Extracted from Entwined
The following is a part I extracted from "Entwined", a series of novel I'm working on.
Hope you'll like it.
Her heart pounding against her chest, she crept closer to the tent and peeked through an aperture in the side. Four men gathered around a table. On it spread a large map, held in place by a dirk stabbing it in a corner to the wood underneath. They were speaking in hushed tones and in the dim light of the candle burning low, Anastasia was unable to make out their features. She listened intently.
“We cornered them then.” spoke a rough, scratchy voice which came from a stick of a man who towered above the others. If it hadn’t been for the mail and armor, Anastasia believed that a strong gust of wind could have taken him into the air.
A deep and melodic but strangely familiar voice laughed disdainfully. The owner of the voice was tall and sturdy of build and his garment, Anastasia could see, was of fine velvet richly elaborated with silver thread that glowed even in the gloom. He moved closer to the table, his back to her. “And they had been so blindly confident. What was that they called out before war, Hans? Hail Queen Anastasia? Anastasia? Not King Lointon! I name that conspiracy, gentleman, and if her idiot of a brother had more sense in him, he would have had her killed. Never has it been a wise thing to do to make a woman a general…especially an exquisite one. That adds to her inability to harness an army of men. They want her, not her capability. I say she is terribly wasted on the field, while she could be such a pleasure…”
Anastasia gritted her teeth, I’ll show you capability, she promised. But how could they have known? They couldn’t have…unless…She stayed and listened on.
Scratchy voice chuckled “It appears that Bandaekock is gravely scarce of competence.”
“What are we to do with the prisoners, your Highness?”
A potent shock slammed into Anastasia as she recognized the voice of the young boy she had saved at the creek. Anger soon took over. How could she be foolish enough to believe the cock and bull story he had fed her? An orphan from the village of Johan? She should have let him die, or better, killed him herself. Now their plans and movements have probably all been penetrated because of her moment of blind mercy and stupidity. Perhaps the man was right, she thought bitterly to herself, I’m as incapable as he said.
A squat man spoke “I say we torture them until they yield the location of their lair.” he replied in a voice so deep that Anastasia could almost feel the air rumbling around her. “We’ll then seek it, then exterminate it. Then, we’ll come back and kill them.”
The boy muttered something incoherent. The other three men laughed cruelly “This is war, boy!” barked the second voice “There is nothing we won’t do.” The man picked up the candle and illuminated his leer at the boy, forcing him a step back. At the sight of the man’s face, Anastasia nearly cried out in surprise.
The cruel face in the weak candle light was Miraque’s. He pulled the dirk out from the table with his other hand and the heavy parchment map slid soundlessly to the earth packed ground. “I won’t even hesitate to slit your throat with this if I can achieve greater benefit from it. All I’ll have to do is…” with one swift motion, he had the boy locked in one arm with the blade right under his chin. The boy let out a weak whimper. Miraque let down the dirk and joined in the others’ laughter.
“Useless youth.” spat the squat man with the bull-frog voice “Useless. Just kill him, I say. We have no use for such useless—”
“Mind your place, Qoure. And you said useless thrice.” Miraque said dangerously. “No one is to lay a hand on my squire. His life is mine to hold. Hans,” he laid the candle and dirk back onto the table and turned to his squire. “I won’t tolerate cowardice in my service, you hear me? I’ll beat it out of you once I see any trace of it. Now, bring me the map.” Hans the young boy hurriedly picked up the map and handed it up to his master. Miraque pulled out a stool from beneath the table and sat while his men stood around him, as still as statues. He studied it carefully for a few moments then finally, lifted his head “Good news, gentlemen, my brother’s efforts at the Creek have finally come in good use. We have surmounted our original plan.”
Anastasia sighed silently with relief, learning that the cruel man wasn’t Miraque. That had to be Padraish, his infamous war-loving brother. But relief soon turned into horror as she heard Padraish’s next words. “Whereas our plan was to take down Barhwrath a fortnight later, we’ll accomplish this task in less than three days. Miraque has cleared the Gorgon’s ford for us, which once stood in our way and now it’s up to us to take the rest of it. We enter the Peacock Kingdom from the Spirit’s Pass.” He slid his index finger across the parchment indicating the route to the men. “I believe Jagatah will be kind enough as to eliminate those creatures for us. They will be unprepared and vulnerable. I will send another troop to the end of the pass, so when we drive and scatter the creatures from the rear, Jagatah could kill them off one by one in the front. What do you think, gentlemen? Is this not a wholesome and constructive plan?” he asked, looking proudly at his men.
Those words sent stabs of panic through Anastasia. I have to warn Sateira. However, she noticed that she wasn’t the only anxious one. Padraish’s men exchanged secret uneasy glances “Your Highness.” ventured stick-man. “I…uh…”
“Speak whatever you conceive in mind,” Padraish said impatiently “or speak no more.”
“My pardons, your Highness,” said stick-man “yet how are we to be sure the Spirits will fall as easily as we wish? Spirits are wise things and Spirit’s Pass itself is a treacherous land that fights whoever disturbs it.” The other two men nodded. “Those are Spirit’s lands, your Highness, and we cannot hope to—A prudent choice it would be to skirt that place.”
“You really are growing old, Sentin.” complained Padraish. He looked up scornfully “perhaps I ought to find a new commander.” He stood up again and kicked over the stool. “Did you miss the part I said about Jagatah? He has told me he knows the secret to a Spirit’s death.”
“But we can’t trust Jagatah.” objected the man named Sentin, “He is a wizard and it is known that wizards can’t be trusted.”
“Those people have no reason to say so.” replied Padraish. “What about this, Sentin? Give me reasons to trust you rather than him.”
Sentin went down on one knee at once. “I serve you with loyalty and I serve you with my life.”
“Jagatah said as much.” said Padraish, waving his hand, “and he did serve me well. Better than you even, sometimes. Would you like me to make him commander instead of you? Would you?” Sentin remained silent. “Good. Then we have no more issues on this. The Spirits will be exterminated, and Bandaekock will be ours in no time. Hail Wendaegaria!”
“Hail Wendaegaria” repeated the others, though not half so enthusiastically.
I’ve heard enough. Anastasia was about to leave, when a movement at the entrance of the tent caught her eye. She slinked back into the shadows, certain her heart was likely to thump a hole into her chest anytime.
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