((Sorry it took a while for the update but barely anyone reviews this story
except for White-wolf so I didn't know if anyone would like it very much or
not.))
The young man kneeled down on the wide branch of the tree he was in. He pressed his back against it and peered out at the road that passed fifty spans away. It was the perfect ambush; no one would ever expect trouble from a tree. And in this area no one would ever suspect him, no one ever thought that danger would come to them in the Two Rivers.
The man held a bow in his hand and he tensed when he heard light laughter. Not too much later a small girl and a young man rode into his line of sight. He smiled and placed an arrow to the string, drawing it back to his ear in a single, fluid motion.
The girl and young man were still laughing when he released the string. With a strangled sound the man fell off of his horse. The girl let out a shriek and whirled her horse in the direction the arrow had come from. She fumbled at her belt and drew what looked to be a shortsword. With a wild yell she charged at the tree and the bowman knew that she had seen him.
Swearing the bowman drew his dagger and dropped lightly to the ground. He held his dagger out and waited.
The girl met him with her own blade held out straight. So he brought his dagger slashing down to block it. But she only grinned at him and reversed her blade, bringing it up to slice across his stomach.
He fell to the ground, his brown eyes wide with shock.
She kicked him in the side and said, "All right Timett. Time to get up and get going. If my mother or father found out that I stopped to play along the way they would have my hide. It's going to take us long enough to get there as it is."
Timett stood up, rubbing the spot where her practice sword had smacked him. "All right," he grumbled. "But you know that they can't tell where we are, they don't even know when to expect us back!"
She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Which means we have more time in the bigger cities rather then these little places that you so love to stop and play at." She walked over to the boy who had fallen off of his horse and helped him to his feet. "Come along Gerad, you heard what I said."
He was a tall youth with dark brown hair and eyes just as dark. And he was covered with flour from Timett's arrow. He wiped the flour off of his face and said in a slow voice, "It wasn't my idea to stop. It was Timett's. He wanted to see who would win."
"And it was her as always," Timett grumbled as he strapped his bow back across his back. He swung himself up onto his saddle and brushed his fine black hair back out of his eyes. "Just once I wish that I could get her. But she always rides on the far side of you and once I shoot you she's charging at me with that practice sword. She must need to hide behind you in order to not lose."
The girl's eyes narrowed. "If you don't watch it next time it'll be my dagger I hold rather then my practice sword. Steel not wood."
Timett snorted but kept his mouth shut. As much as he would have liked to deny it she was a much better fighter then he was. She even was a better shot with a bow then he. "Be careful of her Timett," Gerad warned with a smile on his face. "She's a fierce lioness that one."
"She's a fierce lioness aye," Timett agreed. "Mayhap that's why she was left on the porch of the baker a few years past. I still remember that."
A moment later Timett spat out a stream of bloody spit. He glared at the girl, whose fist had drops of blood on it and demanded, "Light, what was that for?"
The girl glared at him with eyes that were teary. Her face was pale and drawn. "Never speak of that," she hissed, her voice low. "Never remind me that I do not belong here." She then wheeled her horse and galloped ahead of the boys.
Timett started after her but Gerad stopped him. "Let her ride for a bit," he advised. "She's not had an easy life and she knows well that the baker and his wife are not her true parents."
She rode for a good hundred yards before slowing up. Her breathing was ragged and hot tears flowed down her cheeks. "They left me," she sobbed. "They left me."
Three years ago her parents had left her on the porch of a baker in the Two Rivers. She had been seven then to her ten years now. All they had left her was memories, her name and what she must do when she was ten. "Jeriana," she could remember her mother sobbing. "I'm sorry that we're leaving you, but we must, for your own safety my child. Remember when you're ten to go to Tar Valon. You must, else trouble will come."
Then the memory was gone and the girl, Jeriana, was sitting on her horse in the middle of a dusty road. Her snow-white hair was tied back in a ponytail and her light violet or lilac as she called them, eyes were teary. She quickly rubbed the tears away with the back of her hand and waited for her friends to catch up with her.
"Come on," she told them. "We have a long way to go and must reach Tar Valon as soon as we can."
