The Prophecy: an Epic Adventure (Dawg and Aestas)

Started by Dawg, July 17, 2008, 10:28:41 AM

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Dawg

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[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Dawg

All was still in the valley as the mist drifted in from the sea nearby clinging to the mountains. Birds twittered in the foggy damp as clouds hid the sun.  A rat came down the slope, falling head over heals as it slipped on the moss covered rocks.  Righting itself, it made for the clump of crooked cedar trees at the base of the mountain.

Kinngar Garlerran had been working the fields all day and thankful for the clouds covering the sun while he toiled.  He had finished laying the seeds on the back parcel and was finally glad that he would have more time to practice the blacksmithing that his uncle taught him over this past winter.
He was 17 now, almost a man at 18 and would be venturing out on his own, away from this god forsaken valley.  Nothing ever happened here and he always wondered why his uncle would choose such a place so far from civilization.  They hardly ever had visitors and when they did they were usually to old soldier friends of his uncle, never anything more exciting than a bowl of cold soup.  But his uncle and aunt preferred it that way, this life of boring seclusion and he had no choice but to accept.

His family had been killed in a freak accident in Auchland when he was 11 and he had been sent here to live with his only known living relative. He thought about his Father, mother and older brother as he took the plow horse to the barn and washed her down.  It had been 6 yeas now that he lived here and every day he grew more restless.  Thinking of the stories his father would tell of his time in the wars and the glorious battles that he and his uncle fought in.  His uncle never liked to talk about those days and would quickly shut Kinngar up whenever he would mention them.  He would tell him that only fools fought in the wars and that they were the cause of these dark times now befallen on the lands.

He finished with the animals and headed in just in time for a bowl of peasant soup his aunt had been making all day while he had been in the field.  They were a poor family who harvested just enough to make it through the winter and a little extra for his uncle to sell in the markets in Auchland.  But his uncle would never even let him travel there with him, said it was too dangerous for him there ever since his family was killed.  That argument held no logic for Kinngar though, his family was killed in and accident, so why would it be too dangerous for him to travel there now.  But it was no use arguing any more, his uncle would never budge.

After they finished dinner he set up his studies in the corner like he did every night.  His uncle and aunt insisted that he be schooled in the ways of science and math even though he knew he would never have a need for them. As soon as he was 18 he was going to leave and go out into the world to find adventure and make a name for himself.  He remembered some of the lessons his father taught him about fighting with a sword and he would practice whenever he had a chance with some wooden ones he had hidden behind the barn.  His uncle caught him one time when he was careless and severely beat him for it.  So he was much more cautious about his practice now and made sure his uncle had left the farm before he would do it.

His studies complete for the night he crawled up into his cramped room in the rafters of the house and readied himself for bed, but something tugged at him this night and he couldn't get to sleep.  There was something in the mist tonight and it gave him chills.  A dark and onerous feeling that he couldn't shake, like something was about to happen but he couldn't figure out what.  He looked down and his uncle and aunt were fast asleep, yet he wasn't tired and so he just lay there looking at the ceiling.  Then out of the dark he heard something outside in the barn.  Something had the animals stirred up and he knew the wolves had come back.  He climbed down and went to wake his uncle but instead thought that if he took care of them on his own, then he could prove to his uncle that he was a man now and he would allow him to practice. So he slipped out the door with his uncle's sword and headed for the barn.

As he approached the barn, it was eerily quiet, not even the insects making their nighttime symphony.  The mist was thick tonight as he approached the door and he was afraid he was too late.  But the wolves would still be there, why was there no noise.  Quietly he drew the sword and made his way into the barn.  What came into sight was more than he could ever imagine, all of the animals had been slaughtered, but not by wolves, by men. They were either shot by arrows or their throats cut.  He panicked, not knowing what to do and tripped over a bucket landing face first in the dirt trying to get out of there.  He ran back to the house as fast as he could making his way across the farmyard as fast as the falcons flew in the sky and as he approached the house he began yelling for his uncle.

Darting in thought the open door he found a sight worse than the barn.  His aunt lay across the bed, 5 arrows sticking out of her bosom, the blood soaking the hay mattress as it poured out of her wounds.  His uncle lay on the floor face up in a pool of his blood still spurting from the open wound to his neck.

Kinngar's heart seemed to stop and he couldn't find his breathe.  It was as if a 500 pound boulder was sitting on his chest as he stood there for he doesn't recall how long staring at the lifeless bodies.  When finally he found his breathe and was about to approach the bodies he felt something behind him and chills ran down his spine like bolts of lightening piercing a stormy sky.  Still holding the sword in his hand, he turned and there standing in the doorway was a figure silhouetted against the dark mist outside. Holding a sword and staring back at him.  He froze and stood looking at the figure not knowing what to do next.

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[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Though the night might be quiet, most sleeping in their respective beds or dens, one was up and prowling. Quietly does she slip the shadows near the small unassuming farm stead as she normally does most nights. Though tonight was different, normally she made one round every few hours, resting and sleeping in between, but tonight something in her gut told her to be watchful.

Alkajira, or simply Jira as the locals knew her, was not all that she seemed. The village thought her to be a simple serving girl, in her father's tavern. The Tavern aptly named, was just as unassuming as the farm stead, opened six years before when Kinngar had moved in with his uncle. Jira herself had been but fifteen at that time, now a grown woman of twenty one.

However, there had been a few whispers of her own quiet demeanor, of her brooding posture and sometimes surliness in the establishment. This is because Jira was no ordinary serving girl. From the time she had been able to lift a practice sword of wood, her father had been training her. Training her for this night it seemed to the woman.

Hair, black as a starless night, was pinned in a tight braid wound and bound in such a fashion that there was not much dangling for someone to grip. Instead of the gowns she was forced to wear to keep a low profile during the day, her body was clad in tight leather breeches and tunic, not a strap loosened to hinder her movements. A long iron sword swayed at her hip, one long tapered hand steadies the hilt as she crouches low.

She had been in the woods when the animal noises had alerted her, but whoever was behind this attempt was well organized, not only were there a group slaughtering the animals but also ringing the perimeter. Two such people lay dead behind her, one whose throat had been cut ear to ear, and another with a deep gash slicing from his hip to shoulder. This had slowed her down.

Then she hears his voice calling through the air, and she swore under her breath. He was announcing his where abouts to anyone around, stupid fool..the ungracious thought slipped through her mind even as her own silence was broken. Her feet fall now fully against the ground, rounding the cabin just in time for him to slip in and to see the figure of a swords man round the opposite corner behind him.

A grunt is given, and her sword is once more swinging into action. While the man focused hsi gaze on Kinngar, his face stony and emotionalless, even as a thin blade emerges from his sternum, then slices upwards until he slowly slides off, landing with a wet sound face first onto the floor. From the shadows Alkajira steps over the dead body, her dark brows knitting together, sapphire eyes blazing darkly. "By the gods get down..do you not see the arrows?" Her voice might have been melodic if not for the impatient demanding tones there in, her shoulder bracing against the door jam as she attempts to assess where the archers might be laid in waiting.

"We have to get you out of here...keep your voice down..we have to move now but you will need more then your night clothing...hurry and change..The others come.." No sympathies does she offer, nor does she seem particularly bothered by the now three dead people littering the cabin. "Get your uncle's clothing rather then try and climb up unless you have some on the lower floor...go!"

Dawg

Kinngar stands motionless and his mind goes almost completely blank as the man in the doorway raises his sword and begins to step through the doorway.  Like a fox caught in a hunters trap he sees his end near and fails to see why.  Why would they attack and kill a poor farmer, wife and innocent nephew.  The world is a cruel place and the evil seeps darker and covers more everyday.  His uncle was a fool to say otherwise.

“Well, I won’t go so easily whoever you are coming to slaughter an old man and woman, I am a warrior so come try if you can.”  He knows his threat is a hollow straw man, but he hopes his assailant doesn’t think so.  As he begins to raise his uncle’s sword the man begins to lunge at him and time seems to stand still for that instance as he goes over everything he practiced hoping beyond hope that he can pull this off.

