1. The dragon was enourmous! At least the size of a fairly decent sized house. One of the bigger ones that Rowan had seen. Thich scaly skin streached thightly across it's body. It was a dull silvery color, the color of old blood mixed with melting silver. It's wings were long and spindly thin, twice it's body length. The webbing in between the fingers on the wings was thin and leathery, a darker red than the rest of the body. It's tail was abnormally long, ending in a spiked spade shape at the tip. Long black spines ran up it's tail, across it's back and up it's neck, ending in short spiny stubble on it's narrow forehead. It's face was long and thin, lizardlike, with massive teeth poking out from under it's scaly lips.
Rowan only noticed the dragon at the last possible second. Her snow white mare, Shadow, had been acting up and refusing to go forwards. But she had assumed it was the wind that was picking up, not some fire breathing menace. Shadow lurched forward, throwing up her hind legs and kicking at nothing in particular. Rowan sat up straighter in her saddle, pushing her heels towards the ground and trying desperatly to keep her balance. Shadow planted her feet firmly in the grass and refused to budge. Rowan tapped her lightly in the sides and the horse twitched nervously, snorting and pawing at the ground. Again Rowan tapped her, a little more firmly this time. The horse plunged downwards, throwing up her heels once again, raising her head and rearing to her full hight, pawing at the air. Rowan gasped and clung to the horse's neck. Spitting strands of her long brown hair out of her mouth, she tensed and waited for the horse to come back to the ground. Shadow jumped forwards on her hind feet and dropped quickly, ducking to the side and bucking once again. Rowan was thrown forwards and she landed hard on her side, rolling over and over, her blouse catching on something sharp and tearing it across the sleeve.
Rowan rolled onto her back finally and opened her eyes only to catch a glimpse of a pair of enourmous yellow cat like eyes. She quickly shut her eyes, praying that the god Sabruer would spare her life. Rowan knew that she was alone. Her aunt and uncle were far away, safe within the stone walls of D'or, where she lived. Her mother had died giving birth to her, and her father had been killed by the cardinal Nather, the head of the holy curch of Sabruer. Her sister, Katherine had been killed by outlaws when she was five years old. She wished they were here now, so she could run into their arms and be safe from the dragon. But they were dead, and she had to fend for herself.
The dragon's head was turned in her direction, it's evil, greedy eyes staring her down. She could feel the dragon gathering itself to hurl life taking flames in her direction, and she shut her eyes as tight as she could. She was sure she would be in pain for only a short while before Sabruer brought her to dance among his children. She had alway wondered what the afterlife would be like, sometimes secretly dreaming she could find out. Though it must be all good, for the god would never let her come to harm while she was in his care.
There was a loud shout from somewhere to her left, and the dragon whipped around, thrusting it's head forwards, flames erupting from it's throat. Rowan felt the tip of it's tail graze across her leg, and she could feel her own blood pooling across the leg of her pants. The dragon plunged into the middle of the cloud of flames, and a figure dived out of the way, landing on it's side. Through the heat waves, Rowan could barely see, but she could make out that the shape was definetly human, most likely a man. The dragon scooted to the side, reaching towards the figure with it's narrow snout, inch long fangs bared. Rowan had just enough time to take note of his clothing, a baggy white shirt, tan breeches, and boots with an oversized rim, before the man rolled over onto his stomach just in time to avoid the feirce teeth. The man sprang to his feet, dodging another lunge from the dragon.
"Your on fire!" Rowan croaked, her voice seeming to have left her.
And so he was. Flames were quickly spreading across the man's sleeve, across and onto his back. Even though he didn't seem to hear her, he didn't need it. The man quickley tore off his shirt in a panicy sort of way and threw it at the dragon, evading another attack.
"Run ter the tree, don' wait fer me!" The man shouted, as the dragon let out a high shriek.
Rowan scrambled to her feet, fighting a wave of dizzyness and nausea, and bolted headlong towards the forest. She desperatley hoped that the man would be alright, and that Shadow was safe, somewhere out there... When she reached the trees, she fell against one of them, too out of breath to stand alone. Before she had a chance to seek out the man and the dragon, a hand closed over her throat and a damp cloth was pressed over her mouth and nose. It smelled sweet, like oranges and ginger. She tried not to breathe, but her exaustion left her gasping for air, inhaling the intoxicating fumes. Her body slowly went numb, but sleep was welcome. She slumped into the arms of her captor, with a pleasent smile playing across her lips.
