The Chronicles of Sathraea (Ch. 3 Up) - Critiques Welcome!

[wingsofsilver]

Chapter 1

The day was new with mist clinging to the land like a thick, woolen blanket. The sun had barely risen in the east to begin to burn off the shimmering silver clouds that rested among the trees. Despite the apparent serenity that seemed promised to show its favor, something wasn't right. The land was uneasy and the birds had yet to start their sunrise symphony. Even the creatures that walked or crawled remained in their beds when they would have otherwise been greeting the morning. The cold silence was broken by the sound of hooves pounding on the earth.

A rough group of horsemen galloped at breakneck speed through the forest, urging their mounts forward with no regard to their safety. They rode as if hell was on their heels, ready to swallow them whole. If a horse broke a leg during their frenzied rush, the rider would be left behind. Their business was of the utmost importance and they did not dare to slow down. Especially when the entourage that followed them was more than capable of taking their lives should they fail. It was not easy to see where they were going. Their target was ahead of them, hidden in the fog. The only clue they had to the quarry's whereabouts was the faltering beat of massive wings echoing in the air.

Each rider was equipped with a sword and bow. Quivers full of arrows were secured to their saddles and occasionally, one of them would set an arrow flying into the sky ahead of them. The horses were exhausted, foam flecking their mouth and skin, but their riders laid their crops to their flesh and never let them rest. One rider launched another arrow through the air and was rewarded with an agonizing shriek. He shouted in triumph and the group cheered with hoarse shouts. The sound of snapping trees and something large colliding with the ground slowed them down for a moment.

Just ahead, the mist had begun to thin. The riders slowed almost to a walk as they arrived upon the scene of shattered forest and the prone body of a dragon. The exhausted men began to dismount as they surveyed the area around them while one man, obviously the leader due to his size and stature, stepped forward to examine the creature. She was large, almost forty feet long. Her body was covered with emerald green scales that faded to a deeper green, almost black toward her legs, tail and wingtips. Her feet supported impressive claws and her mouth gaped to show sharp, serrated teeth as long as knives. A simple diadem of woven gold rested on head, held in place by delicate chains that attached to her curving black horns.

Though she was still, she was not dead. Not yet anyway. One wing lay crumpled beneath her and several arrows stuck out along her sides, the fatal one just behind her left front leg. Her sides rose as she took in rattling gasps and a bright amber eye watched the man as he came nearer. There was no kindness or mercy in his face, only emptiness. He stopped a few feet away from her head just as the second group of horsemen arrived. Their leader did not bother to get off his horse. He sat there, glaring down at the dragon with cold, calculating malice.

"So, this is how it ends for the line of Sath'hara. I almost pity you. You could have had a more dignifying end, you know, but instead you chose to run."

The dragon switched her gaze from the rider in front of her to the man in elegant robes of crimson. Her slit-eyed gaze, like that of a cat, narrowed in and a low hiss escaped her jaws.

"I expected a better greeting from you, High Chancellor Malthar. More along the lines of one speaking to someone above his rank. Couldn't come up with anything better or is it too early in the morning for you?" the dragon spoke in a deep, cultured voice.

The High Chancellor glowered before motioning to his personal guards. They dismounted and surrounded the wounded dragon, lances pointed inward. "You are in no position to be so bold with words, Your Majesty. Your mate lies dead in your chambers and those who support you have either been wiped out or have fled for their lives. Rest assured even they will be hunted down. Your line has ended and with no heir to your throne it will be me who sits upon it come evening."

The emerald dragon's gaze narrowed and she struggled for breath. "Well, at the very least you have addressed me properly, but my line will not end with me. There will be others to challenge you, those who know that a human can never rule on the dragon throne." The man's face turned blotchy and red in anger, making the dragon queen chuckle until a racking cough had her spitting blood onto the dirt. "Forget to take your medicine this morning? You should be careful before you keel over before your plan has been completed."

"Finish this," High Chancellor Malthar growled. "Remember, I want Queen Sath'mera's death covered up. Make it look like she has fled the country."

Her strength failing, the dying queen couldn't even lift her head to defend herself. A man was pushed forward, trembling as he held his sword in front of him. Sath'mera gazed at him calmly. Her end was near and there was no way to persuade the Fates for a little more time. The leader of the horsemen put a hand on his shoulder and he looked up uneasily.

