Foxfire (The Blood Oath) old version

Chapter 2: An Honourable Thief

"Get off him, Pig head!" a voice came from the crowd.

Drake cocked his head to see. As the blur faded from his sight, he caught a glimpse of a golden haired beauty defending the little dignity Bran the Bulwark has left him. What an awful time to be in the presence of Elizabeth. Gods! He smelled of dried urine and even worse it was Bran's. He raised his hand and felt his broken lips with his thumb. He winced at the sharp pain that followed. Sadly, there was nowhere for him to hide from his shame.

"Go home, princess," Bran said, "there are no dolls here for you to play with."

Bran's hands were still burning with a bright blue flame, but it was obvious that he was still maintaining it with all the strength he had.

Elizabeth drew her dagger and carved a sigil on both her palm. From the lack of change in her expression, Drake could tell that carving the sigils was not painful. The blood always dried quickly once the rune was burnt and wounds are healed as if they were never there.

The crowd began to disperse as things grew intense. Elizabeth was a high spirited girl and she loved a good challenge. She bore a beautiful angular face, but her recklessness and rough approach to all things have masked all her femininity.

Drake could care less.

"Come on coward! I'm going to send you crying to your daddy," she called Bran to come forward.

The few brave left of the crowd burst into a brief laughter. Drake helped himself to his feet. He glanced at a ferocious Elizabeth. Nothing actually made sense to him. The girl has never spared him a glance throughout his miserable years in school and now she was ready to defend him? He studied her carefully.

Drake knew little of blood-sigils.It was definitely the trending thing in town, especially amongst teenagers. Girls have forsaken new clothes and shoes for its thrill. Boys would rather spar with each other than go hunting with their fathers. He wished he could know what it felt like to draw his own sigil and burn the rune on his palm. He would trade anything to see live fire on his hand or shards of ice thrown against an opponent. But he could never forget the royal doctor's warning,

"Burn a rune and your blood would shrink to dust in your veins," the pale old man had said. That would have been the worst day of his life if his mother hadn't left a few years later.

Elizabeth rounded a bend and faced Bran the Bulwark. She lifted her lean arms until her fingers touched each other and her eyebrows parted in an angry grimace. Bran let loose a fiendish grin. His lips lifted to reveal a set of brown teeth spoilt by years of chewing grey mushrooms.

"Go home, Bran," she said.

"And admit defeat to a girl in front of these good folks," Bran circled his gaze round the crowd, "no way."

Bran's blue flame grew alive and wild. It surged brightly, growing from his wrist to totally engulf his arms. Drake saw it in the boy's eyes. Bran was too eager to show off that he allowed his sigil to draw so much from his energy. His eyes had gone from brown to a bright blue in a second.

He threw his hand forward and blue flames burst violently towards Elizabeth. Something was growing over her, too fast for Drake to see. Bran's fire engulfed Elizabeth and the crowd went dead silent with their hands over their mouth.

The flame had wrapped upon her like a cloak of fire. But there was no dancing, screaming, or crying. It was then that Drake noticed it. A streak of golden light kept the flames at bay. Elizabeth had formed a shield wall so thin that anyone could barely see.It was a surprise since the only School of Protection was in faraway Atlantia. So where did she learn? She kept it strong and alive by clasping her hands together to merge the blood-sigil she had drawn on both palm.