Wonders & Woes of Writing: The Birthright, Part Three

Lysander stood in the darkness, the stones of the second bridge smooth and worn beneath his feet.  Two of his men stood next to him, ready to lift their barrel of oil and set its contents cascading down on the approaching mercenary fleet.  By now the fleet had passed under the first bridge and the blockade had been raised.

Ieda appeared next to him, shifting uncomfortably.  “Lysander, I… I haven’t been completely honest with you.  I wanted to just pass through with as little fuss as possible, but seeing what you’re up against I don’t think that I could do that and still live with myself.  I want to fight with you.”

Lysander rubbed the back of his neck.  “I knew.  Yul saw you shoot the falcon.  Do you have your own weapon.”

Ieda nodded and produced a smooth and well-polished bow.  The wood was some strange species not found in Marovia or the surrounding area and the feathers on the arrows were from some tropical bird.  “I need to prove myself.”

Lysander nodded,  “Then I won’t stand in your way.”

The fleet was almost beneath them and Lysander nodded to his men.  They dumped the contents of the barrel over the side of the bridge and then set fire to the oil-drenched barrel before hurling it quickly into the river.  Down the length of the bridge, other soldiers did the same.  The river erupted into a sheet of blinding flames.

Ieda had an arrow ready to release when she paused, frowning.  “Lysander!”

He turned quickly.  “What?”

“There are only four ships!”

“What?”

“There should be five!  Where’s the fifth ship?”  She frantically scanned the burning river.  “It’s not here!  Lysander, he must have already sailed through!”

“Who?”  But Ieda was gone, running towards the end of the bridge like a mad woman.  Lysander quickly hollered to Yul before taking off after her.  His longer strides overtook her as she hurried towards the castle.  “What are you doing?  You can’t take on the whole castle guard!”  He grabbed her arm, stopping her.

“I have to stop him.”

“Who?”

She bit her lip and looked at the ground.

“You can’t tell me?”

“If I did…” She shivered and then turned at the sound of footsteps behind them.  A platoon of Lysander’s men appeared out of the gloom.

“Yul sent us,” Brett panted, glancing at Ieda’s weapon.  “To the castle?”  The captain questioned.

Lysander nodded and they took off again towards the guarded gates and Syriah.

…

Muffled battle cries and the clanking of armor echoed around Syriah as she cowered in her cell.  Her brother had attacked, but she still was a prisoner.

Timothy and Rafael appeared outside of her cell with the jailer.

“Open it,” Her cousin barked.  The jailer hurriedly obeyed.

Timothy yanked her out of the cell, twisting her arm behind her back.  “Come on!”  He snapped at Rafael.  They turned and hurried her from the dungeon.

…

They were in, and after leaving some of his men to defend the gates, Lysander led the rest further in.  “Spread out and search for Syriah.”

Ieda stayed close to him, constantly alert.  She’d been invaluable in the fight at the gates. 

“She’s probably in the dungeon if she’s still alive.”  He quickly led the way towards the prisoners’ cells, pausing only to lift his sword against those in his way.  Suddenly they found themselves confronted with a hideous group of men.  Foremost among them was the large brute that Ieda had identified as the captain of the mercenaries.

Ieda killed several of them before they had a chance to charge, but Lysander still found himself facing the dark–skinned captain.  The other man was a superior fighter and Lysander was quickly disarmed.  The mercenary raised his sword for the death blow and Lysander closed his eyes.

“Leave him!”  A loud voice demanded.  Both men turned.

Ieda stood with the dead bodies of the other men around her, her bow drawn and ready in her hands.

The mercenary captain stepped towards her, squinting.  “Ieda?”

“Stay where you are,” She said coldly.

Lysander quickly found his sword and turned.  The mercenary captain paid him no attention.

“Ieda,” He repeated.

“How does he know your name?” Lysander asked, studying both of them.  He took in their dark skin and black hair.  “Wait… Are you…?

“Lysander, go find your sister.  This is my conflict.”  She waited until he was out of sight and then spoke again.  “Well, father, here we are.”

“Ieda, you wouldn’t kill me.”

She snorted,  “We’ll see.”

He took another step forward and her hands started shaking.  He was almost in range to stop her and she was still in range to kill him.  Biting her lip she pulled the bow string a little tighter, but suddenly she didn’t need to shoot him.  Another arrow appeared in his chest and tears of relief came to her eyes.

Brett came up behind her,  “You all right?”

She nodded, “Thank you.  I thought I could, but….”

He patted her arm.  “I understand.  Where’s the king?”

She pointed in the direction Lysander had gone and they both hurried after him.

…

“Syriah!”  Lysander jogged deeper into the dungeon.  “Syriah!”

“Lysander!”  Her voice rang out, high and piercing.

He slowed and turned the next corner cautiously.  Standing a ways down the corridor with a knife to Syriah’s throat was Timothy.  Rafael stood in front of him, his sword at ready.

Lysander slowly covered half the distance between them before he stopped.  “Let her go, Timothy.  You have no quarrel with her.”

“That is beside the point.  I need her for negotiations.”

Lysander took another step forward.

“I’ll kill her if you come closer.”

“I believe you.  So what will it be then: your death or mine?”

“I intend to live, so it must be yours.”  Timothy snarled.

Lysander snorted.  He was about to reply when a strange hissing passed his ear.  A red-feathered arrow appeared through Timothy’s neck.  Syriah screamed and hysterically hurried to her brother.  They both turned in the direction it had come from and saw Ieda and Brett exchanging high-fives.  It was then that the king realized that Rafael had also been skewered.

“Thank you.”  He smiled as the walked calmly forward.

Brett bowed, “You’re welcome, your Highness.”

Ieda smiled, seeming unsure of what to do.

“It appears you were right about the ship.”  Lysander said softly, “And now I think I understand how you knew.”

“And you understand why I couldn’t explain, I hope?”  She sounded anxious and afraid of what he’d say.

“Yes,  I understand.”  They both smiled brightly at each other.

Syriah looked wonderingly at both of them.  “Who’s your friend, Lysander?”

Lysander grinned stupidly, “This is Ieda.  Ieda this is my sister, Syriah.”

The two girls smiled.  “Nice to meet you,” They said in unison.

And that's the end. I realize that it's a bit rough, but in my defense, I did write the thing when I was seventeen. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, despite its lack of polish.