excerpt

“You seem to attract trouble, boy,” Agris said as he pulled on the reins. The two horses slowed, and the cart quickly came to a stop on the bumpy terrain, there in the darkness. Two riders were fast approaching them from a few hundred metres up the road, but he regarded the twelve year-old boy with interest. “And yet, you seem to slip through danger, don't you?”

“I never feel that way,” Rufus said.

Agris laughed heartily, as the riders pulled up close beside them, sending up clouds of red dust as they came to an abrupt halt. In the shroud, he grabbed the boy and shoved him through a little door that was part of the cart's seat and into its blackened, crammed interior.

In here, it smelled of sandalwood and strange chemicals. Almost invisible slivers of moonlight snuck in through a few imperfectly sealed planks in the cart's wall, not enough for Rufus to see his own hand pressed against the rough wood, and peering through the crack was certainly futile though he tried anyway. It only allowed him white light to the eye. He could hear muffled voices outside. “Where is the other one?” a man said. His voice was hard and merciless. Not like the familiar voice of his escort, kind and soft.

“The other what?” Agris asked curiously. It sounded as though he had dismounted the cart and stood with the others.

“None of this, now. The other person, riding next to you. Looked like a little boy.”

“I ride alone. I think you see poorly in the dark,” he teased. “Maybe the cold as well. This far out of Ramas, I hear it starts to mess with your head.”

Through the sealed planks, Rufus heard slow, pronounced footsteps against the dusty redrock. “More foolish games. What is your name, fool? And do not lie to me, I will know, and if I know, I will conduct this business in the swiftest manner.”

“Agris Fortorn,” he said, casual as ever, but with a hint of satisfaction.

“Is it me or your life you take for naught?” the voice came angrily through the wooden wall. “Agrisc Fortorn is Champion of Maras. The most famous knight in the world. Your false utterance of his name has nonetheless managed to make me feel some absurd subliminal fear with an entire country between us. You are obviously not him, little man,” he said snidely.

“Yes, well,” Agris said calmly, “I think you have confused me with my brother.”

Silence fell.

The next words uttered by the stranger were almost too quiet for Rufus to hear from inside the cart. “Your brother?”

“Yes? My brother, Sir Agrisc? Blood Knight of Maras? That's his favourite title, not the other one. I am Agris.”

“Why don't you bear the flag of the royal household?” There was an uncertainty to his voice now, fear. He spoke more urgently: “Nevermind. I ain't taking no chances with this. If you're not Agris Fortorn then you're a lucky man.” Then there was the sound of hooves slamming against the dusty ground, and galloping that quickly faded southward as they fled and continued their dreadful search of the road.

“It's good when they don't put up a fight,” Agris called after them.

Bright moonlight suddenly flushed the dark, crammed enclosure through a square hole.

Once Rufus's eyes adjusted, Agris's features focused into view there in the small opening. He was smiling. “They went off quick, didn't they?” he said.

He nodded quickly.

Agris extended his arm and pulled him out of the cart, into the fresh night air. Outside, he saw they were passing under a massive arch of red stone, its long inner walls at least three-hundred metres a part, but he had been too deep in thought to notice. He could see where they had entered and he could see where they would exit, the enormous perfect archways towering so high at either end, entrances into the world. It was so huge he almost felt lost in its passage. They and their large cart had stopped halfway through, and yet had about another twenty minutes to go, at their burdened pace. He gazed up at the arch ceiling so far away, shrouded by the night, and wondered the exact nature of it; if he stood under a giant rock of some sort, or perhaps in a broken mountain.

Then it began to shift before his eyes, or was he moving? “The Door to Ramas,” Agris said, lifting him back onto the yellow leather of the cart's cushioned seat.

“What is it?” He had finally taken his gaze off the ceiling, now set to Agris for answers. He knew everything, this witty man, and elegant and handsome too, with golden hair and eyes to match. Golden eyes, and truly striking. He had never seen such a thing. Usually he dressed appropriately in golden silks, but when they were on the road he wore fine white garb and brown leather for combat.

The golden man had stepped up and taken his seat beside him, on his golden cushion. “Simply a giant arch of redrock, that stands perfectly in a small mountain valley.” He whipped the reins and made two sharps clicks through his teeth, and the horses again began their slow walk, the wagon wheels creaking lonesomely in the colossal stone passage. “Quite the sight. You'll have a good view of it in an hour or so.”

The horses trotted on, pulling the cart down the long red road. Agris sat back with the reins inhand, savouring the sounds of their hooves on the redrock. He had always found it comforting, and he knew in mere hours it would be lost to the muffled crunch of snow.

“Who were those men back there?” Rufus asked as they finally came out of the Door and into the north country. The foreign landscape was unchanged immediately, it opened out again westward to red mountains and plains, and eastward to red mountains and plains spotted with fertile zones, toward where the world met the sea - the great arch seemed to divide the land. Indeed, he would've been lead to think they were still in Ramas if not for the frightful cold. He noticed it fully now, it seemed the climate changed beyond the Door.

“Who knows. Bandits. Mercenaries. Men from one of the questionable houses around here. These outskirts aren't as dead as they seem. It could've even been more dangerous kinds of men sent to hunt us. Like I said, you attract trouble.”

“Lucky you know your brother.”

“Oh, yes, but lucky he didn't. Agrisc wouldn't care a whim for my death. I guess avenging it might give him some certain satisfaction,” he sighed. His face twisted in perplexion.

Rufus did not understand. All he knew was Sir Agrisc Fortorn was Champion of Maras, and if people were to be believed, they did not come much better.

About half an hour later they had ridden far enough for him to stand on the seat and turn backward to see the enormous archway in its glorious entirety. It towered almost thrice as high as the two giant hills on either side, one of redrock and one of lush earth, its orange hue turned blue by the night, blended against the black sky.

He leaned with his arms crossed on the cart's roof, and watched it for another hour, a godly structure that rose high into the sky, as the horses made their way along the bumpy road, until he could see it no more.

Reviews

[Joel]

Are the brothers Agris and Agrisc? That's a little confusing. Also, maybe throw a few more name tags in each paragraph so I know who is doing what. I like that you start in the middle of action and even mid conversation . Have the boy and the man been talking for some time? Did the boy come upon the man just before the riders came or had he been walking with the man for awhile? Strong scenery. Don't be afraid to tie it together Like rays angling out from one POV. Cool stuff.

[Joel]

Are the brothers Agris and Agrisc? That's a little confusing. Also, maybe throw a few more name tags in each paragraph so I know who is doing what. I like that you start in the middle of action and even mid conversation . Have the boy and the man been talking for some time? Did the boy come upon the man just before the riders came or had he been walking with the man for awhile? Strong scenery. Don't be afraid to tie it together Like rays angling out from one POV. Cool stuff.