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Young Writers Society


12+

The Jerikova Wars, Chapter Two **UPDATED**

by BlackhawkUnder


Chapter Two: Wolfria

“G’day, milady,” a man grunted politely as he drew his horse up next to hers at the stream that lay just off the dusty dirt road. His thin, brown woollen trousers were worn and stained from years of wor, patched in many places, and were tucked into a pair of faded black boots that had traveled far and likely had holes in the bottoms. An old grey cotton tunic covered the upper half of his body, cinched at the waist with a plain brown leather belt that looked as if it would fall apart at any moment, topped off with a brown vest that couldn’t even be tied because the ties themselves were so old they’d snapped.

His skin was a reddish-brown color like clay that had been long-baked under the sun, his eyes were a sharp black that missed nothing even though they were shadowed by thick brows, wrinkles from squinting against the bright daylight lined the corners of his lips and eyes, and his once bright black hair was dulling to pepper gray. A smattering of colored glass beads were woven into the braids of his beard and hair - he seemed to wear them proudly where most men wouldn’t be caught dead adorning such a style.

He’s a Sondik, she deduced, immediately putting herself on high alert. Sondíks were a migratory people; their lifestyle afforded them few possessions and even fewer luxuries, but they had a reputation for being incredible gamblers - some called them cheats they were so good. Supposedly they enjoyed gambling so much they took offense if anyone refused a game with them, and they certainly did not take it well when someone was unable to pay up at the end of a game.

“Good day, sir,” Wolfria answered carefully, glancing at him through the corner of her eye. Within, she felt Ysolara’s curiosity pique.

Another Sondík man on a horse and two children on ponies approached from behind. “Hello there!” this one called out, smiling and friendly. “I apologize ferr my friend, Peeta, he ain’t the most talkative of fellows,” the second man said, sliding his horse between hers and Peeta’s.

“It was no problem, sir,” Wolfria murmured, backing Azore, her mount, away and pulling herself into the saddle.

“If ya don’t mind me askin’, what’s a pretty little lady like yerself doing out here alone?”

“I’m traveling.” Her reply was short and clipped, making it clear it wasn’t his business, without being rude about it.

“Where to?” he continued, either not noticing or not caring.

Tell him, Ysolara urged.

She paused, studying them all suspiciously, lips tight and thin. “Guthror.”

The man laughed with happy surprise. “Heyo, Guthror is where we’re headed!”

“Fancy that,” she forced a smile, her eyes darting about nervously as she inched Azore away; he was starting to get upset, sensing the distress within her. The last thing she needed was to get stuck with a group of nosy Sondíks who would spread word of her everywhere they ended up. She’d be faster on her own anyway. The faster she got to Guthror, the faster she would get done with whatever this nonsense plan was Ysolara had for her, and the faster she would get to go back home.

“Why don’t we travel there togeva? Eh, Peeta? Don’tcha think that’s a good idea?” he turned to the other Sondík man, who had been ignoring them up until now.

“Huh?” Peeta grunted, clueless and apathetic.

“Yeh, it’s a right smart idea I says. What say you, milady?” he turned back to her.

“Truthfully, I don’t think it’s a very good idea at all,” Wolfria shook her head and winced inwardly, learning that Ysolara was of a different opinion. Azore was pawing at the ground now, professing his unease with loud snorts and huffs.

“Nonsense! Having ye along will be wonderful! Especially for me little Mirela and Luca, what wiv’ their muva bein’ locked away in that awful King Alaric’s prison. I bin so worried ‘bout her I kin hardly sleep!”

Wolfria glanced at the children then, who were staring at her silently, apprehensively. How long had they been without their mother? Two days? Two weeks? Two months? The little girl’s eyes nearly broke her heart in half they were so sad and lonely. How could she object to that? “I suppose it will do for a time,” she eventually consented with a sharp nod. Not that the purple woman had given her much choice. The words had been hers this time, but Ysolara would have forced her to agree anyway.

“Perfect! Lavinia will be so relieved ta hear thet the children had a woman ta look after them! Lavinia’s my wife, ya see, a Sondík, like us all. That Alaric Vatrark had his men take her away from me and lock her up all ‘cus she’s a Sondík! Kin you believe thet?!” The man snorted but didn’t stop talking for a moment.

