The forest surrounding Sitharu was normally quiet and beautiful, bright with lush vegetation and strong, sturdy trees. The seasons were all particularly beautiful but the Sithaurian people all enjoyed the autumn months the most. Their trees turned the most beautiful of colors as the chilled air blew through their leaves. The branches cracked and groaned melodically, giving the forest its song to play while they worked its grounds and harvested its fruits. The season was joyful and set every Sithaurian household into a warm and inviting tone, creating an even more peaceful society. The slight creatures sat in their dining halls, sharing stews and warm beverages amidst a full and welcoming set of songs that the band warmed their hearts with.
Lyric sat, chatting happily with the people around her. Over the passing months, her body had changed, becoming leaner and more toned than was natural for her. She now sat no more than three inches taller than a fully grown Sithaurian male, making her stand out from the crowd even more so than her lack of pointed ears. She no longer resembled the innocent, young girl who had stumbled her way through the bushes, attempting to kill squirrels with rocks. By no means did she consider herself a warrior but she was always able to keep up with the hunting parties and even assisted in training the younglings. Even now as she ate and laughed with her friends, a knife rested against her hip, sharp and ready for use.
Without a sound or warning, the thin blade of a short sword splintered the table at her left and sent her bowl of stew soaring to the floor with a loud clatter. Reacting before she could see who owned the weapon, Lyric pulled her knife free and deflected the second sword, pushing it away from her body before flipping herself backward and away from the table. A cloud of smoke materialized around her and sent those trapped in its grasp into fits of choking and coughing. Using the smoke to her advantage, Lyric made a run for the side of the room, leaped to plant both feet in the middle of the wall, and propelled her body up onto the rafters. She sat crouched in the shadows and let her eyes take in the scene.
The smoke dissipated slowly, revealing Raven standing with a sword in each hand, her eyes darting around, searching for her target. Raven pulled her weapons in close to her body and began a deliberately fluid dance, turning her body to look around for the target. Lyric stayed as still as the dead, only moving when the wind outside caused the timber of the building to creak and groan, covering her slow movements. Every Sithaurian sat as still as Lyric with smiles stretched over their faces. It dawned on her that this was it. This was her test. The test that would determine her place in the Sithaurian world. The test being one of the blades meant that the Four felt she would serve them best in the Guard. Honor flooded her chest as she jumped from her hiding spot.
Lyric crashed to the floor beside a table, tossing a cup at Raven's head before she snatched up a few forks from the table and found her spot back in the rafters. Raven blocked the cup with her forearm, preventing it from striking her nose but smiled as the sticky mead splashed over her. Being a trickster by nature, Raven had taught Lyric that surprises such as these were far more useful than traditional warriors believed.
Forgetting herself for a moment, Lyric brought her attention back just as an arrow entered her sight. She jumped, springing her body into the air, a fork outstretched before her. The shaft of the arrow fell directly between the tines of the fork. She turned and flung the arrow with all the strength in her arm, releasing the arrow and fork directly toward Cynric. He stepped easily aside and sent another arrow toward her. Lyric dropped hard, her body falling flat on her stomach and forcing the air pit of her. She barely escaped Raven's blade as it came down, aimed at her shoulder.
Lyric rolled, allowing her lungs to fill and expand as she let loose another fork, watching it glance off of Raven's face, leaving a red fork-shaped area between her eyes. The crowd around her laughed as the slap of metal on skin echoed throughout the hall. Raven stood stunned for a moment before gaming to her back in laughter. She had landed the blow, Raven was out. That left Cynric.
YOU ARE READING
Blood And Stone
FantasyLyric. There was nothing extraordinary about her, at least not in her mind. She was nothing but a young servant in a wealthy farmer's house, picking berries, cooking meals, and scrubbing floors. Until one fateful day when a nearby village was set ab...
