© 2014 Nicole Fuchs
All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Chapter One
Captain Eirik Askelson of Valdar stood back and watched by the light of the waning gibbous moon as his troops invaded the small town before them. He wore a slight smirk on his lips, never expecting to get this far north into the realm of Caldon. His company hailed from Valdar, to the south, a people known for their brute strength, fierce temperament, and victories in battle. For the past eleven years, Valdar had been on a mission to conquer Caldon, and for many years still before that, they had lain in wait for the right moment to pounce on their enemy. Now was their time, Eirik would see to that.
The previous commander had fallen in battle not three weeks ago and the young captain felt the blow personally – that man was his father, Askel. Respected as well as feared, his father motivated troops effortlessly and conquered all in his path, a true warrior of Valdar. King Hosvir scrambled to find another who would replace his most trusted fallen leader.
Forced as he was to take up his father's position at his current age of five and twenty, Eirik had to admit that he greatly desired to be in charge. He had been trained for this position since birth and was ready to prove himself a fierce and worthy leader.
Eirik inhaled the cool autumn air, his head held high. Everything was going according to plan; his company of two hundred well-trained, good soldiers ran from house to house, plundering what valuables they could find inside and taking prisoners before setting a fire to the thatch roofs. The fire caught and spread easily with all the houses being relatively close together, and the only building they might have foreseeable trouble with was the stone church in the center, but Eirik did not blink. His men were more than capable of taking the small community.
He spoke strategy with his second in command as well as friend, Rolf, before stepping back and letting him take over. He once again surveyed from his vantage point atop a small hill overlooking the town, and happened to look to the right. He motioned Rolf over and asked him, "Has anyone been to that house yet?" It stood a ways away from the others, and looked to be a farmer's home with fields of crops surrounding the property.
Rolf saw what Eirik was pointing out and shook his head, some of his dirty blonde hair falling from the tie at the back of his neck. "Not that I know of, sir."
Eirik grabbed his large battle-ax from where it sat, unused thus far tonight, and started toward the small house that was separate from the others. He trusted Rolf to the simple task of finishing the raid.
The walk was a surprising distance, but for a soldier who had done nothing but walk since he left home, it was insignificant. He surveyed the grounds and listened carefully, but it seemed that the occupants had not even noticed that he and his men were destroying their town.
In true Valdarian fashion, Eirik took a deep breath before kicking the wooden door down and off its hinges. There was a small, open living space, and he assumed the two other doors led to bedrooms. Not a sound came from the inside of the home, but he was experienced enough to know that did not necessarily mean nobody was home. He stayed quiet, his unusual green eyes taking in his surroundings. After minutes of no movement, he decided it was safe to look around and at least see what he could loot from here.
He did not find much. The only thing of any value at all really was a necklace, obviously meant for a woman, taken from a small jewelry box in the corner of the room. He retreated out of the house, and noticed a barn that was really no more than a shed. He headed that way and inspected, hoping to find a horse or some cattle.
He entered the barn and froze when he heard a rattling sound, his hands automatically tightening around the handle of his ax, like an extension of his own arm. The space was dark, the only illumination being moonlight coming through the opened door. He heard the sound again and swiftly turned toward his left, where he saw movement behind a pile of hay.
"Who's there?" he asked in his powerful, deep voice, raising his ax at his side. He saw movement of blonde, almost white hair as a girl peeked her head to the side of the pile of hay.
It was an older girl, presumably in her early twenties or maybe late teens as far as he could immediately tell. She scooted to the side so he could almost fully see her, and as he looked at her wide, blue eyes he could tell she was frightened.
She was covered in grime and soot, and looked as if she hadn't had a bath in much too long a time. Her features, from what he could make out through the dirt on her face, were undoubtedly elegant. She possessed high, proud cheekbones, a straight, thin nose, and her lips were full and pink. This greatly confused him, since her facial features were not like any people he had met from Caldon or his own Valdar. He had heard of a realm far to the north, but he had yet to meet anyone who claimed to be from the kingdom of Loriel on his extensive travels.