“The audacity of thet wretched man! He locked her up in his high security prison in Tolste. High security! As if my poor wife is dangerous! I cain’t e’en imagine the things they’s doin’ to her in there!” His face was turning red with desperation, his anger radiating out into the air and further unsettling Azore whose muscles were taut and ready to release into a full gallop with Wolfria’s word.

“Yanko.” Peeta spoke his name quietly but firmly, glancing nervously at Wolfria, but his friend ignored him.

“Anyhows, I sent a message to my good friend Peeta here, and we agreed we had ta get my poor Vin out of that place. So’s now that’s ‘xactly what we’re doin’! We’re goin’ to sneak right up to that prison and-”

“Yanko! We need to keep moving!” Peeta barked suddenly as his dark, distrustful eyes glared into Wolfria’s.

“Oh, right!” With that Yanko tugged his horse’s reins to pull him back from the river and waited as his children did the same with their small but sturdy ponies before turning to head west down the road toward Guthror.

Wolfria stayed silent as they moved onward, trying to focus on the steady clip-clop of Azore’s hooves and the various chirping and tweeting of birds from the oak, maple, and elm trees that lined the road. The less she talked, the less likely they would be to figure out who she was. Although they seemed to hate the pretender King Alaric, she wouldn’t put it past them to turn her in for a reward of some sort. They couldn’t be trusted, especially since Yanko couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut.

“What’s yerr name, milady? What do we call ya?” Yanko asked.

“My name is Astra Porter, and that’s all you need to know,” she said evenly, staring him down until his mouth snapped shut. Astra Porter was the identity that Ysolara had given her for their travels, along with a host of falsified memories to go with it so she would never have to think of anything on the spot if questioned. For her fifth birthday, Grantos had gotten her a Cendei kitten, from across the Pterus Ocean, and she’d named it Astra. Though Astra had died a few years earlier, it was a name that Wolfria would not soon forget, for she had loved that cat with all her heart.

“Awright then, Ms. Astra. Mirela, why don’t ya get up here and keep company wiv our new friend?”

“Yes, father,” the girl nodded obediently and urged her pony into a trot and joined Wolfria, leaving Yanko free to speak in hushed tones with Peeta. “Hello, Ms. Astra,” Mirela greeted her shyly.

She guessed the girl to be about seven years old. She had unruly blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes set above round, pink cheeks and soft skin the color of tanned leather. She commanded her pony with the ease of an experienced rider, and Wolfria wondered if she had ever known what it was like to have a real home. Either way, it was easier to be calm and relaxed with this child than it had been with her father. “Hello, Mirela, it’s nice to make your acquaintance,” she smiled gently.

“You talk silly,” the girl announced, bringing both Wolfria and her unwelcome, violet inhabitant to realize Mirela was right: she did talk silly. She spoke with the kind of education only someone who came from a very wealthy or noble family would get. Her simple grey cotton dress that she’d bought off of her maid told a completely different story. Apparently that was one thing Ysolara had forgotten to factor into her false identity.

“I’m not from around here,” she lied quickly to cover it up.

“Oh. Then where are ya from?”

Wolfria took a deep breath to calm herself as she brought her false backstory to mind, shamed to lie to an innocent child. “Zaphyria, a country very far north of here. No more questions, please, little one,” she requested then, glancing at Luca to make sure he’d heard her as well.

The boy, who looked about eleven or twelve, nodded in understanding. He didn’t seem entirely interested in her anyway.

With the formal introductions out of the way, Mirela dove into a discussion about her travels so far and how naughty her pony could be. Inwardly the princess was relieved. Mirela, it seemed, would talk enough for the both of them, and hopefully this would allow her to keep her secret. It was only another day’s ride to Redwater if they kept at a good pace; the East Mountains would slow them some but the roads leading up to and away from the rocky peaks were smooth and straight. Once in Redwater she would leave the Sondíks and depart for Palsryche. She only had to keep her secret for a day and then she’d be free and clear of them. That was Ysolara’s plan at least.

***

They stopped in a small maple grove off to the side of the road to shelter in overnight. Wolfria lay down to sleep a short distance away from the Sondíks, but then to her surprise Mirela snuggled up next to her. “Yerr kinda a stranger, Ms. Astra, but I like ya,” the girl murmured and inched closer.

“Well, I suppose that’s a good thing then, little one,” she said. “I imagine you miss your mother.”

