Writers and Writing
The bright slash of light stood out brilliantly against the dark walls of the castle. The congregation gaped in shock as a young woman, no more than twenty, fell out of the light. She had a thick braid of straight black hair hanging down her back, and her faded black outfit was torn so that it bared her midriff. Though it was neatly stitched and sewn once, the rips and mud had destroyed it. Scars and blood, drying and fresh, marred her body. As she lay there, breathing quietly, before any in the hall could respond to the unexpected plight facing them, a man came out of the doorway. He rolled as he fell to the ground, then turned, rose, and seemed to enter a trance. The gateway was closed. Its light was gone. The nobles assembled shifted as though they missed the radiance. Once the man had left his daze, he collapsed back to the ground beside the girl, never pausing for breath.
Lord Stephen Telban gathered as much regality as he could muster to say, “Sir, stand before us, like a gentleman, to tell us your name and your business.”
Ignoring the lord, he began to shake the young lady. Her body was limp, and she never responded. The young man began to shake her more vigorously, to no avail. Just as Lord Telban became angry enough to ask again, the man responded wearily, “Kyle. My name is Kyle” His battered cloak was spread behind him in a fan. Kyle was continuing to try to wake the girl. He began to speak, softly at first, then gradually more firmly.
“Sairla you need to wake up. Sairla, wake up. Please get up. Gods, you cannot die. I wouldn’t want to have to explain to the Order what had happened, and I doubt they would ever forgive me. They will be rather excessively displeased with me if you die. Now up. Wake up. Open your eyes. Get up. Sairla Coven, get up. Now.” He became more and more upset until, when his anger reached its apex, all the rage drained abruptly out of him. “You won’t die. I won’t let you.” His voice firmed into the strongest conviction the lord had ever heard before going completely silent. Everyone in the hall began to realize something was about to happen, and as they did fear crept across their faces. Lord Telban knew what these people were now. He knew that despite their pleasant appearances, they were Phoenix-Sworn. First one voice then over and over the message swept through the hall in a wave.
As the gathering watched with bated breath, Kyle dropped back into his trance. This time he began to glow a steadily stronger red. The reddish-gold of a dangerous sunset. When he opened his eyes, they were entirely colored as though some drop of fire had slipped over the white. He carefully placed one hand on her forehead, and she was immediately encompassed. For several seconds the pair was linked. The girl’s muscles tightened to the point that her back arched off the ground. When every sinew was taut, both were dropped back to the tile, the light vanishing.
The crowd began breathing once more. A buzz of voices rose again, and Lord Stephen sent first for the guards, and then for the healers. The men stared blankly at each other while ladies formed silken circles, rapidly discussing why anyone Phoenix-Sworn would have come here. Above that: in such a fantastical manner. The congregation was so engrossed in debates over the two that they forgot they were even there. Lord Stephen, however, still stared. Kyle and Sairla arose at the same instant. They sat straight up and turned to check the other. With their movement, the hall remembered them. They turned to gape. The two stared back, then glanced at each other and shifted slightly. His black cloak swirling, Kyle retrieved the weapons he had let fall. After they had gathered their belongings, they walked straight to the Lord, who was feeling somewhat faint. Kyle delved into his cloak, removed a considerable gold purse, and threw it at the Lord. Exhaustedly, yet still cynically, he added, “Sorry to have inconvenienced you, my Lord.”
At that both turned and left the hall, stumbling slightly. The congregation was shocked to silence for several minutes before Lord Stephen strode to the front of the frightened mass and announced, “Do not fear for they have gone. They are of no concern to us. Yet, for the good of our city I will find out who they are. I will then confront them. Worry not. Pray, return to your drinks and the once more peaceful party in the rooms of my home.”
The Lord had no intention of confronting them, but he did want to know who they were. That he would find out if he had to search all of Triati Fon, all of the First Lands, but he would start in his own city; Falnad.
The sky was pitch black and the street lamps lit, casting a hazy glow on the city. Kyle was nearly jogging to keep time with his partner. He had not visited Triati Fon since his childhood, but the streets were primarily the same. When he finally saw the inn, he shouted for Sairla to stop. With a passionate glare, she did, and waited for him.
It was a low building, rank with the stench of decay, but it was empty save two old men in a dark corner. A potbellied, red-faced man walked to meet them, and remained silent.
“We need a private room and a good meal.”
“I c’n guarantee the room, but I can’t speak for a good meal. Ya got local gold or Arqualan?”
Kyle pulled one of the purses from his belt and shook it once. “I have enough that I expect an excellent meal, sir. Where’s this room?”
The innkeeper snatched the purse and drew back his teeth in a semblance of a smile. “Follow me.” He led them to the back of the building where a sturdy door ended the hallway. “I’ll send the meal when it’s done cooking.”
Kyle paused at the door, in shock of what was before him. The room was neat and clean with half a dozen lit sconces and a cheerful fire. There were two beds, a table and chairs, all of which were in good condition. Gold affects everyone. He thought humorlessly.
Sairla had already claimed a bed, and was now peeling off her outer clothing. Kyle idly healed the injuries on his own body, knowing she would refuse any help. He decided it was safest to stay quiet until they had both eaten, and so, for some time they rested peacefully.
