Post by Sir Haymar Glen on Apr 4, 2014 17:28:10 GMT -8
Here's my first free build for April, and Part Two of the Wallace Rand Trilogy, as promised! Enjoy!
Transformation of A Farmer, Part Two: The Ambush
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A cool breeze blew across Wallace’s face, bringing him out of a daydream about his farm. He had been wondering how it was doing under Bill’s care. He hoped Galainir’s troops hadn’t found his or Bill’s farms’ yet.
Shaking his head, Wallace breathed in the crisp mountain air, and looked around at the beautiful country all around him. He had been riding for many days now, heading further into the Dragonscale mountains with each passing hour. Soon, he hoped to reach the area the rebel group was rumored to be in.
For the rest of the day, Wallace rode steadily deeper into the mountain range, enjoying the natural beauty all around him. Funny, Wallace thought at one point, I used to never care about the beauty of nature. It was simply something to be used, not cared about. But since——. He refused to allow the thought to finish. It was still too painful for him to think about.
When night fell, he found a small clearing, set far back from the road, and made camp. He couldn’t afford the risk of a campfire, so he made do with a meal of cold meat, and water, then rolled into his blankets, and slept.
In the morning, Wallace ate another cold meal, this time stale bread and leathery tasting ale, then broke camp, and continued down the road.
Around midday, he came to a fork in the road. One continued the direction he was heading, the other disappeared into the trees to his left. Large, olive colored bushes lined both sides of the trails. After a moments thought, Wallace decided to continue following the path he was currently on, and spurred Dasher forward.
“Hey, you there!” A voice said suddenly, from off to his left. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Wallace turned to look. His blood froze.
A group of Queen’s soldiers were coming down the left-hand path. The voice belonged to their leader, a tall man, wearing a great helm with a red feather on top. There was eight or nine other men behind him, all of them very mean looking. They came onto the main path, and quickly fanned out, surrounding Wallace. Their leader strode up to the spot where the paths joined, and stopped, leaning to glare up at Wallace.
“Answer my question, peasant.” He sneered up at the other.
Wallace thought fast. “I’m going to Durrough, to look at getting some chickens.”
The other laughed harshly. “You’re either stupid, or you’re lying. Durrough is two days back that way.” He said, pointing back the way Wallace had come. “So, which is it?”
Wallace winced. So much for talking his way out of this mess. Instantly, his old training
kicked in, though he hadn’t used it in many years, and he quickly scanned the mean group around him, looking for the weak link. Almost instantly,he found what he was looking for. It was the soldier directly behind him. He was nervous looking, which led Wallace to conclude, that he was new, and this was probably his first confrontation.
“Hey, peasant, I asked you a question.” The lead soldier said, in an impatient voice.
Wallace thought it best to play dumb. Galainir’s troops were rather stupid, and it was often easy to fool them.
“Well, I thought it was this way, honestly, I did.” He said, hoping the other would buy it. He didn’t.
“Yeah, right. Sure.” The other said. “I’m not stupid.”
“Shame.” Wallace said, “Because I thought you were.” He wheeled Dasher, reached back to his quiver, withdrew an arrow, nocked it to the bowstring, and, bringing the bow up, drew the string back. As he was about to release the arrow, with the soldier’s shouts ringing out all around him, Wallace saw movement, in the big bushes, out of the corner of his eye. He caught a glimpse of a dark green bandanna. Scout Snipers. He thought in surprise. Then he released the arrow. It slammed into the nervous soldier, who dropped to the ground, without a sound.
“FOR GREAT LENFALD!!!” a voice yelled, from the bushes, and a hail of arrows slammed into the soldiers, from both sides. Dasher reared, as confusion reigned. Wallace, struggling to hold on to the saddle, saw the soldier’s leader, using one of his own men as a shield, turning, and fleeing back down the path.
“Oh no you don’t.” Wallace muttered, and, as Dasher landed on all four feet again, he nocked another arrow, drew, sighted, and released. It struck the fleeing man square in the back, and he flopped, unmoving, to the dirt.
