Arwer

[Serafium]

Bump

[Serafium]

Bump

[Ranger of the North]

Hiya! First off, this is really cool! You've had a creative idea, and I enjoyed reading it.
Secondly, I really like your characters; they seem to have a decent amount of backstory and they're both definitely different. If you switched to Cassandra's point of view, for example, I'd notice instantly because they both have their own personalities. (I kinda struggle with having different inner-voices, but you've done a great job!! *thumbs-up*)


Thirdly, I do think that your grammar could use a bit of work? c: I can give you some tips, if you don't mind c:
Paragraphs: new paragraphs should be made when you switch to a new speaker, a new topic, a new place, or a new time.
Commas in speech: when the speaking-verb goes after the speech itself, the speech is ended with a comma rather than a full-stop, and the text continuing is not capitalised. I find this hard to explain, haha, so here's an example ;p
Rather than:
“Don’t” He cut in, knowing what her sarcastic comment was going to be. Rayne, noticing the awkward silence, said “Care to explain why you have a pet dragon?”
It should really be:
“Don’t,” he cut in, knowing what her sarcastic comment was going to be. [probably add a new paragraph here?] Rayne, noticing the awkward silence, said, “Care to explain why you have a pet dragon?”xxxxxxxxxx(red means 'I added this'; blue means 'speaking-verb'. c: )

See? (admittedly, I actually changed the first 'he'. It was originally 'Rayne', but I just changed it to help explain myself. ;p I hope that's okay?)


Overall, though, it's really good! Those two ^^ were the most noticeable mistakes I found. c: I really like the title, too! It's a clever twist on his name, while also implying that things are going to get tough for him OoO
Cassandra, Rayne, and Ixen are great; I love how they interact with each other, and I am sooo down for more from you; I hope this was helpful, and I hope you can find the time to continue one day! (also, feel free to let me know if anything made no sense whatsoever, and I'll try to make my fingers speak prOpErlY XP)

[Serafium]

Thank you very much, and I'm glad to hear (read?) that you enjoyed it! I really enjoyed writing it, so it's good to know it goes both ways!

I have actually written quite a bit more, and changed it a lot. Although, it is mainly the prologue I changed whilst also adding about 5 chapters... I kinda forgot I had even posted it here, to be honest. I'd bump it every so often, but it hasn't been updated here since the last time, in February; the story is sitting at a good 45 pages now, in a word document.

I've changed Rayne's name now and he is instead called Arwer, which is a rough translation of hero into Welsh. However, you are the first person that has noted the wordplay in the title, which is why I changed it in the first place as I didn't think anyone got it. Cassandra and Ixen's names have also changed; Cassandra is now Lania, not related to the Polish, meaning power cable, nor the village in Cyprus. It means, roughly, protector, but I can't remember in which language. Whoops... Ixen is now Giardd, which is dragon in Welsh backwards. Most character names in the most recent version are based on Welsh or Latin, with very few my own imagination.

The most recent version that has been published is the link on my profile page, the Figment one, which leads directly to it. I don't expect you to go out of your way to read it, but if you want to, it's there.
I have added a bit since posting it, but it is the most up-to-date one.

Thank you for the grammar points, also! I was never very good at writing dialogue and I never knew where to put the punctuation ;n; It has been very helpful, and I will amend it wherever I see it. I will, at some point, post the newest version here, probably when I finish the prologue...

Thanks again for reading and for the tips; I will try to improve what I have written with my new knowledge!

[Ranger of the North]

No problem! c:

Hahaha, no worries; I forget I post things lots XD I saw it hadn't been posted on for awhile, lol, but I was waaay back in the archives and decided to give it a read XP Oh wow, forty-five pages? Awesome!

Oooh, that's interesting! I like the sounds of the new names c;

Oh cool, thanks! Am I able to read it without an account, or do I need to sign-up? o.o

Ooh, sweet! Sounds good to me

And no problem, I'm glad to have helped!!

[Serafium]

I don't think you need an account to read it, but if you do it's free anyway

[Ranger of the North]

I don't think you need an account to read it, but if you do it's free anyway

Oki doki, t'anks

[Serafium]

Bump

[Ranger of the North]

Ooh, I like the amount of new details we're getting! c:

[Serafium]

I'm not really sure what to do with the rest of it (there is one more lot to come), so here it is, I guess;



He finally decided he should reveal himself to her, the day before he would have to head back to his outpost to receive his new orders. He was supposed to be observing how the town was run and if there was any corruption within. “If”, he thought to himself, shaking his head. “The whole thing was corrupt.” He was teaching her, passively, another skill that was imperative for Rangers; awareness.
As soon as he stepped from his hiding space to somewhere slightly less concealed, she turned to look in his direction, bow drawn. “Who’s there?” she said. The Ranger stayed still. If he moved, he had no doubt he would be impaled by an arrow. “I can see you, you know” she said. “In the bush with the weird cloak,” the Ranger was genuinely shocked, although he would never admit it. The fact she had heard him, and picked him out so quickly was amazing. He had never seen anyone capable of it before. He struggled to pick out most Rangers when they were moving unseen. Maybe he wasn’t as good as he thought. He stepped out from the bush. “How did you see me?” he asked, taking all surprise and shock out of his voice.
He sounded indifferent. She stared at him, deadpan, for a few seconds. “The light was shining straight onto your face” she said, unblinking. She had no idea this was not a common trait amongst humans. She assumed everyone could see like that, not knowing her mother, thus not knowing she was half elf. “Anyway, why have you been watching me for the last few days?” The Ranger, trying to mask his surprise again, but failing this time, replied “You saw me? I was the one who gave you the bow. I was making sure you were learning the proper technique for using it. You are a natural decent shot, but true perfection is learnt through practice.”
Lania thought for a few seconds, weighing up whether his explanation made sense. She decided it did. “So, is my technique good?” she asked.
“You’re not aiming high enough on the target, and you’re not using your back muscles enough.” The Ranger explained.
“Allow me to demonstrate.” He shrugged of his cloak, revealing his longbow and quiver. Within 6 seconds, he had shot four arrows into 4 trees, all chest height on an average man. “Was I supposed to see that?” she asked. The Ranger smiled, “No” he said. “Just making sure you trust my opinion.” He drew again, slower this time, and held the pose. He told her to study the angle he was holding his bow. “Where do you think this arrow will hit?” She studied him for a few seconds, then walked towards a tree and pointed where she thought it would go. The Ranger shook his head. He told her to make a mark in the tree where she thought it would go. She cut the bark and stepped back. He shot the arrow, hitting a few centimetres lower than she thought. “Now I’ll try to hit your mark.” He aimed higher this time. He loosed his arrow, hitting the mark exactly. “If you can judge the power, you can judge almost exactly where your arrow will go.” He told her “With practice, you will be able to factor wind speed and the exact angle needed to hit the targets, too.”
Lania nodded. “How much practice?” she asked. “Until you would bet on yourself to do it nineteen times out of twenty” and then added “Five times in a row.” She coughed. “So, how much practice”? The Ranger repeated what he had said. “I can’t quantify it. It’s different for everyone.” He watched as she practiced for the next few hours, offering criticism where it was due and then announced he must return to the capital to report to the King.