Rowan awoke sometimes later, wether hours or days, she did not know. As her vision gradualy came back to her she noticed the sun. It was just rising, casting burning rays of light onto the mossy forest floor through the tops of the many coniferous trees. Everything was awash in golden light and the forest resembled something out of a dream. Rowan rolled onto her side and into the trunk of a scaly tree, a cascade of golden needles falling into her hair and over her shoulders. She lay quiet for a moment, contemplating the ropes around her wrists that held her fast to the tree. She slowly sat up, fighting the urge to vomit, and reached up to brush her golden brown hair out of her face, pulling a hand through it to get rid of some of the tree junk. Her hair came halfway down her back and was knotted and tangled. She looked to her side, staring along the ground, and to her horror a pair of filty rag clad feet were standing several feet away. She nervously looked up into the face of the filthiest man she had ever seen. His huge walrus beard was perculating with food crumbs and bits of twigs and leaves. His knotted blonde hair falling into his face from under a racoon head peice. He wore furs around his shoulders, even though it was the middle of the summer, the morning still sweltering hot. Was this man an outlaw? Had he captured her just so he could kill her more slowly?
The outlaws were evil people who defied the law and evaded the kings orders. They were feared by all, and a disgrace to Sabruer. If an outlaw was captured, they could be brought to the cardinal. They would be killed, and the person who brought them in would be rewarded with gold. When her sister had been killed, she had vowed that when she was old enough, she would learn to fight so she could kill any outlaw that crossed her path. Here was her chance.
Withought hesitation, Rowan retrieved the knife from the fold of her boot, with some difficulty owing to the ropes. She had her hands free the next second, and was starting onto the ropes around her ankles as the man stepped forward, growling a rough warning. In an instant she was on her feet, glaring at the man, dodging his fists. She knew he was an outlaw, the vivid black cross on his left hand told her so.
"What do you want from me?" She hissed, her hazle eyes a dangerous fire.
The ugly man had a smirk across his face, mixed in with the dirt and grime. "Am supposed ter bring ya ter the healer." Grunted the man, making a wild grab for her arm.
"I'm not in need of a healer." She retorted.
"That doesn' make no difference." He growled. "Am not supposed ter let ya come ter any harm, if that makes ya feel any better"
"Real difference..." She muttered
"Jus come!" The man said in a commanding voice.
"Fine"
Rowan dropped her hands, though not even thinking of putting the knife away. She walked infront of the shaggy beast of a man, letting him guide her. Though they didn't walk far.
The forest was a glowing ball of golden fire, bursting with life. Everything seemed so clean and clear, magical. There was a bright, bubbling, transparent stream to her right. A fat squirell darted up the trunk of a tree to her left. She could make out people through the trees in front of her, the way they were heading. Still the ugly man pushed her towards them. What choice did she have though? She had no idea where she was. She had no supplies, not even a warm cloak... That was tied to the back of Shadow's saddle. The only possession she carried was the small knife in her hand. She wasn't the greatest at direction, and she was sure that even if she could get away from the man, it would be a long time before she say open land once again. She realized with a pang that she was quite hungry, her throat burning with the need for water, running would make it worse.
They were amongst the group of people now, people who looked like they had been living off the forest their whole lives. Like the hairy man behind her, they wore animal skins... And dirt... Everywhere. They all had long, tangled and disgusting hair, the men had beards as well. They stopped and stared as Rowan walked past, pushed onwards by the beast behind her. She silently prayed that Sabruer would not allow any harm to come to her. A few tents were sparcely scattered around the clearing in a rough circle. A cooking fire stood in the middle with a large black pot hanging on a spit overtop of it.
The monster of a man pushed her somewhat gently, but more roughly that not, into the closest tent. It took Rowan a few seconds to realize that he wasn't going to come into the tent, she was alone. But not alone, there was a short bald man sitting on a low stool at the far corner of the tent. She glanced around, surveying her surroundings. Indeed this man was a healer. The tent was littered with small and cruel looking instruments and cleanliness. Everything was polished and shiny, dirt free. Now that she looked, this tent was alot bigger that she had imagined. A few cots were lined up against the canvas wall, one of them was occupied by a young woman who was laying on her back, asleep.
The bald man swirled around on his chair to face Rowan.
"Ah!" He exclaimed. "Velcome missy!" The man had a strong accent and a squashed looking face. "Come here zoe I can look at yur leg"
Rowan hesitated for a moment. As if mocking her, the deep cut above her knee began to sting and burn. She limped over to where the man was sitting with a wary look on her face. The man stood up and showed her to one of the cots and told her to sit down. She obeyed, glancing at the woman sleeping next to her.
"My name iz Loki by ze vay." Muttered the short bald man, gently rolling up the leg of her pants past her knee.
Loki stood up and walked over to a basin of water and dropped a white cloth into it and brought it back over to Rowan. He crouched down in front of her and gentley washed away the dried blood. Next he fetched a thick yellow paste, which he rubbed into the cut. Rowan gritted her teeth and shut her eyes as the cream sizzled and burned. When the pain had ceased, she opened her eyes and looked down at the wound on her leg, which was now nothing more than a thick scar.
"Magic, iz et not?" Loki grinned, progressing onto the slash across her arm.
"Kanrik, I know yur avake. Get up an show zis lady around ze camp." Loki nudged the sleeping woman with his foot.