Silence descended on the scene. For a long moment, nothing moved. Then, suddenly, a group of figures, two on the right, three on the left, appeared from the bushes. Wallace watched them approach, cautiously. The two from the right were Lenfel Scout Snipers, no question about it. Of the three on the left, two were men, the final was a young woman, he saw with surprise. She had dark brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail. One of the men was a Scout Sniper, of that he was sure, and the other, cloaked and hooded, was a Ranger, Wallace decided, based on the clothes he was wearing. But who was the young woman? Could she be one of the rumored female Scout Snipers? Wallace had heard rumors that Sir Haymar’s group of Scout Snipers were the only ones with female members. The recruitment test was immensely difficult, and he had heard that only three women had ever passed the test. This girl was apparently one of those three.
The Ranger came up to Wallace, and lowered his hood. He had shoulder-length red hair, and about three days of stubble on his face. And Wallace knew him. “McGraven?” He gasped, the memories coming, unbidden, back to him.
McGraven looked closely at Wallace. “Wallace?” He asked, shocked. “Wallace Rand, is it really you?”
“It’s me, McGraven.” The other replied. “Aged, but it’s me.”
“By golly, it is!” McGraven exclaimed. ‘What are you doin’ up here? I thought you had a little farm, somewhere near Cragfall.”
The other looked at him, weary, but determined. “I’m coming to fight.” Wallace said.
“But you said you’d never come back!” McGraven gasped. “After what happened, I thou-.” Wallace cut him off.
“I know what I said.” But things change. And here I am.”
McGraven shrugged, and looked around, at the dead Queen’s Soldiers lying around them.
“Well, we’d best be going.” The female Scout Sniper said. “Locvale is two days away, and it’s almost noon already.”
“Right.” McGraven said. “We’d better clean up the bodies before we leave, lest another patrol comes along, and finds them.”
They threw the bodies into the bushes, retrieved the partys’ horses, mounted up, and continued down the path, heading towards the safety of Locvale. McGraven led, followed by Wallace, and the two male Scout Snipers. Lina, the female Scout Sniper, rode behind them, watching for pursuers.
For the rest of the day, they rode hard, eager to gain the safety the cliffs offered, before sundown. Come nightfall, they made camp, in the relative concealment of a small cave, ate a hasty dinner, then went to bed. “Tomorrow, we should reach Locvale.” McGraven had said to Wallace, during dinner. After the small meal, Wallace rolled himself in his blankets, and lay awake a long time, thinking of times past.
———————————————————————————————————————
To be continued!
Transformation of A Farmer, Part Two: The Ambush
----------------------------------------------------------------------
A cool breeze blew across Wallace’s face, bringing him out of a daydream about his farm. He had been wondering how it was doing under Bill’s care. He hoped Galainir’s troops hadn’t found his or Bill’s farms’ yet.
Shaking his head, Wallace breathed in the crisp mountain air, and looked around at the beautiful country all around him. He had been riding for many days now, heading further into the Dragonscale mountains with each passing hour. Soon, he hoped to reach the area the rebel group was rumored to be in.
For the rest of the day, Wallace rode steadily deeper into the mountain range, enjoying the natural beauty all around him. Funny, Wallace thought at one point, I used to never care about the beauty of nature. It was simply something to be used, not cared about. But since——. He refused to allow the thought to finish. It was still too painful for him to think about.
When night fell, he found a small clearing, set far back from the road, and made camp. He couldn’t afford the risk of a campfire, so he made do with a meal of cold meat, and water, then rolled into his blankets, and slept.
In the morning, Wallace ate another cold meal, this time stale bread and leathery tasting ale, then broke camp, and continued down the road.
Around midday, he came to a fork in the road. One continued the direction he was heading, the other disappeared into the trees to his left. Large, olive colored bushes lined both sides of the trails. After a moments thought, Wallace decided to continue following the path he was currently on, and spurred Dasher forward.
“Hey, you there!” A voice said suddenly, from off to his left. “Where do you think you’re going?”
Wallace turned to look. His blood froze.
A group of Queen’s soldiers were coming down the left-hand path. The voice belonged to their leader, a tall man, wearing a great helm with a red feather on top. There was eight or nine other men behind him, all of them very mean looking. They came onto the main path, and quickly fanned out, surrounding Wallace. Their leader strode up to the spot where the paths joined, and stopped, leaning to glare up at Wallace.
“Answer my question, peasant.” He sneered up at the other.
Wallace thought fast. “I’m going to Durrough, to look at getting some chickens.”
The other laughed harshly. “You’re either stupid, or you’re lying. Durrough is two days back that way.” He said, pointing back the way Wallace had come. “So, which is it?”