She stopped. “That’s all I remember, really.”
Arwer, standing up, announced he was going to bed. “See you tomorrow” he said. “’Night” she replied, as Arwer walked to the door to the stairs. “Watch your head” she called, as he walked straight into the solid oak door behind. Arwer could hear her laughing as he went up the stairs, rubbing his head.


Chapter 4:

Arwer lay awake for most the night, thinking about the town. He had heard about it before. But her fathers’ name seemed to spark a memory in him also. It was not a common name in the Elven lands. He could not think about where he knew the name from. He thought about it deeper and deeper as he tried to find somewhere in his mind where any information about Tarhia could be hidden. He was certainly not from Skyholme. But where was he from? How did Arwer recognise the name? He continued to ponder these thoughts until he finally fell asleep.

Upon waking in the morning, he still had not decided where he knew the name from. He lay there quietly for a few moments. He heard a scratching sound on the wall. He got out of bed and walked over to the window. He pushed aside the shutters. Giardd was walking past the side of the house, and his great tail was scratching against the wall. Arwer walked downstairs, forgetting about how treacherous they were. For the second time, he almost fell down them. This time, though, he remembered about the solid iron-bound oak door on the other side of the leather flap. Lania was asleep at the table.
Wondering where his boots were, he decided to explore the house a little. He had no chance the day before, because he was engrossed in Lania’s story.
As he explored the building he discovered that it was quite small. Of course, he didn’t know about the basement which was nearly triple the size of the house because there were no houses nearby, so no need for there to be many foundations. He also failed to notice the third story. However, having not seen the house from the outside, he didn’t know it existed, thus not expecting to see it, he didn’t see Lania’s room, but this didn’t occur to him. He found there were two other rooms connected to the main part of the house, not counting Lania’s room. Her room was concealed next to the stairs down from Arwer’s room.
While he was walking through the kitchen, Lania had awoken and was watching with interest as he opened every cupboard and door to see what was hidden behind it. She asked him what he was looking for, nearly giving him a heart attack. When he finally recovered, he replied “My boots. Where are they?” Lania was confused. “They should be in your room” she said “Unless Giardd ate them” she added, looking thoughtful. “I can’t say I remember seeing them recently.” Arwer stared at her blankly for a few seconds. “You’re kidding, right?” he asked, unsure. Lania looked at him sternly for a few seconds. “Of course I am” she replied, laughing. “They are in the porch, outside the door.” Arwer retrieved his boots, putting them on. Lania looked at him, surprised.
“Going somewhere?” she asked.
“Just exploring” Arwer replied, walking out. Before he went ten steps, Lania rushed out after him.
“Not without me” she called “You’ll get lost.” Arwer waited patiently outside while Lania frantically ran around inside, looking for everything she wanted to take. She emerged fifteen minutes later, carrying a bow some arrows and a sword, as well as two daggers. “Give me a minute” she said, going back inside. A few moments later, she emerged again, this time carrying things for Arwer to use. Leaving, she saw Arwer eyeing the smaller of the two knives with interest. Seeing her approach, he went to ask
“Is this a-” Lania interrupted, finishing for him
“a throwing knife, yes.” Arwer looked impressed.
“Can you throw it?” he asked, curious.
“Why would I have it if I couldn’t throw it?” Lania replied, dryly. In fact, she couldn’t throw it, but she wanted to pretend she could. She found herself wanting to impress Arwer, but she wasn’t sure why. Something happened that she wasn’t expecting, however. Arwer asked if she could show him how. Because he was an Elf, she was expecting him to be a master with all ranged weaponry. Of course, she realised her mistake. Elves were masters of bows, not necessarily all ranged weapons.
Instead of exploring, however, Lania suggested that they just practice, as Arwer hadn’t used weapons in a while. Agreeing that this was a good idea, Arwer asked if she had some bowstrings and some yew branches.
“Why?” she queried, “that seems rather random.” Arwer replied,
“I want to make a bow, and yew branches are what mine was made of. Along with a bit of elven steel infused, but you won’t have any of that. Probably.” Lania seemed doubtful.
“Well, practice with this for now. See if we can find some later, maybe.” Nodding, Arwer picked up the bow and a quiver of arrows, slinging them onto his shoulder. His back was still a little tender, so it stung a bit, but he ignored it.
“Do you have any targets to shoot at?” he asked. Lania nodded, “Just round the corner; 5 targets at different distances.” Arwer walked around the corner, noticing the targets. “Do they move?” he asked. Lania laughed.
“You’re kidding right? How would they move?” she laughed while Arwer stared blankly at her. “Oh… You’re being serious… Uhh… No... They… they don’t move.” Arwer shrugged. He drew an arrow from the quiver. He drew back the bowstring. “What about a blindfold?” he asked, holding the position at full draw. Lania sighed, exasperated.
“Can’t you just shoot? We don’t even know if you can shoot straight yet.”
Arwer loosened the tension of the string and removed the arrow. “Is that a challenge?” he asked. Lania shrugged.
“Sure, why not. Let’s see if you can shoot better than I can.” She shrugged her bow off her shoulders, “though I’d be surprised if you can.” Arwer looked at her with a sideways glance,
“Well then, by all means, ladies first,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. Something about his manner concerned her, but it was too late. Stepping forwards, Lania drew the bow fully and loosed an arrow. It was a good shot. It flashed across the clearing and hit the inner-middle ring of the target, and was almost in the bull’s-eye.
“Your turn,” she said, with a smug grin on her face.
Sighing, Arwer stepped forwards. Her grin faded quickly and was instead replaced by a look of pure shock and disbelief. Her jaw dropped. He had fired three arrows in fewer seconds and hit the dead centre of three different targets.
“So… You want to go again, or have I proven my point?” Lania was taken aback. She opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to speak, but finding herself unable to do so.
“How did you do that?” she asked, surprised. She had never seen anybody do anything like that before.
“I’m an elf” he said shortly, before walking back inside, ducking his head as he did so. Arwer emerged again a few minutes later with an axe and some rope. Lania saw him and called to him, asking where he was going.
“I saw a yew tree through the window. I’m going to get a branch.”
She watched him go, and then resumed shooting the targets, trying to replicate what Arwer had just accomplished. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t. Even if she took her time and aimed each shot, she couldn’t hit the centre every time consistently. She was out of practice, and had got out of the routine of regularly shooting.
About an hour later, Arwer returned with a tall yew branch.
“This should do” he said, brandishing the branch.
He went inside, and while looking for a knife to carve his branch, he found a very crude bow. The bow was quite small, and he estimated it would have a draw weight of about 20 pounds.
“She must’ve started shooting pretty young then,” he thought to himself. He shut the cupboard and went back outside.
“Do you have a long knife?” he asked.
“You mean a sword?” came the sarcastic reply.
“You wouldn’t know the difference,” he said as he went back inside. Going upstairs, looking for something sharp and long, but still short enough to have control of. If he couldn’t find anything, he would try and use a sword, but only if he couldn’t find anything else. In one of the drawers upstairs, he managed to find the perfect tool. With the Fletchers knife, he went to work cutting away the excess wood until he had the preferred size. He sandpapered down the rough stick, making it smooth. He would spend a few days perfecting his bow rather than rushing through it and getting it wrong.
He heard Lania enter the house again, and looked up. She saw his stick and asked him how he was going to get it to bend. He realised he was going to ask something, but had forgotten what it was.
“Do you need a string?” she asked, as Arwer sat completely still. She repeated her question.
“Hmm? Oh a string, yes please,” he responded. She went and rummaged in a drawer for a while and returned with a bowstring. Handing it to Arwer, she watched, intrigued, as he attached it to the top and bottom of his bow. His stick had transformed from a simple stick to a stick with a string. He still hadn’t solved the problem of bending his bow. She watched as he laid it on the floor and stood on the stick, with the string in his hands. He slowly stood up, bending it into a quarter-moon shape. She thought he had bent it too far, as it was roughly crescent-shaped. As he let go off the string, however, the wood gave way a little and moved back to the shape he was expecting.