But as the man lunges at him another sword runs through him and slice him upwards while he falls to the floor.  And behind him stands a young woman not much older than he is.  Clad in leather armor and the moves of a trained warrior looking back at him.  She shouts something about archers and getting dressed, but he doesn’t catch it all.  Is she here to help him, or slay him herself, he doesn’t know.

.

He raises his sword and points it at her as she barks her commands.  "I don’t know who you are or what is happening, but I demand some answers before I ….” As he is looking into her eyes he recognizes her, it the maid down at the in the village, it’s Jira?  “Jira, is that you, what is happening, why do these men want to kill us and what are you doing here, you are a, a bar maid?” He drops his sword as he now knows who it is and the questions start pouring through his mind like leaves blowing on a fall day.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira sighs and rolls her eyes a bit, she had argued with her late father about keeping Kinngar in the dark of his heritage, and this is the result. He was totally and completely unprepared.

Jerking away from the wall, her movements quick and light as she passes through the room, one arm reaching out in an attempt to grab his arm. " They don't want to kill us, they want to kill you. Just be quiet and listen to me for now, can you do that? Just try to get dressed, and we will go out the back way, through the trail down the river. Come make haste unless you want arrows to adorn your body."

Turning she moves back towards the door, once more peering out into the darkness. "While you dress, listen as well. Don't ask questions, we don't have time for you to be distracted. Just dress." Her sword lowers lightly even as she squats to check over the dead man's pockets. "For centuries our two families have been intertwined, your family is the keeper of an ancient lore necessary for the continued survival of our world. My family is the keeper of your family, we have stood guard at your doors every day, of every year for the last three hundred years."

Dawg

“Me, I’m nothing more than an orphaned farm boy, why would they want to kill me?”  As he is saying that he makes his way over to his uncle trunk and opens it up.  Pulling the contents out he gets to the bottom and pushing on a secret lever the false bottom opens up and he pulls out his uncles old set of leather armor.  “Well, if you are right, then I suppose he won’t need this anymore and it almost fits me.”

As she relates the story he dons the armor like he has done this before, but misses a couple of straps and it fits him loosely.  He is almost a man and about the same build as his uncle, but still has some growing to do.  He finishes getting the gear on and straps the sword and scabbard to the belt.  “I don’t understand what you are saying, are we related?”

“Wait, one more thing before we go.”  Scrambling upstairs he grabs a pendent hidden in a false pocket in the wall. Jira scowls at him as he climbs up the stairs, but he cannot leave it behind.  He comes down and puts the medallion around his neck and tucks it in.  It is an image of a lion pouncing on a dragon.

“I have no idea precisely what this symbolizes, but it was my fathers before me and his fathers before him, my uncle gave it to me after my parents died and I came here to live.  Now, I still don’t understand what you are talking or what is going on here, but I agree we can talk later, who goes first, me or you.”  As he says the words he thinks to himself, what kind of man are you Kinngar, it always ladies first.  “Right, I will stay and protect your retreat, now go.”


[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira waits mostly impatiently as she presses herself against the doorframe. Her black hair barely moving with the movement of the furiously shaking head. "Not now Kinnegar. I will answer your questions when we don't have a half a dozen men trying to kill you shall we? No tellin gwhat they will hear and take back."

She almost looks as if she was tapping her foot as she watches him don the armor, biting her tongue when he misses a few straps. An exasperated sigh is given when he scrambles upwards, "Hurry!" she admonishes in a hissed tone. "Unless you just want to hand yourself over on a silver platter."

When he finally got down once more, her eyes narrow as she sees the pendant, looking almost a little distant before she shakes her head once more. "Indeed you will follow me out, but you are not to do anything foolish as running off to slay a would be attacker. You will not be protecting my 'retreat' but staying firmly behind me, and not getting in the way of the back swing. Stay close, keep your head down." She waits only a beat before she slips out into the darkness, crouching low.

Dawg

As Jira slips outside, Kinngar keeps his lips sealed and follows right behind her, almost bumping into her at one point as he looks back and doesn’t notice her stopped.   He regains himself and is awestruck that this barmaid can move faster and quieter than the ablest hunter he has ever met.

As they cross into the woods he carelessly steps on a branch hearing it crack lightly under his foot, and exasperated sigh leaves his lips ever so quietly until he looks up and sees the eyes of Jira, looking more intense and angry than his Uncle ever did so he stops and remains quiet.

After she turns and silently moves ahead he follows as he hears the men ransacking the house before they set it ablaze in a chorus of whoops and hollers.  Hoping they are satisfied he regains his breath and continues behind Jira until they are up and over the top of the first ridge, where he stops to look back at the farmstead for what he now knows will be the last time.

The house and barn are both engulfed in flames and the mean are shouting something, but he doesn’t make out what it is.  He silently says a prayer for his aunt and uncle and turns to catch up with Jira who hasn’t stopped.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira fumed silently as she leads the young boy out and over the ridge. She was not really mad at him, it was not his fault he was an untrained, heavy footed farmboy. He should have been trained, he should have been told and he should have been prepared. She intends on changing that as soon as they were well away from here.

It is apparent, now, that the evil had found the blood line he had been looking for. With the Uncle dead, his blood slightly diluted but might have done well enough, Kinnegar was now the sole heir, the sole protector of humanity. This young man who could not even walk five steps without making his presence known, holds the very world within the palm of his hand.

Silently she continues on, not speaking, and only allowing her displeasure being known by the glares sent towards him. Will he crack beneath the pressure of his birthrite? Will he step up and become the hero he needs to be? Will he disbelieve and run away? Only time will tell.

It is some miles that they travel, her in silence and only giving him glares if he dared to try and speak. It was not until they came upon a great ravine does she stop, shealthing her sword and absently rotating her shoulder. The moon has now set, and all was quiet and dark.

"We make camp here, no fire. It might get chilly and we do not have provisions at this moment, but we will remedy that in the morning." Turning, she looks at Kinnegar for the first time in the whole evening with slightly softened eyes. "It has been an eventful night. You should try to sleep, I will stand guard."

Dawg

After he turned to follow her down from the ridge Kinnegar did his best to keep up with her as they made their way through the forest.  Never stopping Jira continued to press forward along the trails that she obviously had traveled many times and was brilliant at navigating, even in the dark and mist.

As they traveled he attempted to ask her questions but each time he even whispered her only response was the glare from her piercing eyes.  Just who does she think she is he thought to himself, this server from the tavern bossing him around.  But there were far deeper questions cursing through his mind at the moment.  What is all this talk about him, and why anyone would send so many men to kill a hapless farm boy who’s only protection was his uncle?  And the sadness of the loss of his uncle and aunt, that has not even set in yet.

Jira finally stops by the side of a large ravine and Kinnegar sits on a large boulder resting himself from the journey.  He is used to traveling such distances, but not after an entire day and night without sleep and especially not after running from whoever it is they were running from.  Jira looks at him and for the first time he sees the Jira he knows looking back at him instead of the glare from the taskmaster.

“I won’t argue with you about sleeping, I can’t go another step and am about to collapse anyway.  But before I lay down, tell me what is going on and why are those men after us.  Did my uncle do something wrong?”
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira sighs softly as she settles down on the ground, her knees bend beside her in a startling feminine pose considering the garb she was wearing. Her sword is lain gently across her lap, and from one of her many hidden pouches came a sharpening stone.

"You nor your Uncle did anything wrong Kinnegar, though it would have helped the situation much more so if he had told you about yourself and prepared you." Her words were hushed and she did not look at him, though her ears were attuned to the sounds of the forest around them, listening for anything out of the ordinairy.

