When Nokkland found himself setting off with the inn's barmaid to track down an ice-dragon, he hadn't realized that he would be thrust into the center of a prophecy he knew nothing about. Nor that he would become part of an undercover group of revol...
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An hour was all it took for Nokkland to decide that he'd been blackmailed into an adventure with a madwoman. As he trudged along, head down against the never-ceasing wind which blew snow off the peaks and into his face, the sun hesitantly began to peek over the horizon. Its weak light did little to help Nokkland find secure footing. He slipped on yet another loose rock hidden under the treacherous white blanket which covered everything.
"Confound this snow!" he grumbled for Lyren's benefit.
She ignored him, humming to herself and nearly skippingalong in front of him. Nokkland rolled his eyes. How on earth was she enjoying this?
He shook his head before following Lyren down into what seemed a cleft in the earth. Nokkland found himself plunging into a small gulley as sheer walls of rock, slick with frozen rivulets of past snow melt, rose on either side of him. Gravel mixed with the lightest dusting of snow crunched beneath their boots. Nokkland figured that most of last night's dump must have blown over the top of the miniature gorge. The fact that, without extending his arms, Nokkland's elbows could brush either side definitely supported that hypothesis.
Here and there, skeletal thornbushes reached out with spindly fingers, clawing at them, attempting to hold them back. Their prickly clutches slowed progress but did little else other than tear loose threads from their clothing. Nokkland jerked his tattered cloak out of the grasp of yet another bramble. The backlash sent him skidding forwards and he careened into Lyren.
She teetered, trying to maintain her balance. It failed her. Together, the two fell onto the floor of the gulley. Much to Nokkland's embarrassment, he found himself landing not next to Lyren, but on top of her. He scrambled to get off but found one of his legs pinned under hers.
Pain exploded between his legs and a second blossom of pain sprouted in his ribs as Lyren kneed him viciously before using her elbow to punch him just below the ribs. Forgetting his embarrassment, Nokkland grabbed her shoulders and rolled so that she was on top of him. Then, using the leg that was still pinned, he shoved his hips upwards, wincing as he did so, and forced Lyren to roll off. He wasted no time in kneeling on her stomach and was moving to pin her arms when he found a dagger at his throat.
He put his hands up in defeat.
"Get off," Lyren hissed.
Nokkland scootched back, rocking slightly to lessen the pain Lyren's kick had produced.
"I could have strangled you," he pointed out, frowning and crossing his arms.
"And I could have slit your throat," she retorted coldly, sliding the dagger back into her boot before rising to her feet.
"Then why bother blackmailing me into taking you with me? And why did you feel it necessary to knee me?!" Nokkland yelled, exasperated.
For a half a second, Lyren looked guilty but then her cross expression returned. Nokkland wondered if he'd imagined the guilt.