He drew the bow experimentally a few times, and went to work chipping off the parts that wouldn’t bend. Lania watched with interest. Since making her first bow, she had stayed away from making them herself and instead bought them professionally made, to assure their quality.
“Time to test then,” he said, standing up and walking towards the door. He stopped in front of the door, forgetting something. A few seconds passed.
“Oh right, arrows,” he muttered to himself, turning to walk back into the house to find some. He was instead met with a deer-hide quiver being thrust into his hands, almost losing his grip on his bow as it happened.
“Thanks,” he said, cheerfully walking outside. Lania shook her head, smiling to herself.
Watching through the window, she watched Arwer consistently hit the centre of the targets until he exhausted the quiver of arrows. After collecting the arrows, Arwer walked back into the house, but not before leaning the bow against the wall in the porch and hanging the quiver on a peg just outside the door. Stooping his head as he entered, Arwer came into the main room. Before he could walk three steps, Lania told him to take his boots off, so as not to get mud on the carpet.
The next few days passed similarly. Arwer was slowly teaching Lania to be a master shot like he was. She was asking for his help very frequently, hoping he would forget about the throwing knife. She had been practicing when he wasn’t there with the knife, so she would at least be able to hit a target some of the time. “Can you use a sword?” Arwer asked, seeing the blades on the shelf inside. “Sort of” she replied, “Why, want me to teach you?” she asked. Arwer shook his head. “I was thinking more I would teach you.” Lania scoffed at that, and then remembered what had happened last time.
“Is that a challenge?” Arwer asked, raising his eyebrows. She was walking a thin line, she realised.
“Sure, why not? What’s the worst that could happen? You can’t be that good.” Arwer raised his eyebrows again,
“Well, if you’re sure.” She grabbed the two basic blades off the shelf and, giving one to Arwer, stood with the sword ready. Or, she thought she did. Arwer was looking at her quizzically. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Keeping my sword ready… I thought that…” Arwer shook his head.
“You’re doing it wrong,” he demonstrated how she should be standing. He was light on his feet so he could move quickly, and he had the sword tip pointing up slightly. He had a loose but controlling grip on the blade. She attempted to copy what he was doing.
“You’re holding your sword too tightly. If you hit something too hard, you’ll break your arm. Or your sword. You need to give it room to move.”
After fifteen minutes, she finally got the position right. “Okay then,” Arwer said, turning,
“Time for a break.” Lania looked at him with her mouth wide open in surprise. As Arwer walked toward the door, she ran after him, anger flaring. A few moments later, she entered. She inhaled to shout. “You know, the whole point of me leaving was to see if you could just get the position right,” Arwer said, killing the shout before it was made. "Oh,” she replied “Oops.” Arwer smiled.
“Do you want to practice now?” She nodded a yes, and left the house, collecting her sword as she did so.
As Arwer left the house, he saw that she was indeed in the correct position.
“You see? It worked,” he said. She rolled her eyes, but was smiling. Standing in his ready position, he told her to initiate the fight. She swung the blade viciously. Arwer leant back slightly, feeling the wind rush by his chest. She lunged maliciously. He stepped to the side. He feinted left, as if he was going to strike. She tried to mimic what he had been doing. She fell over.
“You know, you could’ve killed me,” Arwer said, smiling.
“Shame I missed” she said, angrily.
Arwer sighed, shaking his head.
“Guess you’ll have to try harder.” He watched as she slowly stood up. She walked towards him. She was incredibly angry, and was forgetting everything she had just been told. She had an iron grip on her blade. She cleaved it at Arwer, who, at the last second, moved his blade at lightning speed and parried. She had put so much venom in the swing, and he hardly even moved, didn’t even flinch. She jarred her arm. She tried again, swinging in a wide arc to try and catch him. Again, he moved at the last second, using the momentum of his movement to parry the blow, then tightening his grip as the blades met. He shook his head.
“My turn.” He said. He swung down, trying to slice. She reacted much slower than him, and just about got the sword up in time to block. As she did so, he used the recoil of his blade to his advantage, swinging it round and instead lunging underneath. He stopped the blade shortly before he impaled her stomach. She was pale as snow, he thought. “We’ll carry on tomorrow” he said, dropping his sword and heading back inside.