The innkeeper brought their food in, leaving immediately. Kyle sat wearily down, barely able to stay awake. Neither said anything; one for the sake of exhaustion, and one for the sake of anger, so they merely relaxed, lavishing in the meal. The cook had given them large bowls of rabbit stew, dotted with carrots and potatoes, slabs of cheese, loaves of wheat bread, sweet rolls, assorted dried fruits, a meat pie, a flagon of ale and a pitcher of wine. In all, it was enough to feed the better part of the Hotharian army. Exhausted, they spent more than an hour swept away by the scents and tastes.
When the entire meal was wiped away, Kyle stared harshly into Sairla’s eyes. “I’m tired, which means you are probably just as tired, if not more. Please, don’t try to deny it. Now that we’ve eaten, we need to rest, so fall asleep Sairla. We won’t be found here, and we can move on later tonight. Go to sleep.”
Sairla stared back at him, and announced plainly, “No. First, you are going-”
“We have had this conversation before, Sairla.”
“Yes, and you always manage to wriggle out of it. I want an explanation.”
“You aren’t going to get one Sairla, as you know.” Her pale blue eyes narrowed, and he winced. Her black hair shadowed her face, and in the firelight, her dark skin, already carrying an undertone of amber, glowed. With such an angular face, no one would ever call her a beauty, but she was still a very handsome woman. The cuts on her arms were healing, but the drying red streaks left her ominously resemblent of death.
“Then I have no point in staying do I?” She rose quickly, but Kyle was on his feet and blocking her path before she could leave.
“So you had a reason before?”
“I had to choose between following you and a painful death. I chose to follow; something I’ve regretted every day since.”
She tried to push past him, but he grabbed her arms and held her in place. “Sairla, I have told you what I can, which is almost everything I know. I was sent for you. I was sent to bring you back to Valen Mor. The order came personally from Ellisyn. If I have to I’ll knock you unconscious, tie you to the back of my horse and drag you the rest of the way. After all, they only said alive, with no mention of what condition you were to be in.”
“Why?” She snapped, “Why did you come after me?”
“Because I was given an order.” He shouted for what felt like the hundredth time. They were starting the same circular conversation that they had had a dozen times since he had found her two months before.
“And if I don’t want to go?”
“It’s not your choice.”
“Yes it is. My life is my choice.”
“Why are you here then?”
“Because there was an army at my door, I didn’t have many options.”
“I am following a direct order in this. If it was up to me I would have left you there the first time you refused, but I can’t. Why do you hate me so much?”
“I have known you for two months, and in that time my sister was murdered, my house was destroyed, I’ve had to leave my home, ride across the plains in the middle of winter, I’ve been shot at, stabbed, and I nearly drowned. Not to mention the fact that some mage is hell-bent on killing me. You might have a hard time keeping a cheerful mind too.” She stopped, and carefully cracked the knuckles of both hands, then continued, “I just want to go home.”
“You have no home. It was destroyed, you know that, Sairla.”
“Kyle, you know what I mean.”
“Well, you can’t go back either. You are going to be Phoenix Sworn whether you want to or not. My job is to make sure you’re alive till then. Be quiet, go to sleep, and don’t even bother trying to run. You have no one left, and no where to go.”
Remarkably she did not argue a word. Her face fell imperceptibly, something he said had stuck, and she went immediately to her bed, still fully clothed.
Quietly, he set the locks so they could open only when his hand touched the door. He claimed the second bed and fell into a deep sleep.
An hour and a half later Kyle woke up. He wanted nothing more than to return to his dreams, but it was not an option. Stretching as he rose, the cloak was repositioned and he slipped from the room.
The innkeeper was asleep in the main room, but awoke to the jangle of a purse.
“What do ye want?”
“Twenty years ago a man came in here, accompanied by a small boy. The man saved your life that night during the riot. His name was Tunar ver’Sakine. When you asked him how you might repay the debt, he asked you to keep something for him. He also asked that you give it to another man who would be able to retell the story, and when you had found that man, your debt would be repaid.”
The man nodded dumbly, and walked to the wall. He counted off the wooden planks, and finally hit one with all his strength. A wave of dust and dirt rolled out, clouding into the air, and blurring both men’s vision. He hit it again, a second wave of dust emerged, and a few seconds later, they heard a small bump, like something had fallen. The innkeeper pushed the board until it swung out entirely. From the dark hole in the wall he drew a long wooden box. Kyle accepted it with a small bow.
“Thank you. My companion and I will be leaving soon. Do you have any horses you wish to sell? They need to be healthy, but I will pay you well.”
“I’ve got two in the back. Yer the boy aren’t ye?”
“Yes,” Kyle paused, “How did you know? I doubt that I look the same.”
“You’ve got a scar on yer jaw. That little boy got cut there real bad. Give me the gold, an’ go get yer woman, I’ll have the horses ready for ye.”
The high clock in Falnad was striking two when a pair of black-cloaked figures swept out of the eastern gate into a moonless night.
I'm not sure why I'm posting this particular section online, but I am. Whatever.