The Adventures of Lisha and Jeran: The Storm-Clouds are Rising -- Part Two by ridergirl333 |  |
The First Battle: Part 1
The setting sun's gentle glow filtered through the trees,
tormenting the full-armored Jeran with its stifling heat. The forest was growing
warm and dark, dead pine needles muffling the sound of his paws. Pine trees
towered above him, providing some shade. Rocks and twigs littered the ground,
and there was no set path to follow. His weary band of knights was making its
way to Hope River Village, almost half a day behind schedule and too tired to
care. The band numbered a dozen skilled knights, with about a score of pages,
squires and foot soldiers and seven pack-mule Whinnies carrying what was left
of their food and supplies.
"Three attacks by raiders in less than
twelve hours of marching," Jeran's right-paw Wocky, Danner, complained. "What
are the chances of that?" Danner was a sturdily-built Wocky with a hawk's eye,
an expert's aim and a true and loyal heart. Even if he was the biggest chicken
to ever get his knight's shield. His fidelity and sense of duty more than made
up for it. That and his bloodline. He was the son of Lady Maria, one of Meridell's
most powerful water-mages and Lord Farrier, one of its richest nobles. Throughout
Danner's entire training, his father's money had gotten him through more than
one pickle. Now he was a knight, and one of Meridell's most powerful warriors,
only because he owned a Regulation Meridell Crossbow.
"Slim," the Lupe-knight said gruffly.
Jeran was a Lupe-knight of medium build, not the fastest or strongest knight
to roam Meridell's forests and plains, but certainly one of the smartest. That
was how he had worked his way to the top, becoming Meridell's Champion knight
and King Skarl's adopted son and most trusted advisor. His armor was bronze
in color, and his eyes were yellowish-gold and filled with frustration at their
situation. "But that's okay. They stole two thirds of our food, but at least
no one was hurt." He squinted at the horizon, which was nothing but tree-covered
hills. "If we make good time, we'll be at the village before the moon reaches
its zenith. Then we can find lodging and rest for the night. On the morrow,
you boys have full permission to spend your hard-earned coin on a hearty breakfast."
He emphasized the words "hard-earned coin" for Chuck Foxpaw, a Kyrii and a skilled
pickpocket. Chuck was one of the few pages (or young knight-in-training) allowed
to go on this trip. Basically because he was Jeran's adopted brother. In fact,
with the exception of the young Island Tonu, Wesley Goldmane, he was the only
page allowed to come at all.
Chuck
was a younger Kyrii, about 10 years old and short for his age. Which was just
as well, because his minute size gave him the ability to dart around without
being noticed. His paws were small and nimble, good for tying quick knots and
wielding a small dagger. Mischief shone in his chocolate-brown eyes and gave
life to his tiny footpaws. Laughing a childish, innocent laugh, he ran his fingers
through tousled, reddish-brown hair. He wasn't a warrior of size and strength
like his brother, but more suited to the life of the assassin. But he wanted
to be a knight so that he could be just like Jeran, his hero. So, reluctantly,
his owner let him become a knight.
Wesley was a warrior better suited to a
knight's life. Sturdy and strong, and skilled in swordplay and archery. Wes
was from a very prominent noble-class family (hence his Island coloring), but
all of the flowers had been removed from his mane to give him a more masculine
look. "Captain knows you all too well." He nudged Chuck playfully, sending the
Kyrii into fits of laughter.
Suddenly, Jeran stopped. Sniffed the air.
Put his paw on his sword hilt. "Shhh... don't panic," he whispered, speaking
more to his brother than anyone else. "But I think we have company."
"You think correctly." Said a sinister
voice from above. Before Jeran could reply, a sinister-looking Darigan Peophin
dropped from a tree slightly ahead of the Meridell troops. Her mane was done
in a peculiar fashion, with pieces of steel braided into it, catching the moonlight
and glittering like diamonds. Entranced by the shifting patterns of light, Jeran
froze. Taking out her crossbow, the Peophin shot at Jeran, who gathered his
wits just in time to leap out of the way. More Darigan-colored pets dropped
from the trees ahead. There were scores of them! Jeran's troops were outnumbered.