In the morning, Arwer headed downstairs. He stopped at the door. He could hear voices. “Your dragon… Too dangerous… Contained… Arrested… Trial by combat.” Listening for five minutes, they are the words he heard. He could also hear Lania crying. He entered the room silently. He walked up to the table, behind where the speaker was sat. He stood silently for a minute or two. Clearing his throat, the speaker jumped, letting out a yelp of terror. “Who are you!?” he bellowed. Arwer stared at him. “Someone who recommends you never do that again,” he replied, sharply. The man tried to meet his steely gaze, but couldn’t. “What’s that about a trial of combat?” The man explained what was going to have to happen. “So… Someone has to fight, to the death, so she can keep her dragon?” The man nodded. “Or, you can leave the fief.” Arwer thought. The man was looking to him for an answer. “It’s not my choice,” he said. “It isn’t my dragon.” The man turned to look at her. She said she would complete the trial. “Very good then. You can come in my cart, if you wish, or make your own way.” They followed him out, and got into his cart. He explained that only one of them could fight, but it didn’t matter which.
Arriving in the capital of the fief, Shadowhaven, Arwer and Lania finally agreed that Arwer would be the one fighting. They had been arguing for the last few hours about who would fight. Both were saying that they should fight, with Arwer saying he was better and her saying that Giardd was her dragon. “Just so you know, you’ll be fighting with someone else too,” the courier said.

Chapter 5:

Around the magnificent ironstone arena, the blood-red of the sky merged with the reddening amphitheatre. A storm was coming. This was the calm. Slips of death were being passed in an office; amounts of coin to wager winners, to fix results. A slow crystal cascade pours out of the heavens, and as if mesmerised by the serene beauty of the moment, time appeared to stop and then repeat, to the consistent background of the hammering rain, with the passing of coin on whether a fatality is guaranteed.
As golden tendrils crept across the hills, a shadow is thrown across the town, like a blanket, suffocating the light. The town was sleeping soundly, all except one house. One house groggily opened its eyes. A few minutes later, it yawned, letting a figure escape.
As Geirias made his way through the town, hood pulled up to protect his head from the rain. In the North side of Shadowhaven, servants were just waking up. In the shadows within The Shadow, Geirias knew shaded deals between business partners would be occurring. This was prime time for them, as few people would be awake to witness there illegal deals, and if they were, they wouldn’t be alive to say so.
“Best if I walk with my hand on my sword” Geirias thought, almost out loud. He tuned his senses to the upmost degree, so he could react to any sound he heard and place it on whatever made the sound. Turning at random intervals to catch so as not show any pattern to potential stalkers, Geirias walked confidently down the dusty, barren and potentially dangerous dirt road, so as not to show any signs of weakness. That was always the first step to being mugged.
Slithering slowly out of a well-oiled scabbard, a short sword glints in the half-light. An unseen figure in a grey cloak hides, doubled over in an alley. Geirias unwarily walked by; carefully, the grey-cloaked stranger stalked his prey. Geirias stopped suddenly… he had heard something. The stranger noticed, but a second too late. Geirias pivoted instantly, hearing footsteps. The grey-cloaked stranger carried on walking towards Geirias, his steel blade slithering into his hand from its hiding place, hiding from the light.
Geirias beckoned to the stranger; “Hello, friend”. The stranger nodded and grunted, increasing his pace. Geirias noticed this, along with their strange walking pattern, as their hand was in their cloak. Geirias realised the stranger was carrying a blade. He flicked his sword from its scabbard in one fluid, well-practised manoeuvre and pointed it at the stranger. “Stay your step, stranger” Geirias threatened, his voice dangerously low. “Drop your knife… And your sword” Geirias demanded. “Then turn and walk thirty-five steps away. You can collect them after.” The man did so, and watched as Geirias walked quickly away, toward the arena.
Geirias had been framed for a crime, but because they couldn’t prove it, he instead had to fight in the arena.
Upon arriving at the arena, he was told he would be fighting alongside another criminal. “Great” he thought to himself “A cut-throat.” This reaction was identical to Arwer’s. Both men were about to get a pleasant surprise. They were told they had one hour to prepare, then pushed into a room together. Both had been allowed to use their own weapons, so both men could see the other was a soldier of some kind. Geirias studied his compatriot’s clothes. “Fairly feminine” he thought “Probably Spaenegan.” This was, of course, incorrect, but Arwer was wearing the most masculine clothes that Lania had, which were still quite feminine. They sat on the hard wooden chairs and looked solemnly out of the window, in silence, until Geirias finally broke the silence. “What’s your name?” Arwer looked up. “Arwer” he answered simply. “What’d you do?” he asked Arwer. “Well, I think they called it ‘harbouring a dangerous fugitive dragon’,” he replied. “As far as I know, the only thing he endangers is fish” he added with a smile.
“You have a pet dragon?” Geirias exclaimed in surprise “Wow!” Arwer nodded.
“So, what did you do?” Arwer asked. “I got framed for a crime. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, basically. But they couldn’t prove it was me, so they are forcing me to fight in the arena.” Arwer shook his head. “Ah well. Any idea who we’re fighting?” he asked.
“No, but I think it is ‘a what’, not ‘a who’,” Geirias answered. They talked like this for several moments, trying to judge whether they could trust the other.
The guards came to collect them after an hour had past. They took them into a small armoury, where Arwer left his stringed stick and picked up a real bow, testing the draw-weight and power of the bow. He found one he was okay with, and took a quiver of arrows. The guards waited patiently by the door as the two men prepared for the combat. “That’s an interesting stick” one of the guards said, laughing. Arwer nodded, pretending not to notice the sarcasm,
“It is, isn’t it? I plan to finish it when I get out of here.”
“Well, you know what they say. ‘The best laid plans…’” the guard started. Arwer shot him a look, warning him to watch his words. The guard stopped talking instantly. After Arwer had finished, he walked to the guards and his companion. The guards opened the doors and led them into the arena and then left again, leaving them with thousands of people craning to get a good view of their death. “This is gonna be fun,” Arwer murmured, to which Geirias laughed. A few moments later, a gate is flung open with a loud screech and equally loud bang. This is followed by the sound of many marching feet. “Oh this is really gonna be fun,”
“Yep. What, 50 men?” replied Geirias. “I guess they really don’t like your dragon.” The soldiers stopped and were looking at a larger gate on the far wall.
“Wait a minute… I don’t like the look of this. I mean, even less than I did a few seconds ago” Arwer said, just as the larger gate opened slowly to reveal a huge three headed dog. Even from where they were, some 300 metres away, they could easily see that this particular foe was a wall of muscle and pure power, with vicious claws and fangs. One wrong move would spell doom.
“Hmm... Maybe that’s why there are 50 soldiers?” Arwer said, sarcastically.
“Yeah, maybe, who’s to know?” Geirias replied in the same tone.
Both men drew their swords and walked toward the mass of soldiers. Before they got half way there, the beast had set upon the soldiers, scattering them like tiny toys.
“You know, I always thought I’d die by getting eaten by some three-headed dog” said Arwer, again with a heavy tone of sarcasm.

