Taran Highflyer- part 1

This is my first real piece of writing (at least my first piece that doesn't deserve to be immediatly destroyed). Please review!!!

Taran

The horse's warm back beneath me was a great comfort in the foreign landscape. The wolves’ cries in the distance made me shiver even though I knew from past experience that they would not approach. Conor was going to launch the attack tonight and I had to hurry if I was to stop him. Lost in my thoughts as I was, I missed the signs that should have warned me. Suddenly I heard a branch crack and the leaves rustled behind me. I whirled around in the saddle, too late.

The cold, sharp blade of a knife pressed into my throat and a hand clamped over my mouth.

"If you wish to continue living you will do exactly what I say. Nod if you understand," a voice whispered from the darkness behind me.

I nodded slowly, fearing for my life. Surprisingly however, I was thinking about how I wished I had had another helping of stew back at the inn.

"Good. Now put your hands behind your back and keep silent." My hands were bound with cord and I was blindfolded. I felt the horse being led but could only guess where we were going. After about half an hour I heard voices and I assumed we had arrived at a camp. I heard horses in the background and the smoke of a fire drifted over on the cold night air. I was pulled off the horse roughly and dragged into a tent, the rope chafing my wrists. When my hands were untied and blindfold was removed I found myself standing in front of Conor.

"What are you doing here Taran?" Conor demanded.

Same old Conor. He had never been big on small talk. He was the same as when I saw him last. His hair was sandy blond like Father’s. His smile had changed though and was not the kind, loving one that I had learned to love, instead it was cruel and mocking. His eyes were the same though. They were ghostly, icy blue colour with a mischievous glint in them. I realized then though, that the brother I had known was gone. Seeing that, all hope that I could save him disappeared. I was on my own now and needed to concentrate on survival.

I could see that uncle had kept his promise and gave Conor an important ranking. But even then the tent was sparse and held mostly charts and battle plans. His sleeping quarters, behind a curtain at the back were just as desolate, holding only a small cot and a wash basin. The only sign of his high ranking was his impressive uniform and the way the men addressed him.

"What are you doing here Taran?" Conor repeated in exasperation, "I'm sure you didn't come here to admire my tent."

"I came to get you to call off the attack."

"Sorry, Tare but I guess you're out of luck. The king ordered this attack and I'm going through with it. You were foolish to come here -- especially when you knew what my orders are for if I see you." I had not noticed his hand had been inching toward his knife this whole time and now he lunged at me pressing the blade to my throat and pinning my arms to my sides with his other arm.

"You know, I'm supposed to kill you but I have a much better idea," he said while stroking my cheek. I fought to suppress a shudder and jerked my elbow into his stomach. He retaliated by pressing on the knife harder and drawing blood.

"You can't do this Conor! It isn't right!" I shouted while struggling to free myself.

"Is that so?" he grinned looking quite amused at my efforts. Almost casually he adjusted his grip to make it impossible for me to free myself.

"What's happened to you Conor?" I asked him.

I felt him tense and jerk slightly from shock. He recovered quickly though and answered in an angry tone of voice, "I grew up and saw reason. Why fight for the losing team? Besides if you cared so much why did you leave?"

Turning to one of his men he said, "You remember that little hollow we found near the river a couple weeks ago."

"Do you mean the one with the wolves' den, Sir?"

"That's the one. Anyways, I want you to tie her up so she can't escape and leave her there for the wolves to find," he grinned at me and then handed me to the guard.

"Be careful with her, she's feisty." Before the guard could take me away Conor whipped out his knife again and slashed a long cut along my left cheekbone. I felt the blood welling up from the cut and start to trickle down the side of my face.

"Be careful Taran," he told me in a mockingly solemn voice. "I hear that wolves are drawn by blood." Before I could reply I felt a pressure on my temples and everything went dark.

*************

My cheek stung and I could feel the heat of my blood on my face. I was being carried by one of the guards away from the camp.bb He noticed I was awake and quickly dropped me on the ground. My hands were wrenched behind me, bound and tethered. Then he grabbed the tether and started off again, this time with me stumbling along behind him. Soon we arrived at a small moonlit hollow. The moonbeams bathed everything in a silver sheen giving the clearing a haunted sort of feeling. He yanked on the rope and dragged me over to the edge of the clearing and then tied the tether to a tree. He forced me to my knees and drove a curving stake into the ground over-top of one of my legs, pinning my ankle to the ground. I was trapped. He blindfolded me again and then left in haste. Leaving me alone, trapped, and hurt with certain death on the way.