12A/N: I wrote this with several friends during play practice because we were bored. So I must accredit pieces of story, writing and the following characters to the following pals.
Ayan: well- I wrote Ayan. But I will accredit her to Gwen.
Sy to Stranger
Quellyn to Slymmian Lell
Lightwing toDaryn
Emma to Carly Pessimist
and last of all Gorgan was Anne Onymous's
Thank you and I thank my chums for allowing me to post this. Please review. Or there are six people to disappoint with nothing. There are at least three of us who dream of making writing a career and we would be absolutely thrilled to hear from you.
What a creep. Sy cringed as he turned away from the fur trader's counter. The old trapper's one good eye followed him as he crossed to the door. Sy shook his head. The people I end up doing business with... So absorbed was he in his thoughts that he failed to notice the tall, dark stranger opening the door from the other side. She glowered at him as he walked into her. The pelts she held slipped from her grasp and scattered themselves on the floor.
"Sorry." he said, kneeling to help her pick them up. Her reply came in a thick accent... or perhaps another language. Sy reached for a bright red pelt.
"Whoa! Where did this come from?" he asked, holding it up.
"Southward." she said quietly.
"This is so amazing. I have been hunting a Caniën wolf this big for coming up on two years. You really found this south"
"About five miles"
"This is great!" Sy exclaimed, "You are going to get such a great price for this! Some rich noble is going to grab this right up." He threw the fur around his shoulders and assumed an attitude of affluent foppishness. "Yes, this old thing?" he whined in a nasal voice, mincing around the room, "Oh, it cost me about seventy pellars. Pretty little thing isn't it"
The girl snatched the pelt from Sy, glaring at him. Sy shrank a little beneath her wrath... but this didn't last long. He turned away as she carried her furs to the counter, then he exited the shop. He turned to observe a large poster advertising a areward for rescuing a princess. There was a picture of her staring forlornly outof an ivy covered stone window. "Reward" it said in big gold letters, "two thousand pellars for the rescue of princess Emma." Sy caught a glance at the person next to him: A red head, of medium height, with a long broadsword at his waist.
"You interested?" he asked Sy.
"I need money." Sy replied, shrugging.
"Would you-" the red head began but stopped short as shouting erupted from the furrier's.
"It's worth twice that much!" an accented female voice screamed.
"That's my final offer!" boomed the trader's husky drawl.
"Fifty"
"Get out of my store"
"Raise your price"
"Out!" The trader boomed. The tall lanky girl was shoved out the door of the trader's store. She spun and threw herself at her attacker but merely bounced off the heavy wooden door. She tried her hands at the lock and pummelled the door with her body but to no avail. The trader and her furs remained in and she remained out. Sy and the red-head watched as she crouched cat-like in the dust and stared at the front of the shop for a long time. Then she slouched against the building accross the alley and covered her head with her arms. Sy walked a little way toward her.
"Are you OK?" he asked quietly.
"Do I look OK?" she replied, raising her head. Sy cringed. Bruising was beginning to appear on her fair face and a trickle of blood dribbled from a cut on her forehead. She looked as though she hadn't been in very good shape to begin with. A scar ran along her hairline and one from her nose to her upper lip. A cut by her ear was crudely stiched. Her hands adn bare arms weremottled white with old scars. Perhaps she was a knight from the south. That would explain the accent. Sy shifted.
"No, not really." he responded truthfully.
"Thanks." "How much did you get"
"Forty stupid pellars for the whole lot"
"Im sorry." Sy sank into teh dust next to her, feeling a little uncomfortable. "Who are you?" he asked. The girl gave him a look of half boredom half annoyance but she answered.
"Ayan. Ayan Corii"
"Sy. Sytar Elion. And that's..." Sy pointed at the red-head and paused because he didn't know his name.
"Quellyn." he filled in.
"We were on our way to rescue Princess Emma if you want to join us. There's quite a reward involved." Sytar stood adn offered her his hand. Ayan turned away.
"Princesses want to be rescued by princes who slay dragons. They want to be taken home to a beautiful castle where they live happily ever after. I'm no prince charming"
"Neither are we." Sy said, grinning and gesturing at Quellyn. "Come on. It could be fun"
"Wait." The red-head boy looked uncertain. "Since when did it become we"
"Since I said it was 'we'" Came Sy's cheerful reply, "I'm very good at deciding these things. Shall we go find a princess then, everyone"
Quellyn and Ayan stared blankly at him. A wide grin spread accross Sy's features.
"Good! I'm glad you both agree. First thing in the morning then? Oh..." He suddenly sobered. "Do both of you have a place to stay tonight? I can put you up if not"
"I've got a room at the inn." The dark haired girl answered immediately. Quellyn seemed to be wavering on the edge of a decision.
"Quellyn, do you have a place?" Sy pressed.
Quellyn shrugged. "I'm just passing through... I haven't really looked for a room. I'm sure I can find something"
"No!" Sy dismissed the arguement with a wave of his hand. "You'll stay at my place. If you don't mind walking a ways, that is"
"No, that's fine." Quellyn seemed reluctant but relieved. "If you're certain you don't mind"
"Not in the least. My pleasure. we should be off, though, if we want to get there before dark. Miss Corii, we shall meet you at the Iron Gate Inn half an hourpast sunrise." Sy hesitated. "were you depending on the sale of your furs to pay for your room"
"I won't acept charity if that's what you're asking." Ayan growled.
