Blade Archer ~ Two
Nov. 2nd, 2004 01:45 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
annarti.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
yrae
It was just at that time of year when the dying rays of the sun shone straight through the Charging Nira’s window and blinded anyone throwing daggers at the target to the window’s left. A richer pub might cover the window with a curtain for those weeks, but the Charging Nira had an overwhelming feeling of ‘good enough’.
At least Kael had the advantage of being left handed. He held up his right arm to shield his eyes, squinting at the ten black and white rings of the target. At the rings’ centre lay Middle Red, a palm-sized red circle that taunted anyone willing to hurl a dagger at it. Two dagger hilts protruded from the target, one in the third ring, another in the fifth.
The fifteen-year-old gripped the tip of his dagger between thumb and fingers, lined it up against Middle Red, then let fly. A sharp ‘ooh’ rose from the five others he was playing with. Kael took in a sharp breath between his teeth and leant to his right, urging the dagger over that hair’s breadth that would land it in Middle Red.
“Shot,” Ynuk applauded needlessly.
Kael smirked and stepped aside to let his brother fling his own dagger at the target. “I thought so,” he said nonchalantly.
Ynuk snorted, awkwardly trying to put his left hand between his eyes and the sun while still being able to see the target.
“Why not just close yer eyes?” Kael recommended, washing a gulp of ale down his throat as he leaned against the bar bench.
“Why not shut yer mouth and let me concentrate?”
Kael shrugged and held up his palms defensively, then snorted as Ynuk’s dagger thudded hilt first into the target before crashing to the dirty floor of the tavern.
“Shot.” He couldn’t have forced more sarcasm into the word if he’d tried.
Ynuk glared at his younger brother, thrusting the back of his hand at him in a rude gesture and moving back for the next contender to try his luck.
The boy, about Ynuk’s age, managed to land the blade in the target, but it was in one of the outer rings. Kael deposited his near-empty tankard on the bar bench and bowed to the contingent, who went to retrieve their respective daggers from the target.
“Ye really should try for the army, boy,” the barkeep told him, staring in awe at the near-bullseye.
Kael drained all but the sand-riddled dregs of his beer and shrugged. “So I’ve been told,” he said, collecting his dagger from the target. “This much further right,” he complained, pinching his thumb and forefinger together, “and that would’ve been in Middle Red.”
The barkeep laughed and laid another beer on the bench for him, curtesy of Ynuk, who had lost the last round quite convincingly. “I don’t doubt it, boy. My reckoning is that not even one of them boys in the Own coulda nailed Middle Red with that sun in their eyes.”
Kael snorted incredulously. “Ye keep telling yerself that.” He lined up again and flung his dagger at the target, earning another ‘ooh’ from the general contingent when the tip embedded itself in the first ring. Kael glared at the hilt, then stepped back. “I heard them blokes hurl daggers at a Middle Red no bigger than yer thumbnail.”
Now it was the barkeeper’s turn to snort. “I don’t reckon,” he countered, then grinned broadly. “Why don’t ye sign yerself up and tell us for sure?”
Kael grinned wryly as a cheer rose from his drinking companions; one had miraculously managed to sink his blade into the very edge of Middle Red.
“May just do that,” he mused.
Kael rested his back against the wall of a crude mud-and-thatch dwelling, arms folded, and stared at the palace’s outer wall. Solid stone rose high above him, a rich red in the hot midday sun. To his right, beyond the trees that lined the Main Road, he could see the massive gates, through which it seemed that only the Queen’s Own rode.
The Own, known as the King’s Own until the king had died last year, were made up of the fifteen best warriors Raykin had to offer. Their swords, bows and daggers were specially crafted to suit them. They rode resplendent Kazinian horses while every other man in the army rode a camel. When Raykin rode into battle, the Own were the ones that led them. They were revered among the residents of Ni-Yana, and the people lined the Main Road whenever the fifteen men left the kingdom on another campaign in the northern kingdom, their horses’ hooves clattering on the red cobbles.
Kael rolled his eyes. “Over-stuffed roosters,” he muttered, then pushed himself away from the hut and strode towards the gates.
