This time I'm running truly late, but alas, life sometimes just makes what you want to do impossible. Hopefully I will be able to make rounds and comment on everyone else's posts soon! I hate not being able to see all your creativity out there! This time I chose the prompt where one of the characters is revealed to not be who they seem to be. If you missed it, check out the first part here. Enjoy!
The clank and tinks of metal against metal blended with the pounding marches of one hundred caramel and chocolate colored feet. Dubhan moved with his men as their commander and their equal. The sun was on the horizon, painting the sky with the red of spilled blood and gold like the sands of their home. Of his daughter’s proper home.
Having the crown princess disappear for thirteen years was completely unacceptable. Who would have thought she would be hidden in the worthless trading town of Renaissance? He certainly hadn’t. It was a spy that had been the one to inform him of the Schiav orphan the town currently housed.
And now they would pay.
His general clapped a large hand over his shoulder with a gentle grimace. A cut to the face had rendered him incapable of smiling three years ago. “We will find her, my friend.” His weathered eyes smiled when his mouth could not. “He would not lie about such a precious thing.”
Dubhan grasped his comrade’s hand and nodded, pausing in his steps to look down on the glittering town. These people—if they could even be called that—would regret tearing his family apart. His wife had never been the same after the princess had disappeared. He didn’t care how many houses he would ransack, how many fathers, sons and brothers he would kill. He and his men were going to find his precious Moirana.
“You are sure we can trust this boy, Yoran?” A black gaze met his. “We have already damaged much in our searches.” Hundreds of towns and cities bordering the desert. They had checked every single one and had left the wreckage for the citizens to clean up.
“We can trust him.” Yoran removed his hand to readjust the scabbier on his hip. “He will lead her to us. And keep her safe.”
Safe? “You think they will harm her when we attack?” Blood surged through his body, racing like a sandstorm. If they dared lay a finger on her, no—if they even looked at her wrong he would gouge out their eyes before he snapped off their fingers. That was if he was feeling nice.
“Calm, my king,” his friend said. He urged him to continue walking, and the rest of his army followed. Nothing like being persecuted could bind a group of people with the strings of eternity. “She will be safe. There isn’t any use in getting angry over things that won’t happen.”
A sigh slipped from his lips. Dubhan stopped once again, this time turning to his men and holding his arms out. Their dull chatter halted. “This is our last town before we give up the search for our beloved princess.” The faces of the men fell. “But we will make it worth it. We will feast on their livestock, drink their beer and deface their homes if she is not there. We are Schiav! No one steals from us! And we will give them an example as to why.”
The men cheered; raising swords, spears and anything else they could use to inflict fear and pain. “Go! Prove to those worthless men how fearful we truly are!”
The sea of bodies parted just enough to go around him and Yoran, reconvening together in a mass of people trampling down the hillside. The sight warmed his soul like the sun.
He and Yoran followed in their wake. “What is this man’s name again?”
“Alexi,” he said. His voice remained calm despite their sprinting. “The spy’s name is Alexi.”