The Rise of the Hawks, Book II of the Uprisings Series.
First draft completed.
Prologue
36th Day of Brandel, 1460
(Being 1460 years since the founding of the first human kingdom, Thengal)
First draft completed.
Prologue
36th Day of Brandel, 1460
(Being 1460 years since the founding of the first human kingdom, Thengal)
The waxing crescent moon hung low over the Silent Sea, casting scant little light on the deteriorating city. A young woman gazed at the moon from the safety of the dark shadows in the alley, silently gauging the time. It was the early hours of the morning, when all but a few guards would be asleep.
The woman pulled her hood up, casting shadows over her face and hiding her attractive features. The cloaked figure slipped out of the shadows and covertly made her way through the streets, heading up the hill.
The streets were empty at such an early hour, not that many people dared traverse these streets in the light of day either. The once grand city, now in heavy decay, lent an eerie air to the cold fall night. The sound of boots on the cobblestone streets echoed around the next corner and the woman ducked behind a pile of rotting crates. A small troop of soldiers turned the corner and marched past. The light of a single torch revealed the soldiers to the woman but left the woman safely hidden in the shadows she seemed so at ease in.
In the light of the torch she could clearly see the soldiers, two men and two orcs, were wearing the distinctive white tunics of the Okuden, Osmér’s army. The Okuden patrol trooped past and continued down the hill. The woman waited for the soldiers to recede into the night, until she could no longer make out the emblem of a red arm holding a sword on the backs of their uniforms, before leaving her hiding spot and continuing her mission.
No more encounters with Okuden soldiers interrupted her trek up the hill. Soon enough, she was at the base of the wall that surrounded the city, and separated it from the grand palace. The woman crept towards the main gateway, remaining a safe distance away to survey the Okuden stationed there. Two men patrolled the path leading up to the gate, two more men stood atop the gate, surveying the barren rocks between the city and the wall. The men wouldn’t be a problem for the woman’s considerable skills, but two others guarded the gate. Two ogres, tall and protected by thick layers of fat and muscle stood guard on either side of the gatehouse. The ogres held massive pikes in their big, meaty palms. The sight was an ominous promise of death for any foolish enough to approach the gate unbidden.
The woman had no intention of approaching that gatehouse. Silent as a shade, the woman slipped across the barren area to the base of the wall, far from the gatehouse or any torches. Masked in the shadows, the woman removed her boots and tied them to her belt before climbing the lofty wall. Without the impediment of the boots, her toes were able to find and grip every tiny crack or niche on the wall. It wasn’t long before she was standing atop the wall with her boots on once more.
As a soldier approached, the woman dropped off the other side of the wall, falling into a pile of hay. She laid there for a moment, listening for the subtle sounds of detection; the guard on the wall walked passed her without incident.
The woman extricated herself from the hay, making as little noise as possible. She reached the edge of the hay and took two steps. The hay pile behind her rustled as something moved. A drunken guard, who had hidden away for some sleep, sat up. Hay cascaded from his shoulders. The woman froze as the guard looked towards her groggily. She crouched and tried to shrink into the darkness as much as possible.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the guard stared at her. She wasn’t close enough to the palace to afford detection. The two stared at each other, the woman’s hand inched towards a throwing knife on her belt. The blade didn’t make so much as a whisper as it slid out of the sheath. Suddenly the guard closed his eyes and collapsed back into the hay. The woman relaxed.
She kept the knife in her hand as she stalked towards the palace. The guard sat up again and focused on the apparition once more. His head cleared for an instant and he realized that it wasn’t a specter.
“Intruder!” The cry cut through the silent night. “Intru…” The man’s second shout was cut short by the woman’s throwing knife plunging into his chest.
“Stop right there!” Another soldier shouted from the wall.
The woman dove to the side as an arrow from the wall sliced the air next to her. The woman turned and sprinted towards the opulent palace as shouts of alarm were raised across the palace grounds. Soldiers converged on the intruder.
A group of four men stood to block the main door, grinning viciously with sharpened weapons glinting in the moon light. The woman, unfazed by the resistance, sprinted straight at the soldiers. The men readied themselves, but weren’t expecting what was to come.
At the last moment the woman leaped into the air, clearing the enemies’ swords. The flying woman lashed out with all limbs and the soldiers fell before her. She didn’t pause for a second as she sprinted into the entrance hall. An arrow zipped through the air, fired from the courtyard by another soldier, and grazed her calf. The woman fell but quickly regained her feet and quickly limped toward the stairs; her mission was vital, she could not allow herself to fail.