"It is late and we do not have the luxury of sleeping in tomorrow, so we will just cut to the fundamentals and you will not keep yourself awake by asking questions that we need hours to discuss." This last is said in the voice of the commander once more, rather then the softer voice of the barmaid, her dark eyes raising once more to look at him evenly. "Suffice to say your of special birth. Your ancestor was once King of all that you see, all of the known land was under his rule, and a wise ruler he was. The land was at peace, and the people prospered under his loving guidance."

Kajira fell silent for a moment, the whetstone being the only sound in the night air for a very long minute. "That was until the evil was loosed upon the world. The evil threatened to swallow the countryside whole, twisting and corrupting mens hearts in wickedness, tempting the most holy of men to the path of corruption. The evil had one goal, and one goal alone. To swallow the world whole in its malice, to caste all of humanity into the shadow of iniquity."

"There was another man of some import to the story, the King's best friend since boyhood and his closest advisor. His champion of arms, and his commanding General. That man was my Great grandfather many times over. Together they bound the evil in a vault of the most holy of magic, the blood of the king locks the cage. So long as his blood was on the throne, then the evil will remain bound, but over the years the people forgot and your blood line was overthrown. Since then my family, who my ancestor bound in an oath to protect your blood line, has watched over yours, waiting for the time of the stirring evil knowing it was soon at hand...It seems the evil is now aware of worldly events."

Dawg

Kinngar sits on the rock catching his breath and wishing he had grabbed some type of supplies from the house.   The mist and darkness have an eerie chill in them tonight and he wished he had a blanket.

He listens to Jira as she relates the story to him and he thinks she has vaguely gone insane, he is no king in charge of the land, and what is this evil she speaks about, but he listens none the less.  She must be confused, but she saved him from those bandits at least and he is grateful for that.  She finishes and he speaks, “I don’t know how much of what you say is true Jira, but you did safe me back there and I am in your debt for that.  I agree that we need to rest and I am in no condition to fight you about a watch tonight.  We can talk more in the morning.  Thank You for everything tonight."

He brushes away some debris from the ground and curls up to shelter himself from the chill before quickly drifting off.  It is a restless sleep; he sees his uncle and Aunt on the ground in the house just as he found them in their pool of blood, and then his father standing over them as he looks up at him with a look of despair on his face.  As he reaches out for his father he disappears and a shadow whisks in with burning red eyes and the gaze burns right down to his core.  He feels as though the shadow is pulling at his very soul before a sword cuts through the aberration and Jira is standing by his side.

He awakes with a scream covered in sweat and bolts upright looking for Jira.  His breathing heavy he hears only the sounds of the woods and the wind as it blows through the ravine and wonders if this feeling is what fear really feels like.  His heart is pounding and his finger feel numb as he blinks his eyes staring into the still and misty dark of night.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira simply nodded towards him when he speaks, she did not expect him to believe her this night. It was going to be a very long few days until she deemed they were safe enough for her to grab a good sleep, longer still before she has trained him enough to trust him with a watch by himself. That was something she intended on doing, training him for a sword in an untrained ally's hand is much moer dangerous then a sword in a trained enemy's hand.

Watching as he settles himself down, waiting until the even breathing signified that he was asleep before she stands. Taking the time of solitude to slump her shoulders, and wipe her hand wearily over her face, before she begins walking the circuit of the little 'camp'. So far so good, it didn't look as if his attackers have found the small trail but best be safe then sorry.

That was when she heard his scream. Without hesitation she crashes back to the camp, not taking the circuit but slashing through the undergrowth, to find, nothing. Only him. "What?" She barks, her heart racing slightly, sword readied, scanning the darkness.

Dawg

Jira,” Kinnegar calls to her as she bolts into camp.  His eye sullen and his cheeks flushed while he is shaking and dowsed in sweat. 

Almost in tears he turns to her, still sitting where he had bed down for the night, “Tell me, I need to know if you are being honest with me.  Was everything you told me last night the truth?  I need to know what this thing is that is hunting down my family.”  At the end of his questions, the sight of his Aunt, Uncle and father flash through his mind and then the shadow.  He screams a silent scream and jumps back as though avoiding a blow from some weapon and then falls forward holding his head in his hands, sobbing finally realizing that he is alone in this world with no family.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

At the sight of his face, Jira relaxes somewhat and sheaths her sword once more. But she does not remain where she was, immediately she starts forward, dropping to her knees in front of him with a deep sigh before attempting to put her arms around him.

"Have you ever known me to lie Kinnegar, or to make up tall tales?" She speaks in a soft voice, her tones almost crooning. "No one really knows what it is, only that your bloodlines can keep it contained. It would be easier for you if you had been informed, prepared but your father wanted you to have a normal life. As well as it was thought that the fewer people knew of your past the less likely it would be found out." She caresses his back gently if he allows, trying to be soothing but this was not in her training, so she was awkward at best.

"I know you hurt now Kinnegar, but know that the evil that hunts you is responsible for the deaths of your family, perhaps even your father. Allow the hurt to channel against this evil."

Dawg

Kinnegar sits with his head between his knees hands covering his face sobbing as Jira speaks and when she awkwardly reaches for him he holds back no longer and wraps his arms around her squeezing tightly and buries his head in her shoulder as he continues to weep.  He gathers himself a bit and begins breathing with the help of her comfort and releasing leans back and looks straight into her eyes.

With a trembling voice, still trying to catch his breath, sounding like a brook running over some rocks he says, “Thank you for being there tonight.  If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I surely would have died back there with my aunt and uncle.  I still don’t know what all this is that you speak about, but I believe what you say now.  Promise you won’t leave me.”

Taking his sleeve he wipes his nose and sniffles back some of his sorrow and fear.  He then wipes his eyes and looks into back at her again, this time with a bit more muster in his crackling voice and determination in his words.  “You really know how to use that sword don’t you?  Can you teach me what you know?”
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira does not try to extricate herself from his grasp, nor does she try to shy away from him as he cries against her shoulders. She might have had most of the propriety of womanhood trained out of her at an early age, most of societal expectations of a woman gone, yet there was still the knowledge that comfort was needed when another human was despairing.

"Aiyah I will teach you how to handle yourself with a sword, a dagger, and a pole if need be. However you need to sleep, tomorrow we must go. There is a man who can help you..with other things..that I can not. We must get to him before we are discovered." She backes away somewhat, setting down by a tree with her back towards it. "I'll not leave you Kinnegar, this I swear to you. As you are bound to contain the evil, I am bound to ensure your safety...even with my own life. So long as I draw breath, I will be here."

Dawg

Satisfied with the answer, Kinnegar is unashamed by his act of weeping.  He looks back over at Jira, “Thanks again, I promise to be a fast and able learner so I can one day seek revenge on this evil that hunts me down now and has killed my family.  Wake me when it is time to leave.

He adjust the ground once more and lies down listlessly, to exhausted to even turn he falls right back to sleep.  This time no nightmares visit him in his slumber, he finds comfort in the silence of his slumber as rest peacefully knowing that Jira is there to watch over him.  He does have thoughts but no dreams of his father and mother, the last time he saw them in the market that day, before he went into the shop and they were ran over by that runaway carriage.  He would have been killed to had he not moments before slip off the street into that shop.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira settles down for the night, her back against a tree and in her lap a knot of wood that was only the expanse of her lap. She smiles at his words, but when she finally speaks he might already be asleep, "Good Kinnegar. Keep that resolve..you will need it in the coming weeks."

Sighing she works through the night, a sharpened knife quickly becoming dulled only to be sharpened once more flashes occasionally in the moonlight. Her eyes are on her little project, but her ears are alert for any sounds out of the ordinairy. Here, in the darkness with the young king asleep and she was all alone once again, Jira did let just a moment of self pity slide through her. A moment to think of what might have been had she herself not been born to a oathbound family. A family of her own would have surely already been started, a house with a warm fire...soft hands like a lady and not the calloused hands of a swordswoman. But this moment does not last long, before it is squelched with just a single glance towards the sleeping boy.

A smile is given, he needed her. The world needed him. That was all there was to it.