Two guards were perched on the wall on either side of the gates, though from the way they were chatting across the top of it, they weren’t expecting any trouble.
One of them turned to Kael as he approached, running a scrutinising gaze over him. “You here to sign up for army training?”
Kael nodded. Evidently the guards had seen a number of boys his age in the past few weeks.
The other man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The more common entrance is around the back.” Job done, the two guards took up their conversation where they’d left off.
Kael raised an eyebrow, wondering vaguely if they said the same to every mid-teenager who passed by or whether they were more accommodating to those who appeared from the other side of the Main Road. He shrugged and began the painfully long journey around the perimeter of the palace.
More crude huts and the odd mud brick building clustered at the palace’s feet, grovelling pathetically in its shadow.
Kael glanced at the people living there, dressed in the same dusty red clothes as he was, the same rusted daggers sheathed at their hips. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought of the high and mighty people from the northern districts taking this route to get to army training every day. Doubtless they would be stared down, perhaps even threatened. They certainly would be did they dare to venture into Kael’s part of town.
Finally he reached the back entrance to the palace. The huge door, crafted from a sturdy, reddish coloured wood, had another two guards posted on either side. Given their immediate proximity to the ‘unsavoury’ people of Ni-Yana’s slums, they seemed to be far more vigilant than their counterparts on the front gate. Their hands moved none too discreetly to the swords sheathed at their hips.
Kael held up his hands to show he wasn’t holding anything, flattered though he was that the burly soldiers saw him as a potential threat. “I’m just here to sign up for army training,” he explained.
The guards glanced at each other and relaxed slightly, but their hands still rested on sword hilts.
The guard on the left finally nodded and began unlocking the massive wooden door. “Keep with me at all times,” he ordered, then ushered Kael into the palace grounds.
For all the contempt he held for the people who called the palace home, he couldn’t help but widen his eyes and mouth at the buildings that lay before him.
The cobbled palace grounds sprawled out in front of him. Directly in front of him lay a domed building, surrounded by palms and other small plants. He’d heard from other people that the palace’s healing house was dome-shaped, but this windowless building was constructed of the same red stones as the rest of the palace, while the healing house was supposed to be white.
Behind the strange building loomed the palace, an impressive three-storey building with numerous wings sprouting from the main body. Most curiously, all but the main body of the palace was built on stilts. Kael suspected this was just to make the building more impressive.
“Come on,” the guard told him gruffly, then made his way towards the long stretch of buildings that Kael suspected made up the palace’s army barracks and archery range. The sound of clashing steel echoed from within them, and a group of men wearing the red shirts that marked them as swordsmen emerged from one of the buildings. They laughed heartily as they strode towards the strange dome-shaped building Kael had passed on the way in.
The guard knocked twice on a wooden door of the barracks, then leant back against the wall while he waited patiently.
Kael mirrored his position on the other side of the door, staring back under the palace at the row of buildings beyond. The edge of a fence jutted out from the end buildings to meet up with the outer wall. Behind it, Kael caught the form of a man on the back of a camel. These buildings must be the stables, Kael decided.
‘Aeia, the camels get a bigger home than most people!’
The camel rider disappeared behind the stables, allowing Kael to view the animal that it had been obscuring—a glistening chestnut horse, its rider resting his arms lazily on the saddle’s pommel.
The guard grinned and made a noise that might have been a laugh, his gaze following Kael’s. “They’re not all they’re made out to be,” he told the boy.
“What, the horses?”
“The Own.”
Kael shrugged. “I’ve known that for years.”
The guard turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Is that so? Know one of them personally, do you?”
“Hardly,” Kael responded blandly.
Finally the door creaked open, and the guard saluted to the moustached man who had opened it. The man’s black shirt marked him as the army’s First General, the man who spoke directly with the queen.
“Another new recruit,” the guard told him, dropping his hand back to his side.
Kael folded his arms and firmly met the General’s piercing gaze as he was examined once more.
Finally, the tall man grunted and stood aside, gesturing to his study with one hand. “Step into my office,” he said blandly.
Kael obeyed.