"Get it over with, Vilard. I want to be home before lunch."

The man named Vilard approached the failing queen with trepidation, but he could not back down without being killed himself, and he had a family to think about. Sath'mera watched him for a moment before closing her eyes. Vilard almost thought that she had passed away on her own and that he would be spared the grisly task, but her eyes flicked open again. Before he could swing his sword, a soft breath washed over him and he was lost in the image of another time and place.

An egg lay nestled in a bed of heated sand hidden in a cavern. "Find him, Vilard, son of Vilhan. Find him and set him in his rightful place." Queen Sath'mera's voice floated through his mind though her mouth never moved. It ended so quickly that he wasn't even sure it had happened, but the next moment his sword swung down and the dragon finally breathed her last. Vilard backed away, glancing at the men standing around the dead queen. When no one seemed to have heard or seen the vision, he relaxed.

The High Chancellor frowned. Something wasn't right, but he had no time to think about it. He had to return to the palace to set everything straight before anyone could start an uprising. "Clean this up," he said before turning his horse and leaving the matter to the lackeys he had hired. His guards left with him as the horsemen readied their tools, leaving Vilard sick behind a tree as blood slowly soaked the ground. When they were finished, there was almost no trace that the reigning dragon Queen of Sathraea had been murdered before the sun had risen.

[sammythethief]

I love this already. Very vivid, very creative. I'm looking forward to where you might go with this.

[wingsofsilver]

(I'm glad you like it, Madame. It's my first attempt so I hope I can interest a few more readers as well. )

Chapter 2

The house was a small house, but it was kept with loving hands and had been in Vilard's family for many generations. Built from light grey stone and mortar, the quaint little cottage was picturesque as it sat on the edge of the small town of Havanaa. Window boxes held brightly colored flowers and herbs that could be used for cooking and healing. A small dirt path lined with stones ended at a door painted bright blue.

Vilard paused at the end of the path and looked at what had been is home for all his life. He had been born there, as had his father and grandfather before him. He could not remember a day that he had not come home to that little house and the love that was abundant inside its walls. Sighing, Vilard walked inside. He was met by wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. A dark-haired young woman poked her head around the door and smiled.

"Da, you're home. I've got some fresh bread in the oven and some of that venison stewing. Sit down and I'll get you some."

Vilard nodded and sat at the wooden table that had been carved by his own hands. As he rubbed at the grain in the oak, his thoughts drifted to the incident that had plagued him all the way home. The day had started well enough. He had headed toward the carpentry shop that stood next door to his cottage with the intention of finishing the rocking chair for Grandmother Willa. Instead, he'd been stopped at the door before he could go inside. The group of men had him on a horse before he could protest and he was given directions along the way.

Hired men were usually those who weren't afraid of the law. Vilard had been so startled that he hadn't had time to turn back and explain that he was a decent man. The leader was a man who, with one look, had silenced him completely. Add to the fact that he had drawn a wicked looking knife helped to seal his lips. Vilard had gone unwillingly.

It had all happened so quickly. Running a hand over his face, Vilard wondered what he had gotten himself into. He'd ended the life of a dragon and a Queen at that. He could still see her piercing amber eyes. Queen Sath'mera ruled on one of the dual thrones in the neighboring kingdom of Sathraea. Its border lay seven miles to the east Havanaa. Because of his actions, she was dead. No, he corrected himself. It was because of the High Chancellor's actions that she was dead. Murdered in cold blood.

The sound of a bowl scraping the table brought his attention back from his troubled thoughts. The smell of venison and vegetables wafted up and made him realize how hungry he was. Vilard smiled up at the young woman as she put down a small loaf of bread with butter and cheese.

"Thank you, Viannysa. It smells wonderful."

Viannysa's answering smile lit up her face and reminded Vilard of her mother. She had been a dark haired beauty too, though he could see his chin and his bright green eyes peering back at him. It had been five years since his wife's death and it still sent his heart into aching pangs when he looked at his daughter.

"Eat up, Da. You look tired. Is everything all right?" she asked as she sat down across from him.

Vilard nodded, swirling the meat in his bowl with his spoon, but his daughter would have none of that. "Come on, Da. You're bothered by something. Tell me what it is." He sighed and set his spoon down. How much should he tell her? Was it wise to say anything? Viannysa waited patiently, knowing her father would tell her sooner or later, but it seemed that he wasn't quite ready yet.

