Crane

Crane stepped back in shock at Ineera's words, and Cadrin drove his knife into the map to join hers.

“Crane shouldn’t-“ he started, but his voice was drowned out by a clamoring of voices. Loud arguing seemed to pulse even louder as a headache pressed against Crane’s temple, threatening to drive full-force into her head. She pressed a fist to her forehead as the debate escalated.

And at last, she’d had enough.

A third knife joined the other two in the center of the map- Crane’s knife. The fourteen other ringleaders turned to her. Cadrin opened his mouth to speak, but Crane raised her fist for silence.

“I will go. You know me as a healer, but I am also a spy. I am with you. I will not sit back and watch, caring for d-“ Crane broke off right before she said the word dragons. Only Cadrin knew about them. And who could tell if one of these ringleaders was a traitor themselves? It was best to stay quiet.

“Yes?” Ineera pressed.

Crane took a deep breath. “I must do my duty as well. I will go, and I will not let you down.”

Azaleen inclined her head. “Then it’s settled.”

* ●●

Creel

As Creel buckled on her knives, Sheena chattered excitedly behind her.

“I can’t believe it,” Sheena said in a voice filled with pure awe. “Oh, Creel, aren’t you nervous?”

“Well, yes.” Creel slid an extra knife into her boot and began to braid her hair in quick, practiced motions, her fingers deftly weaving the plait.

“I can’t believe those Lowlanders would have the audacity to attack Jasa! She’s my friend, you know. Of course, you’re my friend too. But Jasa is my age. And she’s so smart! Not to say that you aren’t,” Sheena added quickly.

Creel tied off her braid, only half listening. “It’s fine, Sheena. I’m sure ambassadors have to be smart.”

“Yes.” Sheena sighed and wound a long lock of her dark hair around her finger. “I wish that I could do something exciting like you.”

Creel began to lace up her arm bracers. “It’s dangerous, Sheena, not exciting. Besides, you don’t have any training in self-defense.”

“Well, no, but… it’d still be exciting,” she insisted.

“Okay…” Creel tried to block Sheena out as she finished lacing.

“But you’re trained in self-defense.” Sheena went on. “And you can handle a knife so well. You don’t need to be scared.” She looked out the elegant window into the garden, oblivious to Creel’s annoyance with her chattering.

Probably thinking about suitors, Creel thought with disgust. Or dresses.

Creel endured dresses for Sheena’s sake, because Sheena enjoyed gifting Creel with yards upon yards of silk, velvet, lace, and whatever else she fancied. Now, she could finally breathe in this travel tunic.

Funny, how she had to go into danger in order to actually enjoy a walk not hampered by voluminous skirts.

She blocked Sheena out as she began to talk again and focused on getting ready.

Knives, throwing star, sword. Creel took a deep breath.

She studied herself in the mirror. Tall, thin, hair the color of wheat and eyes the color of those chocolate éclairs she loved. She certainly didn’t look threatening right now. She pulled her black scarf up over her nose and flipped up her hood.

There. She looked somewhat imposing now. With the added weapons and leather armor, hopefully she could convince the Lowlander that they had made the wrong decision.

She heaved out a sigh. This is it.

Here goes nothing.

●●●

She only had to walk part of the way, thank the Seven Cities. Forest Road stretched forty miles from Ellsworth, where Jasa was coming from, to Oncore. Creel was familiar with the road to a good degree, and she knew that the overhang was about three-fourths of the way to Oncore, and twenty-five miles from the lowlands, which was perfect for attacks.

They had certainly planned well, Creel admitted, but it was all for naught thanks to that mysterious informer.

Creel and her accompanying guard rode ten or so miles down Forest Road until they were two miles from the overhang. Creel would walk the rest of the way and the guard would take the horses back.

“Good luck.” The guard saluted as Creel dismounted, his pointer and middle finger tapped to his shoulder and out to Creel.

“Thanks.” Creel returned the salute, turned her back, and started walking.

The woods surrounding the road were beautiful, thick with the summer rain. It was bursting with green, deep and dark… mystical. Sunbeams played with the edges of leaves and dripped to the ground in a network of lines.

Creel felt an inexplicable urge to run needlessly through the woods, but that was silly.

I can’t. I’m on a mission.

Her feet didn’t listen to her head. They almost moved of their own accord. Memories of summer days when she was a child rose unbidden to her mind. Running barefoot through a carpet of leaves; climbing a tree almost to the top so she could feel it bob in the wind; plunging into a river in the cicada buzzing heat; singing at the top of her lungs from a hill. Back then she’d been more of a playmate to Sheena than a lady-in-waiting.

Creel shook her head, trying to dispel those pesky thoughts.

Keep your mind on the mission, she ordered herself. Get your head in the game and focus. You cannot fail.

She let the songs rise to her mind and used them to keep her stride, walking in time with the tune.

“Depths like some green portal call,

The woods my throne, my pedestal

My life the woods, the woods my all.

I hear the laughing of the streams,

I watch the anthill as it teems,

An enthroned chapel here, it seems.

But whether I return to them

Will only be when once again

I am now what I once was then.

