Fire of the Covenant (Sample)

Chapter One: Cousins

Willoe peeked out from behind the corner of the weaver’s shop. The rain had dwindled to just a trickle and she watched the street urchin struggle in the grasp of an overly-muscled trader’s guard. The guard was a lot bigger than he had looked when Willoe was across the square, the leather and woolen jerkin stretched tight across his chest, the muscles in his arms bulging like cords of twisted rope. She named him Big Guard.

A man in a decorative doublet with a knee-length cape, whom Willoe imagined from his finery was the trader, walked up with another guard only two-thirds the size of Big Guard. Willoe smiled as she named him Little Guard. She had to hold back a giggle when the trader’s stomach shook like the cook’s pudding as he straightened the belt around his robust waist.

The trader balled his fists and put them on his hips as he stared at the bawling, grime-covered boy. Big Guard shook the boy to get him to quiet and settle down, without success. The trader laughed, his cheeks rippling, and said something to Little Guard, causing them both to laugh louder.

The humor disappeared in Willoe’s mind as she remembered what had driven her and her younger cousin’s hastily put together plan. Casandra would be waiting under the bridge, across the square, at this very moment.

She looked at the street urchin again and it was hard to tell, since the boy was so thin and she couldn’t make out too many details, but she thought he might be around fourteen or fifteen – two or three years older than Willoe. Straight hair, uncommon among Cainwens; a dark brown and sheared so that it hung raggedly around his shoulders.

It was mid-day and the planked walkway reminded Willoe of when the scullery maids flushed out rats from the kitchen pantries. Workers and shoppers filled the walkway, scurrying from shop to shop. Willoe moved onto the muddy planks and edged along the front of the shops lining the square. She kept close to the slatted and rough stone walls, tugging the front of her hood a little farther forward to make sure it covered her hair and face as it might raise an alarm. Most people would burn her at a stake for the signs of evil she bore, though she could do nothing about the green eyes or flaming red hair. If not for her Grandfather… well, she just couldn’t let herself be identified. She couldn’t afford to embarrass her family. Again.

The trader and his guards stood near the back of a loaded wagon where the street urchin had been caught by Big Guard. The silver goblet the boy had stolen from the open wagon lay on the cobblestones at his feet. Willoe hadn’t seen the goblet from across the street, but regardless, she thought Big Guard was being a bit rough with the boy.

She was now close enough to hear the clink of coins in the trader’s purse as it swayed with his movements.

The street urchin’s voice broke as he pleaded with the trader. “I beg, let me go! Da is dead. Ma and three sisters. I only want t’buy food!”

“I am sure you are caring for your mother and sisters.” The trader smiled and spoke in a mocking tone as he winked at Little Guard beside him, then his expression hardened. He leaned forward, grabbing the boy by the neck of his shirt. “I doubt you knew your father, you base-born little thief. You probably do not even know your mother, or whatever whore pushed you out.”

“No, no!” The boy tried to break free from the trader’s grip and only earned another rough shake from Big Guard.

The trader let go of the boy and stood up, anger staining his face. “I should not even waste my time turning you over to the City Guard. Maybe I should just punish you myself.” He looked at Little Guard, who just snickered, the smaller man’s eyes gleaming in anticipation.

The boy surprised Willoe by trying to kick Big Guard, which only caused all three men to laugh harder. He showed a lot more courage than his frightened cries had led her to believe he possessed.