“Yeah lots. We were all traveling on the road one day and these big scary men attacked us. They were wearin’ all forest green and had their hoods up to hide their faces and just came out of nowhere! My dad got me and Luca away into the forest but my mama didn’t make it. So’s they locked her up.”

Hmm, that sounds like Sverlath mercs… But if Lavinia was captured outside of Guthror, then how did Yanko know she was brought to Tolste?

She let the question puzzle her for a moment before she pushed it aside for later consideration and turned her attention back to Mirela.“Yes, I heard. It’s lucky you escaped so you can rescue her now, though.”

“Uh-huh, it is. But kin I tell you something?” the girl broke down to a whisper.

“Sure,” she said and leaned in closer

“I’m scared.”

Wolfria smiled. “That’s alright, Mirela. Do you want to know something? I’m scared too.”

“You are?”Her eyes grew big and wide. “Why?”

Why? Well, why not? Alaric Vatrark is trying to kill me along with my family, the Five are on the brink of a war the likes of which hasn’t been seen in hundreds of years, I’m traveling right into my enemy’s hands, my family probably thinks I’m dead, Grantos may get himself killed in the search party for me, my sister has been sent away, Istvan is going gods-know-where, my father will likely disown me… But she knew Ysolara would never let her say any of that, nor would she say such troubling things to a child. “There are some dangerous men after me,” she settled with.

Mirela gasped and clapped a hand to her mouth. “Did you do something bad?”

“No. They simply do not like me.”

“‘Cus you’re different? Like us?”

Wolfria tilted her head concedingly. “You could say that.”

“Is thet why ya wear that veil over yerr face and put yerr hood up?” Mirela asked and indicated Wolfria’s strange garb with curiosity in her eyes.

“Yes, where I’m from the veil is a symbol of protection.” Another lie in Ysolara’s web of lies, and this was only her first day talking with other people. How long would she have to wait until she could start telling the truth again? Lying went against every bit of training and tutoring she’d ever had; lying wasn’t appropriate behavior for a princess, wasn’t appropriate for a woman. No man wanted a wife who lied to him.

“Oh. I thought maybe it was ‘cus yerr husband died. Thet’s why Sondík women wear ‘em,” she replied with a shrug.

“No, little one. I’ve never been married.” Though I long to be… Gods, I hope this quest or whatever it is I’m on in Guthror doesn’t take long. I don’t want Grantos to give up hope on me.

She knew that it was unlikely anyone would believe her to be kidnapped by the Sverlath merc she’d reported that day in the castle. If she had been kidnapped, why was her favorite horse also missing? That’s what people would ask. After yelling at her father in the High Table Chamber, he would quickly conclude that she’d run away to escape her duty in going to Ashwood. If she ever returned, he would never forgive her. Likely he would never admit to Grantos and his father that she’d left on her own, he would lie and tell them she’d been kidnapped and was very probably dead, that Grantos should just accept it and marry Tatiana instead.

Mirela went silent and thought for a moment before pulling her necklace off over her head. “Here. Take this,” she insisted, placing it in Wolfria’s hand.

“What is it?”

“My mama gave me this necklace. She said it would protect me.”

“Oh, Mirela, I can’t take this from you!”

“I want ya to. I got my papa and my bruva and my uncle Peeta to protect me. You don’t got anyone.” Mirela pushed Wolfria’s resistant hand away.

“Well… thank you. This is very kind of you.”

“Yerr welcome.” Mirela yawned. “But I’m sleepy now. Goodnight!” With that the child rolled over onto her side and fell asleep almost instantly.

“Goodnight,” Wolfria murmured, staring down at her gift.

The necklace featured a very large, round, fake yellow diamond surrounded by red, blue and green faux sapphires of varying size and shape, with a thick bronze chain piecing it all together. It was very tawdry, as Sondík jewelry often was, but nevertheless, she clutched it in her palm as she, too, tried to fall asleep.

***

Wolfria awoke to the smell of sizzling bacon and sausage cooking over a warm fire. Intrigued, she opened her eyes and sat up, mouth watering. The food she’d had on the road over the past four days was tasteless and dry, and didn’t fill her as much as she’d hoped it would. Some thick, greasy bacon was just what she needed.

Yanko was kneeling next to a makeshift fire pit, stoking the glowing red timber. A grate was fixed at the fingertips of the flames, the aromatic meats sizzling on top of it. On the ground next to him was a pot of what appeared to be porridge.

