The Last of the Dragon Riders: Chapter 2

I would actually really appreciate some feedback on this chapter as to whether the dialogue is understandable and if it all flows and sounds decent.  So if you have an opinion, please share!

Chapter 2:

Snow

Snow ducked her head against the freezing wind as she struggled with the swinging buckets of water.  Her neck and shoulders ached from carrying countless buckets from the spring to the storehouse.  She let out a sigh of relief as the large building appeared through the trees.  It wasn’t a long walk to and from the spring and storehouse, but the spring was tucked into the woods and walking back to the storehouse with two full buckets was tricky what with trying to avoid any deep patches of snow and fallen trees and branches.

“Coorie up, lassie!”

Snow looked up with dread.  Dranan, the head of the water team, was stalking towards her.  She could tell even from a distance that he was angry.  His eyebrows were bunched together and his face was redder than usual.

“Whit took ye sae lang?” he snapped at her.  “Th’ others ur awreddy dain.”

“I’m sorry, sir,” she apologized.  “This is my last trip.”

“Well, coorie up, Ah dornt hae aw day,” he said, eyeing her disapprovingly.

“Yes, sir,” she said quietly.

Dranan watched her as she shifted the heavy yoke sitting across her thin shoulders and began slowly walking the remaining distance to the storehouse.  He shook his head disgustedly as she struggled up the short hill below the building.  He spat on the ground in annoyance and strode towards the girl who had momentarily paused to rest.

“Gie it haur,” he said impatiently, pulling the yoke from her shoulders with practiced ease and setting it about his own without spilling a single drop.  “Useless lassie, ah dunnae ken wa we keep ye aroond.”

Snow hung her head as the man quickly made his way up the hill.  Fighting back tears of frustration she turned and began to trudge back home.  The entire village thought she was useless.  The only thing she was good at was archery but a woman was not supposed to know how to use weapons or how to hunt which she was also skilled at.  But Snow was better with her bow and arrows than anyone else in their village or the surrounding villages.  The only reason she was allowed to hunt was because she had an advantage that the men and boys did not:  she could walk on the snow.  So when the snow was too deep for anyone else to go out and search for food, she was sent because the snow didn’t hinder her.  But the reason for her ability was also a curse.

Snow was half elf, half Bakre, the hardy race of people who made their living high in the frigid mountains.  Her mother, rebelling against the strict rules and customs of her people, had run away when she was twenty-four.  Six years later she had returned to the village with a baby and no husband.  Her mother had begged the master of the village to take in her daughter and raise her.  How she had convinced him, Snow couldn’t even begin to guess, but somehow she had secured his promise, told him her daughter’s name was Wisthean, elvish for snow, and then disappeared once again.  No one knew who her father was, her mother had never said, but it was immediately apparent from her pointed ears that he was an elf.  Since Snow looked nothing like the villagers, she could only assume that she looked like her father.  The villagers had decided to call her Snow rather than her true name in order to make her blend in more.  But Snow did anything but blend in.

The villagers were a short, stocky people with ruddy complexions, dark eyes, and thick dark hair.  Snow, on the other hand, was tall and willowy with ivory skin, ice blue eyes, and fine white hair.  She also lacked the hardiness that seemed to define the Bakre.  Snow was strong and well-muscled when it came to shooting arrow after arrow or running through the forest at a pace that no human could match, but when it came to carrying the heavy loads of water or lifting the massive trees they cut to use for building and for fuel or any similar task, she always failed.  She could never explain why and her weak explanations were met with disgust.  She was part elf, they were one of the strongest races in Issilian, so why was it that she couldn’t perform at even the same level of the villagers?  If she was honest with herself it was simply because her heart wasn’t in it.  She had learned at a young age that no matter how hard she tried, not matter how well she did, she would never be accepted by her mother’s people.

Snow skirted the main part of the village, making her way towards her small house on the far southern edge.  Slipping inside she retrieved her bow and arrows, stoked the fire so it wouldn’t go out, then hurried back outside.

“Snow, Snow, ur ye dain wi’ yer wark?” a little voice cried out.

Snow closed her eyes in frustration.  Adelai.  The little eight year old girl was the only person in the village who didn’t look down on Snow, she adored her.  Normally Snow welcomed Adelai’s presence, but today she just wanted to be alone.  She watched as the small, fur wrapped figure ran towards her.

“Oooh, ur ye gonnae practice yer archery?” she asked excitedly.  She loved watching Snow practice and helping retrieve the arrows.

“I don’t know, maybe,” Snow answered shortly, thinking of how she could get rid of the little girl without being mean.

“Can Ah come wi’ ye?” Adelai pleaded.