While walking slowly toward the beast, they were talking casually. “Any ideas on how to kill it?” asked Arwer.
“Not a clue” replied the other gladiator. As they neared the dog, one of the guards, who Geirias recognised as one of his old friends, stopped them, and with his last words uttered “good luck” rather maliciously, before choking on his own blood. “What a nice fellow,” Arwer said, disdainfully.
“You think shooting it will do anything?” He asked, doubtfully.
“Probably not. Maybe just annoy it more.” Watching the monster tear through the guards, sending them flying, many with mortal wounds, they could see the powerful muscles rippling as it sprinted toward its prey.
“Well then. Looks like our help wasn’t very helpful,” Geirias said, slowly.
“Indeed. However, I have an idea,” Arwer replied, pointing to a door on the far side.
“That, is a portcullis.” Geirias didn’t follow, and asked Arwer to explain his idea. “Well, we need to lure the dog underneath it, and then close it on top of it.” Neither man knew how to do either of those things. Both realised that they would need to make the dog follow one of them, while the other was ready to close the heavy Iron Gate on top of the beast. “So… Who’s the bait?” Arwer thought, considering the question. “Well, I have the bow, so I guess I will.” Geirias nodded,
“I could, if you want?” Arwer was already shaking his head.
“No, it’s okay. Anyway, you run to the portcullis and see if there is a rope or something you can climb up to and cut” Arwer said, formalising his idea clearly so that his ally wouldn’t misunderstand. “Make sure you watch carefully and try and judge its speed if you can, then you have more chance of getting him. We only have one shot at this.” Geirias nodded agreement.
He set off walking towards the other side of the arena. Arwer shot the dog in the back. It turned, its eyes locking instantly onto his offender. They were red with rage and bloodlust, burning into Arwer’s chest. It was instantly met with a hail of arrows that hit its heads. One arrow pierced the eye on the left head, causing the beast to let out a terrible three-tone howl of pain and anger. Searing agony pulsed within the body of the horrific, monstrous, vicious behemoth. Arwer shouted and cursed at the beast, making sure he had its attention. It charged at Arwer. The crowd cheered. It closed the gap insanely quickly, and was within 50 meters in a heartbeat. Arwer’s speed with the bow was just as fast however, and he sent multiple arrows flying towards his great foe in just seconds. All of them found their mark, but failed to injure the monster. The beast lunged at him, biting the air with what should have been a lethal attack. But his enemy was missing.
Unnoticed by the dog, Arwer had rolled under the beast at the very last second, evading it and its dagger-like claws. Arwer took his chance, and seeing Geirias at the portcullis, sprinted toward the gate while the beast was confused. The beast saw him and set out after him, covering the ground exceptionally quickly once again. It was closing on Arwer, who realised he would be caught before he reached the gate. He could feel the ground shaking as the demonic fiend got within metres of him. Suddenly, Arwer feigned a movement left then pushed off of his left foot and rolled to the right, causing the hellish lusus naturae to lose its footing and went sprawling in the blood-stained sand of the arena. Arwer didn’t even turn to look. He was up and running again instantly. The brute was infuriated by how simply Arwer had evaded him. He pawed the ground like some blood-thirsty bull from hell and bellowed a resounding roar that would rival the blast of thunder. It shot off like a bolt, given strength by hatred-filled vengeful desire to tear this impotent creature to shreds. Arwer was standing in front of the portcullis, waiting for the monstrosity to be within range. It was barrelling towards him at a furious pace. The muscular brute was blinded by rage and blundered towards this insignificant, tiny lower animal. It was within 100 metres. Arwer counted 3 seconds in his head. 50 metres. 2 more seconds. He dived to the side, shortly after shouting to his compatriot to shut the gate. The hell-spawn dashed directly under the gate as the acuminous edge slammed forcefully into the three necks of the hellish beast, fatally damaging ligaments and muscles, effectively severing the heads. The creature saw only red in its final moments, as an explosion of agony penetrated its entire body. It was convulsing all over, and in a final powerful paroxysm struck out at the tiny creature. Arwer was swatted aside, severely winded, with possible cracked ribs. He spiralled through the air for a few seconds, before crashing down onto the floor. Barely holding on to consciousness, he was on his hands and knees, coughing up blood.
The crowd were cheering ecstatically, their energy and excitement obvious as it permeated into the air. Geirias climbed halfway down the portcullis, then dropped into the dirt and sprinted toward his ally. Arwer tried to stand. The ground was violently shaking beneath him as he tentatively stood and staggered wildly, trying to keep his balance. His arms flailing uncontrollably, he almost collapsed. Geirias arrived just in time to stop him crashing into the ground, stopping his fall. “You know…” he paused, panting and breathing heavily, “I always hated dogs,” he finished. Both men laughed, as Arwer fell unconscious, blood seeping through his shirt.
Geirias half carried, half dragged him out of the arena. The guards opened the gate for him, and they were met by healers and druids who would attempt to heal Arwer. They put him on a stretcher which Geirias helped carry. They carried him on the stretcher through the town to the temple. Lania rushed to follow them, but was held back by guards. She tried to push past them and get to her friend, but the guards struck her in the back of the head, blurring her vision and forcing her to her knees. She crumpled on to the floor as the guards raised their cudgels to beat her. A voice intervened, cutting like a whip and causing the guards to flinch “Just what do you think you’re doing? Beating a civilian? Explain yourselves!” It was the captain of the guard, who believed strict discipline and harsh punishment would form the most effective force. However, he would only do so if he believed there to be reason. “She tried to dash for the competitors, Sir” one of the guards explained. Getting closer, the captain saw her face and recognised her as the companion of the elf victor, as he kept tabs on everyone who entered the city. “You fools!” he exclaimed. “She is the companion of the victor. Let her go, immediately!” The guards stepped back from her, shame and fear on their faces, as they knew strict justice awaited them.
Struggling to her feet, she stumbled forward. She walked over to the wall and leant there for a few minutes, shaking her head and regaining her senses. She then proceeded to walk towards the temple, following the small group in front of her. She could hear a voice behind her. She turned to see who it was and saw the captain striding purposefully towards her. “This can’t be good,” she thought. He caught up with her and said, “I will escort you. These streets are not the place for a young woman to walk alone.” She nodded thanks and proceeded in silence toward the temple.
While they were walking, Lania examined his features. He was quite handsome she thought. He was probably in his late 30’s and was in good shape. It was clear he still took an active role in protecting the city, rather than sitting with his feet up. She also thought he would have seen his fair share of battles, which his broken nose attested to. He had striking blue eyes, she noticed, and short black hair. He walked confidently and straight-backed. In turn, he was also examining her, out of the corner of his eye. He could see she was not afraid of conflict and she seemed completely at ease, even with the unnerving surrounding. She clearly cared very much about her friend, but he still couldn’t help admiring her beauty. He doubted he would get in over her elvish companion, but he thought she was truly beautiful. They reached the temple door, which he opened for her, before parting with “Take care, ma’am.” He shut the door after her and walked back to the arena.

