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Rough-draft of a high-fantasy novel I will be editing for submission to publishers. |
| "Hey! Wait for me!" A small pair of feet pounded against the ground, sending up clouds of dust in their wake. The bare expanse of a dirt road extended far ahead of the running figure, and off in the distance could be seen the retreating silhouette of a mule-drawn caravan. "Come back!" piped the squeaky, feminine voice of Kendra Shakaby. The distance between her and the buggy was only increasing, and the small woman slowed to a panting stop, her hair tumbling in front of her face as her head tilted down toward the ground, hands on her knees. She blew at the pesky strands, only succeeding in getting them caught between her lips, and with a sputter, she brought her hands up to pull her long unruly brown hair back into the ponytail from which it had escaped. That settled, Kendra straightened her plain tunic and adjusted the belt of her pants, and finally rested her hands on the straps of her large pack as she gave a discontented huff and looked off into the empty distance. "Well, who needs them," she said, turning around purposefully and taking a strong stride forward along the road in the opposite direction. "I was ready for another adventure anyway." It wasn't long before the short, rugged young woman had picked up a spring in her step and was whistling to herself as she walked the long dusty expanse in solitude. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and a vast stretch of unexplored road stood between her and her unknown destination. Everything was looking splendidly magnificent. Kendra looked up at the sky and took a deep whiff of the fresh country air, releasing a satisfied sigh as she admired the beauty of some passing clouds. Suddenly, she was tumbling forward, her foot caught on something in her path and with a startled yelp, Kendra fell in a tangled heap sputtering out a mouthful of dirt. "What on Rok... oh!" The sparkle of a crystalline masterpiece caught her eye. Fumbling clumsily with her hair that had fallen back in front of her face, Kendra scooted over to examine the “sparkle”. After wrestling the ponytail back into submission, she picked up the unique, rather lovely looking, figurine tenderly between her fingers and held it in front of her face to admire. It was a tiny statue of excellent workmanship, carved in the form of a silver dragon. It had ruby claws and sapphire eyes, the jewels alone suggesting it to be of great value. Surely no one would have left such a wonderful treasure on purpose. With the dirt of the road tumbling easily away from the smooth, unmarred glass, it had clearly been well cared for. "Someone must be missing you," Kendra said to the dragon, bringing up the edge of her tunic in an attempt to brush off a little dust. "I'll make sure you're well looked after, until we find your owner." Within moments the statue was brushed clean and sparkling like new. Kendra gave the figure another thorough examination before nodding happily and placing the lost item in her roughsack with a smile. She then picked herself up off the road and patted the dust out of her pants before continuing onward, her imagination swimming with all the possible events that could have landed that lovely little dragon in her pack. Perhaps it had been lost as its owner was caught in a fight for his life, neither victim nor attacker noticing its fall from the sack as they focused on survival. No. Such a struggle would cause it to become stained or broken, as it was certainly a delicate creation. Maybe a thief had filched it off a wealthy traveler and, not respecting the great value of such a craft, lost it in a tussle with one of his companions over some greater treasure. Simple, believable, but not nearly exciting enough. Kendra fancied it had been the coveted masterpiece of some great wizard traveling in disguise as a mere peasant. It would, of course, have been bespelled in order to summon the dragon depicted with a secret word. The wizard would also have cursed the item, so that any who stole it would bring bad fortune upon themselves, until the statue was returned. The figurine would also most certainly be the heirloom of an ancient King, destined to be passed on to a young, unknown heir to the throne, to whom the wizard was bringing the statue. The wizard probably found the boy he was to pass the statue on to, and the boy, not believing the wizened man's story, would have tossed the item aside, too ignorant to attempt to fetch a price for it. Now, Kendra was bound to find that boy or the wizard and become entwined in a wonderful adventure. Time had passed as Kendra wandered the dusty road, lost in her musings, leaving the sun falling low over the horizon. The blinding light irritated her eyes, and a growl from her stomach irritated her daydreams. "I suppose its time to make camp for the evening," Kendra said to herself, swinging her bag off her back and tossing it off to the roadside, following the sailing mass and meeting it as it tumbled to a stop in the grass. A final thump placed the sack against a large rock hidden by overgrown weeds, and the young woman, just a few strides behind in lazy pursuit, could have sworn she heard a muffled "ouch". She stopped mid-step as she leaned forward, legs stiff, trying to see what her bag must have bumped into. What Kendra had mistaken for a rock was not a rock at all, but a pair of boots. Taking another few careful steps forward, she saw that the boots were attached to a sprawled out body, which upon examination proved to be in rather nasty shape. It was an older man, his clothes torn and matted in a mixture of mud and blood. A flutter of black feathers revealed a large bird that Kendra had not noticed until that point. It had been settled on the man’s chest and when he shifted slightly with a soft groan, the black mass jumped up with a squawk and landed by the mans head, grabbing a lock of his hair in its beak and giving it a tug. "Hey, shoo! Shoo!" Kendra said, rushing forward and waving her hands, sending the bird away in an angry flurry of feathers. "He's not dead yet!" The young woman glared after the retreating bird and watched it land on a low branch of a nearby tree, settling down to watch her in return. Convinced the dark animal would now keep its distance, Kendra gave a satisfied nod and hurried over to the side of the injured figure. "Sir," she said, placing a hand on his chest to feel a slow but steady heartbeat and the rise and fall of his ragged breathing. When she received no response, she leaned forward to look into his face and repeated loudly, "SIR!" With another groan, his eyes squinting tightly in apparent pain, the man raised his arm to weakly try and push Kendra away. "Leave me be!" he croaked, and Kendra gave a yelp of