~ ~ ~
Chapter~ 1682
Total~ 3437
Time~ 2hrs, 27mins (I got distracted by conversation and friends page >>)
Total~ 4hrs, 27mins
At least Kael had the advantage of being left handed. He held up his right arm to shield his eyes, squinting at the ten black and white rings of the target. At the rings’ centre lay Middle Red, a palm-sized red circle that taunted anyone willing to hurl a dagger at it. Two dagger hilts protruded from the target, one in the third ring, another in the fifth.
The fifteen-year-old gripped the tip of his dagger between thumb and fingers, lined it up against Middle Red, then let fly. A sharp ‘ooh’ rose from the five others he was playing with. Kael took in a sharp breath between his teeth and leant to his right, urging the dagger over that hair’s breadth that would land it in Middle Red.
“Shot,” Ynuk applauded needlessly.
Kael smirked and stepped aside to let his brother fling his own dagger at the target. “I thought so,” he said nonchalantly.
Ynuk snorted, awkwardly trying to put his left hand between his eyes and the sun while still being able to see the target.
“Why not just close yer eyes?” Kael recommended, washing a gulp of ale down his throat as he leaned against the bar bench.
“Why not shut yer mouth and let me concentrate?”
Kael shrugged and held up his palms defensively, then snorted as Ynuk’s dagger thudded hilt first into the target before crashing to the dirty floor of the tavern.
“Shot.” He couldn’t have forced more sarcasm into the word if he’d tried.
Ynuk glared at his younger brother, thrusting the back of his hand at him in a rude gesture and moving back for the next contender to try his luck.
The boy, about Ynuk’s age, managed to land the blade in the target, but it was in one of the outer rings. Kael deposited his near-empty tankard on the bar bench and bowed to the contingent, who went to retrieve their respective daggers from the target.
“Ye really should try for the army, boy,” the barkeep told him, staring in awe at the near-bullseye.
Kael drained all but the sand-riddled dregs of his beer and shrugged. “So I’ve been told,” he said, collecting his dagger from the target. “This much further right,” he complained, pinching his thumb and forefinger together, “and that would’ve been in Middle Red.”
The barkeep laughed and laid another beer on the bench for him, curtesy of Ynuk, who had lost the last round quite convincingly. “I don’t doubt it, boy. My reckoning is that not even one of them boys in the Own coulda nailed Middle Red with that sun in their eyes.”
Kael snorted incredulously. “Ye keep telling yerself that.” He lined up again and flung his dagger at the target, earning another ‘ooh’ from the general contingent when the tip embedded itself in the first ring. Kael glared at the hilt, then stepped back. “I heard them blokes hurl daggers at a Middle Red no bigger than yer thumbnail.”
Now it was the barkeeper’s turn to snort. “I don’t reckon,” he countered, then grinned broadly. “Why don’t ye sign yerself up and tell us for sure?”
Kael grinned wryly as a cheer rose from his drinking companions; one had miraculously managed to sink his blade into the very edge of Middle Red.
“May just do that,” he mused.
Kael rested his back against the wall of a crude mud-and-thatch dwelling, arms folded, and stared at the palace’s outer wall. Solid stone rose high above him, a rich red in the hot midday sun. To his right, beyond the trees that lined the Main Road, he could see the massive gates, through which it seemed that only the Queen’s Own rode.
The Own, known as the King’s Own until the king had died last year, were made up of the fifteen best warriors Raykin had to offer. Their swords, bows and daggers were specially crafted to suit them. They rode resplendent Kazinian horses while every other man in the army rode a camel. When Raykin rode into battle, the Own were the ones that led them. They were revered among the residents of Ni-Yana, and the people lined the Main Road whenever the fifteen men left the kingdom on another campaign in the northern kingdom, their horses’ hooves clattering on the red cobbles.
Kael rolled his eyes. “Over-stuffed roosters,” he muttered, then pushed himself away from the hut and strode towards the gates.
Two guards were perched on the wall on either side of the gates, though from the way they were chatting across the top of it, they weren’t expecting any trouble.
One of them turned to Kael as he approached, running a scrutinising gaze over him. “You here to sign up for army training?”