So to the depths where sunray beams

Once played, it now a shadow seems

I tread the woods only in dreams.”

Why were songs always like that? There was always something or someone that the writer loved, but they never got to return to that things because they died, or something depressing like that.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

And to think I sang that as a little kid, Creel thought wryly.

Loving the woods, only never to return except in dreams. Real encouraging. But somehow it seemed true to Creel.

When once again/ I am now what I once was then.

What was she before? What was she now? There was a difference between the two, but whether it was for better or worse Creel didn’t know.

She shoved her musings away as she approached the overhang. Time for nothing but focusing on her mission.

I will. Not. Fail.

●●●

Crane

Cadrin was worrying.

As in, more than usual. Crane had never seen him so worried, not even the one time she’d fallen through the ice on the Striden river three winters ago. She’d gotten hypothermia even though she’d been under for only a minute.

Cadrin’s worrying then seemed mild compared to now. He was fidgeting and pacing and making Crane edgy. His worry was overflowing to fear, she realized.

“Stop.”

Cadrin looked up. “Excuse me?”

“Stop worrying.” Crane buckled down her bracers and turned to her weapons.

“Crane, you need to worry more! This isn’t some walk in the woods! If you get caught….” Cadrin trailed off and looked out the window.

“You’ll come rescue me,” Crane said confidently. She knew very well the consequences of getting caught, but she refused to dwell on them. “Besides, Cade, there’s a whole forest around me. I’m good at disappearing into it, you know.”

Cadrin let out a breath. “I know, but-“

“Please, you’re not helping.” Crane hung her knives on her belt and looped her throwing star chain in its place.

“Sorry.”

Crane smoothed her shirt and buckled on her leather tunic over it. Her hand crept to the carved dragon on a chain around her neck. It was pure dewstone, a beautiful teal stone that was rarely found in the Tri-Kingdoms. Cadrin had made it for her. She clenched it in her palm. The stone had been her mother’s, and Cadrin had carved it, a hobby that he shared with no one except Crane.

“Cadrin?”

“Yeah?”

“The document I’m getting… what is it?”

Cadrin’s eyes widened. “Um… well…”

Crane spun around, her hands on her hips. “What?” she demanded. “What are you not telling me?”

Cadrin hesitated and looked out the window again. Crane had half a mind to slap him.

“Cadrin!”

“Look, Crane, we’re not supposed to tell.”

“What do you mean ‘we’? There’s a ‘we’ now?” Crane felt her temper flare, something that didn’t happen very often.

“Me, Ineera, and Besan. I already told you, we’re onto something, I think. Jasa has one of the documents that will help us.”

“Onto what, Cadrin?” Cadrin had the childish impulse to stomp her foot.

Cadrin was silent. “It’s secret. We’re not even sure if-“

“Cadrin Nightcrest!” Surely that will get his attention!

Cadrin looked guilty. Good.

“I’d like to know why I am risking my life for a piece of paper that could turn out to be worthless!”

Cadrin held up a hand. “Okay, okay. I told you, we’re not sure. But you’re right.”

Crane, who had been bracing herself for a fight, felt disbelief flood through her and melt the tension in her muscles. “I… am?”

“Yes.”

“Oh. Okay then.” Silence fell, and Cadrin seemed to be lost in his thoughts. Crane cleared her throat. “So, are you going to tell me?”

“Venhaven. It has something to do with Venhaven and the heirs.”

“Cadrin…” He was going crazy. “Venhaven was destroyed when Thrain killed Merwyn. And the heirs are dead. As far as we know, Merwyn wasn’t even married.”

“You wanted to know,” Cadrin shot at her. “And that’s all I’m saying.”

Crane frowned. “So I’m going after a document about Merwyn’s destroyed castle and alleged heirs that probably don't exist… why?”

Cadrin frowned back. “Because we’re on to something.” He said it like he was talking to a two year old.

Crane groaned in exasperation as Cadrin smirked.

“Okay.” She slid into her boots and reached for the door.

“Be careful, would you?” Cadrin pleaded.

Crane turned, eyes sparkling. “Have I ever not been?”

“On numerous occasions, yes. Need I point them out? Like the time that you-“

“Maybe later,” Crane interrupted hastily. I don’t really need to re-live all of my reckless moments.

“Are you taking Rysind?”

“I always do.”

“Then where is she?”

It was Crane’s turn to smirk. “On my head, using her camouflage.”

A rust-red dragon seemed to materialize on Crane’s head. She chirped. Cadrin shook his head, unable to stop a smile.

“She’s good.”

Rysind bowed and hopped to Crane’s shoulder.

“See ya later, Cade.”

Cadrin grabbed her and hugged her. “I’d better see you later.”

Crane swallowed hard. She knew how much she meant to Cadrin. They only had each other.

“I won’t let you down,” she whispered.

Cadrin released her, and she opened the door to a warm, summer stillness. She stepped outside, pulling the door closed behind her. Her house, nestled in the glen, seemed to beg her not to leave. A flock of small dragons scrambled down the roof.

Foreboding settled around her like a shawl, and Crane wished she could shrug it off as easily as if it really were a piece of clothing. But it clung.

So instead of getting rid of it, she ignored it.