surprise as the bird took a swipe at the back of her head. Kendra rubbed her grazed scalp and glared once again after the bird as it returned to its branch. "Well, how’s that for gratitude," the small woman huffed. "This bird here was determined to eat you, mister. I just saved your life. I was going to dress your wounds too, but if you're so sure you don't need any help I could just leave you to care for them yourself." With a cough and an attempt to sit up, the man glanced skeptically over at his would-be helper. "The raven is my friend." "Your friend?" Kendra raised a brow and looked back at the large black bird which ruffled its feathers and cackled at her. She snorted. "You need to get some better friends. Ones that won't try to eat you when they think you're dead." The bird cawed and spread its wings threateningly, as if it understood what she was saying, and Kendra responded by sticking out her tongue. Meanwhile, the injured man had already begun attempting to care for his own wounds, and he let out a hiss of breath, a stifled moan, as he peeled off the caked on cloth that had been his shirt. “I have neither the time nor patience to entertain children,” the man ruffled through his own bag and pulled out a flask. He yanked out the cork with his teeth and hissed as he poured the alcohol over his wounds. A particularly deep and nasty looking one just under the rib cage drew Kendra’s gaze. She was frowning, but not with concern. Her brow was furrowed as she glared angrily at the man with her arms crossed over her own chest. “I'm no child,” she replied with a huff. “For your information, I happen to be twenty-three years old, and I've been living on my own for the past six years, thank you very much. I am a very capable adult, though my size and appearance may be deceiving. It’s because I’m a halfling. We are often mistaken for children by those unfamiliar with the race.” “I am familiar with the race,” the man muttered, his eyebrows raising as he watched the young woman stick her tongue out at the raven again when it cackled. “I’ve just never met one quite so…” his voice trailed off, unable to think of an adequate descriptive word. Oblivious, Kendra continued her face-off with the raven and started spouting a fountain of questions. "How'd you end up like that anyway? Did someone attack you? Were you in a battle? You were probably jumped by a band of highway men, weren't you? How many were there? I'll bet they took everything you had on you, didn't they? It's a good thing I came along. I've got plenty of supplies in my pack. You should have been paying closer attention to your surroundings. It's real easy to tell where they like to hide if you pay attention. They being the highway men, of course. Your bird was probably distracting you. You're lucky I found you before he started eating you. He would have plucked out your eyeballs first, maybe even while you were still alive. That would have been painful. I saw some birds do that to a rabbit once. Plucked its eyes right out of its skull while it was still kicking. It's their favorite part, you know. They like to get them fresh off the corpse." "Are you sure you're twenty-three?" the man interrupted, his voice harsh and annoyed. Kendra missed the implied insult and merely nodded, counting out the months on her fingers before speaking her reply, "Twenty-four in another five moons." The man looked her up and down skeptically, and she could just imagine what he must be thinking. She'd heard it all so many times before. How her short, lithe frame made her appear to be nothing more than a child. How her incessant talk and curiosity pestered and annoyed, like a child. How her lack of fear and distrust in others made her seem so much like a child. How her vivid imagination and tirade of creative stories made her so very childish. To be quite honest, she was downright tired of being treated like a child. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her chin up in defiance. "Go ahead and say it. I look like I can't be more than twelve, right? You think I'm just a nuisance little girl that doesn't know anything about the world. Well, for your information, I've taken care of myself just fine for the past six years, and I've helped out quite a few people like yourself, too. In fact, I can handle myself just fine in a fight, too, and I'm not so dumb and inattentive that I'd get overtaken by a bunch of stupid highway men, and I certainly wouldn't call a lousy bird like that my friend." The raven ruffled its feathers and cackled angrily, leaving Kendra convinced that it did indeed understand her. She simply took the opportunity to stick her tongue out at the bird again. A sigh escaped the man’s lips as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I wasn't attacked by highway-men, and the raven was not trying to eat me, little one. Now, if you are really intent on sticking around, I'd appreciate some peace and quiet. I've got a long road ahead of me, and I could really use some good rest." Her momentary anger forgotten at the mention of a long journey, Kendra found herself spouting another round of curious questions. "So what did happen then? Where are you going? Are you on some kind of quest? I've never been on a quest before, but I bet I could help. Do you--" The man silenced her with a glare as Kendra realized she wasn't being quiet like he'd asked, and she covered her mouth apologetically. "Oh, right. Well, um... here. I'll make up some food for us and we can talk more in the morning. How's that? And if you want, I can take a look at those wounds to make sure they're healing properly. My father was a healer, and he taught me a few tricks of the trade. I've actually got a bit of a knack for it. He was surprised I didn't want to take up the profession myself. One time-- sorry. That's right. Shutting up now." Kendra retrieved her bag and started digging through it for her meal provisions, something she could put together quickly since she hadn't stopped to hunt or gather anything along the road. She was just about to go gather some wood to start a fire, when she realized she hadn't even introduced herself to her new companion or asked his name. The young woman turned quickly on her heel to face him once again, as the raven flew down from its roost in the tree to land on his shoulder. "By the way, my name's Kendra Shakaby. Sorry, I forgot about introductions. What's your name?" The man didn't bother looking at her, reaching a finger up to stroke the raven's chest feathers and feeding it some kind of nut as he spoke. "You may call me Talon." Kendra smiled, not caring or not noticing that he'd avoided giving her an actual name. "Alright, Talon," she said, turning back to resume gathering firewood. "I think we're going to get along just great." |
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