Nevertheless, he and his men were known for taking young women from the towns they raided back with them. His men usually kept them as slaves, took them as mistresses, or put them in brothels. Eirik did not take part in this so much as his troops did, but he supposed he could help them grab this one.
The girl didn't say anything, and Eirik took her silence for disrespect. "Who are you? Answer me," he barked in a booming voice, not above intimidation to get what he wanted. It was just his way of ordering people about, and he was very used to it with his troops.
Although she seemed daunted she finally spoke up, her spirit shining through with her strong, slightly accented voice. "Well maybe I'd be more inclined to answer if you would lower your ax, sir."
Eirik was shocked, but didn't blame her. He realized how he must appear with his sharp, glinting ax and his battle clothes of not much more beside thick, leather pants and boots. His appearance was sure to be rather haggard and his face hadn't seen a razor in at least a week.
He relaxed his hold on the ax, lowering it as he realized she was not an immediate threat. He gave her a small, incredulous smile at her tone of voice. Not many had dared speak to him as such and lived to tell the tale. "Alright, alright, princess. But what if someone were to attack from behind?" Her cheeks flushed pink, although he could not tell why.
He had barely gotten the sentence out of his mouth before he heard something move behind him. The girl spoke up, yelling, "Look out!"
Years of training had heightened his senses, and with the precise move of a seasoned warrior he took down his attacker in one solid blow. He looked down, seeing that the man to attack him was none other than the farmer, who must have hidden as Eirik ransacked the house earlier.
He took a deep breath and his eyes traveled back to the girl. He raised an eyebrow and cocked his head as if to say, 'See?' He kept his ax lowered as he moved closer to her, but still in his hands, ready to defend himself again if need be.
He slowly got close to her, but not so close that she felt intimidated. He knelt down on one knee in order to get on her level and asked, "What is your name?" trying to keep his tone friendly, but it was not something he was accustomed to.
She seemed to process the question. Eirik had gotten very good at reading facial expression, and he saw her realize something: If she didn't answer, he was the type of man to get angry. Even in his current, friendly position, he still had a weapon with which to harm her.
She met his eyes and quietly answered, "Liara," but loud enough for him to hear. He nodded, accepting her answer although not offering his own name in return.
Suddenly, he heard a clamor of noise coming from outside the barn. He stood and leaned out the door to the barn, seeing that the ruckus was coming from none other than his own troops up on the hill. As dictated by tradition, they chanted in their ancestor's language and celebrated their victory.
He knew he was due back at Rolf's side to celebrate, but he would not be leaving the girl.
"Come with me," Eirik commanded her gruffly. He expected her to hop right up, but she stayed put in her position. "Quickly!" he barked when she hadn't moved after a few tense seconds.
"I-I can't," she said, her eyes meeting his.
Again misinterpreting her words for disrespect, he hardened his stance. "Suit yourself, I will leave you here. Better yet, why don't I just kill you for your ignorance?" He took a threatening step toward her.
Her blue eyes went wide, and she vigorously shook her head. "No wait! You don't understand – I can't." She put emphasis on the last word as she moved out from behind the hay completely and held her hands out to him.
His eyes took in the thick metal shackles surrounding her slender wrists that held her to the wall by chains. His expression changed in understanding, and his mind reeled as he wondered how long she had been contained here. She looked rather skinny, even wrapped in a blanket as she was, as if she hadn't had a proper meal in weeks.
Eirik knelt next to her carefully. Clearing his throat, he said, "Alright," not used to this unusual situation and having to help someone. Normally he was the one they needed saving from. "I will break them and then you will come with me," he finished with no room for argument.
Liara nodded, seeming eager to get away from this place. He instructed her to hold her arms out as he raised his ax. She gave him an apprehensive look, and he rolled his eyes. "Come on." She begrudgingly held her arms out, stretching the chain so he could cut it.
In one fell swoop of his ax he broke the chain as close to her wrists as possible, freeing her from the wall. He helped her stand, took her hand in his, and the pair quickly strode out of the barn and back up the hill.