“Good morning, Ms. Astra! How’d ya sleep?”

“Quite well, thank you,” she answered warily, eyeing the hot food. Mirela and Luca were just stirring next to her, and the mysterious man Peeta was nowhere to be found.

“Papa, you made breakfast!” Mirela cried, instantly awake and on her feet, whereas her older brother groaned with frustration and pulled his coarse woollen blanket up over his face, not yet ready to face the day.

“Yes, little bird, I did. Come, fill yerr bowl before the porridge gets cold.” Without hesitation the little girl snatched the small, beat-up bowl out of his hand and ladled the porridge into it. “Luca, you must get up now, son,” the man said sternly to him. Another groan sounded, but obediently a head of messy blonde hair popped up, followed by a pair of blue eyes, lightly freckled cheeks and skinny shoulders. Luca flipped the blanket off himself and rubbed his face before moving toward the fire and food. Yanko put a few pieces of bacon and sausage on old, wooden plates for them both then smacked Mirela’s hand when she went to take a bite.

“Mirela Graciela Petreska, you know better’n thet!” he chided and gave his daughter a harsh look.

“Sorry, father,” she apologized meekly, putting her bowl down.

“Ms. Astra, don’t ya want anything ta eat?” Yanko asked her then.

Shocked, Wolfria fell speechless for a moment. “W-why yes, I do,” she murmured back, entirely humbled by his kindness. She’d seen the man fumbling through his bags the night before, she knew this was much of the last remaining food they’d brought. That he would offer her, a complete stranger, such a meal, was something she would never have expected.

“Then come fill yerr bowl, girl! This porridge won’t stay hot foreva.”

Nervously she approached and did as he said, looking down at Mirela to find the girl smiling up at her, waiting patiently for something. Wolfria sat next to her, waiting just the same. Yanko served himself some of the meal he’d cooked up and then joined the girls.

“Well, I suppose-”

There was a loud crack! as Peeta stepped on a fallen branch and snapped it in half on his way back into the grove, appearing through the trees like an apparition. In his arms three small, grey rabbits hung lifelessly.

“Peeta, yerr jest in time! Hurry, my friend.”

Peeta dropped the rabbits in the tall grass a few feet from the fire and took the plate and bowl Yanko handed him, sitting down cross-legged between his friend and Luca. It was at that point, when Mirela laced her fingers through hers, that Wolfria understood why Yanko had reprimanded the girl before. Yanko took her other hand, Mirela grabbed Luca’s hand who grabbed Peeta’s large hand, and even the two burly men clasped hands. Wolfria bowed her head and closed her eyes when they did.

Yanko spoke.

“Thank ye, All-Muva, for providing us wiv this delicious food on this beautiful morning. Thank ye also for gifting us wiv the presence of the kind Ms. Astra Porter. We are grateful for yerr protection on our travel thus far, and ask that ye continue to protect us as we journey to rescue the love of my life, Lavinia, from the phony King Alaric’s wretched prison. If not for me, do it so my beloved Luca and Mirela have the muva they deserve.

“Take care also of Ms. Porter; I kin see she is on a dangerous voyage and will need help before the end of it. I have one last thing to ask of ya this morn, All-Muva. Please help ease Peeta of the heavy burden he bears. Before long it will have consumed him. Volorys.”

Volorys,” Mirela, Luca and Peeta repeated after Yanko had finished. Then they immediately dug in.

Wolfria followed suit, cramming monstrous bites of juicy sausage and fatty bacon into her watering mouth and stuffing porridge in on top. She was ravenous, so ravenous she barely chewed her food before swallowing and jamming in more, not caring if she looked like a heathen to the Sondíks. Upon observation, she noticed that their manner of eating was much the same. No worries there.

Breakfast, she learned, was the biggest meal of the day, and that getting both lunch and dinner as well was a real treat. The only reason Yanko had made broth the night before was because the meat and vegetables he’d put in it were about to go bad, and he didn’t want to waste them. In turn, this meant that his family and friend would likely go hungry the rest of the day, as the rabbits Peeta had caught would be used for breakfast another time.

Wolfria’s heart went out to these people, who had so little and yet still managed to retain good cheer, especially the children, whose ragged clothes and worn shoes made Wolfria’s cotton dress and leather boots look befitting of royalty. Unfortunately she couldn’t afford to let these thoughts linger within her; she had her own problems to worry about. Being poor may have many downfalls, but being a royal wasn’t an easy life either.

