Dragon Heir [Book 1] [Watty Award Winner 2012]

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Copyright © Gem Higa 2011

Dungeon halls were always cold and damp as the dimly lit passageways were difficult to navigate through without experience. Every level of the dungeon held a different type of person; each floor deepened as the criminal’s offense worsened. At the very bottom lay murderers, kidnappers and mercenaries; all charged guilty of their crimes.

The draft that whistled through made the halls seem empty and derived of any sort of emotion or life. The walls created the illusion that it was whispering, when only the wind flowed through the crevices. A person’s mind could easily play tricks on them if they weren’t careful.

Leiv’s last time in this particular hallway was not too long ago when she had captured a thief who had been trespassing into people’s homes and stealing valuable belongings. The man was recently released on account of good behavior, but was warned never to commit the same offense a second time.

Currently, her return visit was spent being pushed up against a wall by a familiar stranger. The recognizable green of his eyes and the midnight dark hair struck a chord, as she remembered their first meeting at Kenji’s Inn.

The stranger’s chest rose with each breath, his face an unreadable mask of emotions. He finally released her shoulders, but kept both his hands on the wall next to her head; trapping her. His eyes roamed her face, trying to place where they had met. He felt the spark of recognition, but the newness of Leiv’s features most likely made it difficult to remember; it was the same way Kenji had acted.

‘There is something odd about this man.’ Rin said.

‘Maybe it’s the fact he keeps staring at me, as if I’m some target on a hunt.’

‘No…that is not it.’

The man’s voice was rough and deep as he spoke, “I know you,” he said, slicing through her thoughts.

She nodded silently.

“From where?”

Refusing to speak, the silence continued.

“Answer me!” he growled.

Leiv held her ground and refused to give the trespasser the satisfaction of winning this battle. Crossing her arms she stood defiant; letting him fume in his own anger. It was her job to neutralize this threat, and see to it he be locked up for his crime. The determination in his eyes said that this would end badly for both if it wasn’t handled with caution.

Physically, he was more capable if it came down to sheer muscle – the power under his garments were easily visible by the scrunch of fabric with every movement of his arms. In height he didn’t tower over, but merely passed her by a few inches, allowing him to be level with Leiv without bending over to do so.

The fine fabrics he wore had been expertly woven together at the seams, the vest was thicker than what an average man would wear, making it obvious that its purpose was to do more than be fashionable. Everything about his appearance screamed: mercenary, or a scum as she would call them, but there was something oddly different.

Whoever this man was, it was no peasant. She certainly didn’t miss the sword strapped around his waist, as it swung slightly with every gesture of his body. He wore riding boots that were thoroughly worn, but were also made of the finest materials. No peasant could make enough money to wear the clothes he did, much less own the weapon he carried.

Taking as much time that was needed, she moved her hand, holding his stare as her palm finally rested on the daggers sheathe. With their eyes still trained on one another Leiv slowly pulled the weapon out of its holder, gripping the hilt stronger than necessary. Bringing it down, she used the other hand to push on his chest; giving them both room to breathe, but also allowed the opportunity to reposition the blade in her hands.