Pacts of Life and Death

[Guest Illusia Industrial]

Heh.. First time in a forum.. Hope this stories alright. Anyway, If you feel like joining, go ahead..

 

 

A PACT OF LIFE AND DEATH

 

She sat in the little cottage beside the lake, listening to the water splish and splash against the sanded lake shore. The wind had calmed and no longer threatened to barge open the wood shutters- make them bang against the glass until it shattered into a thousand irredescent pieces, and snuff out the little fire that danced in the small grate in her little blue skirt before whisteling and billowing out once more to continue on its way.

A blanket pressed tightly to the soldier's chest beside her, her cinammon curls pasted to her back, her shirt drenched in liquid salt from the heat of the little house. The Click! Clank! Clang! of the kitchen pots and pans in the room over head making her a little agrivated. She had never been one for cooking when most other women in this fortress were. Some said she was a girl born with the soul of a man. And maybe it was true. After all, she did enjoy wearing the breeches the men wore, she did like their tunic tops, boots, swords, dirt, fighting...

But then, she was a girl. Noone objected her actions though, she was one of them. Lady Lark had never complained when Preia begged to go scouting with the men, or came home mud caked, her cinammon skin dusted, her clothing dirtied. Lady Lark had been one of the first to accept her. She remembered that well. The day she had set out to venture for teachers to train her when she had chose her path to become a soldier- a warrior- a "Man of all talents". Arin had offered, here in the Itaru house. He was her first friend on the open. Oddly enough- he was not a soldier, but he was a farm boy. Preia had always thought he was too good for her, but he insisted on spending as much time with her as he could. And she would not, nor could not, foreget how it had all started...

 

The screetch of something flying overhead, the whine of a horse and the cry of someone far off. A girl of approxametly fifteen years of age weeping silently beneath the tree as the beast attacked her mare, tearing her front legs from her chocolate body, leaving her to die as it flew off with its little "prize." Two others following the one. She had fallen some way back from the mares saddle, and she sat watching the whole massacre. Tears streaking dirty skin. Arin had heard all the racket from his own home on the outskirts of the fortress' land, and had come running with his weapons of choice.

He had been too late and he had had to kill her poor mare. But, he had not realized that someone else was present, nor that the horse was an item.

He had begun to walk away, feet dragging, head bowed, firey red hair waving back and forth in the teetering winds, blood spattering his clothing and his sword stained. She had run from beneath the shade, screaming and cursing, trudging though prickly weeds and thorns before stopping and shouting at him. He had turned instantly, his bright brown eyes widening as he saw her. He had never heard such foul language from a girl. But, he could understand her anger.. He took her shouting before she wore herself out and calmed down enough that anger no longer presided, but tears staining her cheeks. Cream colored skin revealed where elsewise she looked like a giant blob of dirt.

He had appologized many times before she agreed to go with him to the Itaru, explaining that they had recently had many problems with the "Drakons" hunting animals and travellors, and that he was sorry for the loss of her mare.

That would not help! Where was she to go now? What would she do? She lived three and a half months ride away!

He had assured her he would take care of her. In truth, he did not look much older then her when they met, and he was only.. really about two years older then her. How would he take care of her?

He had taken her home, cleaned her as he prepared for her to meet the Lady of Itaru. She had been slightly embarassed after realizing just how dirty she was. Dirt so thick one could not tell she was human, dirt beneath her fingernails, on the bottoms of her feet- caking her whole body. But when she had cleaned each little spot on her body, Arin had been astonished it seemed, nearly dropping his spoon and pan on the floor.

He had lent her some clothes his sister- Reenay- had given to him for her use. Yet she had taken some of his breeches, boots, and tops. Most innappropriate for a girl. But... Cinammon curls placed in two seperate braids across the shoulders, straightened bangs that clung to cream cheeks, a touch of cherry shine to each. Large hazel eyes, pout blossom lips. Arin could only stare in disbelief. Not the muddy girl he had picked up. Not at all.

No wonder it was not right for young ladies to wear mens clothes. The pants clung tightly to her curves, her chest rounding out the tunic top, the pants grabbing his attention most. The way they clung loosely to her hips, the belt slanted to hold them on. Beneath that the round of her bottom- plump and small, her thights fitting in the breeches, her calves rounding out, slipping beneath the black tops of her boots.

"What?" she had asked on instinct, watching his reaction. His hair draping into his face as he shrugged his shoulders and shook his head. She had walked towards him then shiyly, held out her hand, and spoke her name..

"Preia NiteCaller." Simple, her voice lifting towards Arin's ears as easily as the sound of a birds song. He had dusted his hands on his own pants before taking her outstreched hand, shaking it, and announcing that his name was..

"Arin E`mdel." And she had smiled, for the first time.. splitting her lips with grace and ease, but her shake was firm but caring. He could feel calluses across her palms.. But it made no difference. She had blushed faintly, but he had caught it, feeling himself blush as well.

"I'm sorry for the way I spoke to you.. And, if you would like.. I will help you to clean the mess.." she laughed a little, seeing his expression of confusion. He looked down at the spilt food, and shook his head.. Thanking her kindly.. But she was down on one knee, scooping the food with ease off the hardwood floor...

 

She smiled to herself now, even in times of the men returning from the recent battle six days ride from their location, injured and gasping for help.. She doing the best she could..

She could only pray that Arin would be as fine as he said he was..