Kanrik wasn't a girls name... Rowan looked back at the figure on the cot. It wasn't a woman at all, just a very slim middle aged man. He had shoulder length dark brown hair that was relatively straight and clean, though it curled slightly at the ends. He had a sharp looking face, like a hawk. There was a thin scar that ran down his jaw, from ear to chin. He looked about twenty years old. He wasn't wearing a shirt, but white bandages were wound across his chest, a dark red line painted from his shoulder to lower ribs across his chest.
"I'm tired..." Mumbled the thin man, rolling to the side only about an inch.
"Et vould do ye good." Loki said, somewhat sternly.
"Fine." Kanrik grumbled "Help me up"
Loki pulled on outstreached arm, helping him to sit up. Kanrik looked down at the bandages over his chest.
"It's still bleeding." He said slowly.
"No ets not. Zat vas from before"
"Oh." Kanrik poked the bloody line lightly and winced. "Still sore though"
"Apparently..." Loki muttered, turning away to sit back on his stool and write something on a peice of parchment. "Now get out"
Rowan stood up, gingerly testing her weight on her leg and finding it didn't hurt at all. She rolled down her sleeve and pant leg and walked to the door flap of the tent, thanking Loki. She didn't want to go outside, for fear of being forced around by the smelly beast man. Kanrik joined her at the door half a minut later.
"Not going out?" He asked.
He had bright silvery grey eyes and a kind smile. His voice was quite raspy buy gently at the same time. He was tall and incredibly thin, almost to an anerexic point. He was tan and muscular, good looking in Rowan's opinion.
"I was hoping I wouldn't have to." She said quietly.
"Don' be frightened, they wont do ye any harm... If ye stay out of their way." Chuckled Kanrik.
"Oh... Thats comforting"
"My name is Kanrik, by the way"
"Rowan"
"Mmmm... Hullo there Rowan, welcome ter the Shilo forest"
"Thanks for the introduction." She stuck her head out of the tent and peered around the corner.
"Yer not being held prisoner, ye can walk freely here." He muttered.
"Thats what I thought too." She retorted.
Kanrik shrugged and walked out of the tent, streaching in the warm sunlight and blinking furiously. Rowan followed in his wake. He walked across the circle of tents and into the thicker trees. Rowan scurried after him. He stopped walking suddenly, and Rowan walked straight into him. He turned around and grinned.
"Yer not following me... Are ye?" He started. "Because i'm not going anywhere. Just going ter my tree ter get my shirt"
"Your tree?" She asked.
"My tree." Kanrik turned and walked away, leaving Rowan standing speachless, staring at his retreating back.
Rowan slowly headed back towards the group of tents, hoping that Kanrik would come back soon. She wasn't quite in the mood for meeting new friends, but Kanrik seemed to be of the friendly sort.
"Here." Kanrik dumped a hard buiscuit into her hands, biting into another.
"Thank you." Rowan sank her teeth into the cold buiscuit and tore off a peice. She was famished, and food or any sort was welcome.
The buiscuit was cold, hard, and stale, but it was definetly better than nothing. She finished it in no time, watching sulkily as Kanrik took the better part of a quarter hour to finish it.
Kanrik stood up, brushing a small bit of dust from his knees.
"Ye live in D'or, correct me if I'm wrong." He started.
Rowan nodded.
"I will be passing that way tonight. I'll escort ye back, if ye wish"
For the first time in a long while, Rowan smiled. She was glad that he had offered, it was just what she was hoping for.
"Please." She grinned.
"But first there is some forest business that calls fer my attention"
"What of"
"There is some beast loose out there. I don' know what it is, but it shouldn' be here"
"And your going to hunt it out"
"Yup. Ye can acompany me if yer not doing anything." He said.
"If thats all right with you"
"Sure is"
Rowan stood up, picking a spider off her shoulder and dusting off her pants.
Kanrik put a finger to his lips, silently telling her to stop breaking the twigs as she walked. She wasn't being noisy, she was probably even more silent than him. She nodded anyways and put forth an effort to walk more carefully. Kanrik was carrying a thick broadsword in one hand, the other a handfull of nothing. His hair was tied back into a rough ponytail at the base of his neck, though a few strands still fell into his handsome face. Yes Rowan thought he looked handsome. She liked his hair, and his face. Liked the way he walked and talked. But most of all she loved his eyes. Somehow they reminded her of a place she had at the back of her mind, one that she couldn't pinpoint. They had a strange brightness to them that made her feel like she knew why they were like that. It seemed like she knew him from somewhere long ago, one that she couldn't remember if she tried. In the darkness of the thick forest trees, his eyes seemed bright as day, though nothing unusual.
"There." Kanrik pointed forwards, speaking in a casual voice. He was obviously not the best hunter.
"The white thing?" She asked, keeping her voice subtle.
Kanrik nodded and stalked towards it, a grin plastered over his face. Rowan followed close behind, knife in her hand.
As they came closer, the white spot in the trees moved. They froze, hoping that it wouldn't be a nasty evil monster of some sort. The creature snorted and started walking towards them, it's small head bobbing up and down.
"Oh..." Kanrik muttered, sounding somewhat crestfallen.
