Guardians of the Prophecy

Prologue: The Prophecy

*Here we are!  A taste of my new, first fantasy story that I'm posting on here.  It will definitely have romance, but give it a while to build it up because this story should be much longer than the ones readers are used to seeing.  Let me know what you guys think!  Tone, mood, etc?  Please vote and comment with your thoughts; thank you!  

Rima grunted softly as she landed on the flat roof before sprinting forward and leaping off of roofs onto the next building.  Len had told her to meet him at The Lord’s Peacock, a fancy restaurant near the University of Almas and she was already late. 

She glanced over the roof and saw small groups of people dressed in flowing robes and cloaks or reading scrolls and books.  Ah, here it was.  The Surovin district.  She moved onto the edge of the building and dropped down, quickly grasping the next ledge with her gloved hands.  After ensuring that her grip was solid, Rima dropped down once again, onto the ground.

Several bystanders made sounds of astonishment and confusion.  She straightened up from the crouch to see some people giving her odd looks.

"Where did she learn to do that?”

"Why would anyone want to put themselves in danger like that?”

“Crazy girl.”

Rima ignored the whispers and stares from the locals and made her way to the restaurant.  She had to know how to do those types of things.  It was instrumental in her role as Guardian. 

She weaved through the crowd gathered around in front of the restaurant and craned her neck to see if she could catch the hem of Len’s signature worn, brown cloak.  Being petite never helped in these situations.

“Rima,” she heard a stern voice admonish nearby.

She quickly turned towards the source but ended up bumping into the muscular chest of a man with ebony-colored skin she ascertained to be a politician’s bodyguard.  The bodyguard frowned down at her, obviously not impressed.  Before she could apologize, she felt a pair of strong hands grasp her shoulders and steer her towards a table deeper into the restaurant.

Rima glanced up to see the brown hem of her mentor’s hood obscuring his face.

"I’ve told you countless times to observe your surroundings,” Len said, leading the two of them to a table in the far corner.  A server stood by it patiently, his hands clasped in front of him.

Her mentor sat down with a sigh and threw back his hood, his face drawn.  She watched him rub a hand over his face before asking the server for a pot of tea and rattling off a list of requested dishes. Rima sat down as well and folded her hands in her lap.

Even after training with him since she was eight, she still felt like he treated her like a child.  Sure, sometimes she unconsciously followed her instincts, but that didn’t make her stupid.  Then again, Len had never been one to call her that either.

 “Are you going to explain why you were late, Rima?”  He pressed the tips of his fingers together, rested them in front of his mouth and creased his brows.

She bowed her head respectfully.  “Forgive me, mentor.  I admit that I lost track of time.”  It wasn’t the complete truth.  Her little cousins had been wreaking havoc back at home, and if she hadn’t helped out her aunt and uncle, who knows what would have happened to the furniture and treasured book collection.

The server sauntered back with a teapot, two cups, a bowl of soup and a platter of date buns.

Len nodded and reached for one of the white buns.  He took a big bite, revealing the paste made out of dates inside.  She watched him dip the bun into his bowl of vegetable soup and briefly wondered how that could taste good.