And went anyways.

●●●

The woods along Forest Road were dark and beautiful. Crane forced herself to move, ignoring all temptations. It’d be a good fifteen minute walk to the overhang, and it was already one thirty.

Rysind scurried from shoulder to shoulder as Crane walked, chittering and chirping and commenting on all the flora growing all around. Crane was hard-pressed to understand Rysind’s tumbling dragon speech in her mind.

“Yes, you can have a merit flower on the way back.”

Rysind flicked her tail in approval and did a twirl on Crane’s shoulder, letting out little grunts of happiness and affection.

Crane shushed Rysind, who was rambling on about trees, as they neared the overhang. Before, the expectation was merely a shadowy thought, but now that the plan was actually in motion, Crane was nervous.

Rysind trilled encouragement, quietly of course, as Crane approached the overhang.

Her legs trembled and her palms went damp.

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves.

I’ve got this.

The climb up the rock was child’s play, but adrenaline made her shaky and broke her concentration.

At last Crane heaved herself over the edge to the top, panting. She lay there for a moment, letting her instructions run through her mind again.

Pelldis, the combat specialist of the Lowlanders, had told her what to do.

“As far as we know, the carriage will be pulled by two horses and driven by one coachman. Two attendants will also be stationed on the outside. You need to take out the attendants without alerting the driver, so you’ll have to drop onto the roof.”

Crane blew out a breath and eyed the overhang. It stuck out pretty far into Forest Road. There should be – should was the word- plenty of space to drop onto the roof. Simple enough.

But that was easier said than done, of course.

“From there it’ll be a matter of swinging into the carriage and getting the document. If you can manage to grab anything else on addition, it’d be much appreciated.”

Crane had scoffed under her breath.

Sure.

Maybe I’ll just focus on the mission and not risk my neck more than I have to, Pelldis.

“Luggage is up top, as well as one trunk stored beneath the carriage. Jasa has a satchel with papers on her. She’s armed, but you are much more skilled. Just be careful.”

How they managed to glean all this information, Crane did not know.

“Seems like everyone’s telling me to be careful, hmm, Rysind?”

Rysind chirped doubtingly.

“Yeah, I know it’s only been three people, but still.”

Rysind huffed.

“Oh Rysind, we need to work on your manners. Now hush and camouflage.”

Rysind let out an indignant snort before reluctantly fading to the color of the stone, invisible to everyone except Crane’s trained eye.

Crane got into position on the overhang, crouching behind a bushy clump of weeds, ready to spring.

The carriage would be here soon.

●●●

Creel

Creel darted into the bushes as soon as she heard a noise. Her pulse raced into adrenaline, and her thoughts spun out into hyper-excitement.

This is it!

All the waiting and watching she’d done over the years, at last she could help the cause.

She could feel vibrations in the ground, but not from a horse or carriage wheels.

They were light, almost undetectable, and Creel couldn’t tell what made them. She assumed it to be the Lowlander. Then through the leaves she glimpsed someone. It appeared to be a girl, but there was a branch in the way and Creel didn’t dare move it.

The girl said something softly, ending with a name that Creel couldn’t make out. She tensed at a strange chirping noise coming from near the girl, but the girl seemed unconcerned.

Creel frowned. She didn’t see any animals. She couldn’t even hear any. A quick glance around confirmed it.

Strange.

The girl – Is it a girl?- said something else, and there was a flash of red near her shoulder.

Squirrel, maybe?

The movement didn’t come again. Creel bit her lip.

Very strange.

But she shook all other thoughts from her head. Why is she here? She can’t be the spy, can she?

The girl began to climb deftly up the rocks to the overhang, her back to Creel.

So she is the spy. Well… she has knives. A throwing star. Not sure how skilled she is with them, though. And I have a sword.

Creel studied the girl, trying to figure out her patterns and movement.

She seems very confident. Do I have any advantages? We’re the same height, same build. And she’s quick.

Creek slowly headed behind a tree and picked up a rock from the ground.

This had better work.

She tossed the stone into the bushes next to the girl, a pleasing rustle meeting her ears. The girl tensed and slowly turned to peer into the brush. She whispered something.

Who is she talking to?

The girl- Creel still couldn’t see her face well- began to climb stealthily down the rocks. She certainly knew what she was doing, Creel admitted. Her movements were slow and precise, her boots moving almost soundlessly across the stone.

When she touched down, Creel reached for her throwing star.

No backing down now.

Creel was desperate to make a difference, but still, the thought of attacking someone her own age made her stomach tighten.

“Take them out…” Lord Forden’s voice rang in her ears. That didn’t mean kill, right?

Right…

Creel smoothly drew back her arm, and, shoving aside all other thoughts, flung the star with deadly precision at the girl.

Her mouth dropped as the girl pivoted on one foot and dropped to a knee, reaching up to catch the star in a gloved hand. Seconds later her throwing star slammed into the tree trunk, inches from her nose.

“I know you’re in there,” the girl challenged. “Come out.” She certainly knew her business, and she was definitely skilled with her weapons.

“Take them out…”

This is my duty.

Creel drew her long knife, clenched it in her hand, and charged.