I would like to share an excerpt from my Camp NaNo novel that I wrote today. It will need some revision to make it a bit more fluid, but I think you will all enjoy that it has a raw feel from being so recently thought of and spit out onto paper. I had been chewing on the idea for this scene for a while. It is based off of a scene from the original unfinished draft of my novel, but I have completely moved it around and added stuff to make it more relatable to the storyline.
From Prophecy of Misharedra, chapter seven: Of Greetings and Goodbyes
The prophecy is also being sought out by King Avakt, or rather his imposter-
The last word she wrote was blurred onto the page as a crash came from the kitchen. She dropped her quill on the floor and knocked the ink over as she hastily stood up. She felt goose bumps pop out all over her arms as she listened for any other sounds from outside. She cracked her door open. The house was silent.
She turned around to grab her things and noticed a shadow blocking the light at the window behind her. She wasn’t sure if it was coming from outside, or if somebody had managed to sneak into her room. She decided to act natural, as though she hadn’t noticed anything at all and the ink spill had been just an accident, in case someone was watching, and she had the feeling that someone was. She picked the vial up and put a lid on it, stowing it into a drawer. As she grabbed her diary and slipped it into her tunic pockets she wondered how she would escape if someone really was there.
Finally, she decided to turn and face the window, her hand on her knife. No one was there. She breathed a short sigh of relief and grabbed a new pair of robes, deciding on gray, to put on. She pulled the door to the hallway open and crept slowly down the dark stone hall to avoid making any noise. It was possible that the intruder had moved on to a different room. She peeked her head around the corner to observe the living room. Someone had been there alright. The door was wide open and glass, from what she thought would have been the kitchen window, was scattered all around the wood floor. The candles had gone out and the curtains appeared to still be drawn. What she really wanted to know was where Iboref had gone.
As she approached the kitchen she heard a crack from beneath her feet, freezing in place. What if the intruder had heard her break the glass? She decided against going to the kitchen and turned back towards the front door. If she ran she could be out of the house in seconds.
Then she felt the cool sharp edge of a blade against her neck. Someone had crept up behind her. Her attacker’s moves were silent and swift and she was certain that it was a trained assassin. She stood there for a second, fright overcoming her. The blade tightened on her neck and she knew she had only seconds to live. Her fingers tight around her knife, she brought the sharp blade straight into the man’s hand, feeling the hot river of blood drain down her neck. The attacker’s grip was instantly loosened and Arrellia sunk down beneath the sword, rolling across the floor to get away from her attacker.
She jumped up onto her feet to see the cloaked man running at her. She narrowly avoided his stampede, elbowing him right in the rib-cage. The man ran straight into the table, breaking it in half, splinters of wood flying towards the wall. Arrellia wasn’t sure why her magic hadn’t come to her defense, but she knew that it didn’t matter. She raced out of the front door. Iboref was returning from a nearby market stand at a run. Another man appeared on top of a neighboring apartment balcony, preparing to jump at him. Arrellia noticed his black furs and leathers.
“Iboref, watch out!” She screamed, hoping for the best.
The man leaped down toward him with a black sword in hand, but Iboref was quicker. In an instant his sword was out of its sheath and implanted into the Aaniean’s chest. He forced the sword out and the man’s body sank to the ground, his blood oozing onto the once light gray stone. He twitched as he tried to get up again, but his allies came to his aid, including the man that was in Arrellia’s house. They bounded the pathway and another jumped down from behind them. Iboref thrust Arrellia out of the way and under a hedge as he dueled with another one of the Aanieans.
Iboref was outnumbered and Arrellia saw no other option than to assist. She crawled out from under the hedge, her cloak getting snagged on a sharp branch. As she worked to free herself the man that was in her house came right for her, his black cloaks whistling in the wind. She threw her knife, which lodged itself in the man’s exposed throat. He choked and fell to the ground, struggling to pull the knife out. She knew that he wouldn’t live much longer as the blood began to clog up his airway.
She finally freed herself and dodged an arrow that flew towards her, landing on the stone and scraping her arms raw. She wasn’t sure how they were going to get out of it alive. She tried to summon her magic to save Iboref, who was now fighting two men at once and clearly tired out. She tried to remember what Austrevur had said. “Make it happen, channel your magic,” she repeated out loud, hoping that it would work.
She closed her eyes and tried to discover her magic. “Come on,” she whispered. She held her hand out towards the Aanieans and hoped that she could produce something, even if it was fire again. She was desperate; she needed to save the man that she finally knew that she loved. She commanded her mind to save him. As if answering her pleas for help, she finally felt her hands begin to warm. She opened her eyes to see that they were glowing a bright red.
Channel your magic, Arrellinor, a voice commanded in her head. It was a voice she had never heard before, but she felt comforted by it.
Without even thinking about how she released her magic, sending rays of fire at her enemies. They began to burn in the topaz flames, falling to the ground. They rolled to try and put the fire out, but she knew they wouldn’t be able to. Multiple piles of ashes littered the pathway, the remains of her attacks.
Iboref was still fighting off more Aanieans as they continued to arrive by the numbers. Arrellia wasn’t even sure how they had managed to get into the city. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to use her magic again; she was drained of her energy. She collapsed to the ground as an Aaniean rushed for her. He kept her on the ground, threatening to snap her ‘little witchy neck.’ Suddenly the man flew off of her and crashed into a nearby building, making a dent in the stone with his now flattened body. She looked up and saw the gray cloaked shapes of Austrevur and Oakley. Austrevur thrust his staff forward, knocking more men off of their feet. Iboref had also finally defeated his assailants, splitting one of the Aanieans in two. Soldiers of the guard had also arrived on the scene, fighting the fur-clad men by the numbers.
Arrellia forced herself off of the ground, just in time to see Austrevur implode a man’s neck. Bodies littered the streets in front of her house and blood speckled the plants and stone. It smelled horrible.