"What?" Rowan asked, still keeping her voice low, although Kanrik had left his quiet voice back in a distant clump of bushes.
"Just a horse. Was hoping fer a troll, or something fun ter chase"
"Well, I'm glad we're not meeting up with any trolls." Rowan cut in. She didn't like trolls at all.
Trolls were big, ugly, hairy, and smelly. The man that had brought her to Loki sortof reminded her of a troll, but they were much bigger, and fouler.
Rowan watched the horse trot closer to them. It was a dazzling white horse, but it's muzzle was grey, and there was a patch of black on its back. As it came nearer, Rowan could make out that the black bit was actually a saddle.
"Shadow?" She called out to the horse.
The white horse pricked it's ears and sped up a bit, stopping just before them.
"Yer horse?" Kanrik asked, sounding like he could think of no possible explanation for the sudden appearence of a saddled and bridled horse wandering around the forest.
"Yes." Rowan slowly approached Shadow, catching her dangling reins and resting a hand on her neck.
The bridle was broken at the cheekpeice, and the bit hung lopsided in the horse's mouth. The leather of the saddle was smudged with dirt, and a stirup was missing, but it was otherwise intact. The white horse was covered in dirt. A patch of dried blood stained its right foreleg, though it didn't seem to bother the horse.
"Pretty." Kanrik muttered, touching the horse's shoulder.
Shadow nickered softly and put her nose into Rowan's hand.
"Here." Kanrik handed Rowan a wooden bucket filled to halfway with warm water.
"Thanks." She said, taking the bucket and dropping a white cloth into it, poking it to the bottom and watching it slowly drift to the surface like a ghost.
She had took the saddle and bridle off Shadow, and they lay in a neat pile against the trunk of a pine tree. Rowan lifted the cloth out of the bucket, setting it down, and began to mop up the dried blood on her horse's leg. Kanrik had come up with an interesting rope halter out of a thin length of rope they had found in Loki's tent. He was standing beside her, holding the rope that dangled from the halter.
"White horses were never ment ter roll in mud." Kanrik grinned, picking a lump of dirt off Shadow's neck.
"We could always find a brush." Rowan retorted.
Kanrik rolled his eyes. "I'll get one." He handed the lead to Rowan and stalked off.
A few minuits later he had reapeared with a curry comb. Rowan grinned as she watched him approach, carrying the brush. She noticed a slight limp in his step, and he frequently looked over his shoulder as if waiting for someone to jump out at him. She didn't blame him. The people who apparently lived here were not all friendly. When she walked by one of them, they would stop what they were doing to glare at her. They all looked menacing and dangerous with their wild hair and grime caked onto their skins. The only person who was quite clean looking in her opinion was Kanrik.
Shadow turned her head as he approached, nickering. Kanrik wrinkled his face and nickered back, whisking the brush over her back as he walked to her neck.
"Strange horse..." He muttered, more to himself than anyone.
They both stepped back to admire their work. Indeed Shadow was as white as snow once again, though an ugly gash above her knee remained. It didn't look life threatening, and they decided it wasn't deep enough to take to Loki. Kanrik had wrapped a clean cloth over it though, to prevent anymore dirt getting into it.
"Exact opposite of my horse." He grinned.
"Oh, your horse is ugly?" She smirked.
"Ha very ha." He shoved her gently in the shoulder.
Rowan smiled brightly, she was fast taking a liking to this man. Kanrik snatched the lead from her hands and led the horse into the trees. Rowan grabbed Shadow's tail and followed, making a show of attempting to stop the horse.
There was a low whinny that came from somewhere ahead of them, and Shadow flattened her ears against her neck, flaring her nostrils. Kanrik gave a short, but sharp whistle, and suddenly a Midnight black horse was standing before them. The horse was tall and thin, it's legs long and lanky. It's coat was blacker than anything Rowan had seen, and it was glossy and wet looking. There was a small whiteish line on each of it's shoulders, starting from just before it's withers to mid shoulder. It's tail looked as though it had just been brushed, hanging just below it's hocks. It's mane was rather short, though stringy looking. It's head was small, and it's black eyes had an mean look. There was also a small white star in the middle of it's forehead. Rowan had never seen a horse that looked like this one did, evil. Somehow it didn't look like it was meant to be a horse at all.
Kanrik confidently approached the horse, who touched his shoulder with it's muzzle.
"This is Strieker." He said, stroking the black horse's cheek.
"I can see why you said they were opposite." She said, the horse seemed to bring her spirits down.
"Well I think he's rather pretty." Kanrik grinned, poking Shadow's flank.
Strieker slowly came forward and reached out to Shadow. The two horse's touched noses for a second,and fourears flatened againsttwo necks, butShadow's pricked forward the next instant. Strieker's ears still lay backwards.
"Enough talk." Kanrik told the horses, touching the black horse's side, who quickly backed up, arching it's neck. "I should probably pack fer Rimmington if we're ter be in D'or before nightfall"
Rowan nodded, though not letting her eyes leave the evil horse.