Inside the temple, the stretcher had been set down by a ritual pool in the centre that would be used to clean him and keep him under the protection of Fafensor, the god of protection. Seeing him unconscious by the pool, Lania ran forward. Her heart dropped when she saw his blood-soaked shirt. The head priest explained that it was a wound on the back of his head that was bleeding the most. They believed he would survive, as long as they kept him on his front. They went to work cleaning his head in the holy water, washing and dressing the wound with a bandage. They added a medicinal salve that would help prevent infection and also make it scab faster. They put a folded cloth on the wound, and then wrapped the bandage around. “He should be fine” another priest said. The others agreed, reassuring her that he would be ok.
Geirias was standing by the wall, leaning against it, spinning a dagger in his fingers. Lania walked up to him, looking at him expectantly. He regarded her curiously, unsure of whom she was. “And who are you?” he asked “No disrespect, of course.” Lania smiled, and replied “I’m his friend” she answered, pointing at Arwer. “He fought so I could keep my dragon.”
Geirias nodded.
“He’s incredible with a bow. And insanely brave. He intentionally pissed off a ‘Maetricipennawd’”
Lania stared at him blankly. “Three headed dog in my language,” Geirias explained “or Cerberus”. Lania realised she hadn’t properly introduced herself.
“My name’s Lania. I live in the Draigpren Forest. With my dragon. And Arwer,” she finished, pointing to her friend. Geirias nodded again.
“I am Geirias. I live here, in the workers’ estate. I’m originally from Crymer, hence the accent. Where’s Arwer from? His clothes look Spaenegan, but he clearly isn’t.”
Lania thought.
“I don’t know exactly. He’s an elf. He’s wearing my clothes. I found him injured in the forest, so I looked after him for a few weeks.”
Geirias asked “Any idea where you are staying tonight?” to which Lania shook her head.
“We planned to go back today, but I guess that won’t be happening.”
“You could stay with me, if you wish. My house isn’t anything to brag about, but it’s a roof to sleep under,” Geirias offered.
“I would appreciate that, thank you,” Lania replied.
Regaining consciousness, Arwer groaned as he tried to sit up. His head was spinning. He had lost a lot of blood. Not too much to die, but he would be light-headed for a while. “Oh god… Ugh… What happened? My chest is killing me”
“You were hit by a huge three headed dog,” a priest explained.
“Huh. As you do,” Arwer replied, hint of a smile on his pale face.
Arwer looked around the room, looking for something, or someone.
“Where is my stringy stick? It is very important to me,” Arwer asked.
Lania looked offended that he seemed more concerned about his stick than her. She grumpily walked up, thrust the stick at him, and stalked off. “Here’s your stupid stick” she said, maliciously.
“Was it something I said?” Arwer joked, as the priests shook their heads disapprovingly. Arwer rose to stand, but the priests told him he had to stay to heal. “I’m fine,” he claimed, “and besides, I have a feeling my ride out of here might be about to leave without me; Even though I just saved her dragon.” Using his stringy stick as a support, he slowly made his way out, followed by Geirias. Lania was sitting, curled up in a corner by the stairs, crying.
“Do you want the stringy stick, darling?” Arwer asked, humourously. She glared at him. “Oh, come on. I just half-died for you, damnit.”
Lania stood up slowly, and then walked to the other side of Geirias, so she wouldn’t be near Arwer. “I feel attacked,” he said sarcastically, hobbling slowly down the road using his stick. “You know, you take being able to walk for granted. This experience can be enlightening for us all, I think.”
“Shut up” Lania hissed, with considerable venom, “Or I will take your dumb stick.”
“Dumb stringy stick, thank you very much,” Arwer emphasised in response.
“Now, now children, calm down. There is no need to argue. You’ll be sharing a room tonight,” Geirias added, with a humourous light in his eyes.
Arwer shrugged. Lania stared at Geirias, open mouthed.
“Well I only have two rooms, you know. I’m not particularly well off,” he added apologetically.
The three companions walked down the half-cobbled, half-dirt road in silence, as five pairs of eyes evaluated their targets.
“The hooded man in the middle. Get him first. He’s the real danger here. The one on the left is much too injured.”
He examined the last person.
“The other is a girl,” he added, and his unscrupulous, crooked allies laughed. They completely overlooked the dagger at her waist, and the sword attached by string to her belt. What they saw was one challenge, who would be shot when the signal was given. “20 metres, lads, then get behind them. I’ll give the signal to our shooter.”
Their shooter was someone leaning against the wall. He had been hired by these unscrupulous characters in aid of a robbery.
He had a grey-green mottled cloak and a roughly shaven black beard. He was short but powerful. He had claimed to be a master shot and had beaten a Ranger in a duel, which is where he got the cloak. He had a rough, cold-hearted, emotionless face. He looked like a killer. He was here for the girl, but the other two wouldn’t be a problem.
He saw the criminal give the signal. He opened and closed the door behind him, creating the impression he had just left the building. He walked into the street, and then made his way toward them. Arwer was watching them carefully.
“That man is armed,” he warned.
“I have seen a cloak like that before,” Lania said.
“Ranger cloak,” Arwer finished.
“The Ranger placed here is useless, though.” Geirias added, the confusion obvious in his voice.
“He isn’t now, apparently,” Arwer responded.
The man threw back the hood.
He pulled out his bow.
He made a stopping motion to the three friends. He drew his bow. Arwer noticed the elevation was wrong for him to be aiming at them.
“Either he isn’t aiming at us, or he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing,” Arwer whispered. Arwer slowly turned his head just enough to see what was behind him.
“There are some bandits behind us,” he said, casually. “Just so you know.”
Realising they had been spotted, the bandits charged at their prey. Their leader was shot down immediately. The man nearest to him tripped over his body, as the other three ran toward them, weapons drawn.
“This is a waste of time,” Arwer said. He drew Lania’s sword from her belt before she could stop him. He stepped forward, and Geirias did the same, sword drawn. The bandits figured they could break the injured man, having no idea of the healing capabilities of the Elves, especially when combined with the enchanted water from the temple, which had a much more prominent effect on Elves as they are the ones who originally created it. It had been gifted to the Humans years ago in acknowledgement of their truce with them, borne from war. He was nearly fully healed from the magic ritual, and he wasn’t even bleeding anymore.
As a result, the bandits both charged at Arwer, who easily blocked the first strike and side-stepped the other, quickly stepping on the blade, forcing it out of the man’s grasp. The man whose attack he parried swung again, only to have his hand caught mid-air. Geirias then smashed the pommel of his blade into the mugger’s head, who then crumpled under the force.
“Honestly, some people are just stupid,” Arwer said, as he took their weapons and walked toward the Ranger. “You could have just told me they were there, you know,” Arwer said sarcastically.
“Seems my arrow did a good enough job,” the Ranger replied.
“What fief are you from?” Geirias asked.
“I don’t really have a fief; I get assigned missions and I go and do them. The king decided it was a waste of my talent to keep me in one place” he answered.
“You are the one they call Lania, correct?” he asked, turning his attention to her.
“Uhh… Yes. Why?” She answered, confused.
“I have been told to come and tell you that your dragon is very important, and could be instrumental in future events. The city did not care that you had a dragon, but just which dragon it is. It is very powerful,” the Ranger explained, “They were going to give it to the group known as the ‘Conspirers’. Stupid name to call yourselves, really; makes you sound evil and you draw too much attention to yourself.”
“What do the ‘Conspirers’ want with another dragon?” Arwer responded, as his interest was caught.
“Not sure I can tell you that. Who are you?” The Ranger queried.
“I am Arwer, great-grandson of Henoe,” Arwer answered.
“The Dragonslayer? Where are your wings?” the Ranger asked in surprise.
“Maybe this isn’t the place to say,” Arwer said, cautiously. The Ranger nodded agreement.
“I am Atur, Kings’ Ranger,” he said, indicating for them to walk into the inn.