((And there's Jeriana.))
The young man kneeled down on the wide branch of the tree he was in. He pressed his back against it and peered out at the road that passed fifty spans away. It was the perfect ambush; no one would ever expect trouble from a tree. And in this area no one would ever suspect him, no one ever thought that danger would come to them in the Two Rivers.
The man held a bow in his hand and he tensed when he heard light laughter. Not too much later a small girl and a young man rode into his line of sight. He smiled and placed an arrow to the string, drawing it back to his ear in a single, fluid motion.
The girl and young man were still laughing when he released the string. With a strangled sound the man fell off of his horse. The girl let out a shriek and whirled her horse in the direction the arrow had come from. She fumbled at her belt and drew what looked to be a shortsword. With a wild yell she charged at the tree and the bowman knew that she had seen him.
Swearing the bowman drew his dagger and dropped lightly to the ground. He held his dagger out and waited.
The girl met him with her own blade held out straight. So he brought his dagger slashing down to block it. But she only grinned at him and reversed her blade, bringing it up to slice across his stomach.
He fell to the ground, his brown eyes wide with shock.
She kicked him in the side and said, "All right Timett. Time to get up and get going. If my mother or father found out that I stopped to play along the way they would have my hide. It's going to take us long enough to get there as it is."
Timett stood up, rubbing the spot where her practice sword had smacked him. "All right," he grumbled. "But you know that they can't tell where we are, they don't even know when to expect us back!"
She smiled and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Which means we have more time in the bigger cities rather then these little places that you so love to stop and play at." She walked over to the boy who had fallen off of his horse and helped him to his feet. "Come along Gerad, you heard what I said."
He was a tall youth with dark brown hair and eyes just as dark. And he was covered with flour from Timett's arrow. He wiped the flour off of his face and said in a slow voice, "It wasn't my idea to stop. It was Timett's. He wanted to see who would win."
"And it was her as always," Timett grumbled as he strapped his bow back across his back. He swung himself up onto his saddle and brushed his fine black hair back out of his eyes. "Just once I wish that I could get her. But she always rides on the far side of you and once I shoot you she's charging at me with that practice sword. She must need to hide behind you in order to not lose."
The girl's eyes narrowed. "If you don't watch it next time it'll be my dagger I hold rather then my practice sword. Steel not wood."
Timett snorted but kept his mouth shut. As much as he would have liked to deny it she was a much better fighter then he was. She even was a better shot with a bow then he. "Be careful of her Timett," Gerad warned with a smile on his face. "She's a fierce lioness that one."
"She's a fierce lioness aye," Timett agreed. "Mayhap that's why she was left on the porch of the baker a few years past. I still remember that."
A moment later Timett spat out a stream of bloody spit. He glared at the girl, whose fist had drops of blood on it and demanded, "Light, what was that for?"
The girl glared at him with eyes that were teary. Her face was pale and drawn. "Never speak of that," she hissed, her voice low. "Never remind me that I do not belong here." She then wheeled her horse and galloped ahead of the boys.
Timett started after her but Gerad stopped him. "Let her ride for a bit," he advised. "She's not had an easy life and she knows well that the baker and his wife are not her true parents."
She rode for a good hundred yards before slowing up. Her breathing was ragged and hot tears flowed down her cheeks. "They left me," she sobbed. "They left me."
Three years ago her parents had left her on the porch of a baker in the Two Rivers. She had been seven then to her ten years now. All they had left her was memories, her name and what she must do when she was ten. "Jeriana," she could remember her mother sobbing. "I'm sorry that we're leaving you, but we must, for your own safety my child. Remember when you're ten to go to Tar Valon. You must, else trouble will come."
Then the memory was gone and the girl, Jeriana, was sitting on her horse in the middle of a dusty road. Her snow-white hair was tied back in a ponytail and her light violet or lilac as she called them, eyes were teary. She quickly rubbed the tears away with the back of her hand and waited for her friends to catch up with her.
"Come on," she told them. "We have a long way to go and must reach Tar Valon as soon as we can."
((And there's Jeriana.))