The Root

Prologue

Block. Block. Dodge. Parry. Amelie could see the sweat beginning to drip from Harkonnen's beard. The fight had been going on for a while now, uninterrupted, since neither of them were willing to give in to the other. Abruptly, Harkonnen pressed attack again. She spun, deftly dodging his blade, and as he missed he stumbled forwards. Noticing the clear opening in Harkonnen's defense, Amelie gently jabbed him between the ribs with her wooden blade. He gave a grunt and stumbled backwards, clenching his teeth.

"Dead!" she exclaimed victoriously. "You know, this would be the third time I've slain you!" she continued with a sly grin creeping on her lips.

She adjusted the brim of her feathered hat and glanced at Harkonnen, who was gasping for air. The blow had not been dangerous, but it certainly knocked the wind out of the man. Perhaps I could be slightly more gentle next time, Amelie thought while carelessly waving the stick around. After Harkonnen regained his composure he swept the sweat off his brow and sighed. The man looked as uncomfortable in the warmth of the summer as ever, Amelie thought, while eyeing up the man's shirt which was stained in sweat and soot. His clothing certainly wasn't helping, despite the fact that he had already removed his leather coat and boots for the training session.

"Darn," the man grunted. Amelie looked at the man in amusement. "I can't hit you anymore".

"I can't believe you've been doing this longer than I have!" Amelie exclaimed teasingly, and sheathed the blade. Harkonnen sighed, but did not reply. Amelie always found it curious how he dealt with things silently, much unlike the majority of the Midlanders she had spoken with. "Did you notice how I parried your overhead, though?" she bubbled, but Harkonnen gave her the cold shoulder. "That was really close, honestly: you almost got me!" She nervously tugged at her tunic while waiting for him to reply.

"You're like your father. He was... something else," Harkonnen suddenly said, deep in thought, and scratched his beard.

Before she could fully comprehend the words he had spoken, she felt the tears. She hadn't properly spoken to her father despite remembering what he looked like. She remembered the smile, his long dirt-brown hair which she had inherited, his moustache and strong arms which carried her around when she was but a child. Alas, that was years ago. The stories of her father were told to her later by the other Hunters, the stories which the Hunters still tell around the hearth: her father being the greatest Hunter in centuries. Amelie had only been ten summers old when she heard the news...

She quickly wiped her eyes and sniffed silently. Carefully, she looked around the stables, but Harkonnen was nowhere to be seen. Despite his size, the man had a talent in moving quietly; his comings and goings were mostly unnoticed by many. Amelie bit her lip in frustration, and placed her wooden blade on the wall mount. Mentioning her father rarely upset her, but Harkonnen was something different. He had been the eldest of her father's students. He was family. She crossed her arms and walked outside into the bright sunlight, leaving the stables. In front of her opened a small village - a village she wanted to call home.

As Amelie began walking walking towards the inn in the centre of the town, she looked up and felt the warmth of the midday sun on her skin. It was quiet since the scorching heat of the midday sun made everyone seek shelter. She tried to see if Harkonnen was outside, but knowing the man's intense dislike for heat, she figured that he'd be at the inn already. Her stomach growled and she picked up the pace.

She arrived at the inn which at that point was already bustling with life. As the heat of the midsummer forced the villagers indoors the inns were filled to the brim, and this time was not different. Amelie smiled, and made her way to the innkeeper. The innkeeper was a motherly woman who knew almost everyone there was to know in the village.
"Greetings, arhabat," she spoke, with a friendly smile. "What will you be having today?" Amelie flashed her teeth and replied. "Ahhh, nothing today Mrs. Aldana." She paused, leaned in, and whispered: "Actually, there is something. Have you heard any news from Nassos? Or Kvennland?" The barkeep shook her head. "A traveler told me that there had been yet another sorcerer- attack in Nassus. Hundreds dead". Amelie cursed and brought her fist down on the counter. "Thank you for the help anyway," she said, and went upstairs.

The floor creaked as she paced into her room. Unlike Harkonnen, Amelie did not care much for neatness: her books were lying on the bed and her backpack had fallen over spreading clothing, parchment, and vials of ink on the floor. And, of course, dinner. She quickly grabbed a dry loaf of bread and some cheese and started to greedily tear at her meal.

It was not long until she heard a soft knock from the door. "Come in," she mumbled with a mouthful of food. The door creaked open and Harkonnen stepped inside. He sighed, a habit which he seemed to do rather often when in her company, and sat down on an old chair in the corner of her room. The chair squeaked softly as he removed his hat, revealing his black, loose hair. The beard and hair made him look older than he was, Amelie thought while glancing at the man, as he was mistaken to be her father on a regular basis - an occurrence which made both fairly uncomfortable.

He looked at the mess which was her room and glanced at Amelie. She picked up on the unvoiced intent of the man and snapped: "Look, I know we are leaving soon. I will clean up this mess, okay?" Amelie was rather frustrated, but she realised that the fact that her mouth was full of bread did not exactly help the situation. A tiny smile crept up on Harkonnen's face. "Do we really have to go?" she asked quietly. Harkonnen nodded. Despite the fact that she was fully intent on becoming a Hunter, the life of a traveler was sometimes difficult for her, as Hunters rarely settled down.

She finished her brief meal, and once again met the gaze of her glum instructor. "Yes?" she questioned. "Is it about my training?" She waited for him to reply, and indeed had to wait for a while. Sometimes the uncomfortable pauses Harkonnen created irritated her; this occasion was not any different.
Finally, he spoke with a low, yet stern voice. "Yes. You're better than I with swords. You're tiny and fast; makes you hard to hit." Hearing Harkonnen's compliments made Amelie beam with joy. "However, you're weak. Can't break any spells without the strength."
Amelie's smile turned into a frown. "I don't have to break any spells if they can't hit me," she mumbled.

Amelie remembered the time when Harkonnen's sullen appearance had frightened her. Despite his soft-spokenness, there was something strong within him, and as always, his piercing green eyes made her realise the folly of her words. She was fully aware that she was better than Harkonnen at one-to-one swordplay, but there were many other aspects where she was at a novice level. Harkonnen's words were rarely meant as insults - Northmen tended to have a harsher way of speaking. She bit her lip and could feel her cheeks redden under the piercing gaze of her instructor. "Regardless, I- I have much to learn," she mumbled. Harkonnen nodded, and Amelie thought she saw a glimpse of acceptance in his eyes. "We're going to Svarthold. It is time for your initiation."

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Author's notes: Hey! Thank you so much for checking out the prologue of chapter of my project, The Root. I'd  like to kindly ask you to vote and/or comment if you liked the story or if you have anything you wanted to ask or share with me. 

-Alex