The Crimson Claymore

The Crimson Claymore: Prologue

*A/N: If you have read my novel, The Crimson Claymore and enjoy the story, I need your help. I am beginning my career as a published author. I NEED reviews on Amazon & Goodreads. If you like this story, PLEASE REVIEW IT ON AMAZON & GOODREADS!! I need reviews on Amazon & Goodreads. I need readers to be able to trust me, and for that I need reviews. PLEASE THE MAGE AND THE FRECKLED FROG, DIAMONDS UNDER A HICKORY TREE, AND THE CRIMSON CLAYMORE on Amazon & Goodreads!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE. I'm trying to start my career as an author, but readers who don't know me won't take a chance on me if I don' t have reviews to back me up. I love you guys, and will continue to release my unedited stuff here before publishing for money. I will always be looking for beta readers and reviewers. If you cannot afford to buy my stuff, I will give you free copies of my new releases in exchange for an honest review on AMAZON & GOODREADS. Let me know. If you can support me by buying, please do. I really want to write full time and I need your help. This is only a 10% sample as allowed by Amazon to post for free. If you can't afford to buy a copy, but wish to read the complete novel, consider becoming a beta reader or part of my street team. Thank you for reading!

Prologue

Searon ambled through the alleyways of crowded Augealia, completely ignoring the merchants who hounded him with their entreaties. He knew that they had seen him giving a small bag of coins to a poor beggar woman and her children and no doubt figured he had plenty to spare. He dared not meet their gaze, but kept his steady pace as he walked past them. Suddenly, something walloped into him from behind that made him stagger and nearly tumble to the ground.

It was a young girl, grown barely higher than his waist, with a loaf of fresh bread in her arms. The smell taunted his stomach as she looked up at him with her watery blue eyes. He understood her fear-he was probably the most intimidating man in the crowd in his plate mail and scabbard, except, of course, for the two guards with short scimitars in pursuit of the girl. He glanced back down at her. She cowered in fear. He reached down to grab her arm, but she was too quick, and she dashed away through the crowd, stopping only long enough to stick her tongue out at him.

Searon gaped at the girl as she receded into the distance. She had some nerve, although it was hard for him to judge: Was she was merely a thief, or a true survivor? She didn't look as if she had any money, with her torn cotton and leather dress, and her dirt-stained hair, about which he could only wonder-had it once been blonde? Her smudged face looked as if it hadn't been washed in months. He tried to catch up to her, sprinting now, but she was far too quick for him.

The guards had reached him and bumped into him, but ignored him and sprinted on, intent only on catching the girl. In their loose chain mail, they made entirely too much racket and seemed mere footmen compared to Searon, with his finely honed tracking skills, and it was amusing to watch them fall behind the clever girl. Searon knew by the way they chased the girl from behind, with little regard for tranquility, that their intellect wasn't very high; he knew well that was never the best way to catch someone.

Searon cut through a few shops and into an alley. He figured if the young girl had been stealing food to feed herself, she'd have made a roundabout back through the shops to lose the guards. Instead of foolishly joining the chase, he decided to intercept her when she headed back.

Every stone wall in the nearly deserted alleys was spiderwebbed with cracks. The village did not appear to have spent money to fix them for a long time. It had just stopped raining, and water draining down was even now eroding the cracks ever deeper. A few crows looked down at him from the rooftops. Searon followed a small gravelly path through the still puddles. When ripples began to form on the surface of the puddles, Searon looked up to see what could be making them. Fast footsteps echoed in the water in a chill whisper.