"I need some time, Vi. Give me a little time and I'll tell you everything. I just don't think I can right now."

Vi pursed her lips to keep from questioning him any more. She knew pressing him would only make him clam up about it until he was ready. Not quite willing to give it up for the moment, she pulled off a piece of bread, buttered it, and sank her teeth into the warm roll.

"Grandma Willa is sleeping, but she finished the cloak she was making for you. She wanted to know where you had gone when she didn't find you at the shop."

Vilard knew she was trying to get him to talk again. She didn't give up easily, even when she knew it was a futile effort. Scooping some stew into his mouth to avoid answering, he watched her frustration grow with amusement until she left the table to get her own meal. Satisfied that Viannysa would let the matter be, Vilard finished his lunch and went to finish Grandmother Willa's rocking chair. His mother, bless her soul, was getting older in years and rarely left their cottage. She was still sharp in eye and mind, but her body rarely let her go farther than the front gate so she sat and wove on her loom for as long as she could manage.

Seeing her father had escaped out the door, Viannysa sat down in a huff, her curiosity burning. Her father was rarely troubled by anything, but the look on Vilard's face when he had come home troubled her as much as his thoughts troubled him. He'd had such an expression of loss and guilt that she was sure something was terribly wrong. That he refused to talk about it only made her wonder what had happened to make him drift off without telling her about it.

Where had he been all morning? Viannya wondered.

[sammythethief]

It seems to me that Viannysa might be kind of an important character? I hope so, I rather like her. She seems feisty and vibrant.
It's harder for me to get a feel for Vilard, since he was thrust into a very personality-changing situation immediately, but I have a feeling that you'll be able to really develop his character.

This is very intriguing, I'm glad you're writing this~
Makes me want to put my laptop down and pick up my own writey things!

[wingsofsilver]

It seems to me that Viannysa might be kind of an important character? I hope so, I rather like her. She seems feisty and vibrant.
It's harder for me to get a feel for Vilard, since he was thrust into a very personality-changing situation immediately, but I have a feeling that you'll be able to really develop his character.

This is very intriguing, I'm glad you're writing this~
Makes me want to put my laptop down and pick up my own writey things!

Thank you! I'm glad that it sparks your interest. I've always wanted to write and I just kept putting it off. This is sort of a 'kicking-myself-in-the-rear' story to get myself going. And yes, Vi is going to play a very important role in this story. Vilard is more of a supporting character for her so he won't be quite as developed as Vi will be.

[wingsofsilver]

Chapter 3

The dark curtain of night that settled over the cottage and the shop was quiet. The crickets chirped their choruses, oblivious to the stars that shone above. The shop was lit up from the inside like a lantern, attesting to the still unsettled mind of the carpenter. It wasn't unusual for Vilard to work late into the night when his mind would not slow down enough for him to sleep. Viannysa peered through the kitchen window at the flickering glow of warmth from the shop before closing the rippled glass to keep the night chill at bay. The stone oven helped to heat the loft above the kitchen where she and her father slept. Grandma Willa was too old to climb the ladder so she slept in the only spare room.

Wiping her hands dry after cleaning the dishes, Vi headed back to the main room to push the logs back in the hearth so no embers would fall on the floor in the middle of the night. The afternoon had been uneventful after sharing lunch with her father. She had gone to the garden out back to prune and weed before the sun went down, it needing a lot attention to keep the weeds from taking it over. Her skirt smudged with dirt and grass stains, she brushed it off before changing into her shift and poking her head around the door of the spare room.

Grandma Willa sat in her rocking chair, a new project begun on her loom. She looked up at the appearance of Viannysa's head and smiled. "Off to bed, dear?"

Vi nodded and stepped inside the room. "Is there anything I can get you, Grandma? A cup of warm milk?"

The old woman huffed and waved a hand at her granddaughter. "Don't you bother yourself with me. I'm fine. You get yourself to bed. Maybe we can cheer your father up tomorrow since it's his Naming Day."

Viannysa brightened considerably. "Oh! I had almost forgotten. I should make him that butter cake he loves so much." Grandma Willa nodded in approval. Vi's butter cake was famous in their little town and many people came to ask her to make it for their Naming Day, the day when people received their name after surviving one year of life. Vilard would certainly look forward to it.

