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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/1714511
Rated: 13+ · Draft · Fantasy · #1714511
An excerpt from a chapter in my novel. Feedback please !
It did not even occur to him to try to stay in the protection of the village. Claade’s threats had gotten to him, and he truly believed that Claade would come for him in the village and bring him back to his camp. He shuddered at the thought of what the pale man might do to him if that happened.

Shayn walked among the houses of the village. Nearing the northern wall, he saw the silhouette of a person perched on the edge of the wall ready to dive into the moat. It was a very small silhouette, and there was no armor on the man to indicate that is was one of the sentries. Looking more carefully through the utter darkness, he suddenly recognized the shape as Rafen!
He called out. “Rafen, what are you –“ he was cut off as someone tackled him from the darkness. Rafen looked back only for a moment before leaping into the moat below.
Shayn struggled under the weight of his attacker. He managed to push the person off and rise to his feet. Almost immediately, he was slammed against the wall of the cottage behind him. He felt a prick of cold steel at his throat. In the dim light of the moon, he was able to just barely make out his assailant. Dalstron! The old man was holding a wicked looking knife to his throat. Its edge gleamed where it had been ground away.
Automatically, Shayn reached for his sword. It wasn’t there. He had left it at his and Irwin’s home. Dalstron chuckled cruelly. “You will pay for all you have done to try to bring this village down. Now I am going to kill you.”
The old ex-council member brought the knife back and lunged forward. Shayn barely managed to grab Dalstron’s hand which held the knife before the blade stabbed him. He pushed the older man away from him, stumbling over a board lying on the ground in front of him. Shayn landed face down on the ground. He had no time to rise before he felt a something slam into his back, driving his breadth away. Ice cold fear shot through him. Had he just been stabbed? Did he have only precious moments left until his mind clouded over? His brain tried to process what had happened when his breath came back with a whoosh. It was Dalstron’s foot that was placed firmly between his shoulder blades, not a knife.
Dalstron laughed coldly again, and put his other foot on Shayn’s lower back. Even with his face pressed into the ground, he could picture his enemy raising the knife. This time, there was nothing he could do. Dalstron now had both feet standing on Shayn’s back, and was bringing the knife down.
Shayn heard the grunt from Dalstron as he put his weight behind the knife and began driving down. He failed to hear the soft thunk from above. Without warning, Dalstron sighed mid-stab and toppled off Shayn.
Shayn rolled over and sprang to his feet, only to find the elder lying on the ground, an arrow in his heart. He stared at the body for a moment, trying to figure out what had happened before slowly raising his gaze. There on the battlement stood Sargon, his bow in his hands.
The two looked at each other in silence. Shayn spook slowly. “I am not sure what to say. He would have killed me.”
Sargon leapt lightly down from the wall top and landed a few paces from Shayn, directly in front of the corpse. He prodded it once with his bow. Then met Shayn’s eyes. “The village does not need men like him at a time like this.” Shayn inclined his head. “Thank you.For saving my life.”
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