"Watch yer step." Kanrik said, but not before Rowan had stepped into an ice cold creek.
She gasped and jumped backwards, spraying water everywhere. Kanrik chuckled to himself and walked over the tiny creek. Rowan followed him over, muttering to herself. She gazed upwards and yet another startled gasp escaped her lips. Surrounded by the creek, which circled in a never ending loop, was the biggest tree she had ever seen. The forest was coniforus, but this tree was a peach tree, the biggest she had ever seen. She doubted that it would be possible to even wrap her arms around it's trunk, at the thinnest point she could reach. The branches were covered in a dense blanket of thick, dark green leaves that covered every inch of the massive branches that reached out and up. Every here and there there were a few brightly colored juicy looking peaches. Rowan had no doubts that it the tree was hollowed out, she would be able to live inside it. She stood still, staring up at the tree's glory, wondering why it was here, it was so out of place she had a hard time imagining a reason to put it there.
Strieker gracefully bounded over the moat in a single leaping step, it's thin tail flowing out like a black curtain. The horse walked up to the tree and lay down in the shade of the branches.
"My tree." Kanrik grinned, a shadow of pride creeping across his face.
Rowan was speachless, caught up in some dream that wasn't hers. Kanrik dissapeared somewhere behind the tree, Rowan made no effort to follow him.
This had to be a dream. The tree felt magical, brimming with the unknown. She had felt magic before, but this was different. It somehow seemed to have an erie, evil feel to it. It frightened her, but lifted her with wings at the same time. It was a calm sort of magic, but when she concentrated on it, there was an ever present scence of unrest.
"Kanrik?" She said uncertainly.
Shadow was refusing to cross the creek.
"Yes?" He reapeared, holding a small object in one hand, a peice of tan cloth in the other.
"Oh, nothing..." She said, unsure of how to phrase what she wanted to say. She wanted to shout to him to be carefull, because the magic of the tree left her feeling empty and afraid. She wanted to demand to know who he really was. The magic brought back a sence of familiarity, like the smell of a place she had been to before but couldn't remember. "Thanks for saving me from the dragon"
Kanrik nodded slowly. "Yer welcome. How's yer leg feeling?" He seemed rather uncomfortable as she reminded him of the red dragon.
He seemed as though he didn't need to hear her thanks to feel apreciated.
He walked up to her and held out the object in the palm of his hand. "What does ye think?" He asked, a broad smile across his face.
Rowan grinned in astonishment. It was a bronze medallion, about the size of her palm, and polished so it shone like the sun. It had a rough circlular edge and it was engraved to show the faint outline of what looked like a horse skull with a ribbon tied to it's lower jaw.
"You made it"
Kanrik nodded. "Took a fair bit of time, but yes." He placed it gently onto the cloth and wrapped it tightly. "Gift fer my sister"
"It's very nice"
"Thank ye."
"I suppose this is yer goodbye." Kanrik said, watching as Rowan glared at the dirty people in the clearing from the saddle on Shadow's back.
Rowan nodded curtly. She wasn't exactly sorry to not have spent more time with these people. They were outlaws, and she hated them for it. Kanrik shrugged and twitched Strieker's reins, turning and walking into the trees. Rowan followed him and brought Shadow nose to nose with the black horse.
They were soon riding across the flat plain where they had encountered the dragon. Rowan could pick out an area of burnt grass and ripped up ground. She had almost been hoping to find a dead dragon laying there. It would have been an interesting spot of revenge. The dragon had attacked her, and she wished it ill will. She was only sorry that Kanrik hadn't killed it. But wait, only a slayer could have survived a dragon attack. She turned in her saddle to face him, a scrutinizing look on her face. He cast her a wry glance.
"How did you get away from the dragon?" She demanded.
"What do ye mean?" He asked.
"I mean, why are you still alive, and where is the dragon"
Crude question ye ask. The dragon is probably dead by now... An' yes I'm still alive"
"You killed the dragon"
"Mabye... I cut it's throat"
"Your a SLAYER?" She cried.
A patch of red appeared on his cheeks. "I suppose. Though I don' flaunt it"
"You must be good friends with the king then"
"I've never met the king, though I know his name"
Slayers were people whe made their living seeking out and killing dangerous creatures. Though it was a crazy risk. Only about one in a hundred slayers have ever survived a dragon attack. Most slayers were quite wealthy. The king had set out rewards for any dangerous creature that was slain, dragon's fetching the highest price.
The stone walls of D'or loomed ever closer on the horizon as they rode towards it. The sun was setting behind them, and their rather long shadows rode out infront of them. Indeed there was a trail of blood heading away from the battle place, towards the north forest.
Suddenly Kanrik's horse plunged forwards and sank to it's knees. Kanrik was instantly crouching beside the horse with a hand on it's neck.
"I know Strieker... Here" He muttered, taking a peach from his saddlebag and shoving it inside the horse's mouth.