It took Jeran about three seconds to come to this conclusion before he snapped
into commander mode. To fight was to be crushed like a Grackle Bug beneath the
Turmaculus. Surrendering wasn't a much better option. These were no simple raiders
stealing food from travelers. These were highly-trained soldiers. They didn't
want their food. They wanted their lives. And they seemed to be vigorous, much
more so than his bone-weary troops. If they retreated as a group, they'd be
goners. Such a large group would be easy to spot in the woods. However, if they
split up…
"Does everyone know where the village
is?" Jeran asked anxiously. The replies he got were affirmative. "Then split
up into groups of two and three! No one goes off on their own! Take your Whinnies
with you! We'll retreat, give them the slip, and meet up in Hope River Village
tomorrow morn! Greg Pinion," A blue Pteri soldier with narrow, agile wings snapped
to attention. "Get back to the castle and tell Skrarl of our situation. Make
haste! Fly like the lightning strikes! Now let's MOVE!" The soldiers followed
his orders, scattering like leaves on the breeze. Jeran was left with Danner,
Chuck, and a couple of pack-mule Whinnies. A Darigan-colored Krawk with a bracelet
on his tail and a gold earring in his left ear darted towards them, knife drawn.
Jeran grabbed Chuck's paw and dashed through the forests, Danner close on his
tail. About a dozen warriors pursued them, howling their battle cries in the
name of Kass.
"VIIIIIIIICTORY FOR KASS! SCREEEEEEEEEEEEE!"
That savage cry made Jeran's blood run cold as ice water. It seemed to tear
at his ears, ripping apart the evening skies with its dreadfulness! That was
the cry of experienced warriors, ones who wouldn't hesitate to use their swords.
The Lupe-knight put on a brief burst of speed. "Come... on." He panted to Danner,
who was lagging behind. "We… know these woods. They… don't."
"Oh… good fortunes!" the Wocky exclaimed.
"Captain Jer… Jer… Ohhh..." With that, the Wocky passed out, probably from a
combination of terror and fatigue.
Jeran stopped, jerking Chuck's paw to make
him stop too. "What in the name of flaming faeries can go wrong now?" he asked
no one in particular. Then, he turned to Chuck. Gesturing to the Whinnies, he
said, "Remove their saddlebags. Get Danner onto them and get the heck out of
here."
"Where to?" Chuck asked, fear shining
in his eyes and making his paws tremble as he began to unhook the saddlebags.
"Cave on the banks of the Hope River.
That way." He pointed northeast. He turned away and drew his sword, making it
clear to Chuck that this conversation was over. "But…" Chuck said nervously.
Jeran didn't heed him. Within seconds, he would be within the range of enemy
bows. Still trembling, Chuck hoisted Danner onto the Whinnies and started marching.
He didn't get far before he heard steel
ringing on steel. Jeran in battle, dodging, swerving, and occasionally throwing
some attacks of his own. His hero Jeran against a dozen of Kass's warriors.
You have to feel bad for Kass's warriors.
The boy thought with a grin.
The hours passed without number as Chuck
Foxpaw marched, leading the two Whinnies. Not a single shadow of worry passed
through his mind. Jeran would be okay. After all, Chuck idolized Jeran. Nothing
bad could happen to his hero. Nothing.
Finally, at around midnight, he reached
the cave on the banks of the Hope River. Silently, he led the Whinnies into
the cave, lifted Danner off of their backs, tore grass from the ground at the
cave entrance to make a grass-pillow for the Wocky, and seated himself at the
mouth of the cave. "I'll be a true warrior, like Jeran," Chuck whispered to
himself in the loneliness of night. "I'll stand guard over my friend all night
long. Won't let myself get a wink of sl…" he yawned. "Sleep tonight. I'll… I'll
make myself a little more comfortable…" Lying down at the cave entrance, the
young Kyrii drifted into a deep slumber.
Overhead, a single white Weewoo flew past
the moon, starlight reflecting off of its feathers that were tinged with red,
gold and blue. It soared like a surreal ghost, singing its haunting midnight
melody. "Weeeeeeeeeeewooooooooooo…"
* * *
The next morn shone bright and beautiful, a sprinkling of clouds gracing the
sky. Chuck awoke to a cackling fire and the smell of ham. "Naught like a good
old chunk of meat to break your fast, eh Chuckers?" Danner asked with a grin.