Another arrow whipped past her face, bouncing off a wall and clattering to the floor. The woman glanced over her shoulder without slowing.
With her gaze fixed behind her, she failed to see the large soldier appear in front of her. The man swung his arm through the air. His fist connected soundly on her cheek. The woman did a full backflip from the force of the blow, landing solidly on her stomach. The air was knocked from her lungs. A dozen soldiers congregated on the fallen woman.
One of the soldiers grabbed her shirt and hauled her to her feet. The woman took a swing at him. The guard let go and she launched an attack at the next closest man. Although she fought valiantly, the woman was pummeled beneath a pile of angry soldiers. After a vicious beating, the soldiers dragged the woman off to the dungeon until morning.
~ ~ ~
The illegitimate king of Osmer sat on his golden thrown, in extravagant black robes. A menacing crow stood atop the throne, glaring down at everyone in the room with two beady, unnerving eyes.
Rufus had an angular, weasely face, black hair, and small beady eyes, with a thin white scar along his jaw. He sat and stared angrily at the table in the center of the room. The breakfast sat untouched and cold.
His seventeen year old daughter, Reseda, roamed the edges of the room. Rufus had invited her in for breakfast that morning, but after an argument she had refused to eat. Rufus had ordered her to stay in the throne room until she sat and ate. Rather than give in, Reseda had taken to examining the murals around the room. Reseda silently fumed at her stubborn father.
The doors banged open and three Okuden soldiers entered, dragging the woman along. She was held by her arms and her feet dragged limply along the floor. They stopped in front of the dais and let her drop to her knees, she swayed momentarily before collapsing completely.
She was a very fit, beautiful woman with light brown hair and a sharp tan face hidden under smears of blood and large bruises. She wore tight black leather and cloth that had been cut and torn in many places.
The leader stepped up to the throne and gave a small, almost sarcastic bow. He was a strong man with dark spiked hair and cold eyes. A vicious looking red scar started by the his left eye, curved down to the corner of his mouth, and then cut straight down to the bottom of the jaw bone: shaped like a sickle.
“We captured this woman last night as she assaulted the palace; she was planning to assassinate you.”
Rufus smiled wickedly. “Well done, Zaris,” he crooned as he got up and moved to stand over the woman. “What’s your name, assassin?”
She looked up and glared at him with her dark green eyes, but didn’t say anything.
“Who are the Motis leaders and where can we find them?”
The woman continued glaring up at the man she was supposed to kill. Rather than answer, she vindictively spit on his polished shoes. Rufus’ anger flared and he kicked her harshly in the face, knocking her back down.
Reseda gasped and put her hand over her mouth, surprised by her father’s brutality. Rufus had always tried to shield her from such things, as a way of manipulating her perception of him. Reseda stared at the woman and subconsciously stepped closer.
Rufus was too angry at that moment to think of his daughter. He bent down and matched the Motis woman’s glare, forcefully grabbing her chin.
“Now tell me what I want to know,” he hissed.
“I’ll tell you,” she finally replied, “when you throw yourself off the tower!”
“Pull her up,” Rufus ordered. The men quickly grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her back to her feet. “Last chance,” Rufus warned.
“Take a swim with the sharks,” she replied before spitting in his face.
Rufus’ eyes blazed with anger as he raised his hand to slap her for her insolence.
“Don’t!” Reseda shouted, reflexively grabbing his wrist.
Rufus ripped his hand away and then brought it back across her cheek. Reseda fell back onto the floor and stared up at her father; shocked, hurt, and on the verge of tears.
Rufus ignored her and turned back to the woman. “Zaris, let her rest in the dungeon for a while. If she isn’t ready to talk by sundown, do what you do best to persuade her.” Rufus voice was filled with heartless menace.
“Don’t,” Reseda pleaded from the floor. “She’s been punished enough,” she said, gesturing at the cuts and bruises that already covered the woman’s body.
Rufus continued to ignore her, ordering Zaris to go ahead.
Zaris grinned and led the group away. The tears spilled over as Reseda watched the woman get dragged away. The two made eye contact for a brief moment before the doors closed. In those green eyes she saw that the woman would die before saying anything. Zaris wouldn’t make it that easy though; he’d torture her to the brink of death over and over until she broke. Death would only come once he had what he wanted.
