She dove beneath some bushes, holding her breath as she stared down the road. A horse and rider came into view and rode past without pausing – a messenger by his saddlebags. Keri pulled herself out of the brush and kept on, scolding herself for paranoia.

They were out to get her though, she thought, patting the purse at her waist. It never paid to be too lucky in one place and she knew better than to overstay her welcome. She heard another horse, slower this time, and slipped off into the woods.

Hiding behind a tree, she watched him approach. He was walking his horse and studying the ground. Keri gripped her sword tighter. He reached the first place she had left the path, but barely paused. Coming even with her, he looked straight at the tree she was using for cover.

“You didn’t think you’d get away with it, did you, Keri? Come on, now, don’t be childish.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.” She stayed put.

“You cheated at cards and used rigged dice.”

“No, I used the same dice as everyone else and I never even dealt the cards.”

“No one is that lucky.” He stepped off the path, drawing his sword. “Don’t make this harder than it has to be.”
“Stay away from me.” She pulled her sword and retreated further into the woods. “I’m not a cheater.”

“Come on, Keri. Just come back and give us the money you stole.” He came on.

“I didn’t steal anything.” He was gaining and knew she was not fast enough to outrun him.

“You did, and you’ll give it back, or I’ll take it.” His sword whistled through the air.

They were well off the path now. Keri sheathed her sword and he stepped forward. She bent down, pulling off her pack and set it on the ground. With a quick motion, she pulled her dagger from her boot and threw it dead center into his chest. He stiffened and fell.

Back on the road, she mounted his horse and road off. “Now I’ve stolen something, but he won’t need it anymore.”

Keiren approached the bridge with his sword held before him. The tip wavered as he fought to keep his grip firm with increasingly sweaty palms. The bridge remained clear, the ropes and slats swaying in the breeze. Ten more feet to go.

Three feet to go, one more step, when it finally appeared. The pass troll leapt up, landing between Keiren and the bridge. He stumbled back, clenching his sword with shaking hands. The troll just laughed, and the horrible noise echoed down the ravine.

“You dare raise your sword to me? This is my bridge and you know it Keiren, son of Keanen.” The troll folded his arms and glared down at the young noble.

“The villagers are complaining that you are robbing them, stealing their livestock and … scaring the children.” Keiren stammered.

“I demand payment for crossing as my family always has. I take only what is given. How dare you accuse me so.”

“They… don’t think it’s fair, you… charge too much.”

“How would you like it if there was no bridge? If half the slats were missing? They don’t have to go this way if they find the price too high. Now put your sword down.”

“They… sent me… to…” The sword tip dipped to the ground and he hung his head, unable to finish.

“Sent you to kill me, I bet. But you’ll no sooner do that than your father would have, or your grandfather. They were sent, too. Go back, remind them of the pact. Tell them it keeps them all safe. The elders know and they will quiet the hotheads who sent you.”
“I’m sorry.” He sheathed his sword and turned away.

“The people are fickle, my boy. Be safe.”

The baby was born amidst screaming and blood. A battle raged in the camp, a night attack from the hills. Men and women screamed, fought and died. Merina, hair a tangled mess, lay with the newborn Karena on her chest. Tired after their own ordeal, they both slept.

The tent flap was thrown back and two men stopped short. They stared at the peaceful woman and child. Creeping to the bed, the taller, Garedal, lifted the child, who opened her eyes, but did not fuss. They gazed at each other, measuring, judging. Terian, on the other side of the bed, slit the woman’s throat. Garedal looked down, her eyes were open, staring at him in death.

“No survivors, no mercy.” Terian quoted their orders.

“I know.”

“Kill it, it’s just a girl.”

“No.”

Terian lunged for Karena, but Garedal held her high and backed away. The warriors glared at each other, the sounds of battle dying away in their ears. They circled the tent, stalking each other. One with murder boiling his blood, the other had a mother’s dying eyes haunting his soul. A sudden silence followed by a raucous cheer distracted them from their quarrel.

“It’s over, let it be.” Garedal sheathed his sword.

“You are weak.” Terian ripped the tent flap open and stormed away.

“But not heartless, brother.” He followed, catching up a blanket to wrap the babe in and secure it to his back.

]]> http://www.hydypaige.com/battle-born/feed/ 0