Illara Chronicles: Swordplay

Best Laid Plans

Taldrens dark leather boots, caked in dried grime, rested easily in the stirrups as he rode quickly ahead of the others. He wore his knife strapped to his calf. His black pants didn't look dirty, but were torn in three places, and his dark grey shirt whipped in the wind. He had a silver ring on his right forefinger and the reigns wrapped around that hand. Taldren has always had a keen eye. He'd lead the group clear of the web of orc camps thus far, and now as they approached Havenhelm and the Greenwood beyond, the terrain was spotted with trees. 

Malcom had assured him that these lands were so heavily patrolled by the Bladeward that they could ride and rest more easily. More easily at last.

How could Kendreth trust him? Dentren is Bladeward. Taldren scoffed to himself. They could be hiding in the canopies.

Kelith was a weak rider. He slowed the whole group down giggling with the girl wrapped around his back, and doting over that damn pixie every thirty seconds. Sprig was still incapacitated.

Taldren slowed as they lost their daylight, dismounted and began to stack wood into a pyramid over kindling before setting the fire. It was burning well before the others arrived, and Taldren walked back to his horse. He pulled Dentrens vile orb from his saddlebag. The thing was like roughhewn ruby, with a firefly dancing inside. A black iron dragon was wrapped around the stone, with horns and sharp teeth. Its clawed arms and legs, bound it to the ruby rock. It had no wings. The jewels glow was dim, nearly dead in Taldrens hands...but he could still feel it whispering. Sowing its seed in the recesses of his mind.

Thoughts of going hungry so that the real children could pick maggots out of the moldy bread. Their tiny hands were covered in bruised and broken knuckles. They devoured that putrid feast with rotten teeth, and tears in their ungrateful greedy little eyes. No...not thoughts.

Taldren knew those sad eyes. Memories.

Does it think that I don't know my own mind? Would this idiot thing sow seeds of darkness, at the edge of a forest of hate, where the trees are tall, and the roots are deep? Stupid useless thing.

Kendreth walked up behind him, and the rock began to come alive, lighting the dragons' eyes and spilling its red aura all over. Not so tough after all.

"Do you think it's dangerous?" Kendreth raised his eyebrow in a curious and cheerful expression that looked ridiculous in the evil light.

"I think it should be pitched into the river." Taldren shoved the stone roughly into his pocket. "Into the deepest part of the river."

Kendreth smirked, Taldren frowned, and it wiped his friends grin away. Kendreth sighed, and Taldren cursed the pang of guilt in his chest. Damn me.

"Have you been having dreams?" The way that Kendreths eyes flicked out towards the dark and back revealed that he had.

"Nothing unusual." Taldren shrugged. Sympathy bent Kendreths brow, and Taldren opened his mouth to apologize for his harshness. When Kelith called excitedly to them from beside the crackling fire.

"Sprig is waking!" He beamed, and Aelandra shaped her plain looking face into a wide smile, with a laugh held behind her lips. She stared at Kelith, so obviously intrigued. Kendreth and Malcom rushed over, and they all gushed about how worried they had been, they pressed Sprig for how she was feeling, but Taldren let their words fall behind his ears. He scanned Aelandra casually while she sat by the fire. Her red brown hair, in a poorly laced braid, and a blemish on her chin. That badly dyed blue blouse. Her boots were the most interesting thing that she wore, with leather ties strapped metal shin guards onto her legs, but even then...she was a long toss from anything extraordinary.