Verity's Book 2.0

Legea/7th Realm Crossover: Ren & Mordred Meet

A long time ago, my great friend and fellow author nightwraith17 was discussing with me the ramifications of our respective emotional, explosive characters crossing paths.

Ren Draven from the 7th Realm series, and Mordred Kenhelm from the Ceristen series.

"Ren, you and Mordred must never meet."

"Can you imagine?"

"The only Mordred Ren is allowed to meet is the 43-year-old, vastly mellowed Mordred."

The 18-year-old, volcanic-tempered, traumatized Mordred?

It would be a disaster.

And that was when I knew I had to write it.

8 months later, here we stand, with a 1700 word one-shot describing these two volatile characters reacting to one another in the fieriest crossover of all time. *stands back* Hope you enjoy.

***

Ren picked herself dazedly up off the ground where the wind and whirling had flung her. Was this Gabriel messing with the stone again? She took a look around, and panic jumped in her as she realized that there was no-one else on the reedy, water-logged plains.

She pushed the panic down. "They'll turn up," she muttered to herself. If they didn't, she'd kill Gabriel – or near enough.

After a second, longer reconaissance, she set off towards a thin trail of smoke pushing against a cloudy, rain-spitting sky. The distance across the marsh looked deceptively short, and she found herself tiring, especially as her shoes became soaked.

Her roving eye caught movement and she stilled, glancing up to see the flock of ducks flying overhead. Automatically, she reached for her bow. Flicked an arrow out. Sighted. Released.

"What are you doing?"

The voice made her jump right as she let go the string. The arrow went flying wide in a wobbly, low arc and plunged into a distant puddle. Ren whirled, furious. "What do you think you were doing?" she yelled.

The intruder was standing barely an arm's length away, feet planted apart in the boggy grass and piercing grey eyes narrowed accusatorily. He looked both underfed and highly arrogant. "You're not from around here," he said.

"So?"

"So what are you doing, a girl out by yourself, shooting at ducks with that thing?"

"It's called a bow, numskull." She noticed that he was at least four inches taller than her and wondered if the insult had been a wise addition, but did not regret saying it.

"I know what it is." His chin flew up stiff and stubborn. "And you could be fined for hunting ducks on a noble's lands."

"Noble's lands, huh?" She cast a scathing eye over the marsh about. "That's not much of land."

"This is Rehirne." His voice cut with scornful insolence. "If you do not like it, you can leave. Most people don't."

"Don't like it, or don't leave?"

Though she was not looking at his eyes, she sensed his anger. "Both."

Ren decided she had stood here talking long enough. She tramped off through the slog of mud and water to retrieve her arrow, which took her longer than she wanted to find again. His footsteps followed her, to her increasing annoyance, and she ignored him in stoic silence, though her shoulders stiffened harder and she jerked the wayward shaft from its puddle with unnecessary force.