now, how would he convince the big men not to kill them? Hopefully, they thought him too useful to kill, but what about the others? By this time, Raistlin was back in his room reading the book once again. He had come upon a page marked with strange figures and they seemed a tiny bit familiar, but he didn't dwell on it too long. Too much to do and too little time.
Little did he known what was coming for him this afternoon.
So, did it get more interesting? I had no real plan for this story, just decided to let it go as it pleased. I actually like the way it turned and hope I get more inspiration.