Strieker snorted and tossed his head in an angry sort of was, yet Kanrik held his mouth closed. A red liquid trickled out of the horse's mouth and down his chin, a few drops splattering on the ground.
Rowan watched with curiosity, not having the faintest idea of what Kanrik was doing. For several minuits Kanrik sat against his horse as it furiously bobbed it's head around, chewing on the peach with ears pricked forwards.
"C'mon." He said gently, standing up and touching the horse's shoulder.
Strieker was instantly on his feet, shaking the dirt off his sides. Kanrik mounted and looked over at Rowan. She could see the black horse trembling under him as though it were cold.
"What was that all about?" She asked hesitantly, not sure if she should be worried or not.
"He's not eating..." Kanrik muttered. "I don' want him ter starve, but he hasn' eaten fer six days"
"Oh"
"He doesn' like the air, I don' think." Kanrik shrugged, but made a quiet noise and Strieker started towards the city once again.
Rowan trotted Shadow after him.
Suddenly they were standing before the city gates, looking through the grills.
Kanarik looked over his shoulder at her. "My name is Dark, the the way." He muttered. "And I'm not staying fer long"
"But you will have dinner with my aunt and uncle, won't you? I mean, they would want to thank you for saving my life"
"I really don' want ter be in the city, but if ye demands my presence I'll take up yer offer"
Rowan grinned. "Why are we standing around here then?" She gestured towards the gates.
Kanrik shrugged, this time following Rowan. She lead him to the south side of the city, and up to the gate of the residence her aunt and uncle owned. The yard was average sized, as well as the house, though there was a rather large wooden barn behind the house. A gravel path led straight down the middle of the front lawn to the door of the house, which was surrounded by young trees and shrubs. A man appeared from behind the house, carrying a large burlap sack over his shoulder.
"Uncle jack!" Rowan exclaimed, slidding off Shadow and approaching the man.
"R-ROWAN!" Her uncle stuttered, giving her a wry look. "Where have you been"
"Wandering... As usual." She grinned.
"Ah, and who is this young friend of yours?" He asked, gesturing towards Kanrik with a grin on his face.
"His name is dark, and he saved my life from a dragon"
"He's a slayer?" Whispered uncle Jack.
Rowan smiled and nodded.
"Dark, sir!" He exclaimed. "You must join us for dinner. But however can I repay you"
"Thank ye very much sir. Though ye don' repay me, just acknowledge it"
Uncle Jack shrugged, but scurried over to Kanrik and shook his hand enthusiastically.
"Where is Strieker?" Rowan asked, suddenly realizing that she hadn't seen the black horse since they entered the city.
"Waiting." Kanrik said.
"Waiting where, and for what"
"Waiting outside the city, fer me ter come back." He said patiently.
"Who's Strieker?" Uncle Jack asked, looking from Rowan to Kanrik.
"His horse." Rowan said.
"Your horse is going to get lost, boy." Uncle Jack muttered, gesturing for them to follow him inside. " And your going to take a bath before you even come close to the dinner table." He shot at Rowan, "Same with your friend"
Rowan grinned, but lead Kanrik down the hall.
"So it's settled then. Rowan... Are you absoulutley sure you want to go to Rimmington with this man?" Aunt Mary asked for the twentieth time.
"Yes auntie, I'm absoulutly sure." She finished drying a plate, and walked it over to the cuboard where she set it at the top of a pile of clean plates.
"I don't think I trust him though"
"AUNTIE"
Kanrik made a small noise in the back of his throat and doubled his efforts in washing a plate, avoiding aunt Mary's gaze.
"Look, he's all sloppy and not caring if he gets his sleeve wet"
And indeed this was mostly true. Kanrik had his left sleeve pulled well over his hand, but he was taking care and it looked dry enough. Rowan cast him a sidelong glance and took the plate he held out.
Rowan fastned the throatlach on Shadow's bridle and checked the tightness. Kanrik was leaning against the doorframe of the barn, waiting for her to finish saddling, which she did a moment later.
"Ready now?" He asked, turning around and freezing at the sight of Rowan's uncle standing a foot away, blocking the door.
"Uncle?" Rowan said in a startled way.
In response, uncle Jack grabbed Kanrik's arm and forced his hands behind his back, pulling back the sleeve of his left hand.
"Rowan, there's nothing I can do to stop you, but please don't go anywhere with this man." Uncle Jack muttered, pressing a dagger to the side of Kanrik's neck.
"Uncle Jack? What is this all about?" She was almost shouting, uncertainty and alarm thick in her voice.
"He's an outlaw, a deamon"
"WHAT?" Kanrik couldn't be an outlaw, it just wasn't possible. He was a kind man who seemed respectable enough.
Kanrik made the smallest attempt to free his hands, in a way that was a moking gesture towards uncle Jack, a cold smile played across his face.
"Even if you see it, it doesn't mean it's true." Kanrik said in an icy tone.
"Kanrik...?" Rowan didn't want Kanrik to be an outlaw.