“As I’m sure you are aware, the Ranger for this fief has grown complacent and lazy. A crime syndicate has sprung up in recent months. Attacks like what happened to you are becoming increasingly common,” the Ranger explained. “I am here to stop the problem before it grows too large. At least try and halt its progress. I don’t think I have enough men, however. I think you might be able to help me,” he said, indicating Arwer.
“With what, exactly?” Arwer questioned.
“Well, I believe the crime around here is linked directly to the ‘Conspirers’. Not much is really known about them, or what they do. Allegedly, they revive dragons. I’m not sure how true this is.”
“The Conspirers are the other three elven races. The Mountain, Cave and Woodland. They conspired, hence the name, against the Avians. They revived dragons in attempt to kill us. Either they forgot we invented the techniques for killing dragons, or they didn’t know we were serious.” Arwer said in a hushed voice.
“Ah well. If it’s the Avians they want, I guess the King should know. As far as I know, every dragon besides yours,” indicating Lania, “is allied through fear and deception with the two strongest dragons in all of Daear, whom are allied with the Conspirers.” He paused. “You should come with me to tell the King. You could go on ahead, with your wings.”
Arwer shook his head. “I’m afraid not. My wings were disintegrated by Dragon acid. This is why I’m here. And it is better I go and report to my own King.”
“You were attacked by Dragons? Alone? And you survived? This isn’t particularly believable.”
“I have the scars to prove it, if you really want to see. And besides, I think it better I report to my own king to set up an alliance between our kingdoms to take down the Conspirers.”
The Ranger nodded. The silence they were in was evident now. They looked around the room to see several heads watching them.
“Well, I think we should probably get going then,” Atur said, louder than was necessary. A man by the door stepped in front of the door from the shadows. “Are you sure that’s what you want to be doing, mate,” he said humourlessly. “Because I don’t.”
A ripple of laughter spread around the room. The people were confident in their significant numbers.
“How’s your shot?” he asked Arwer.
“Probably no better than yours,” he replied.
Iatur nodded. “You got another weapon?”
Arwer shook his head.
Pointing to Lania, he said “Take her sword.”
She looked offended. “I can fight for myself, thanks.”
Atur recognised the voice, now he thought about it. He couldn’t place it, however.
“Can you fight as well as him?” Atur asked.
She looked offended but then shook her head, realising his logic, handing her sword to Arwer.
Still in their whispered tone, Arwer noted there was one creeping behind them. “Throw the table into the man on the right to give us space. I’ll cover you from anyone who tries to get close, you shoot them.”
Geirias drew his sword.
Arwer nodded.
“Now then, gentlemen. And girl,” nodding to Lania, “I do quite believe it is quite time we were going,” Arwer said, eloquently. He stood with his hands still on the underside of the table, sword in his hand. The others did the same.
“Now!” Arwer shouted. The man on the right ran quickly forward to cover the distance. His advance was quickly halted by a heavy wooden table crashing into his chest. The following fight lasted only a few seconds. Two men charged towards them. An arrow streaked over each of Arwer’s shoulders, taking out both men before they were even close.
Outside, the Captain of the Guard heard the crash the table caused and rushed in. He watched as man after man fell to the Ranger and the Elf. None of the injuries were lethal. They had been shot or cut on limbs, or struck by a pommel. Geirias had been decidedly inactive throughout the entire engagement. Lania was too.
“As I said. Some people are just stupid,” Arwer said, a hint of humour on his features.
The Captain walked forward, out of concealment.
“You know, it’s lucky I watched the whole thing. Otherwise you would probably be arrested again, Elf.”
“Hullo, Captain,” Atur said, hailing the guard.
“Ranger,” he nodded, acknowledging his presence.
After explaining the situation to the Captain, the Captain said he could allow them to stay in the barracks if they wanted.
“Thank you for the offer, Captain, but I would prefer to sleep in the open air.”
“Very well. And you?” he asked, gesturing to the other three.
“Well, Geirias offered us lodging at his house…” Lania started, but the Captain cut in,
“I was offering it to him too. The barracks are much nicer than his house. Offering him a job, really.”
Graciously accepting the offer, the Captain led them all to the barracks with the promise of good, warm food; which enticed the Ranger along as he was bored of his cold rations and disgusting leather-water. He had taken a long trip and the water had absorbed the taste of the leather water skin that housed it. He didn’t find it particularly pleasant. He was looking forward to having a nice warm drink with his meal. Probably coffee.
Over their full 3-course meal, the Captain explained exactly what the Ranger had just been telling them, and agreed that making an alliance between the Men and the Avians was a good course of action.
“My uncle is a scholar, and he is particularly interested in Dwarves. He believes they may still exist, on the other side of the Glawesan.”
Glawesan was the ocean dividing the northern most tip of Daear from the mainland.
“There is a new Ranger being sent to the new fief Waterside, which is in the North-Eastern tip of this fief, housing Draymar, the new capital. It has been thriving since about 7 years ago, and has grown about ten times its size. The rest this fief remains Centria.” He paused, waiting for everyone to understand. Lania had gone pale at the mention of Draymar, he noticed. He carried on; “The five Southern-Eastern-most fiefdoms have been taken from the kingdom by the Conspirers, leaving us with 16. Some are allied, but others are in danger of being invaded. We have stationed troops in Windfall, Etutised and Dwy. We can’t afford to lose any more for the time being.” Again he waited for the nods of understanding.
“The Baron of Centria has also been extradited to the capital for judgement under the King’s Court for treason.” Everyone nodded understanding. The Captain was initially surprised, but regained his grim demeanour quickly, before saying “It’s about time. He was crooked and corrupt, and cared little for his people and his fief. I only stayed for a feeling of duty to the people of Shadowhaven.” Everyone nodded. “And my family, of course,” he added, as an afterthought, making his new friends smile.

