Thursday, January 23, 2020

Thursday's Fifth Scene Lines of Fire Challenged #MFRWAuthor #BWLAuthor #Fantasy #Swords #Duelists


Lasara’s thoughts filled with the things Misa had told her about being Petan’s prisoner. Her stomach curdled. How had the man who’d once been almost part of her family gained control of so many men? He desired women for their vivid lines of fire and he didn’t care if they died.
Her hands tightened on the reins sending Daro into a restless dance. She drew a deep breath. He and the men he’d corrupted had a secret lair. They raided farms taking what they needed for survival and any young woman who would serve Petan’s need to service the man he called Master.
When Misa had spoken about the pale lines, Lasara had thought of her mother‘s after a visit to the Swordmaster’s quarters. But her mother hadn’t died though days passed before her lines regained their scarlet color. Another thought occurred. Did her father meet this man and service him?
Shudders shook her body. She had to do something but she had no idea what. Returning to the Defender’s Hall was impossible. As long as her father ruled as Swordmaster all she could do was stay low. She refused to consider bonding with Petan.
Slowly she grew calmer. What could she do alone? Her goals had changed. She would find Petan’s lair and find some way to let the Defenders know. From all Misa had said there were at least two dozen renegades. Most were banished Defenders.
Trees rustled as she rode past. Soon she would need to stop for the night.
Her thoughts returned to Misa’s story. The presence of a stranger who appeared and disappeared at will chill her. Who was this man with ice blond hair and glacial gray eyes? Where had he come from and what control did he have over Petan? These troubling thoughts made her ill.
Stories she’d been told as a child flowed into her thoughts. She had always thought they were myths. What if they were real? The tales full of mystery and danger had kept her awake at night. What if there was a truth buried in the stories? Her ancestors had used some magical means to cross time and space. Their god had built the Citadel and the four Halls as refuges.
No on knew how the massive stone walls had been erected or the four Halls built. Defenders, Healers, Artisans and Justicars were the clans.
Slowly some people had left the refuge to establish farms and villages. Patrols were sent from the citadel to spend two years visiting those outside the walls and gleaning those with talents for the Halls.
Dueling had been established as a way to solve all quarrels when the people protested the Justicar’s rulings. From her early years, becoming a duelist had been her goal.
Lasara frowned. Had this man called Master found the way his ancestors had brought people to this land?
The sky darkened. She saw a pyramid of stones with no feather marking it as occupied. She pulled a gray feather from her pack, dismounted and set ir as a marker. Finding a campsite meant food for Daro, water and she hoped safety. She cared for Daro and started a fire in the pit. After erecting her tent, she prepared a meal using water from the stone basin. Then she carefully set her traps.
On the next day she continued the journey. Could she find a full patrol and tell her tale? Only if she saw tents showing the presence of Justicars with the Defenders dare she take a chance.
She had one other choice and thinking of meeting Petan in a duel brought a rush of uncertainty. As a duelist she had bested more experienced men and women. If Petan would fight fairly she believed she could win. Except he would cheat. If she found no other way she would challenge him. This decision felt right but she still worried.
She glanced at the sky. Dark clouds gathered. A change in the air boded a storm. Finding shelter for the night became her goal. Though she had a tent, summer storms were often downpours filled with thunder and bolts of lightning.
She noticed a spiral of dark smoke shooting into the blue gray sky. She slowed Daro and moved him from the road into the trees. The amount of smoke troubled her. Was there a forest fire? Then she and Daro reached a fence surrounding a grain field. A farm. What burned? Could she help? She rode along the fence and was about to enter a lane. She halted. Shouting and raucous laughter reached her. She turned Daro and retreated. What even happened at the end of the lane she didn’t want to barge in.
She dismounted. If there was trouble, she needed to know what to do. “Stay,” she commanded.
After climbing the fence, she crawled along a path between two rows of the tall stalks of grain. A view of the farmyard showed her the source of the fire and much more. The flaming thatched cottage burned. In the glow from the fire she saw men. A scream rose above the shouts of men. How many were there?
She counted nine saddled bihorns. Frustration filled her. Seven men and she was alone. She might be able to down two. Her hands clenched. She couldn’t draw her sword and dash into the fray. When the men mounted, a sense of relief filled her. Then she saw a young woman seated before one of the riders. Misa’s story came to mind. A scream died in her throat. The girl’s lines were a vivid scarlet. In this instant she knew these men were among Petan’s renegades.
Quickly she scurried back to the fence and pulled Daro into the shelter of the trees. She slid her sword from the back scabbard. If discovered she would fight.
An explosion of laughter followed by loud voices grew nearer. The string of mounted men reached the road and sent their steeds galloping away.
Again, she repeated her vow. She would find where they laired and somehow find a way to destroy Petan. Her honor as a duelist called for a confrontation. She shivered. Though she knew what she must do she wasn’t convinced she would win.

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