Day break came, casting an eerie fog through out the forest, and a weary Jira stands with her finished product in her hands that she pulled over to the sleeping Kinnegar. Tossing it down beside him, she nudged him gently with her foot. "Wake up. We need to make some ground today." Beside him lays a very crudely carved wooden sword. Its 'blade' no where near straight thanks to the knots in the wood Jira had found, but if he hefts it he will see it weighs close to the same as any real sword, which is the end goal that Jira was aiming. "Take up your weapon. The first thing you learn is to get comfortable with the extra weight. So today, you will carry the wooden sword, you will continue to carry it until I have taught you enough bladesmanship so that you willnot be lopping my head off by accident."

Dawg

#19
It was a gorgeous day in the forest today Kinnegar contemplated as he made his way through the branches with the morning sun leeching through the dark canopy above stabbing shafts of light onto the colorful forest floor beneath his feet.  He had gotten up early and spent most of the morning tracking and running down the buck before him.  A Majestic creature with horns the size of his own arms and enough meat on its bones to feed the homestead for a month.  Silently he raised his bow and notched the arrow taking careful aim so not to squander this perfect opportunity, times like this came not too often.  As he pulled back on the bowstring he breathed easy and – Thump – he felt himself hit in the side of his ribs, not hard in a physical sense but enough to wake him from his dream.

The scene before his half raised eyes was far from the tranquility and peace he was at on the other side.  It took a moment for him to adjust to the mist drifting over the hilltop.  That same odd mist that had come into the valley about a month ago and had yet to leave.  The bright orange and gold’s of the morning sun in his dream was replaced by the dark gray clouds and chilly air that accompanied the mist.  Nowhere to be heard were the meadowlark praising the day, instead there was a raven crowing from a treetop on the next ridge and a field mouse scurried to find shelter in a pile of rocks.

As his mind awoke and his senses returned he heard Jira telling him they needed to get moving and saw the wooden sword sitting next to him.  Finely carved, well as finely carved as one can do with a bad piece of wood and only a couple of hours in the dark, but it was good none the less.  Her stern and somewhat commanding voice had returned and he knew they needed to get moving.  As he sat up the full force of his memories from the previous evening hit him and he once again saw his Aunt and Uncle lying there and the dreams of his Mother Father and brother that faithful day.  He had cried a lot the night before, but he still had some left in him, however today was the first day on his step to manhood.  If Jira is correct then he would no longer have the luxury for such petty emotions, still a single tear dropped on his cheek and as it rolled over his lips he could taste the salty sting.

He reached down and picked up the wooden practice sword and tested it for balance, he was no expert swordsman but he felt he could hold his own.  It felt good in his hand, heavy as his uncles sword, more so than the ones he had made and hid behind the barn and well balanced.  "I promise that the day until we can practice with real swords will not be long off then Jira," he commands with confidence and he swings the wooden blade in a graceful arc behind his back bringing it back around and up over his head with a hearty blow that would have meant a mortal wound to an open attacker.  While it looked graceful on the outside he knew inside that it  took far to much concentration still to handle the blade in such a way and promised himself that he would practice at every opportunity.

“Let’s get moving then Jira, to find this man you speak of.  Every minute we waste standing here  is one more minute that thing grows stronger.”



[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira raises a brow, slightly surprised at his words but she would not show the pride she feels at hearing him say such a thing. Nodding, her normally well kept hair frayed and ragged, and though she did not get any sleep at all last night her step was firm and determined though her eyes held slightly darkened circles.

"While we walk, I will tell you the ways you will die." Her voice barely sounding exerted as she begins to lead him through the underbrush, off the beaten path. "First try not to leave too many signs that you walked through here..walk in my steps, don't disturb anything you do not have to."

That instruction out of the way, Jira continued, carefully placing her foot in places that might not leave too much of an impression. On roots, or logs preferably, though she did have to walk through leaves which would leave a telltale imprint if they had skilled trackers. "First is, never keep your eye glued on your opponents sword. Thats what they want you to do. More fatalities occur from shields, and off weapons then swords themselves because the defender never saw it coming."


Dawg

Kinnegar felt some of his bravado melt off as Jira mentioned telling him the ways he would die.  But his resolve congealed a little more as he thought about it and the hard realization that he was becoming a man sank in.  No longer was he to be a happy go lucky boy chasing woodland creatures and fighting mythical foes.  He realized that the next time he had to raise his sword there would be a real warrior on the other side who meant to end his life.  He vowed to himself that he would pay attention to his teachings.  He still didn’t know exactly who Jira was or how she came to know what she did, but she has proven herself so far and he had no one else to trust, so he resolved to trust her completely until she broke that trust.

He followed behind her watching her steps and learning where she walked.  He realized after a bit that she wasn’t thinking about the next step every time, but following the path she had set out 10 steps ahead every time so she knew exactly where she was going.  At first he was right with her moving step for step and having an easy time of it, but after a while he found it bear down on him and fatigue began to set in, but that wouldn’t stop him. 

He stepped up on a log and not paying full attention and hit a moss spot slipping off catching himself with his ribs against the log with a thump and a loss of breathe.  He looked up and saw the look of disdain from Jira but instead of resenting the look he knew that she would be a hard teacher and caught his breathes to move on.  Another time he lost attention and didn’t see the branch she had held for him to catch until too late as it smacked him in the face giving him a small but stinging cut across the cheek, this time when he cleared his eyes from the tears and sudden shock he could have sworn he saw her smiling.

He also listened to her as she spoke about defense and not paying attention to the sword, this made sense and he thought about wrestling with the other boys at the fair.  He had learned early not to watch their hands or feet but rather pay attention to their chest to see which way they would move.   Again he realized that she was speaking the truth and soaked up every word.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

The twigs snapped back at him waiting to catch him off guard was two fold. The first was to teach him to always be aware of his surroundings, to always be on guard. The other, because it was slightly amusing to her as he scrambled and learned things that she learned at her fathers knee as young as three.

When he slipped on moss a second time, or failed to catch the thwap of a branch once too often she finally slowed. "We will stop and rest for ten minutes. Sit." She ordered easily, though she did not seem winded or fatigued, she too settles against the ground, her legs raising so that her knees were against her chest, one of the few completely feminine things she allows herself.

"You did well, but you need practice in watching the surroundings rather then one thing. Do not allow the focus of one tree to take away from the view of the entire forest. There needs to be an even compromise on how much attention you give each detail, wihtout losing sight of the entire picture.*

Dawg

Thankfully Kinnegarr saw Jira stop in a small clearing and he caught up to her this time, but his small sense of victory was dashed when she said they were stopping to rest and he realized he hadn’t caught up, but that she stopped.

He collapsed back on his rump and spread his legs out in front of himself taking advantage of the moments he had.  He reached around and took his canteen taking a swig of water and placed it back on his belt.  Still trying to catch his breath, he looked at her as she spoke with beads of sweat coming down his forehead.  “Pay attention to my surrounding,” he thought, “I have a hard enough time just trying to pay attention to you” only after he thought it he realized he had said it out loud.

Catching himself, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be disrespectful, I mean I know you are trying to teach me your ways, but it’s just I have never done this before.  How did you learn all of this and get so good at it?”
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira looked across the small space between them, her eyes shuttered as it may seem that she might not answer at all. Finally, settling back against the tree, her eyes slip away and close, though her body remains tense and aware.

"It is overwhelming but you do not have the luxury of learning this in steps." She speaks quietly, not uncompassionately but definitely unsympathetically. "I have trouble figuring out if I envy you, or pity you."

A rueful smile lifts the corners of her mouth, and her hands raise to run her palms against each other, every callouse, every rough patch registering in her mind. "On one hand, you were allowed a small lifetime of innocence and carefree existence. While I was taught from the time I could stand the importance of my role. Had events not taken place, you would have lived a life time of blissful ignorance, having a family and dying peacefully. While I would have either had to make do with a weak man who would not interfer much with my duties to protect you."