Snow sighed as she looked down at the little girl.  Dark eyes gazed up at her beseechingly, dark eyes so unlike her own.  Grief and loneliness gripped her heart as she thought again how the villagers would never accept her simply because she looked different.

“No, I-I want to be alone,” she said, brushing away tears.

“But, Snow, please?”

“NO!”

Snow hadn’t meant to shout, but she couldn’t take it anymore.  She needed to be alone.  “I’m sorry,” she whispered before running into the forest.

She dashed tears from her eyes as she ran, not paying attention to where she was going.  After several minutes she stopped, glancing around to make sure she was alone.  Sobs shook her body as she slowly sank to the cold ground.  The snow and cold soon drove her to her feet though and looking for a more comfortable resting spot she spied a long sturdy branch not three feet above her head.  Leaping up, she grabbed the branch and swung herself up into the tree.  She leaned her head back against the trunk, closing her eyes as she sat, listening to the silence around her.

Her eyes flew open when she heard someone call her name.  She looked up at the sky and was surprised to see that it was late afternoon.  She must have fallen asleep.  She heard the cry again and stifled a groan.

“Snoooow!!!  Whaur ur ye?!” Adelai’s voice, with its lilting accent reached her.

This was the last thing she needed, Adelai wandering the woods searching for her and probably getting herself lost while she was at it.  Wonderful.  Why hadn’t she just stayed back in the village?

Snow leapt to the ground, landing on her feet with practiced ease.  “I’m over here, Adelai,” she called back, making her way towards the little girl’s voice.  She ducked under a tree branch and looked around to get her bearings.  It took her a moment to realize that she was near the river.  She hadn’t realized she’d run that far south.  She glanced back up at the sky.  It would soon start getting dark and she and Adelai needed to be back to the village before then.  They had less than a mile of easy walking to get back by her reckoning, but she still needed to find Adelai.

“Adelai, where are you?  Keep calling so I can find you,” she called out as she kept moving forward.

“Snow?  Aam ower haur in a clearing!” the little girl called back.

Snow moved swiftly in her direction, sliding through the trees with practiced ease.  A tight smile formed on her lips when she saw a break in the trees.  She stepped into the large clearing and let out a sigh of relief.  Adelai stood near the middle of the clearing looking a little cold, but in high spirits.  Finding her had been easier than Snow had thought.

“Snow!!” the little girl cried happily as she started to run towards her.

A loud crack snapped through the still air.  Adelai froze as Snow crouched down and notched an arrow to her bow.  Her eyes scanned the trees surrounding the clearing, searching for movement but seeing nothing.  She slowly relaxed her stance after several minutes.

“It was probably just a tree branch breaking,” she said aloud.  “Come on, Adelai, we’re okay.”

“Ur ye sure?” she asked quietly, looking about nervously.

“Yes, now come on, it’s starting to get dark,” Snow replied, a touch of impatience coloring her tone.

As Adelai took a step, another crack sounded.  “Snow, whit is ‘at?” she cried, panic in her voice.

“I don’t know, don’t move though,” Snow said, moving towards the girl.

She was still nearly ten feet away from the frightened child when she felt the ground give a little beneath her feet.  Realization began to dawn on her as she slowly bent down and brushed away the snow that had accumulated on the ground.  Her breathing sped up when she saw the bubbles beneath the layer of snow, bubbles from the water running beneath the ice.  The dangerousness of the situation was not lost on Snow.  How could she not have realized that they were at the river?  She looked up and down stream noting how the freeze had caused trees to topple over and branches to snap off, effectively disguising the normally clear path that the river ran down the mountain.

Snow looked up at Adelai, trying to disguise the fear in her eyes.  The little girl was standing near the center of the river where the ice was thinnest.  One wrong move could send her plunging through into the icy water below.  Her mind worked rapidly, trying to figure out a way to get the little girl to safety.  She could walk over the ice safely enough by herself, but if she tried to pick up or carry the girl, she could send them both crashing through the ice.

As she desperately searched the ground, looking for anything that might help her reach the girl, an idea suddenly came to her.  Her bow!  If she could get close enough to Adelai to reach her with her bow, she could pull the girl to safety.

“Okay, Adelai, stay calm,” she said in a measured voice.  “I’m going to come out to you and you’re going to grab hold of my bow and then we’ll slowly walk back towards the trees.  You understand?”

“But, Snow, Aam scared,” she whimpered.

“I know, I know, but you have to trust me, Adelai,” she reassured her.  “I will get you out.”

The little girl nodded.  Taking a deep breath, Snow began to slowly make her way across the ice.  She could feel it shifting and cracking beneath her feet, gnawing at her already frayed nerves.  A loud crack sounded when she was less than five feet from the girl.  Snow froze and took a step back.  She was as far as she could safely go.  She slowly stretched out her bow towards the girl.

