The Last Great Battle (NaNoWriMo story, on hold)

Chapter 3

22nd day of the 4th month of the year 1793, in the Third Age

Outside the border of Montara

Main Road

            Reanne stood outside of her royal carriage, tapping her sandaled foot in annoyance. She angrily wrapped her cloak more tightly around her.

            “What is happening? Seriously?”

            Pelot stopped looking at his nails to look up at her, “I told you already, Highness,” she sighed for he only called her that when they were where others could hear them. “Look at the carriage wheel. Does it look like we are going anywhere soon?” Reanne’s eyes followed his pointed finger to the right front wheel, which was broken in half and just barely hanging on its axel.

            “Well, sure there is that,” she scoffed and turned away. “How long do you think it will be?” Pelot groaned, threw his hands up in the air, and walked away.

            After twenty minutes of silence, Reanne called out again, “Hey! Pelot! Look, there’s another carriage coming this way!”

            “What?” He finally came back and looked where she was pointing. “It cannot be our luggage carriage because that arrived already. I wonder who it is?”

            A large carriage, painted a deep forest green with gold filigrees and gold-rimmed wheels, pulled by four large, chocolate brown horses came into view. The driver was dressed in matching green and gold livery with a tall, black top hat and a small green feather tucked into it, reared the horses to a stop near Reanne and Pelot.

            “Whoa!” The carriage driver called to his horses as he pulled tightly on the reins, “Whoa, there!” He looked Reanne and Pelot over from head to toe. “You people are not from around here are you?” He asked in a singsong voice.

            “No, I am—“ Reanne began but Pelot interrupted her.

            “We just have a broken wheel. We will be on our way as soon as it is repaired.”

            The person inside the carriage knocked two times on the carriage roof. The driver instantly dropped down from his high bench and ran over to the door. Two footmen ran from the back of the carriage to the door while the driver leaned in to speak to whoever is inside. They spoke heatedly for a few minutes before he stepped back and waved the footmen over. One footman held the door while the other one held out his hand to help a young woman from the carriage.

            When she reached the ground, she stood up straight, and pushed back her deep green, velvet hood. Reanne gasped as the woman blinked in her direction for, except for the color of their skin, the two women looked very much alike. They were both of average height with a thin build, copper-colored eyes, and hair the color of brandy with streaks of gold and red that flashed in the sunlight. The only difference was that Reanne had tanned skin the color of coffee with cream from the harsh sunlight of Saharen while the new woman had light, porcelain skin from the weak sunlight and constant cloud cover of Glenece.

            After the initial shock wore off, the young woman walked over to Reanne and held out her hand. “Hello!” she called out in a sweet, soft voice, “I am Harmony, Her Royal Highness of Glenece. It is amazing how much we look alike. Where are you two from? What are your names? Oh!” She turned to Pelot, “And, Sir, who are you? My Lord, are you one of the Catarians I have read about?”

            Reanne blinked and stepped back from the onslaught of questions. She turned to Pelot then turned back to Harmony. “Um…” she began.