Wallace winced. So much for talking his way out of this mess. Instantly, his old training
kicked in, though he hadn’t used it in many years, and he quickly scanned the mean group around him, looking for the weak link. Almost instantly,he found what he was looking for. It was the soldier directly behind him. He was nervous looking, which led Wallace to conclude, that he was new, and this was probably his first confrontation.
“Hey, peasant, I asked you a question.” The lead soldier said, in an impatient voice.
Wallace thought it best to play dumb. Galainir’s troops were rather stupid, and it was often easy to fool them.
“Well, I thought it was this way, honestly, I did.” He said, hoping the other would buy it. He didn’t.
“Yeah, right. Sure.” The other said. “I’m not stupid.”
“Shame.” Wallace said, “Because I thought you were.” He wheeled Dasher, reached back to his quiver, withdrew an arrow, nocked it to the bowstring, and, bringing the bow up, drew the string back. As he was about to release the arrow, with the soldier’s shouts ringing out all around him, Wallace saw movement, in the big bushes, out of the corner of his eye. He caught a glimpse of a dark green bandanna. Scout Snipers. He thought in surprise. Then he released the arrow. It slammed into the nervous soldier, who dropped to the ground, without a sound.
“FOR GREAT LENFALD!!!” a voice yelled, from the bushes, and a hail of arrows slammed into the soldiers, from both sides. Dasher reared, as confusion reigned. Wallace, struggling to hold on to the saddle, saw the soldier’s leader, using one of his own men as a shield, turning, and fleeing back down the path.
“Oh no you don’t.” Wallace muttered, and, as Dasher landed on all four feet again, he nocked another arrow, drew, sighted, and released. It struck the fleeing man square in the back, and he flopped, unmoving, to the dirt.
Silence descended on the scene. For a long moment, nothing moved. Then, suddenly, a group of figures, two on the right, three on the left, appeared from the bushes. Wallace watched them approach, cautiously. The two from the right were Lenfel Scout Snipers, no question about it. Of the three on the left, two were men, the final was a young woman, he saw with surprise. She had dark brown hair, pulled back in a ponytail. One of the men was a Scout Sniper, of that he was sure, and the other, cloaked and hooded, was a Ranger, Wallace decided, based on the clothes he was wearing. But who was the young woman? Could she be one of the rumored female Scout Snipers? Wallace had heard rumors that Sir Haymar’s group of Scout Snipers were the only ones with female members. The recruitment test was immensely difficult, and he had heard that only three women had ever passed the test. This girl was apparently one of those three.
The Ranger came up to Wallace, and lowered his hood. He had shoulder-length red hair, and about three days of stubble on his face. And Wallace knew him. “McGraven?” He gasped, the memories coming, unbidden, back to him.
McGraven looked closely at Wallace. “Wallace?” He asked, shocked. “Wallace Rand, is it really you?”
“It’s me, McGraven.” The other replied. “Aged, but it’s me.”
“By golly, it is!” McGraven exclaimed. ‘What are you doin’ up here? I thought you had a little farm, somewhere near Cragfall.”
The other looked at him, weary, but determined. “I’m coming to fight.” Wallace said.
“But you said you’d never come back!” McGraven gasped. “After what happened, I thou-.” Wallace cut him off.
“I know what I said.” But things change. And here I am.”
McGraven shrugged, and looked around, at the dead Queen’s Soldiers lying around them.
“Well, we’d best be going.” The female Scout Sniper said. “Locvale is two days away, and it’s almost noon already.”
“Right.” McGraven said. “We’d better clean up the bodies before we leave, lest another patrol comes along, and finds them.”
They threw the bodies into the bushes, retrieved the partys’ horses, mounted up, and continued down the path, heading towards the safety of Locvale. McGraven led, followed by Wallace, and the two male Scout Snipers. Lina, the female Scout Sniper, rode behind them, watching for pursuers.
For the rest of the day, they rode hard, eager to gain the safety the cliffs offered, before sundown. Come nightfall, they made camp, in the relative concealment of a small cave, ate a hasty dinner, then went to bed. “Tomorrow, we should reach Locvale.” McGraven had said to Wallace, during dinner. After the small meal, Wallace rolled himself in his blankets, and lay awake a long time, thinking of times past.
———————————————————————————————————————
To be continued!
) Part 3.
-Wanderer of Roawia-