“Grab onto the bow, Adelai,” she commanded.  “Don’t do anything else yet.”

Adelai’s small hands latched onto the bow.  The ice cracked as she shifted slightly and panic set in.  Fearing that the ice was going to give beneath her, the little girl tried to jump towards Snow.

“Adelai, NO!” Snow cried.

Too late.  The ice snapped and suddenly the girl was gone, disappearing into the freezing water.

“ADELAI!” Snow screamed, throwing herself forward, completely disregarding her own safety.  She reached the jagged hole in the ice and frantically searched the water for the little girl.  Taking a deep breath, she plunged her hand into the fast flowing water, gasping as she felt the water numbing her hand.  Suddenly a tiny head broke the surface, coughing and choking.

“SNOW, HELP ME!”

The water quickly pulled her down again.  Snow plunged her hand back into the water where Adelai’s head had been a moment before.  She reached deeper, hoping to feel the girl’s hair or part of coat, anything she could grab to pull her out safely.

She let out a cry of joy when she suddenly felt a tiny hand latch onto hers.  Pulling hard, she hauled the little girl out of the water and back onto the ice.  Pausing only to grab her bow, Snow picked up the girl and began to run towards the trees, fear lending her wings as she heard the ice cracking and giving way behind her.  She stopped at the tree line and looked back just as much of the ice she had crossed was pulled down into river.

She gently set the girl down against one of the trees and began a quick examination.  She had a few cuts and bruises as expected but Snow’s real concern was how cold she felt.  Adelai’s skin was freezing to the touch and had a bluish tinge to it.  Her hair and clothes were already beginning to freeze solid.

“Ahm sae cold,” she whispered through chattering teeth.

Fear once again set it.  She’d been able to rescue the girl but now she was in danger of freezing to death.  She had to get the girl back to the village.

Swiftly securing her bow to her quiver, Snow bent down and picked up the girl again.  She ran into the forest, moving as fast as she safely could.  It was almost dark and the temperature was dropping fast making the risk of hitting a patch of ice and slipping a very real danger.  Adelai shook and shuddered in her arms.

“Hold on, we’re almost home,” she whispered.

Ten minutes later, Snow began to see the lights of the village through the trees.  “We made it,” she gasped out, relief flooding through her.  She stumbled into the village, screaming for help.  “HELP, SOMEBODY HELP!”

People came flooding out of their homes, anxious that something terrible had happened.  They gathered around the exhausted girl, gasping when they saw the little girl clasped in her arms.  The master pushed his way through the crowd, followed closely by Adelai’s mother.

“ADELAI!” she screamed when she saw her daughter.  She rushed forward, pulling her out of Snow’s arms.  She gently patted the girl’s face, panicking when there was no response.  “Whit did ye dae tae ‘er?!” she screamed at Snow.

Snow held her hands up and back away slowly.  “I-Nothing, she fell through the ice in the river,” she stammered out.  “Please, will she be okay?”

The village healer silenced all further talk as he knelt beside the little girl and felt for a pulse.  “She’s alife,” he said, “but we need tae gie ‘er warmed up fest ur she coods risk losin’ ‘er limbs.”

Willing hands helped the distraught mother carry her child inside her home.  Snow made a movement as if to follow but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.  She looked up and wilted under the stern gaze of the master.

“We need tae hae agab, yoong lassie,” he said coldly.

Still gripping her shoulder, he steered Snow into the empty tavern and sat her at one of the tables.  Several of the village elders followed them in and gathered around the table, watching her.  The master sat down across from her and gestured for the elders to seat themselves.  They pulled up chairs facing the girl, ready to deal out judgment.

“Noo, wa dornt ye teel me whit happened,” he ordered.

Snow told them what had happened, how she had left Adelai by her house and run into the woods, how she’d heard the little girl calling her name a while later and gone to find her, how she’d found her and realized that she was standing on the frozen river, and finally how the girl had fallen through the ice and she’d rescued her before racing home.  As she finished her story, she looked at the master and elders, hoping to see some sign that they understood or weren’t angry with her.  Their faces, however, remained unreadable and Snow ducked her head, fearing the worst.

“Lit me gie thes straecht,” the master said slowly, “ye left ‘er aloyn an’ ran aff, despite th’ fact ‘at ye ken foo weel ‘at she aye follows ye intae th’ forest?  An’ e’en thocht yoo’re  familiar wi’ the’ forest,” he continued, “ye somehaw  didne realize she was standin’  oan th’ river until it was tay late.  Is ‘at correct?”

“Please, sir, it was an accident,” Snow pleaded.  “I told her I wanted to be alone, I didn’t think she’d follow me.”