After the meal, everyone said their farewells to the Ranger, who announced he would ride for the Capital at early dawn and report to the King, and that he would wait for Arwer’s arrival to discuss terms of the treaty that he would suggest the king think on before he got there.
Two hours after mid-moon, most were settled comfortably in their bunks, having had a rough trip getting here. For Geirias, even the rough military bunks were more comfortable than his bed.

The night was still. The night was silent. Nothing moved, and the only sound was the gentle breathing of his friends, as Arwer sat awake. About 20 minutes before, Arwer had been awoken by some sixth sense. Something had told him they were being watched by an incredibly dangerous predator. And he wasn’t wrong.

Chapter 6:

Several thousand feet in the sky, two scaled angels surveyed the surroundings. Earlier in the day, they had been carry men, twenty at a time, to just outside Shadowhaven. Their truce with the Baron had been instrumental in their stealthy approach, and the fact he was to be executed made no difference to them. Shadowhaven would soon be no more. They were waiting for the signal to attack. Their troops needed to be in the city first.

To the south, 100 Elves - all mountain, woodland or cave - made their way towards the edge of the ill-fated city. Concealed behind a small grove, the sergeant was giving orders to his men. They knew the men in the city would recognise them, so there was no threat there. There were 2 targets within the city that they needed to assure were dead. The rest were collateral.
A guard on watch recognised them and hailed them, but before he could finish, a knife was sticking out of his throat. He makes a half-hearted effort to pull it from his neck, but falls lifeless before he can. A similar fate awaited all the watchmen. But there would be no grieving widows, no crying children. Not after tonight. The Elves swarmed across the ground, covering it quickly. The wood Elves led the silent charge, easily scaling the wall before raising the portcullis, allowing their gathered forces to easily gain access to the city. Most quickly ran in, whereas some came more slowly, carrying great barrels of oil, 4 to a barrel, which is the only reason 100 were needed for the mission. This mission was a torch and burn. All they needed to do was make sure oil was in most areas of the city for explosive results.
The sergeant pointed to some rudimentary huts that functioned as houses, and commanded that some barrels were to be left there. He commanded that every 500 metres or so, another would be placed. After passing this order, he took his best men and headed toward the barracks, where his agent informed him where the targets were situated. It was helpful having friends in high places, the sergeant thought to himself, as he signalled for his best warriors to follow him. Hearing shouting, Arwer stood and walked to the window nearby his bed. He saw some Elves carrying several large barrels and placing them outside of buildings of varying importance and size. He also saw a smaller group heading directly for the barracks. He rushed to wake the others.
As the 3 others rose, along with the rest of the guards, worry spread like wildfire through the ranks. There was no time to properly arm.
“They are all elven. Conspirers. Don’t show yourself for more than a second. And don’t appear at the same place twice. As pathetic as they are, I don’t underestimate their abilities,” Arwer explained briefly to the gathered men.
“If you don’t fight, there will be no mention of your refusal to do so, as history is written by the winners, and we will not be if we don’t work together. There are easily one hundred of them. It is safe to assume all forces outside of here are allied with them or dead. Everyone is a target. If it has a weapon, kill it. I fear the city won’t last much longer.”
Several heads nodded, gathering weapons and the armour that would be quick to equip. Mostly helmets and gauntlets, but some were fast enough to get on chainmail and overcoats. All were properly armed.
“The general has betrayed us…” the Captain said, grimly and slowly.
Silence.
There was no utterance of disturbance amongst the men.
Arwer broke the silence; “There are eleven making their way hear, slowly. They don’t know we know. They won’t even know we are awake. Back to your bunks, they will move to kill us in our sleep. When you sense there is someone near you, strike to your right with your sword. They will always be on your right.” The men did as they were told, while Arwer, Lania, the Captain and Geirias all made their bunks as if they were never there.
“What about the civilians? What do we do about them?” the Captain asked.
“One problem at a time, friend. Let’s worry about them after we’re through this.” Arwer assured him they would rescue every one they could.
He turned to look at his other two friends. Lania was breathing heavily, clearly very nervous and scared. Geirias was comforting Lania, assuring her everything would be fine.
“You don’t have to fight if you don’t want to,” he assured her “Arwer has it under control, everything will be OK” he said. Arwer nodded, indicating he should keep talking to her.
“Crouch under that window. They will check to see if anyone is behind the door first. Nobody move until they get to the bunks. Then distract them long enough for the men to kill them.”
“How do you know they will always be on the right?” the Captain questioned.
“I don’t. But it gives the men confidence. If all goes well, it won’t matter.”
Nodding, the Captain crouched under the window with the others. Arwer moved to the other corner of the room and stood, enveloped in shadow.

Dawn was breaking, and a solitary figure arose from his tent. Refilling his water supplies from the nearby stream, then quickly watered and fed his horse. “Come on, Cryf. Let’s get going.”