Mysten: Part 1 - Nicola Collings (spanish books to read txt) 📗

fluent with these stances, and move on to the 10 advanced stances.

                Grayson’s brother had already completed his post in the army and had taught him much of what he knew. Jax however was struggling. His father had been fluent with the stances. His father had been amazing.

                Then why couldn’t he get these simple moves into his head?

                The designated training area was wide enough to fit Jax’s squad; a sandy area that had rails around the outside. Jax preferred to practice alone on the outside so he could concentrate, but more than once he’d been picked for sparring.

                Once, Jax had even looked up to see an elf carrying a two-handed sword smiling at him. “Look, It’s Kori’s son! What I wouldn’t give to fight the son of Kori!” Jax was impressed they recognised him, but not when he ended up face first in the sand with more than a few cuts and bruises. In fact, the regular beatings made him more angry at himself.

                “Jax!” Grayson appeared at his side, helping him up. “C’mon, what are you doing to yourself? You can’t keep agreeing to spar until you’re a lot better.”

                “Thanks Gray.” Muttered Jax, picking up his spear.

                “Aw, I didn’t mean it like that...”

                “S’ok, I just gotta keep going.” Jax pushed his way to the edge of the arena and decided to run through Attack Stance Two.

                Why was it the moves just wouldn’t stay in his mind? His father had been amazing at this! Hs father made it look easy! Why couldn’t Jax find it easy, like Kori?

                He moved his feet apart and swished his spear to the side, reaching 4th position, and then...

                Nothing! He ended up fishing a torn piece of paper from his pocket and checking the next few positions before carrying on.

                It he was in a battle he’d be dead!

                “Jax! That is your name, isn’t it? Jax!” Jax looked up to see where the familiar voice had come from. Serran sat on horseback on the other side of the railings in front of him. “I heard about your regular beat downs. I heard you were Kori’s son. Such a shame Kori’s only surviving son isn’t as...well, as spectacular.” An ugly smile appeared of Serran’s face, and a group of advisors in black robes laughed behind him. Jax bit on his tongue, trying to quell the already rising anger. “As much as I enjoy watching you get pummelled, I have to warn you,” Serran leaned closer. “You don’t buck your ideas up, you will get put on the front lines. And I’d hate to see good heritage go to waste.”

                With that, Serran kicked his horse around and rode off, leaving his advisors coughing from the dust.

                Jax looked down at the torn piece of paper. Whatever admiration he’d had for Serran at first was slowly disappearing, replacing itself with a new sense of determination.

                I’d hate to see good heritage go to waste...

                Jax kicked up sand as he started Attack Stance 2 from the beginning, letting the piece of paper gently float to the ground.

 

                                                                                                *

 

                Ubi wasn’t sure where she should go, but home seemed a good start. Dwergi had infiltrated the University, which must mean that they were now in Mourning itself. That, in turn meant that Fayland had fallen. But, why hadn’t she heard anything? She’d spent most of her life among scholars who edged round mage warriors as they practiced! Having close proximity to those who’d end up fighting in the war, she heard all kinds of news, but none as big as the Fayland armies falling!

                Or maybe it hadn’t fallen. Maybe the Dwergi had found a way to built boats, or maybe they had friends in high places.

                Lost in thought, Ubi made her way through the backstreets of Torbric. They were strangely quiet, apart from the odd nymph of goblin lurking ready try and rob her, yet when Ubi swapped the fire crystal for a light crystal, the shadows soon backed away from the white beams of light.

                Ubi’s family home was large; one of the noble mansions of Torbric and had a large, unfenced forest for it’s back garden, so sneaking in shouldn’t have been hard, except when she found Dwergi pacing in the space between her back door and the edge of the trees, she froze. She was so close! The pale walls of her house rose above the trees and the huge, oak door stood open behind a group of Dwergi!

                She turned, following her first instinct and placed her staff in its holster on her back, reaching for the branches of the nearest tree and pulled herself up. Her efforts to do it silently didn’t go so well, as when she accidentally rustled a branch, causing leaves to fall, the Dwergi looked round, going quiet.

                Ubi froze for a second, before heaving herself up onto the branch above her.

                The Dwergi turned, and went back to their business. From the sounds of their voices, Ubi could make out one scolding another for being foolish.

                Ubi felt at her pouch of crystals. She could fight. But if the Dwergi were here, that meant that the staff in the mansion were probably dead...and most likely her mother.

                The logic seemed simple enough, but no matter how much Ubi said to to herself, she wouldn’t let herself believe her mother was dead. Maybe they wouldn’t believe she was a mage. Maybe her mother had wrapped bandages around her mage tattoos too. So many maybes!

                She forced herself to think about the present. She could fight or...

                Surrender? If she ditched her staff, crystals and armour...but then she’d be completely defenceless! But maybe she’d live. She could take on 4 Dwergi, but if there were Dwergi below her, then how many ay waiting inside, ready for someone to scream. They’d come running and outnumber her. Take her down and execute her for being a mage!