"There's nothing to not belive!" Uncle Jack spat, shaking Kanrik's left hand infront of him, so Rowan could see.
Rowan gasped in horror as her eyes fell opon the clear marks that were of an outlaw. The missing index finger and the black roman cross tattoed across the back of his hand.
"It's true..." She half whispered, more to herself than anyone.
Kanrik shook his head. "Belive me, it's not what it seems." He muttered, drawing away from the knife as it was pressed harder into the side of his neck.
"Rowan, please go up to the house." Uncle Jack said in a commanding voice.
Rowan stood rooted on the spot, staring at Kanrik. She couldn't belive he was an outlaw, but seeing the marks on his hand brough back the memory of her sister and parents. She hated outlaws with a passion. She wanted to take the knife from her uncle and drive it into Kanrik's cold heart, but she couldn't think that. The only thing he had shown her was kindness. He didn't seem like a proper outlaw. She turned on her heel, dropping Shadow's reins, and walked slowly back to the house, trying her hardest not to look back.
Rowan had her face buried in her pillows, the quilt on her bed pulled over her head, yet she still heard the door of the house bang open and uncle Jack storm inside. Half an hour had passed scince she had left Kanrik. She threw the covers off her and bolted down the hall to her uncle. She froze as she saw the expression on his face.
"W-what happened?" She asked timidly.
He looked at her for a second, shaking his head slowly, before sliding down into a chair at the table.
"That boy is truly a deamon"
"Where is he now?" She asked.
"I would like to say dead... But I don't know"
"What do you mean"
"It's hard to explain. I was holding his arms just as you were walking out... Then suddenly I was laying on my back. He crouched down beside me and touched me here." He touched his right temple. "Then everything wen't black, and when I came to... He wasn't there anymore"
"Are you ok though"
He nodded. "I can't feel any pain."
It was about midnight, or at least it felt like it. Rowan slung her traveling cloak over her soulder and opened the window. Carfull to not make any sound, she climbed out of the window and dropped to the ground, which was only several feet away from the window. She tiptoed out to the barn, whispering about nothing so she wouldn't surprize Shadow. The white mare snorted in greeting as she approached. She picked up the reins and swung quietly onto Shadow's back.
Down the street she rode, towards the city gates, searching for Kanrik. She had a feeling that he might have gone back to the forest and the peach tree. But there was an overpowering feeling colouding her mind. Kanrik was waiting just outside of the gates for her. She didn't know where the idea came from, or why she felt that is was the right one. Kanrik could be anywhere, but the feeling told her he was waiting.
The gate sentrys stared as she rode past, but didn't question her. The feeling pulled her along the high, stone, city walls. she rode for several minutes, following this strange pull. Suddenly something hit her hard in the shoulder and she was almost unseated. Shadow let out a high pitched sound that sounded like a scream. There was a horrible, bone chilling sound that resembled something evil peeling itself off the wall, and a wave of cold washed down her back. Shadow was twitching nevrously on the spot. She thought she heard her name being whispered, but she must have been mistaken. Then she heard it again.
"Kanrik?" She whispered back.
She felt something touch her knee, and she twisted around so fast it hurt her neck. She had a glimps of two burning silver spots against the black of night before they vanished.
"I'm hear." Came Kanrik's voice.
"Don't touch me." She growled, forcing Shadow to sidestep away from him.
She heard him sigh. "So ye hate me now"
"Your an outlaw. I trusted you." She spat.
"But why should that make a difference? I'm different"
"How am I supposed to trust you now"
"Ye trusted me when ye didn't know"
"My parents and sister were killed by outlaws. I swore that if I ever met one I would kill them"
"Oh dear..." He paused for a moment. "For now can we just pretend that I'm not an outlaw"
"No..." She said stubbornly.
He sighed again. "I guess yer not coming ter Rimmington then"
"Nobody said that." He frowned, she didn't want to go. But her mind was saying that he was a kind man and he would never harm her.
"Oh?" He sounded surprized.
She nodded, though she knew he couldn't see her in the dark.
"I... I wasn't expecting you to still come... For that matter to trust me"
"Well, I'm different to"
She could tell he was smiling, and she felt a warm fuzzy feeling around her neck as he moved closer. She knew deep in her heart that there was a good chance she might end up falling in love with this man.
They rode threw the night, not saying a word. The whole time Rowan was shivering with fear as a strange preasence moved behind her. Shadow seemed twitchy as well. The glow from the moon made the white horse look like a lonley gohst floating across the ground. She kept seeing two specks of sliver floating in the air beside her, and a the cold blanket pressed harding into her back and tightened around her throat, though when she looked again the silver specks were gone.
Rowan was overjoyed to see the sun once again in the morning. The moment she had noticed that it was definetly getting lighter the fear seemed to melt away. She was almost singing by the time it began to show it's fiery glow over the horizon. Kanrik didn't seem all that different, though she could feel him tense as a ray of light fell onto his face. His black horse seemed to dislike the sun even more to the extreme. The good thing was that she could no longer see the silver fires.
