The Barons Daughter

Prologue

"Stay strong for me," He ordered, tilting her chin up. "Promise me you'll stay strong."

She swallowed hard. "Yes, father," she whispered hoarsely. "I promise."

He smiled wistfully, brushing light wisps of white-blonde hair away from icy blue eyes. Pressing his lips against her forehead, he stood. "I'll be back," he whispered, stroking her hair. "And when I am, you'll be a princess."

Then he was gone. She stood, almost shocked, as his warped shadow slithered out of the damp cave. "Father," she whispered, staring out at the weeping rain that poured from the sky. "No." she hesitantly stepped forwards; then stopped, biting her lip as his words echoed in her ears. Stay strong.

Yes father.

Around her, the cold air swirled and played with her tattered black cape. She blankly watched from inside the cave as he rallied up men and Wargals, large beasts looking like a failed cross between a lion and bear. Riding upon his dead white horse, he looked like a mythical warrior, with the tall, pale, regal frame and black armor. Rain cascaded down, warping his figure and muffling his shouts.

Slowly, the man and his army of beasts moved out of the courtyard below, trickling into a cracked chasm, splitting the wall apart. The girl's ice blue eyes never blinked as the rain swallowed them up, the last black bulge giving off one last scream of war before everything fell unnaturally silent. The rain coursed down upon the girl, rolling off her soaked hair and face. Tiny droplets rolled down her face, dripping down to the damp stone. Her eyes roamed the large empty hollow below. Rain clustered in puddles, running around broken armor and weapons.

She sucked in a breath of cold air, then turned, slowly moving into the cave. She shivered, pulling her tattered black cloak around her and resting her forehead against the cold stone wall. He was gone. The realization struck her like a thunder bolt. After all the talks and plans he had made, her father had finally gone. Something stung in her chest, making it hard to breath. Violently shaking her head, she blinked furiously. Father would chastise her for feeling like this.

Stay strong

Yes, father.

Something moved by the scattered rocks behind her, groaning. Whirling around, she pressed her back against the rough stone. A large shadow wandered around, standing up on its hind legs and baring its teeth. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards in a half-grin. "Kevric."

The Wargal growled, then slumped down. She swiftly moved over to him, wincing at the blood. His wound was still fresh, made by an angry swordsman before he was-

She abruptly cut herself off from the memory, slim fingers skillfully unwrapping the bandage. Blood poured from the deep slice, brown-red clumps sticking to fur around the wound. "You have got to take better care of yourself," she whispered, pulling a chest to her. Old, rusty hinges creaked as she pushed open the wooden top, rummaging around for a needle and thread. The black catgut slid through the eye easily as melted butter on a hot pan. Taking out a small shear, she clipped away the matted fur around the wound. Taking a deep breath, she pinched the skin closed and poked the needle in. Bit by bit, the wound slowly was sewn shut until nothing but twelve stitches and blood clots around the catgut remained.

"There we go," She smiled, scratching underneath the furry Wargal chin. "When father comes back, you'll be healed." Something twinged in her chest, making it hard to swallow. Kevric, sensing something was troubling his young mistress, gave a low growl and nudged her nose with his. She smiled, wrapping her arms around his, the musky scent enveloping her and washing away any remaining smell of her father.

Several Months Later

The white-blonde head lifted from Kevrics' chest. A sound of wet, pattering footsteps was unmistakable, slapping down on the stone like damp skin and echoing about the cavern. Brushing away her hair, she shivered, pushing herself off Kevric's chest.

A shadow formed against the wall, blocking out the light. Morila stared at it, eyes taking in the figure of a panting man out of breath and soaking. His stringy hair hung in his dark eyes, clothes tattered and stained. She watched as his eyes roamed about the wide cave, finally resting on her and widening with surprise. Bewilderment fading, his mouth slowly spread into an evil smirk. "So, Morgarath's brat is still alive."

She stared at him, pressing against the Wargals muscular body. He was so tall, like her father. But untrustworthy.

Jalka's mouth curved into a broken-toothed smile. "Not so precious anymore, are we?" He slickly moved forwards, eyes greedy and murderous. "Morgarath's mysterious daughter. Never told us your name." He grinned. "So what is your name, girl? Or was your father too stupid enough to think of one."

Her eyes closed as Morgarath's warnings echoed in her ears.

"Keep your name a secret. It'll keep the men wondering, and remind them you are my daughter." A small smirk touched his face. "And it will be a fun game to play."

"Yes, father."

Now this man wanted know it. She stared up at him, face blank. How dare he insult her father like that. Slowly, her face turned into a scowl. Beneath her, Kevric gave a warning growl, but Jalka was already talking again.

"Why the look?" He sneered. "Your pathetic father, the would-be king, is now gone, killed by a boy." The face curled into a grinning snarl. "And now I get the prize." Slowly, he crept forwards, one eye on the girl and one on the massive beast behind her. His hand darted out, snatching up the young child and yanking her forwards. "Duncan-"

He got nothing but two steps before Kevric released a massive roar of pure rage, lunging forwards and barreling into the snake-like man. Morila was thrown aside as Kevric reared up and bellowed in fury. Jalka, screaming with horror at the sight of the massive creature attacking him, scrambled away. The Wargal crashed down, sprinting forwards at the man as he stumbled to his feet. Jalka gave a cry of fright when the beast latched onto his back, teeth and claws shreding through the flimsy armor and skin. Terror overtook his limbs, adrenaline pulsing through his veins as he was thrown to the floor. Still trying to crawl forwards, he was flipped over, an enormous weight crushing his stomach. Kevric, fangs dripping with saliva and blood, snarled at him, yellow eyes flashing almost a dark red, one massive paw digging into his chest.

Jalka screamed as the Wargal roared, spittle mixed with blood flying on his sweat-soaked face. Growling, Kevric lifted his paw and watched as the damaged man scurried away in terror, out of the cave and down the mountain.

Turning, he gave a low huff and plodded over to Morila, tear-soaked and curled up in a ball. Sobbing, she threw her arms around the Wargal and buried her face in his furry shoulder. "He's not coming back," She whispered, sobs racking her thin frame. "He's not coming home, Kevric. Father left me! He's...gone."

Kevric shook himself, snorting the hair out of her tear-stained, pale face. The crystal blue eyes dried; Morila scrubbing her face with her sleeve. She sniffed, staring into the warm, brown eyes of her friend.

Stay strong, Morila.

"Yes, father."