Kael nodded. Evidently the guards had seen a number of boys his age in the past few weeks.
The other man jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The more common entrance is around the back.” Job done, the two guards took up their conversation where they’d left off.
Kael raised an eyebrow, wondering vaguely if they said the same to every mid-teenager who passed by or whether they were more accommodating to those who appeared from the other side of the Main Road. He shrugged and began the painfully long journey around the perimeter of the palace.
More crude huts and the odd mud brick building clustered at the palace’s feet, grovelling pathetically in its shadow.
Kael glanced at the people living there, dressed in the same dusty red clothes as he was, the same rusted daggers sheathed at their hips. He couldn’t help but grin at the thought of the high and mighty people from the northern districts taking this route to get to army training every day. Doubtless they would be stared down, perhaps even threatened. They certainly would be did they dare to venture into Kael’s part of town.
Finally he reached the back entrance to the palace. The huge door, crafted from a sturdy, reddish coloured wood, had another two guards posted on either side. Given their immediate proximity to the ‘unsavoury’ people of Ni-Yana’s slums, they seemed to be far more vigilant than their counterparts on the front gate. Their hands moved none too discreetly to the swords sheathed at their hips.
Kael held up his hands to show he wasn’t holding anything, flattered though he was that the burly soldiers saw him as a potential threat. “I’m just here to sign up for army training,” he explained.
The guards glanced at each other and relaxed slightly, but their hands still rested on sword hilts.
The guard on the left finally nodded and began unlocking the massive wooden door. “Keep with me at all times,” he ordered, then ushered Kael into the palace grounds.
For all the contempt he held for the people who called the palace home, he couldn’t help but widen his eyes and mouth at the buildings that lay before him.
The cobbled palace grounds sprawled out in front of him. Directly in front of him lay a domed building, surrounded by palms and other small plants. He’d heard from other people that the palace’s healing house was dome-shaped, but this windowless building was constructed of the same red stones as the rest of the palace, while the healing house was supposed to be white.
Behind the strange building loomed the palace, an impressive three-storey building with numerous wings sprouting from the main body. Most curiously, all but the main body of the palace was built on stilts. Kael suspected this was just to make the building more impressive.
“Come on,” the guard told him gruffly, then made his way towards the long stretch of buildings that Kael suspected made up the palace’s army barracks and archery range. The sound of clashing steel echoed from within them, and a group of men wearing the red shirts that marked them as swordsmen emerged from one of the buildings. They laughed heartily as they strode towards the strange dome-shaped building Kael had passed on the way in.
The guard knocked twice on a wooden door of the barracks, then leant back against the wall while he waited patiently.
Kael mirrored his position on the other side of the door, staring back under the palace at the row of buildings beyond. The edge of a fence jutted out from the end buildings to meet up with the outer wall. Behind it, Kael caught the form of a man on the back of a camel. These buildings must be the stables, Kael decided.
‘Aeia, the camels get a bigger home than most people!’
The camel rider disappeared behind the stables, allowing Kael to view the animal that it had been obscuring—a glistening chestnut horse, its rider resting his arms lazily on the saddle’s pommel.
The guard grinned and made a noise that might have been a laugh, his gaze following Kael’s. “They’re not all they’re made out to be,” he told the boy.
“What, the horses?”
“The Own.”
Kael shrugged. “I’ve known that for years.”
The guard turned to him, eyebrows raised. “Is that so? Know one of them personally, do you?”
“Hardly,” Kael responded blandly.
Finally the door creaked open, and the guard saluted to the moustached man who had opened it. The man’s black shirt marked him as the army’s First General, the man who spoke directly with the queen.
“Another new recruit,” the guard told him, dropping his hand back to his side.
Kael folded his arms and firmly met the General’s piercing gaze as he was examined once more.
Finally, the tall man grunted and stood aside, gesturing to his study with one hand. “Step into my office,” he said blandly.
Kael obeyed.
Chapter~ 1682
Total~ 3437
Time~ 2hrs, 27mins (I got distracted by conversation and friends page >>)
Total~ 4hrs, 27mins