The Zero Hour | #Wattys2016

Chapter 4 - A Rude Awakening (Part 1)

Amadeus was having a splendid dream of his victorious return to the commoner camp of White Harrow. He had successfully rallied the Avianath Exiles in battle and single handedly lead them against the Nobles of White Harrow. The entire camp cheered him on as he put his foot atop of Waldo's head with his arms raised in the air in acknowledgement of his incredible feat of defeating the entire White Harrow army. The camp's maidens were screaming his name and he was basking in the glory of an amazing victory.

Droplets of water briefly interrupted his victory speech, much to his annoyance. He looked up and wondered if it was about to rain on a beautiful day such as this. There was no sign of rain clouds, but the annoying dripping of water kept trickling onto his face. Then, without any warning whatsoever, he felt something freezing cold prick against his skin and woke up with a jolt. The moment he opened his eyes, he met the gaze of cold blue eyes, staring straight into his own uncertain ones.

Taken aback he tried to move, only to find that he was pinned down by two icicles – one raised above his head, prepared to strike; and the other pressed against his chest, positioned to pierce his skin if he tried to get up. Both icicles were held firmly in the hands of the person who owned the cold blue eyes. He looked determined and ready to kill Amadeus without a second thought if he should need to. Amadeus blinked repeatedly to clear his vision, wanting to identify his assailant. The person with blue eyes had silky white hair that appeared to shimmer in the sun. His skin was pale and he wore light grey wolf skins which were draped across his average frame.

Amadeus' eyes widened as he saw the belt of icicles tied to his waist and slung across his shoulder. He had to be an Exile from the tribe of Izenth! His excitement was somehow diluted by the fact that he was unsure if his first meeting with an Izenth Exile would be his last. Another drop of water formed on the tip of the icicle above his head and trickled down onto his face. He had heard of these icicles, they were crafted by the Izenth Tribe and would be as strong as any metal spearhead. Not wanting to take his chances with the Izenth Exile, he raised his hands in surrender and looked innocently into the Izenth stranger in front of him.

"You bear the same mark as the Nobles who taint our lands with their presence. They appeared out of nowhere last night and made camp in the Lost Valley," said the stranger as he gestured towards the White Harrow crest which was barely recognizable on Amadeus' shredded sackcloth tunic. Every commoner in the camp of White Harrow wore its crest on his or her tunic, marking them as one of their servants.

Aside from White Harrow, every other Noble town would each have a unique crest of their own on the tunics of all their commoners. This was an agreement made among Nobles to avoid disagreements over which commoners belonged to which Noble town. Before this agreement was in place, Nobles would constantly steal commoners from each other's towns.

"Now answer me carefully, for your next words could be your last. Are you one of their servants?" he asked, tightening his grip on the icicles to show that he meant every word and would not hesitate to strike down Amadeus

Amadeus gulped nervously, not knowing the answer which would save his life. The next words he uttered could truly be his last. After brief contemplation, he decided it would be best to just tell the truth.

"No," he said. He then closed his eyes tightly and flinched, preparing for the worst. It was indeed the truth; he truly did not serve the Nobles of White Harrow any longer. He had run away, and was now branded a deserter, to be killed on sight by the Nobles of White Harrow. He breathed slowly, and was pleasantly surprised to find himself still alive.

The grip on the icicles loosened slightly, but did not move from their threatening positions. "Who are you then?" asked the white-haired Exile, clearly requiring a better explanation than just – No.

Amadeus then carefully explained who he was, and all that had happened that had led him to journey all the way to the edge of the lost valley. He left out no detail, knowing his life was in the hands of the stranger before him. After he had finished the white-haired Exile seemed to pause, needing time to digest the great amount of information that was just disclosed.

The stranger seemed unmoved, and Amadeus could hardly blame him. Not many would believe such a far-fetched story such as the one he had just told. "How do I know that what you are telling me is true?" asked the Exile suspiciously. "I'll need some proof." he added, while his icy weapons still pointed threateningly towards Amadeus, ready to strike at any moment, surely incapacitating him or bringing certain death.

Think! Come on, think! How am I going to get out of this? Oh yes, the feather!

Amadeus reached slowly into his pockets, the Exile pressed down on the icicle at his chest and its tip made an indentation on his skin, clearly a warning sign for him not to try anything funny. Amadeus shivered as the tip of the freezing cold icicle touched his skin, causing a chill to run down his spine. He felt around his pocket for the feather and gripped it firmly in his hand, pulling it slowly out of his pocket.

He carefully put his fist in full view of the stranger and slowly loosened his grip on the feather, unfurling his fingers to reveal it. "Here, a feather from the cloak of the Avianath scouts. This was given to me by the head of my camp. I am to deliver this to the chief of the Avianath Tribe as proof that one of their own requests their assistance," Amadeus explained as he held the feather up for the Exile to examine.

After pausing for a moment, the Exile simultaneously threw both icicles in the air, and stood up. Amadeus cringed as the icicles both flipped and fell towards the ground. His fear and cringing were misplaced as both icicles landed with pin point accuracy into the empty sheaths on the belt strapped across the Exile's waist. Amadeus let out a slight sigh of relief; it looked like he would not be killed just yet.

"Sorry for startling you, but I had to be sure you were not with them." the Exile explained, appearing to be apologetic. He offered his hand which Amadeus thankfully accepted and was pulled to his feet.

Amadeus stood up cautiously, glancing quickly at his Lighvel which appeared to still have waves faintly dancing across it. Good, he thought, it still appears to have some energy left in it. I'll need to use it again if things took a turn for the worst.

While he was not very keen on flying through the air again and landing in a crumpled heap, he knew that it was far better than ending up captured or killed. Exiles were known to have different beliefs and cultures to the commoners. What word did Old Jarbus use to describe the other Exiles? Oh yes - unpredictable.