She tried to speak as little as possible during their breakfast in hopes of moving things along. Ysolara seemed content to keep her thoughts to herself as well, so long as the Sondíks were heading the right direction, keeping a good pace and keeping other travelers from throwing suspicious looks at Wolfria. When she’d been on her own the success of Ysolara’s plan had been a gamble, what with the Royal Guard out searching for her. But now she had four other people to help disguise her, and it seemed to work wonderfully. They could not reach Redwater soon enough.


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23 Reviews


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Mon Jan 16, 2017 9:24 pm
MeatBunCat wrote a review...



BeatBunCat here again!

Gonna have to stick mostly to reaction bits again, you do a amazing job refining everything.

Somewhere in Fethror

Wouldn't this have punctuation?

“G’day, milady,” a Sondík man grunted politely as he drew his horse up next to hers at the stream that lay just off the dusty dirt road.


I feel like there should be a , in this.

Supposedly they enjoyed gambling so much they took offense if anyone refused a game with them, and they certainly did not take it well when someone was unable to pay up at the end of a game.


Polite thieves

Ysolara had for her, and the faster she would get to go back home.

Yay for childish optimism!

"I cain’t e’en imagine the things they’s doin’ to her in there!” His face was turning red with desperation and anger.

You're doing a surprisingly good job balancing out understandably with accenting. Most authors do so little that it hardly matters or do so much that its impossible to figure out. Good job!

“You talk silly,”

lol

“Mirela Graciela Petreska, you know better than that!” he chided and gave his daughter a harsh look.

Okay, this guys accent is disappearing. I know some people's accent gets stronger depending on their mood, but it's jumping around enough that I wonder if that's his real accent.

I hope these thoughts are useful to you! ^.^






They are, thank you!



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Thu Dec 29, 2016 4:57 am
alliyah wrote a review...



Hi there, I'm here for a little review:

Sorry if anything's off, I normally stick to reviewing poetry. :)

First off, I really like the style of this piece. You are absolutely consistent throughout with word choice & dialect- it sounds a bit like Eragon or Lord of the Rings. Your descriptions are also entertaining. I'd love more on why the Sondriks are so different (do they look much different etc. maybe this is in chapter 1). Be careful in making your phrasing too dramatic - for instance beginning a sentence with "immediately" sounds a bit over dramatic for some readers. Good editing overall - not many spelling and grammatical errors. I found the sparing use of italics to be a bit distracting to the piece (like in the sentence "no worries there" and "high security").

Great job overall! Good luck in future additions. I would heavily suggest taking future additions out of the "other" category, since I don't think that category gets as much traffic as novels. :)

~alliyah






Thanks for the tips! :)



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Wed Dec 21, 2016 3:42 am
ChimeraMania wrote a review...



Hello, I'm here for a review. I read chapter one and two. I just couldn't stop reading and although I was late on the other one, looks like I'm only one day late on this way.

So for the last chapter, I liked it and I enjoyed the length and information in that one. I feel though that this one could've been a bit longer to balance out the lengths of chapter one and the prologue.

I like how you have her thoughts in first person but everything else in second. I different for me and I like that. While reading this, I didn't see any mistakes to nick-pick. It's too well written to find any and that's wonderful.

So I guess this isn't much of a review then. Although, again, I feel you could've made this chapter a bit longer (it's what I was expecting anyway).

Other than that, let me know when you publish the next chapter. Tottle (and good luck).






Thank you! I will hopefully be posting chapter three within the next few days :)





I took your advice too, and rearranged some things so I could add more to the end of this chapter. Please check it out :D



ChimeraMania says...


The added words definitely helped the chapter, I feel you wouldn't have added them to the next one but they fit so well in this chapter. Good job on that. Again, your mistakes, if there are any, didn't pop out to me. So good job with that as well. I love the added part. I can't wait for the next chapter, good luck with getting it finished and published.




"For a short space of time I remained at the window watching the pallid lightnings that played above Mont Blanc and listening to the rushing of the Arve, which pursued its noise way beneath. The same lulling sounds acted as a lullaby to my too keen sensations; when I placed my head upon my pillow, sleep crept over me; I felt it as it came and blessed the giver of oblivion."
— Mary Shelley, Frankenstein