Opening her eyes, to turn her gaze back to him, one brow arched. "On the other hand, you are woefully unprepared, you are now being forced to realize all this in the span of time that boggles the mind, and whilst you grieve. You are at greater risk then I, bcause I have been training for this moment forever, while you trained to be a farmer."

Dawg

Kinnegarr listened to her reply and his position sunk in even further than before.  True, no matter how much he resented his uncle for not letting him grow, he had been sheltered.  He could go into the woods and do most anything he pleased.  As the harsh reality continued to imbue itself on his mind, he thought if he would ever be able go out and spend a lazy afternoon fishing by a bubbling brook or sit at the side of a meadow at dawn when the sun came up painting the sky with blazing color of orange, purple and blue while he watched a mother and young buck cross to feed.

Yes, those images are fast becoming distant and being clouded by the shadow from his dream last night.  The sight of his aunt and uncle lying on the floor just night before with their life essence draining from them, and his family being run over in the streets which he now knows was a murder.  Yes his life was changing and at a speed unthinkable to any being alive.

“You are right Jira, I am unprepared for what stands before me, but I swear to you that I will do whatever must be done to make up that difference so we can defeat whatever it is that you talk about. Let’s get moving, we are wasting time sitting here.”

He stands and offers his hand to her to help her up.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

"Indeed." She says flatly as he speaks. Taking one last look at her rough, calloused hands she sighs lightly and slips her hand into his and climbed to her feet. She could have done so without his help, but even that small gesture helped her to feel slightly more feminine, slightly more normal.

"You must stop thinking about it." She casualy remarks as she begins to lead them once more, her body moving fluidly around obstacles, adn keeping from sticking to a straight path. "Keep the hate and anger, but stop picturing what you saw. It will only serve to distract you."

She does not pause, does not look towards him as she continues. The trees thin lightly, almost imperceptively until there was a break a head, about a hundred yards or so.

Dawg

Kinegarr helps Jira to her feet and is glad that she allowed him to do so.  His view of her has changed from the sassy lass in the skirts down at the pub in the village to that of his protector now.  A strong willed warrior that has sworn to protect him with her very life, but this momentary moment of chivalry that she allowed to happen reminds him that she is still the Jira he always knew under all that armor and thick skin of hers.

He listens to her words of wisdom about letting go and doesn’t know if he can, but he begins to try at least.  She steps off through the woods again and this time he is determined to keep up with her as they make their way to whatever destination she has them headed for.  His steps have a new spring in them since the rest and he manages to keep pace with her a little easier this time.

The woods are changing slightly as they continue onwards, gone are the towering oak trees mixed with the occasional white pine.  Now the trees are mixed with more maples and the occasional meadows they skirt bussing with the insects above the grass are getting larger and less swampy.

His mind begins to think less about his own personal grief and focuses instead on the world around him.  The squirrels that scamper up the tree trunks as they pass near or the possum hanging high on that branch, asleep for the day out of the reach of all the ground predators.  Even the different insects fluttering about in the air in front of him seem to come into focus.  He realizes that as he focuses the journey becomes easier and he is still not out of breath even as he notices Jira slow and takes particular notice of the break ahead.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira slows her step as the clearing approaches, her ears perking as she listened carefully. She must remember that many do not even remember that the king who sits on Kinegarr's throne is just a spot holder, an usurper. Instead he held the power, and the full authority of the law over them.

"Listen very closely Kinegarr. We go into a village now. You must not speak of what happened, you must not try and alert the authorities..you must keep quiet and let me do the speaking." Her voice was low, and very still as she begins putting herself more together, tucking in her tight armored shirt and adjusting so that it did not look as if she had sat all night in it.  "You are the fugitive now. Just assume that the Usurper has been alerted that you were not slain last night, and he has a very long reach."

That said she slowly begins to move, not at a pace like before but a more casual pace, swinging her arms almost girlishly as the village road came into view, almost as if she was just on a hike.

Dawg

Kinngar watched Jira as she slowed upon reaching the clearing, this time seemed different, she wasn’t looking for a way around and where potential danger may lurk, rather she was eyeing the village ahead of us and seeming to size it up.  He noticed her look at the perimeter buildings and then a long concentrated look at the heart of the village and the people bustling about there.

“Uhm, sure. Trust me, I am not leaving your side Jira, I have no idea what is going on but right now you are the only one I trust”


Nervously he stepped behind her trying to put on his best face.  He looked around nervously as the two of them approached the village.  The hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he was positive every person in the village was watching him and expecting someone to dart out and grab him at any moment.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Sherona

Jira walks almost happily, though her green eyes glint hard between her lashes. One arm reaches out and snags Kinnegar's arm, her hand looping through his elbow, casually forthe appearance of outsiders, though her fingers grasp his arm tightly.

"Ho there, little girl, son.." A guard calls, moving toward them quickly. His weathered face kindly, but looking over them quickly wtih an inspectory glance. "What be your business in Fairweather today, I don't recognize you nor your pretty lass." He spoke, obviously at the man of the duo, though Jira speaks up firmly.

"Forgive my brother my Lord...he is a bit daft in the head...Maw said it was because the All Father thought that there was enough ableminded men in the world, that we needed a few more loving boys." Jira smiles almost too innocently up at the guard, who looked at them both a bit suspiciously. "Why do you have armaments?' He questioned shrewdly.

"We came from our farm about two days journy My Lord. You would not have a woman and her poor feeble minded brother travel alone and unarmed? I am the only other child of my parents, who are both too ill to make a trip for apothecary purposes, I must take care of Kenneth here as well as myself." Flashing the older guard a winning smile, her fingers just about digging into Kinnegar's arm as the guard turnedhis attention back to the man.

"Can you speak boy?"

Dawg

Kinngar walked into the village feeling about as out of place as a fox in a hen house.  The feeling that he was the center of attention and that they would be spotted came bluntly before him as the guard came up and started talking to Jira.  He could feel is all the way to his bone that they were going to be found out and taken in.  Jira spun her tale like a practiced rogue trying to get them out of a jam, but he knew it wouldn’t work.

His perspiration began to run down his back and he knew that his face must be red from the feel of the blood rushing to his head.   Thoughts of prison and torture were flying through his mind and he wanted to reach for his sword, there was only one of them here and they beat the men on the farm, why not here and now.  Jira just dug into his arm and kept telling her tale, what was that she called him, feeble minded, what is that supposed to mean.

His breathing was fast and he felt light headed, then the guard turned to him, think Kinngar, what are you supposed to say ….

He took his free hand and began to rub the back of his neck and and rocked his head back and forth not looking the guard in the eye, instead he looked over the man’s shoulder. He remembered that the crazy old man in the town back home used to do that.  Maybe that is what she meant, he always talked jibberish and nobody ever paid attention to him, so maybe he could do the same.

“Talk … talk … ye-ye-yes sirrr, I ca-ca-can talk,” he looked at Jira next, “i-i-s th-th-this the ta-ta-town, that ma-ma-maw sent us too Kate.” He continued to bob his head back and forth as he said it and never ceased vigerously rubbing the back of his neck.


His only hope was that he was convincing enough that they would spot him as futre King material and would let them go.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Aestas

A change had come over the warrior.  Her smile more open, her eyes bright with supposed honesty, she seemed almost idle as the guard would turn his questioning towards her charge.  The only betrayal of her nervousness would be the way her nails dug into his arm.  Of course, she could not control what he said, or how well he acted. 

A sweet, compassionate smile touching her lips as he would stutter so, acting the right, proper idiot.  For a moment she would muse to herself that it would be easier for everyone if he was.. But then.. Her attention turning back to the guard, that slight lift of her shoulder as she would meet his eyes, seeming to share a look of pity with the older man.  'Aye, it is, brother.  Don't stress your sweet head.."  That soft press of her lips against his brow, as one might sooth a child. 

"An' you! Please don't confuse the poor boy, it's 'ard enough to keep him in line without people making him think we is wrong in being here.."  That slight sniff, a touch offended by the guards continued questioning, though the older man seemed taken aback by her mild rebuff. 