"Look"
She jumped slightly when Kanrik spoke for the first time, though she gazed in the direction he was pointing.
"That's just the guy we are looking fer." He grinned.
"We were looking for someone"
"Apparently... Yer uncle sent a scout ter find us I think"
"How thoughtfull." She frowned. "So what do we do then"
Kanrik paused for a second, deep in though. "We could always ride up behind him an cut his throat"
"Can't we just ride quietly away"
"We could. But that would still leave us with the problem of being followed... An there's going ter be more people looking fer us once this one reports... An he might see us... An I could go on fer a long time"
"Apparetnly... See, this is one of the reasons I dislike outlaws. They kill to make their lives easier"
Kanrik nodded half heartidly. "If only ye knew my better..." He sighed.
"Mabye I will get to know you better"
Kanrik twisted around to look at her, a surprized look on his face. "Yer not lying"
Rowan shook her head and nudged Shadow forwards. "Go do yer job." She said, immitating his accent.
He grinned and shook his head in an amused way. A second later Strieker was loping easily towards the scout, seeming to not touch the ground at all. She watched in horror as Kanrik instantly drew a sword out of the sheath on his side and rode past the scout, who swirled around just in time to watch the outlaw ride past. Kanrik slowed strieker to a walk, then halted him withough any apparent effort. Both outlaw and scout seemed frozen in time for a few seconds, their black sillouetes small with the distance, before the outline of the scout pitched forward and toppled to the ground. The scout's horse shied away from it's fallen rider, and Kanrik dismounted and approached the horse. She watched as Kanrik took off the horse's saddle and bridle and set them on the ground, which he propped the dead scout into a sitting position with.
"That's Rimmington." Kanrik said, breaking the long afternoon silence.
Rowan looked sleepily out to the sea. She was tired from riding the whole night, and almost the whole day, but glad all the same. She had spent a good chunk of her life with an incredibly handsome man. Her quiet observing had told her that he was one of those secretive people who didn't like to share their life. He was a man of action. And then there was Rimmington. It was truly a beatiful city. It was built onto the sea, and had a delicate look to it. Everything looked pretty, ornate and magical.
"Would ye wait here fer me ter come back?" He asked.
"I would come with you"
"I wouldn't let you"
"Why not"
"I don' want ter risk ye being seen with me. I'm an outlaw, so if I get killed, they'll arrest ye"
"Oh... Right." She shrugged, but slid off Shadow's back.
"There's trees over there if ye want ter meet me there in an hour"
"Arent forests supposed to be dangerous"
"They are? I always though they were one of the safe places up here"
"Up here?"
"Never mind." He grinned and jumped down from Strieker's back. "Strieker will keep ye from harm, while I'm gone"
"Thanks, but I think I can protect myself." She shot back.
"Didn' seem like that when ye where laying on yer back, cornered by a dragon." He grinned, setting out towards the city, talking over his shoulder.
Rowan glared at his retreating back until he dissapeared inside the city walls.
Half an hour of sitting against a tree later, Rowan definetly heard a noise. Before she had though she had been imagining the sound of breathing shifting somewhere behind her in a bush. But she had gotten up several times and searched the group of trees, only to find nothing. She had listened to Shadow and Strieker breathing, but they didn't sound quite the same. She was starting to feel nervous and jumpy. Every sound was suspicious and could have come from an evil nasty that was lurking in the forest behind her. Suddenly something hard hit her in the back of the head, and she fell forward into the dense layer of pine needles on the ground. Her head was throbbing, but she fought to remain concious. Shadow had reared up and bolted away. She gathered up her last bit of strength and looked up to see the outline of what seemed a human form before she collapsed.
Rowan woke up sometimes later. She had no way of knowing how long she had been lying on the ground for. All she could think about at the moment was how much her head hurt. She didn't care if her asassin was still around, she just wanted to lay there. She felt something touch her face, something rough and wet. She rolled over as Shadow dragged her tounge over Rowan's face once again. Rowan slowly sat up, pushing the horse away and looking around. The first thing she noticed was that Kanrik definetly wasn't there, unless he was hiding somewhere or ducking out of view. Strieker was standing a short distance away, facing a tree, his rear end facing Rowan. She then noticed that Strieker seemed to be standing guard over a dark shape. She climbed to her feet, using Shadow as a support, clutching her head, and walked closer to the black horse. Between Strieker and the tree was a young man, mabye even younger than Rowan, leaning against the tree with his eyes closed. He had fine blonde hair that fell around his shoulders, a gooey red substance clumping in his hair. Rowan gasped as she saw the blood, the great amount of blood. The boy seemed to have been stabbed several times around his shoulders and stomach, and his right ear seemed to have been ripped apart. There was a pool of blood surrounding the boy, and more was still seeping from his wounds. She stumbled backwards in horror as the black horse turned it's head towards her, it's mouth dripping with blood. She flung herself towards the ground, away from the evil black deamon of a horse an curled up in a tight ball, tears streaming down her face.