                But...if she did surrender, surely they’d know she was from the Calahae family, and that she lived here? Otherwise, why would she be outside at the back door? And her dress! They’d know she was high born, and they’d probably know that most highborns in Mourning studied at the University to become some form of mage!

                But what if...

                She took her crystal pouch off and pushed it into crevice between two branches. She took off her staff and wedged it into the leaves, hidden. She did the same with her armour and then looked down at her dress. It was made from silk- a material worthy only of a high born scholar- had no sleeves but was tight at the shoulders and her bust and was brought in at the waist giving her shape. Ubi reached down and ripped upwards. She eventually ripped enough of it so it finished at her knees. She felt at her hair. It was already messy, but not messy enough for her to be low born. She pulled out the plats that kept strands out of her eyes, and felt her long, brown hair fall around her long, pointed ears.

                The piercings!

                Traditional elven fashion was to have lots of piercings, so she feverishly pulled them out, only stopping when one was left. A golden hoop. The golden hoop her mother had given her for her 18th birthday. There was a tiny crystal set into the dwarven gold. She had a hunch about that crystal. She might need it.

                Ubi looked back at the Dwergi. They seemed bored. She looked to the ground, where the soil was well trodden. Slowly, a plan started to form.

                She moved in the branches, teetering on the edge a little before dropping to the ground, making sure her body fell into the dirt, so her dress was good and dirty. She gave a yelp as she fell to alert the Dwergi.

                They immediately swarmed her as she sat up. She felt her arms get forced behind her back as she was pushed to her knees. The scraping of metal told her she was at sword-point.

                “What do we do now?” mumbled one of the Dwergi. Ubi looked up at them. They didn’t seem all that smart. One of them was shorter than the rest and more stout. The other three seemed average height and average intelligence. It didn’t help that all Dwergi were bald, even the women! So telling them apart came down to the braids with metal beads on the sides of their heads, where they’d allowed a small patch of hair to grow, and their beards. The Dwergi in question all had thick beards, yet one who his in plats, one had a moustache that looked a bit like an ale stain, and the last one had eyebrows that had grown out at the sides, so they were braided down his cheeks.

                “Idiot! We kill her!” spat moustache Dwergi.

                “Nah, we don’t even know if the boss wants her yet! She might not be mage!” cried eyebrow Dwergi.

                “Speaking of the boss, shouldn’t one of us go and get him?” asked beard Dwergi, who seemed generally concerned.

                Just as Ubi was beginning to regret her decision, a booming voice sounded behind them.

                “What in the name of the Gods is going on out here!”

                All five of them turned to see a Dwergi who was at least Ubi’s height (which was tall, even for an elf) and had a single, undecorated braid down the side of his head.

                “Shit!” the short Dwergi pushed Ubi forwards, into the dirt.

                “Caught yourselves an elf, eh? And what did you plan to do with it?” the large Dwergi asked.

                The four minions stammered, before the large Dwergi stepped forwards and forced Ubi to her knees. She looked into his face. Most of his teeth were falling out, and his skin was much bluer than other Dwergi. His eyes, however, were black and evil.

                She felt his breath on her cheek as he inspected her.

                “What’s with the bandages, elf?” he hissed.

                “S...skin disease!” Ubi forced fear into her voice, thinking of her parents.

                “Is that so?”

                “Y...yes. Very contagious!”

                The Dwergi stood back. It seemed he was sceptical. “And what family are you from?”

                “I...I’m not, I’m from the city!”

                “Where about in the city?”

                “Gallows Hill!” Ubi spat the first place that came to mind. She’d actually never been to Gallows Hill, but she could see it from her window, and could see the fumes from the dwarven metal works there.

                “If you’re from there, then why are you here?” the Dwergi looked at her, raising an eyebrow.

                “I...I...I was stealing!” Ubi looked down, in mocked shame.

                The Dwergi remained silent.

                “Take her to Babzal.” She heard him say, before she was pushed to her feet and dragged through the doors.

                The interior of her home looked very different. She stifled a tear as she saw Dwergi everywhere, piles of burning positions and shapes wrapped in orange flames...

                What were those shapes?

                They were familiar. And the smell!

                But the Dwergi pushed her forwards, through the entrance hall and out onto the drive where a group of Dwergi stood next to a huge cage on wooden wheels.

                “Another for the slaves, I see?” asked a tall, thin Dwergi turning to where Ubi was pushed forwards. She couldn’t turn around to see which of the four Dwergi it had been, but instead was pulled forwards and forced through the small, cage door and fell to the wooden floor.

                She looked round to see a Dwergi she didn’t recognise lock the door.

                So that was it. Now she was a slave.

                Yet, would she have been better off if she fought her way out? Probably not. She’d probably be dead.

                Ubi looked round at the other occupants. Most of them seemed terrified. It amazed Ubi that she herself wasn’t terrified. There was a sense of deadly calm in her mind and had been