"Right protective of your brother, are ya, lass?  Well, all to the better, boy like that need ah guardian.."  the older man would nod, knuckling his mustaches a bit.  Taking one last look at their garb, as if measuring it against what they had said, before he would wave them on through. "Just make sure to be indoors before nightfall, there is mischief afoot.."

A sweet smile, tossing her hair lightly in a rather flighty manner before she would lead her brother past the man.  Her fingers slowly letting up on his arm, tension draining from her body, though she did not stop until they were well out of the guard's eyes.  "That was too close.."  Her tone cold now, brows furrowed as she would look at her charge for a moment.

Dawg

#33
Kinngar continued his act hoping it was going to work, no one would think he were the future possible king if he acted like this – he hoped.  Jira’s finger still held tight and as he spoke they dug deeper, he hadn’t realized just how strong she was until just now as he bit back on the pain in his forearm from her grip.  She turned to him and kissed him on the forehead, no one had done that since his mother  … yes his mother, she used to protect him when he was little didn’t she …  his mind goes back for a moment thinking of his mother and how she used to make sure no harm came to him.

His mind snapped back to the present almost as fast as it had slipped, when he heard the guard speaking again and this time he kept quiet, nothing was directed at him in this line of the conversation so best he keep his mouth shut. He lets them go bye and he almost let out a sigh of relief, but held in rocking his head and quietly mumbling nonsense to himself.

Since he had no idea where they were, let alone where they were going, he let Jira lead him by the arm through the village.  As they walked her grip let up and he was grateful to feel the circulation returning to his hand.  Once they were out of the guards view, she turned to him and spoke, "That was too close.."  only this was the Jira from outside the village, serious and with a goal in her eyes.  It was that look that one has when they can see what they are thinking before they even see it.  “What are you doing,” he queried her quietly, “why did you bring me in here, we almost got caught back there.”
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Aestas

They were at the edge of the village.  A low wall surrounding the 'Village Green'  The long pole standing at the center, well-weathered from use.  Jira would look around them, her arm still wrapped through his, leaning against him slightly.  Giving the casual appearance of intimacy, or even caring.  Though her eyes were hard, sliding past him towards where the guard had gone back to his post, before she would begin to lead him, instead of through the village, along the side of it.  Towards the woods.

"Everything we do is dangerous.  Letting you live is dangerous.  Walking down this street is dangerous..'  It seemed they merely strolled across the green, as if they had a destination, but weren't in any hurry to get there.  'Would you rather we curled up under a rock some where, waiting for everything to pass us by?  Or do you want to learn what you must to take back your kingdom?  To displace the pretender who has corrupted your throne?  Quit whining.'  She smiled brightly, her expression completely at odds with her words.  Making her seem almost bi-polar if the boy didn't know that the sweet expression was simply a show in case anyone else saw them.  When they reached the edge of the village, the forest looming closer to them than not, she would pull him suddenly into the darkness of the trees. 

"Simply put, Kinngar.. We do not have alot of time..  It would have taken hours for me to navigate through the woods what took mere minutes of time to stroll through the village.."  The truth was, she wasn't sure she could have found it in the woods.. The directions she had been given were rather specific.  In the woods.  Under the cover of trees and bushes, she would release him, her expression turning back to that icy disinterest, focusing not on him, but on the area around them.  "This way.."  Spoken softly as she would find what seemed to be a deer trail, leading them through the woods towards a cottage.  It was not far, all told, from the village itself, though isolated by the thick woods around it. 

Perhaps cottage was too strong a word.  The building looking more like a hovel.  A shanty.  It had obviously not been painted in years.  The wood seeming splintered in places, not quite meeting up right in places, likely not much better than simply sleeping outside. 

"Ho there.. anyone about?"  Her voice just barely raised, anyone farther away than the edge of the building would not even hear it. 

Dawg

Kinngar followed behind Jira through the village, he had no other choice since she was pulling him along nor did he have any other desire yet to stay close to her.  His heart was pounding still from the encounter with the guard, he felt as the entire land could hear the steady fast beat thumping in his chest.  The adrenaline was so high that his ears buzzed and he could barely pay attention when they got to the village green and she said something about things still being dangerous, or did she say everything is dangerous.  He didn’t know as he nervously followed her lead.

Finally she made for the woods again, at least he felt safer there – at least with her nearby.  Things were still moving too fast for him, but he had no choice but to listen and learn.  She gave her lecture about how going through the village was their only choice today since time was their enemy it seemed.  This now began to make sense, and since he was away from that drilling guard his heartbeat turned back to normal and his breathing eased as she spoke. He finally caught on to what she was saying in the green as it sunk in. In an almost defiant tone he turned to her as she told him about going through the village instead of around, “I’m not whining Jira, I don’t know these things, you do.  Give me time and I will learn,” his expression softened and he looked up at the branches blowing in the breeze, questioning why he was the chosen one, but didn’t tell her that, that was his devil to conquer, “Thank you.”

She turned and told him to follow and he did, much better this time.  He recalled how she told him to not only pay attention to where he stepped next but to keep an eye all around.  This time when she flung the branch back at him he saw it coming and ducked, a sly smirk across his face at this minor victory.  But it soon faded as she picked up the pace, it seemed that with each lesson learned she would deal out more.

They finally reached the destination she had been talking about, or so he thought until he stepped out of the deeper woods and the house, no cabin or whatever it was came into view.  At first he thought it was just another shortcut, until she called out to whoever was inside.  She said we going to see a master, a mighty warrior that thought her what she knew.  Not some has been hermit that lives in a rundown shanty in the woods. As the realization that this was where they were headed sank in, for the first time he began to question what she had been telling him.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Aestas

His words made sense.. To a large degree it did bug her that he was not ready to take the throne, that moment.. Perhaps she did lay too heavy a burden upon him.  Expecting too much.  'I apologize.. I have been hard on you..'

Jira's eyes slowly moved around the shack, taking a single step forward.  And then she would hear it.  That slight sound that was outside the natural order of bird calls and furtive animal movements.  A slight ¤click¤ seemed to resonate within her mind.  She barely had time to speak, in the second it took for her heart to thud within her chest she had jumped sideways, her body connecting with that of her charge, carrying him sideways.  The loud meaty ¤thunk!¤ echoing through the small clearing.

'Stay down..'  A harsh whisper in his ear as the toes of her boots would dig into the soft loam of the forest floor, mere second before she would disappear into the underbrush.  Should Kinngar look up he would notice the crossbow bolt buried deeply in the soft wood of a tree, the feathered end still quivering unsettlingly.

Jira moved quietly, every shift of her body precise and controlled. It almost made her giddy, that rush of adrenaline, a tight smile touching those normally thin lips.  She tried not to hurry, though the thought of having left the prince crouched down in the grass, in the open, was enough to spur her movements.  It did not take long before she caught sight of the man.  He was a burly sort.  Thick muscular arms that seemed to handle the heavy crossbow like a child's toy, pulling back the string with thick fingers rather than using the crank as a lesser man might. 

She would watch him take aim again, his attention focused outwards, giving her plenty of time to step quietly behind him, her dagger scraping the meaty curve of her throat.

'Pull that trigger, and so help me..'  She let it hang, nearly holding her breath..

Dawg

Kinngar followed Jira into the clearing and stood next her as she quietly called out, obviously she was looking for someone, but who he wondered.  He knew better than to ask questions at this juncture, she was already on edge from the village and neither had a good night’s sleep so he let the question hang in his mind unanswered.

He was practicing what she had taught him earlier that day, to look beyond the tree and use your senses to see the forest.  He noticed two squirrels running up separate trees on opposite sides of the cabin, something he would not have before and a small smile came to his face at this minor victory, he was sure of himself as a fast learner and that had just proved it to himself.