Rufus didn’t glance at his daughter as he turned and went through the door behind the throne. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room. The thud of the door and the corresponding caw from the crow rattled the young girls heart. Tears spilled down her cheeks.
The woman pulled her hood up, casting shadows over her face and hiding her attractive features. The cloaked figure slipped out of the shadows and covertly made her way through the streets, heading up the hill.
The streets were empty at such an early hour, not that many people dared traverse these streets in the light of day either. The once grand city, now in heavy decay, lent an eerie air to the cold fall night. The sound of boots on the cobblestone streets echoed around the next corner and the woman ducked behind a pile of rotting crates. A small troop of soldiers turned the corner and marched past. The light of a single torch revealed the soldiers to the woman but left the woman safely hidden in the shadows she seemed so at ease in.
In the light of the torch she could clearly see the soldiers, two men and two orcs, were wearing the distinctive white tunics of the Okuden, Osmér’s army. The Okuden patrol trooped past and continued down the hill. The woman waited for the soldiers to recede into the night, until she could no longer make out the emblem of a red arm holding a sword on the backs of their uniforms, before leaving her hiding spot and continuing her mission.
No more encounters with Okuden soldiers interrupted her trek up the hill. Soon enough, she was at the base of the wall that surrounded the city, and separated it from the grand palace. The woman crept towards the main gateway, remaining a safe distance away to survey the Okuden stationed there. Two men patrolled the path leading up to the gate, two more men stood atop the gate, surveying the barren rocks between the city and the wall. The men wouldn’t be a problem for the woman’s considerable skills, but two others guarded the gate. Two ogres, tall and protected by thick layers of fat and muscle stood guard on either side of the gatehouse. The ogres held massive pikes in their big, meaty palms. The sight was an ominous promise of death for any foolish enough to approach the gate unbidden.
The woman had no intention of approaching that gatehouse. Silent as a shade, the woman slipped across the barren area to the base of the wall, far from the gatehouse or any torches. Masked in the shadows, the woman removed her boots and tied them to her belt before climbing the lofty wall. Without the impediment of the boots, her toes were able to find and grip every tiny crack or niche on the wall. It wasn’t long before she was standing atop the wall with her boots on once more.
As a soldier approached, the woman dropped off the other side of the wall, falling into a pile of hay. She laid there for a moment, listening for the subtle sounds of detection; the guard on the wall walked passed her without incident.
The woman extricated herself from the hay, making as little noise as possible. She reached the edge of the hay and took two steps. The hay pile behind her rustled as something moved. A drunken guard, who had hidden away for some sleep, sat up. Hay cascaded from his shoulders. The woman froze as the guard looked towards her groggily. She crouched and tried to shrink into the darkness as much as possible.
Her heart pounded in her chest as the guard stared at her. She wasn’t close enough to the palace to afford detection. The two stared at each other, the woman’s hand inched towards a throwing knife on her belt. The blade didn’t make so much as a whisper as it slid out of the sheath. Suddenly the guard closed his eyes and collapsed back into the hay. The woman relaxed.
She kept the knife in her hand as she stalked towards the palace. The guard sat up again and focused on the apparition once more. His head cleared for an instant and he realized that it wasn’t a specter.
“Intruder!” The cry cut through the silent night. “Intru…” The man’s second shout was cut short by the woman’s throwing knife plunging into his chest.
“Stop right there!” Another soldier shouted from the wall.
The woman dove to the side as an arrow from the wall sliced the air next to her. The woman turned and sprinted towards the opulent palace as shouts of alarm were raised across the palace grounds. Soldiers converged on the intruder.
A group of four men stood to block the main door, grinning viciously with sharpened weapons glinting in the moon light. The woman, unfazed by the resistance, sprinted straight at the soldiers. The men readied themselves, but weren’t expecting what was to come.
At the last moment the woman leaped into the air, clearing the enemies’ swords. The flying woman lashed out with all limbs and the soldiers fell before her. She didn’t pause for a second as she sprinted into the entrance hall. An arrow zipped through the air, fired from the courtyard by another soldier, and grazed her calf. The woman fell but quickly regained her feet and quickly limped toward the stairs; her mission was vital, she could not allow herself to fail.
Another arrow whipped past her face, bouncing off a wall and clattering to the floor. The woman glanced over her shoulder without slowing.