Remembering the promise he had made the
night before, Chuck mentally cursed himself. "Danner, I didn't mean to fall
asl…"
Danner held up his paw, cutting the Kyrii
off in mid-sentence. "Naught to worry about, Chuck m'lad. A warrior's got to
have his rest. I got mine last night." The Wocky winked and nudged Chuck playfully.
"It was your turn."
Chuck laughed, cutting himself a slice
of ham with his dagger. "Thanks, Danner. But we should start marching to Hope
River Village. Jeran will be waiting there for us."
Danner nodded. "Let's start moving."
* * *
The pair reached the village an hour later. Everyone had survived the night,
though two of the pack Whinnies had run away. Even Jeran was in one piece. "Slipped
away from those half-wits when they weren't looking," Jeran told Chuck with
a wink. "Poor fools didn't know what hit them." Every last morsel of food was
gone, with the exception of a loaf of stale bread. "We may have to sell these
guys." Jeran said solemnly, patting the head of a Whinny that had taken a liking
to sniffing his boots. "We can't afford to feed them, and they're no use to
us."
"Shame," Danner said in a deep, almost
tearful voice. "I owe these guys a lot. Heck, I owe them my life."
"Then they deserve owners that can take
better care of them," Jeran replied matter-of-factly. "But I have grown attached
to these little rascals."
Greg Pinion returned from his flight, panting
with exhaustion. He hovered, landed, and then took a long drink from Jeran's
canteen. "I told the King about last night's attack, Captain."
"And?" Jeran said impatiently.
The Pteri held a wing up, still catching
his breath, then said. "Here's the odd thing, sir. You'll find this hard to
believe but…" Jeran leaned forward expectantly while the Pteri continued to
pant, "he didn't seem to care. He said those were probably some other soldiers
disguised as Kass's, and we shouldn't be worried about them…"
"Oh flaming faeries above!" the Lupe-knight
exclaimed, unsure of what else to say.
"There was this redhead Aisha… a gypsy
dancer. She was with him, whispering in his ear. Forgive me for saying this
Jeran but… she looked like she was advising him. Like she had taken your…" Greg
gave a hacking cough, fell down and trembled miserably on the ground. Flying
non-stop to Meridell Castle with such speed had sapped every ounce of his energy.
Things were getting a bit suspicious. A
cloud of disbelief passed over Jeran's features, wrinkling his brow and narrowing
his eyes. How had so much changed over the course of merely a few days? It simply
wasn't possible! King Skrarl, replace him? In such little time? Hadn't Jeran
been a faithful and wise advisor to the king? Hadn't Skrarl chosen Jeran as
his adopted son? The disbelief slowly transformed into rage, boiling and bubbling
within him. This wasn't the truth! This couldn't be the truth! Skrarl, replace
him? Never! With the swiftness of a racer Poogle, Jeran's sword was drawn. He
advanced on the Pteri, eyes gleaming with hatred, knuckles gripping his sword
hilt so tightly that they were white. "Don't say another word, you traitor,
or I'll have your wings! Treasonous little wretch…"
"NO! JERAN!" Danner, seeing what his Captain
was doing, dove in front of the Lupe-knight, bow in hand and ready to fight
him. Keeping his voice level and calm, he said, "Don't hurt the Pteri. He may
well be telling the truth."
"He LIES!" Hatred was welling up in Jeran
like a fountain of lava now, heating his paws and melding them to his sword,
clouding his judgment with smoke and ashes. "The cursed little wretch, he LIES!"
His voice had become frantic now. He lunged towards Danner, swinging his sword
wildly, not caring who or what he hit in his grief. Danner tripped him with
his bow.
"Greg has been loyal to you for several
years now. You don't trust him?" Danner asked, still trying to remain calm despite
the fact that his heart was pounding like a Snowbunny inside his ribs. Jeran
responded by rising to his feet and picking his sword up again. A sling stone
hit his knuckles with a resounding crack, making him drop his sword and yelp
in pain. Chuck grinned mischievously, twirling his sling. Danner stepped on
the handle of Jeran's sword and fended the desperate Lupe off with his bow.
"You're not getting this back until your head is clear and your thoughts straight.
Now, the troops of Kass will be here again tonight. What can we do to stop them?"
To be continued...
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