Suddenly though he got a great sense of unease, the same feeling he had last night before he went to sleep, but now keen to the feeling he knew something was about to happen just not what. How he knew this he wasn’t sure, but he was sure it was.  Looking around he became very serious trying to locate the source of this disturbance, he opened his ears and sniffed the air as he looked, but could detect nothing.

Then it happened, Jira jumped at him, she was trying to catch him off guard.  He knew she couldn’t be trusted, why did he allow himself to follow her to this place, she was going to kill him herself he was sure of it even before she was on top of him.  She came like lightning, he had never seen anyone move so quickly and everything he could think of to defend himself was useless as time slowed down for him and all he could see was her wrapping her arms around him as she tackled him to the ground.  He tried to raise his hands even but she was just too fast.

He was about to kick her off and draw his sword when the bolt flew just past her head landing with a THUD in a nearby tree.  His defenses collapsed when he realized what he had been thinking just then, it wasn’t her that was trying to kill him it was someone else and she had just saved his life, again.

“Stay Down,” was her command and he obeyed. As she disappeared into the leaves he looked at the bolt still vibrating in the tree and internally a small waive of shame broke over him as he realized that he had not yet let into her full trust, yest she has already saved his life twice at the risk of her own.  He bite hard on that shame and vowed to himself that he would rust her from this point forward.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Aestas

#38
The man had been distracted.  Rising on his tiptoes, his body mostly obscured from her original place by the overgrown brush that surrounded the hovel.  However, when her blade had slid against his throat he had gone deadly still.  He was a big man.  Muscular, though it was layered with fat enough to make one dismiss him as a layabout, or a drunkard..  Jira was much smaller, pressed up on her tiptoes to get high enough to press the blade into his throat.  She would tighten her grip, pressing it back against his thick neck.  Her lips pulled back into something that mocked a smile, tight and feral. 

Thick fingers wrapping around her wrist, jerking her hand down, her body slamming against his back, and then suddenly she was being hurtled over his shoulder.  Her first impulse to tense, yet she fought that, instead making her body relax, hitting the ground, now within sight of Kinngar once more.  She.. Rolled, head over hills until she was rightside up once more.  Strands of dark hair coming loose from the tight knot she kept it in.  Only a second and she was on her feet again, her sword drawn, held low and ready, across her body.

The heavy man stepped from the brush, a movement that was oddly graceful for how bulky he was.  Almost like a dancer.  His head shaved, though a bushy beard covered the bottom half of his face.  A plain leather jerkin pulled taut over his bulk, straining at the seams, his pants more comfortably fitted, leather as well, a long curved dagger hanging off his belt, though he still held the crossbow, the bolt already loaded.  Those narrowed eyes taking in the boy, as well as the warrior lass who slowly rose to her feet.

'So this is 'im?'  His voice a low rumble, like distant thunder, even as he would lift the crossbow bolt once more, aiming it directly at Kinngar where he still crouched on the ground. 'Not much is'ee?'  Narrowed eyes, a startling blue, would focus on Kinngar as he would aim the heavy crossbow, the weighty weapon balanced easily in one hand, his finger tightening upon the trigger.  'I do nary see what all the fuss 'as been about..'  His hard face wearing something akin to a smile as he would slowly lower the aim of the weapon from the boy's general area, to his head in specific.

Jira would launch herself forward, her heart seeming to beat double time.  Every throb thundering in her ear.  She didn't come this far to lose him already!

Dawg

Kinngar lay still as he watched the bolt twanging in the tree above his head.  Silently he looked at the man and his heart began to race shoving blood to his cheeks as they turned a faint shade of pink.  His breathing quickened as he stayed motionless watching him for what he would do next.

Suddenly he saw his savior gain the upper hand as he saw her blade come across the man’s neck from behind, his breath eased for a moment until he saw the man gracefully to his surprise grab her and flip her onto the ground in front of him.  His words came with sarcasm and were directed at him as well as her.

As he mockingly spoke about him his fear turned to anger and he stood quickly, even quick enough to surprise himself and drew his sword in a quick graceful motion that only the trained eye would catch as being a sloppy move, but for him he was rather proud of how quickly he had reacted.

“Hold there,” he said pointing his sword at the man, “who are you and what do mean by attacking us here so unexpectedly?” His words came out and were steady as he tried to hide his fear from the attacker.  As he said that the man still with the crossbow aimed at him he caught side of Jira as she lunged at the man.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Aestas

If she had a moment to think upon it, she might have been proud of the way he faced down that barbed bolt.  The brute's attention focused upon him, giving her just the edge she needed to slam her lithe frame into his side.  Her head lowering, hitting him with her shoulder, in the soft roundness of his belly.  The bigger man gasped as he stumbled back.  “Jira!  I wasn't going to shoot!”  His voice gruff, breathless as he would try to regain his equilibrium. 

The large man rubbing his ribs lightly, glaring at the dark-headed warrioress.  “Though nice t'see that ye have not lost yer touch, gel.  Though, didst ye 'ave to hit so 'ard?” 

“I thought..  Damnit!  Did you have to scare me like that?”  Little strands of hair falling across her hair, her entire demeanor one of disarray.  Her heart was beating too fast.  “He hasn't been trained..”  Correcting herself, turning towards Kinngar now, instead of talking over his head.  “Kinngar Garlerran, meet.. My teacher.. Telgryn Hykrithe.  Telgryn.. This is Kinngar Garlerran.. Rightful King..”  And perhaps it showed in the way he had stood up in the face of almost certain death.  That barbed quarrel gleaming in the sunlight now, though it was no longer pointed at anyone or anything. 

“Well!  Let me look at'ye lad!”  The man was built like a bear, and his large hand grabbed the boy's shoulder, jerking him forward slightly.  “'E's feisty alright.. But does 'e always let ye fight 'is battles for him, lass?”  Jira's eyebrows drawing in as she would straighten her shoulders. 

“He's young yet.. He hasn't been properly trained..”  She would have continued but he seemed to bowl right over her. 

“Not properly Trained!”  He roared, his bushy brows drawing inwards as he would turn back to Jira.  “What do you mean, not properly trained.. How is he supposed to take back the throne like this?!”

“Thats just it!  I need your help.. I cannot teach him on my own..  He learns quickly..”

“I 'ave nae taken a student in.. well.. Since ye, Jira..”  Turning to the boy he would squint at him. “What say ye, Lad?  Willing t'Learn?”

Dawg

As Kinngar stood there with his sword pointed at the man threatening him he suddenly realized how foolish his position was, he could feel his heartbeat in the back of his throat like a large piece of food lodged there blocking his airway and making it difficult to breathe.  He realized for the first time in his young life that he had just stood up for himself, against real danger, and seeing just what that danger consisted of he forgot to breathe momentarily.

The glint from the sun shone off the bolt as it was aimed at him and he saw in the man’s eyes not that of an overzealous bounty hunter looking for an easy trap, but that of a trained warrior who knew exactly what he was doing, but what his plans were Kinngar could not discern.

As the two stared at each other Jira lunged into him and as the bolt left its aim at him, he caught his breathe and could feel that lump in the back of his throat again. 

Jira and the man spoke as though they knew each other and it became apparent that in fact he was a friend and not a foe, in fact it turned out this was the man she spoke about on the cliff side last night, her teacher that she was taking him too and the lump began to dissipate. 

The two spoke of his inexperience and a sudden shyness came over him from the embarrassment he felt at not knowing the skills needed to take the thrown.  As Telgryn looked him over he felt almost naked to the world at his inexperience, and a tinge of anger at Jira for disclosing his inadequacy to this stranger.

Telgryn grabbed him by the shoulder and looking him in the eyes asked, “What say ye, Lad?  Willing t'Learn?”  And suddenly Kinngar came to reality again, this master was willing to take him in as a student and teach him the ways of a warrior, something he had wanted his entire life, a dream to be fulfilled.  Time seemed to stop for him as this reality hit him.  All the years of beating up trees with wooden swords and parrying the head and hoofs of the plow horse would now instead be taught to him by a master.  And if he was good enough to teach Jira what she displayed in the last couple of days, then he would be good enough for him, did she say future King.  That thought floored him as it hit him again things were moving to fast for him.