With her gaze fixed behind her, she failed to see the large soldier appear in front of her. The man swung his arm through the air. His fist connected soundly on her cheek. The woman did a full backflip from the force of the blow, landing solidly on her stomach. The air was knocked from her lungs. A dozen soldiers congregated on the fallen woman.
One of the soldiers grabbed her shirt and hauled her to her feet. The woman took a swing at him. The guard let go and she launched an attack at the next closest man. Although she fought valiantly, the woman was pummeled beneath a pile of angry soldiers. After a vicious beating, the soldiers dragged the woman off to the dungeon until morning.
~ ~ ~
The illegitimate king of Osmer sat on his golden thrown, in extravagant black robes. A menacing crow stood atop the throne, glaring down at everyone in the room with two beady, unnerving eyes.
Rufus had an angular, weasely face, black hair, and small beady eyes, with a thin white scar along his jaw. He sat and stared angrily at the table in the center of the room. The breakfast sat untouched and cold.
His seventeen year old daughter, Reseda, roamed the edges of the room. Rufus had invited her in for breakfast that morning, but after an argument she had refused to eat. Rufus had ordered her to stay in the throne room until she sat and ate. Rather than give in, Reseda had taken to examining the murals around the room. Reseda silently fumed at her stubborn father.
The doors banged open and three Okuden soldiers entered, dragging the woman along. She was held by her arms and her feet dragged limply along the floor. They stopped in front of the dais and let her drop to her knees, she swayed momentarily before collapsing completely.
She was a very fit, beautiful woman with light brown hair and a sharp tan face hidden under smears of blood and large bruises. She wore tight black leather and cloth that had been cut and torn in many places.
The leader stepped up to the throne and gave a small, almost sarcastic bow. He was a strong man with dark spiked hair and cold eyes. A vicious looking red scar started by the his left eye, curved down to the corner of his mouth, and then cut straight down to the bottom of the jaw bone: shaped like a sickle.
“We captured this woman last night as she assaulted the palace; she was planning to assassinate you.”
Rufus smiled wickedly. “Well done, Zaris,” he crooned as he got up and moved to stand over the woman. “What’s your name, assassin?”
She looked up and glared at him with her dark green eyes, but didn’t say anything.
“Who are the Motis leaders and where can we find them?”
The woman continued glaring up at the man she was supposed to kill. Rather than answer, she vindictively spit on his polished shoes. Rufus’ anger flared and he kicked her harshly in the face, knocking her back down.
Reseda gasped and put her hand over her mouth, surprised by her father’s brutality. Rufus had always tried to shield her from such things, as a way of manipulating her perception of him. Reseda stared at the woman and subconsciously stepped closer.
Rufus was too angry at that moment to think of his daughter. He bent down and matched the Motis woman’s glare, forcefully grabbing her chin.
“Now tell me what I want to know,” he hissed.
“I’ll tell you,” she finally replied, “when you throw yourself off the tower!”
“Pull her up,” Rufus ordered. The men quickly grabbed her under the arms and hoisted her back to her feet. “Last chance,” Rufus warned.
“Take a swim with the sharks,” she replied before spitting in his face.
Rufus’ eyes blazed with anger as he raised his hand to slap her for her insolence.
“Don’t!” Reseda shouted, reflexively grabbing his wrist.
Rufus ripped his hand away and then brought it back across her cheek. Reseda fell back onto the floor and stared up at her father; shocked, hurt, and on the verge of tears.
Rufus ignored her and turned back to the woman. “Zaris, let her rest in the dungeon for a while. If she isn’t ready to talk by sundown, do what you do best to persuade her.” Rufus voice was filled with heartless menace.
“Don’t,” Reseda pleaded from the floor. “She’s been punished enough,” she said, gesturing at the cuts and bruises that already covered the woman’s body.
Rufus continued to ignore her, ordering Zaris to go ahead.
Zaris grinned and led the group away. The tears spilled over as Reseda watched the woman get dragged away. The two made eye contact for a brief moment before the doors closed. In those green eyes she saw that the woman would die before saying anything. Zaris wouldn’t make it that easy though; he’d torture her to the brink of death over and over until she broke. Death would only come once he had what he wanted.
Rufus didn’t glance at his daughter as he turned and went through the door behind the throne. The sound of the door slamming shut echoed through the room. The thud of the door and the corresponding caw from the crow rattled the young girls heart. Tears spilled down her cheeks.