"I'll tell him when he comes in. Go get some sleep, child. Everything will be all right in the morning."

Giving her grandmother a kiss on the cheek, Vi headed went up to the loft with Grandma Willa chiding her up the ladder. The old woman wasn't usually one for displays of affection in her old age. Viannysa settled down in her soft pallet of hay covered with a warm sheet and blanket. She had always enjoyed the scent of fresh cut hay and its scent helped to send her off to the land of dreams.

Unfortunately, it was would be the last night of peace Viannysa would know in the little cottage.

Vi found herself forcibly shaken awake a few hours later. She almost cried out but a hand covered her mouth to stifle the sound. Eyes wide with fright, she looked up into the wrinkled face of Grandma Willa. Just a look told her to be quiet and Vi nodded her head to show she understood, but she couldn't help the questions that bubbled forth. Grandma Willa shook her head and in a voice so soft she could barely hear her, she spoke.

"Hush child. There's no time for questions. You have two minutes. Dress for travel; dress light. I'll be getting you some supplies. Don't dawdle now, get up!"

Viannysa didn't understand what was happening but she didn't stop to question her grandmother. There had been something in the old woman's eyes, something that told her that all was not right. As quietly as she could she reached for her chest and pulled out a pair of breeches and a shirt. Over that she covered it with a vest and her hunting belt. Pulling on her worn, leather boots, Vi marveled at how fast Grandma Willa had scurried down the ladder. Even now she could hear muffled sounds coming from the kitchen below.

Following her downstairs, Viannysa paused in the kitchen doorway. She could see the flicker of bright, orange light pouring through the kitchen window from the burning shop. Deep, male voices were yelling outside. "Here, child. It's all I could grab in so little time." The hunched shadow of Grandma Willa stood before her. Vi felt a heavy piece of fabric being pulled around her shoulders. It was the cloak that Grandma Willa had made for her father. A pack was thrust into her hands and she clutched at it before being pushed back into the main room. A rough, guttural word was spoken and Viannysa heard the sound of soft click, like a lock being opened.

Staring in disbelief, Vi gaped at the hole that had suddenly appeared in the floor. How long had that been there? All her life she had never even known it was there. "No time, no time," muttered Grandma Willa, pushing her toward the edge of the hole. "You must go, child. Men are here and the shop is already ablaze. I fear for your life. I must try to help your father. Go, follow the tunnel. It will lead you to a safe place. Go!"

With no time to protest Viannysa staggered down into the hole and dropped down what seemed to be several feet. The hidden door swung upward and disappeared. There wasn't even a crack to see inside the cottage above. Heart pounding in her ears, she stared for a long time at the floor above her head before sense finally kicked in and she turned to move. Had her father gotten out of the shop in time? Who were the men and had they harmed her family?

One moment she had been asleep and the next she was down a deep, dark passage that smelled of old earth and wood. Putting her hands out in front of her, Vi could feel wood lining the tunnel. She kept one hand on the siding and walked forward. There was nothing to block her path and the floor was flat and hard. Her boots were soft thuds on the ground and she wondered who had kept the tunnel in such good condition. She didn't even smell mold or wood rot. There were so many questions in her mind that she couldn't even focus on one long enough to get some kind of sense of what was happening.

When the tunnel kept going, Viannysa began to worry. While she could still feel the wall, she couldn't see anything. The thought of a fire was quickly squashed. There was no torch for her use and it only brought images of what her grandmother had said. Her father's shop was on fire. Men were there. Were they thieves? She couldn't imagine a group of men trying to make off with the four hundred pound table her father had been carving for the mayor.

Vi expected to reach some kind of door or a metal ring in which she could pull open. Instead the tunnel went onward for what seemed like forever. How long had she been walking? A mile, two? Surely it wasn't endless. Viannysa chided herself for being silly. Of course it wasn't endless. Grandma Willa had told her it would take her to a safe place. She hoped she would find it soon.

[GingerFang]

Absolutely marvelous! This story is well written, with an exciting plot. I hope you can write more soon!

[wingsofsilver]

Absolutely marvelous! This story is well written, with an exciting plot. I hope you can write more soon!

Thank you! I hope to have the next chapter up very soon!

[LightningDragon]

I know that this is a very late comment, but this story has absolutely caught my interest and my imagination. It'd be fantastic to see more of it!