What seemed like an eternity to Kinngar was in fact a split second to Jira and Telgryn, his answer came almost before Telgryn finished his sentence. “Aye, I will learn from you Telgryn, that is your name isn’t it.  We don’t have much time as I saw this evil in my dreams last night and it seeks me out even as we speak.  If Jira is correct in her relaying of the prophecy, we must move quickly so I can be ready when it finds me, or better yet, I can be ready to go find it.  What do we need to start?” 

He was as ready as he ever has been, although the thought of the minor lessons that Jira had taught over the last couple of days and his ineptitude frightened him, but he was ready, whatever Telgryn would have him do he would, it was the only way.

[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Aestas

For a long wavering moment, he would continue to squint at the young man, seeming to size him up, everything from the way his shoulders were built, to the way he carried the wooden sword.  “Right fancy at talkin' already is ye, boy?”  Yet the older man was grinning, a right strange expression upon the grizzled face.  “Well, ain't no time like t'present t'be knowin' how things be..”  The man looking around at the seeming hovel, his eyes meeting Jira's for a moment before he would move towards the rundown building. 

“We do nae have t'luxury of time..”  The large man stopping to spit to the side of the door before disappearing inside, with a wave of his hand towards the two who were still standing before the run down cabin.  Jira would take a moment to adjust her belt, giving Kinngar a long, measuring look, as if seeing him for the first time.  And then following Telgryn into the building. Inside, the bigger man was nowhere to be seen.  The building itself seemed to encompass just one room.  Though that one room was cluttered.. A broken chair leaning against one wall, several barrels and dried furs heaped haphazardly.  A grimy table seeming to dominate, though Telgryn was no where to be seen.

Her nose crinkling for a moment at the heavy stench of the place.  The stench of the furs, the scent of an animal's nest likely somewhere within the mess.. Her gaze sweeping the room to find her old Master, only to catch the edge of darkness behind the barrels, some sort of hidden doorway, likely invisible when it was not opened.  Without hesitation she would move towards it, sliding downwards into the darkness. 

Her rough and calloused digits would brush against the wall beside her head, following the contours of it, though it seemed a straight enough corridor.  The steps rough-hewn, a mixture of hard packed earth and natural stone edifice.  The dim glow of a flickering flame would quickly outline the path before her, the flames light capricious, throwing shadows with wild abandon around the place where they now found themselves.  Compared to the upstairs, the small gathering of rooms was strangely pristine.  A mat lying against the far wall, a table set up with maps and compasses, and various other items scattered about the top.. 

Through the stone-archway, rough though it might be, one could see the glimmer of light off metal.  Weapons, armor, the pure magnitude of the selection was amazing.  As if every piece of old armor from the village had been collected, shined until it gleamed, and then stored within this hiding place.

“T'ain't a moment t'spare..”  The older man already gathering a few items that could be termed.. 'Practice weapons'.  A halberd.  A sword.  Several daggers.  All seemingly thick and well carved, likely to add weight.  Though as Kinngar would come down the stairs, his eyes might be drawn to a single suit of mail at the center of the room beyond them.  A familiar icon upon the proud chest.  The only seeming full set in attendance..

Dawg

If he wasn’t nervous enough with his own self doubt that he had, the way that Telgryn was sizing him up didn’t help matters.  He felt like livestock being appraised in the market before a sale, but a look at Jira and his mind eased a bit.

He saw Telgryn motion them to follow as he spat and disappeared into the shack and then he noticed Jira give him a strange look, he couldn’t quite make out what she was saying with it, but he could definitely tell that something was different, something was about to change.

He got inside the shack and was immediately taken back by the smell and clutter.  How could someone that lives in a place like this call himself a master, maybe time had slipped in on old Telgryn and he has faded from his gloried past, but as he looked around he didn’t see him in the one room shack, he was no where to be seen and that was when he noticed Jira slip down the passageway on the far side of the room, perhaps there is more to him than meets the eye.

He followed her into the shadows and traced his hands along the wall as much for balance as for guidance until he saw the glimmer of the torch and came into the expanse below.  The shadows were unlike any he had seen before, but then he had never really been in an underground Bastian such as this before lit only by torch light, at least not that he could remember.

He looked around and his mouth dropped for a few moments as he gazed upon the armory assembled until he gained his composure and continued to watch as Telgryn gathered things mumbling something or other.  Until his eyes caught a set of armor that stood apart from the others, not only in its location at the center, but in its craftsmanship.  And on the breastplate was a symbol he knew only from one place before, something given to him by his parents, as far as he knew his only link to his past.

His hand rose up and through his shirt he grasped the pendant that hung around his neck as his eyes remained transfixed on the symbol upon the chest of the armor.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]

Aestas

Her attention was rather lax.  Watching Telgryn as he spoke, and then wandering towards Kinngar.  For a moment she was rather annoyed that he seemed to be paying such lax attention, only to catch the way his eyes lingered in the other room.  She had barely glanced there on her way down.  Her hand tugging lightly on her braid as she would shift towards him.  Her breath caught in her throat.  “Ah, Telgryn.. You kept his armor?”

Her words cutting through the older man's muttered words, grasping his attention.  “I.. T'was all that was left.. I thought.. Well the boy 'as to 'ave somethin', don't 'e?”  The man looking gruff as he would busy himself with gathering all the items he needed.  “I.. I can't let ye take t'armor boy.. Ye could be 'anged just for 'avin' it, see?  But..” Stepping by them he would grasp the sword, heavy, obviously made for more than simple ornamentation.  “Ye can well enough take this.. T'isn't much..  The armor will be waitin' for ye..” The rest of the thought cut off.. After all, there were really only two outcomes.. And the chances of the boy winning were slim enough without voicing them. 

“Yes well.. We can practice here, well enough, I 'pose..  But it's much nicer outside..”  His gruff voice closer to a growl as he would nudge the both of them towards the door.  “We 'ave a rather intricate network of spies.. I will know if any get closer than a mile of this shit-heap..”  The man seeming almost too blustery after the emotional powerhouse of the last few minutes. “I hope ye nary mind.. Better t'get ye started now, than t'wait..” 

Bustling both Jira and Kinngar out of the building and into the woods.. A clearing spreading out before them.  Several rather butchered looking hunks of wood set up to look something like dummies, though that was only in context, anyone wandering by might wonder if the wood had, perhaps, been struck by lightening..

Dawg

His armor,” Kinngar thought as Jira mentioned it to Telgryn, it was then that he recognized the significance of the medallion he now wore around his neck.  That was the royal seal denoting the King.  There was a lot more to this Telgryn than met the eye, and who was the he that she was referring too. 

Telgryn handed him the sword and he took it in his hands feeling the weight, but also the perfect balance.  It was no common village blacksmith that forged this sword, it was made for a warrior by an artist hands.  He played with it for a moment relishing in its feel and beauty.

He followed them outside to the clearing and stopped before taking his place, “Before we begin I have a question for you,” the look of puzzlement mixed with inquisitiveness filled his face as he stonily gazed at Telgryn.  “Waiting for me, you mean that is my armor?  Who did it belong to before and what happened that he is no longer the owner of it?”

Kingarr’s word cut through the air like a snake slithering through the forest floor.  Not knowing the significance of what he had just asked, nor the ignorance of his question.  He had no idea of his history, but there was more to this story than a family feud he could tell.  He cursed his uncle for not telling him any of this before; he would have studied these things instead of that useless science and languages.  What us would those be to him, no he needed to know more about his past and what really happened if he was to be expected to correct the evil that sent it awry.
[tr][td]
"sEx is LikE aiR..
iTs noT reaLLy tHat imPortAnt
untiL yoU're noT geTtiNg anY.."
[/td][td]
   *******   [/td][td]
Suffering should be creative,
it should give birth to something good and lovely
 ~ Chinua Achebe
[/td][/tr][/table]