"Uh...of course. We'll see you then. Farewell." Sy and Quellyn began to walk away, expecting Ayan to follow. She instead shifted her weight against the wall. Sy stopped. Quellyn failed to notice. The end result was a tangled heap of appendages in the middle of the street. Trying to rescue and remaining dignity that might be left in this situation Quellyn jumped up and hauled Sy to his feet. Sy didn't seem flustered in the least. Quellyn brushed himself off, keeping his brilliant red face toward the ground so no one could see.
"You can't stay here." Sy said to Ayan.
"You're the only one who'll try and stop me." she said, staring up at him from her place on the street.
"Come back to my place. Quellyn is"
"No"
"You can't stay here"
"So you've said." Ayan's faceshowed no emotion; only hard stubborness. "Why can't I stay here"
"Because it gets cold at night and it could rain"
"And it's dangerous." Quellyn added.
"Yeah, it's dangerous." Sy repeated. "My place is warm and dry and perfectly safe." Sy smiled at her. "Please come." he said quietly. Ayan stared at him and rose.
"Sytar." she said, "You remember that wolf I had"
"Yeah, it was beautiful. The biggest one I've ever"
"What if I told you that I cannot make a bow and I have never held a sword.
"I would assume"
"Assume nothing, Sytar, assumptions lead only to disaster"
"So how did you kill that wolf"
"That would be telling. I will only say that I am on my guard ready for anything at every moment of the day"
"So... do you have a secret weapon?" Sy said, confused. Ayan sat back down against the wall then rolled foreward and procured a box with tinder and a flint. She swept twigs and debris from the street into a heap, added tinder, and brought a small blaze to life. Sy and Quellyn stood and watched as she moved siliently about the street, gathering moss and brush and debris. She formed a little heaop next to the fire and crouched to tend it.
"So..." Sy said, "You killed that wolf with fire?" With lightning quick reflexes Ayan flung a pile of moss at Sy's face.
"Maybe." she said.
"Please come with us." Sy said, sweeping his hood off to brush moss from his wavey blonde hair. Ayan shook her head.
"Fine then." Sy said, "We'll stay here." He dropped his bow next to the fire and pulled his hood back over his head. Quellyn hesitated but sat down next to him.
"Is it legal to light a fire in the street?" He asked. Sy shrugged.
About dusk Ayan and Sytar left Quellyn to the fire and headed in opposite directions. Sy to find food and Ayan fuel. Both returned with their itemsand they ate a light meal of bread an fruit. Quellyn seemed to be a bit more comfortable with his company as he talked to Sy. Soon he even asked Ayan a question about her family to which she replied shortly and turned away. Quellyn's eyes widened and he reached toward teh crudely stiched cut by her ear. The girl's hand flew to protect the injury.
"Don't!" she said.
"No." he replied, brushing her hand aside, "Waht's this from"
"I was helping a fisherman last week. His son was casting longlines and I got in the way. Got snagged by a hook"
"Did you stich it yourself?" he asked, batting her hand away again. She nodded.
"It's nothing"
"No, it's not nothing. This could easily get infected"
"I washed it with an antiseptic"
"Was it athrilam sap"
"No"
"Then it's not going to be much help over such a long period of time." Quellyn began to rumage through his pack. He set a small pair of scissors, several glass vials, and a needle and sinew in front of him. "This might hurt a bit." he said and began to cut the stiches holding the wound together. He was so gentle that it didn't even look painful until he began to pull the sinew out of her skin. Teh wound began oozin thick red blood. Quellyn smeared several herbal salves on the wound, listing their functions. To prevent infection, to aid healing, to ease pain.
"I'll need to stich it again." Quellyn said quietly. Sy cringed and Ayan gritted her teeth. The job was quick and neat and Ayan didn't even flinch as Quellyn tied off the final stich.
"There, I think you'll find taht job much more resistant to infection or continuing pain." Quellyn stowed the last of his medical supplies in his pack and turned to stare into the dancing flames of the company's little fire. Ayan settled her cowl around her shoulders and was silient. Then at length she spoke. "So you're a healer, then"
Sy beamed... it was the first attempt at conversation Ayan had made all evening. Quellyn slowly shook his head "Not really. I've seen my share of wounds, that's all. I find some small pleasure in being able to give aid to the hurting"
"Are you a warrior?" Sy gestured toward Quellyn's impressive broadsword.
"Not at all. I despise killing, reguardless of the reason. I do not think I could ever be in a battle." Quelyn smiled self-depracatingly and shifted his soft gaze to the toes of his boots. When he didn't offer anymore on himself, Sy shifted the conversation to Ayan.
"What about you? You're from the south"
"Yes." Ayan focused her attention on the fire and would say anymore.
"You're... working in the fishing business?" Sy probed.
"I was." Ayan abruptly threw her hood over her head. Shoving her pack behind her, the Southern girl lay down adn turned away from thefire, effectively terminating any further conversation.
Sy shrugged. Yawning, he followed suite and bedded down for the night. Within moments, the wirey young hunter was dreaming.
Quellyn say alone with the silience, an oddly philosophical look on his wide features. Meanwhile the stars burned overhead, cold and distand, watching the three lonely figures in the street far below.
A/N: please review. i have a policy and if you read and review something of mine I will do the same for you. thank you your support is much appreciated.