“She’s a bairn, she’d nae aya gonnae listen,” he snapped at her.  “If she dies ur loses onie ay ‘er limbs, it will be oan yer heed.”

Snow looked at him with tear filled eyes.  She had done everything she could to save her, why couldn’t they understand that?  Why, for once, could they just not judge her?

“Gie tae bed, we’ll see hoo th’ lassie is in th’ morn an’ whit yer punishment’ll be,” he said wearily, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

Snow stood up and bowed slightly then hurried out the door.  Unable to sleep she sat by the fire with her knees pulled up to her chin, rocking back and forth as she ran over the day’s events over and over again in her mind, analyzing her every action.  She finally dozed off in the early hours of the morning, her mind still troubled.

A loud knocking woke her up.  She squinted at the light coming through the single window in her house.  Her eyes flew open as she realized that she had overslept.  She leapt to her feet, swaying slightly as a dizzy feeling swept over her.  Hurrying to the door, she gasped when she pulled it open and saw the master standing there along with the elders.

“Coom on ‘en, lassie,” he said, “let’s see whit’s tae be dain wi’ ye.”

Snow followed him as he led her back to the tavern, now filled with people, and ordered her to sit at the front of the room.  She sat silently, feeling the hostile glares of the people in front of her.  The master and elders stood beside her.  A hush fell over the crowd as the master began to speak.

“Ye aw ken wa we’re haur,” he began, “we need tae decide whit’s tae be dain wi’ thes lassie.  Ye aw ken whit happened yesterday.  Wee Adelai almost died.  However, Aam pleased tae say ‘at it looks as thocht she will make a foo recovery.”

Snow looked up at those words, relief clear on her face.  The people all smiled at the news, whispering excitedly amongst themselves.  Adelai was loved by all and the thought of losing her had weighed on their hearts.

“We cannae lit Snow gang unpunished thocht,” he continued once the noise had died down.  “Sae, whit’s tae be dain wi’ ‘er?”

“Banish ‘er!”

The people all turned to look at the speaker.  Adelai’s mother stood by the door, her eyes fixed on Snow.  Hatred radiated from her as she walked through the people and stood before the master.

“Banish ‘er,” she said again, “sae she can ne’er hurt us ur onie ay uir bairns again.  She’s bin a burden tae us since th’ day ‘er mammy left ‘er haur.”

A murmur of agreement ran through the crowd.  The idea was appealing.  None of them loved or cared for the girl.  How much easier it would be with her gone.

Snow stared at the woman with wide, terrified eyes.  Banished?!  Icy fear clutched at her heart.  Where would she go?  She had no friends, no family, no one she could seek help from.  She would be completely alone, left to fend for herself.  She looked up at the master as he raised a hand for silence, hoping beyond hope that just once he would be on her side.

“Ye ken we cannae banish ‘er, Frieda,” he said, the irritation clear in his voice.  “Ah trysted ‘er mammy ‘at we woods raise ‘er and caur fur ‘er.”

“But she’s awreddy raised,” she protested.  “She’s twenty one, she’s groon woman.  We hae nae further obligation tae ‘er ur ‘er mammy.”

The master stroked his chin thoughtfully.  The idea of no longer having to deal with the girl was an appealing one, but he was a man of honor and it was a struggle to decide if he had indeed fulfilled his promise by caring for the girl until she was grown or if he needed to continue to provide for her.  But if he made the decision alone, wouldn’t that be considered selfish?  This was a big decision, surely the people deserved a voice as well.  Seeing a way out of his predicament he addressed the people gathered before him.

“Thes isnae a decision ‘at Ah can make alyon.  It affects th’ entire village, sae Ah ask ye, dae we banish th’ lassie ur dae we lit ‘er bide?”

The response was unanimous.  “BANISH HER!”

The master nodded.  “Sae be it.”

Turning to look at the young woman sitting beside him he stared into her frightened eyes, pleading with him to be merciful.  But he felt no urge to be merciful, felt nothing other than relief that she would soon be gone.  Frieda was right, she had been nothing but trouble.  What happened to her or where she would go was no longer any of his concern.

“Snow, ye ur henceforth banished frae thes village.  Ye main ne’er coom back oan pain ay death.  Ye hae an hoor tae pack yer things ‘an lae.  Gang!”

Snow searched the faces around her, hoping to find one with even a hint of sympathy or caring.  But they all glared at her with baleful eyes.  Slowly standing up, she walked through the crowd.  She stopped at the door and looked back at the master.  He eyed her dispassionately.

“Gang,” he repeated, more forcefully this time.

Bowing her head, Snow opened the door and hurried out into the cold.  An hour later she stood at the edge of the village by the narrow track that led down the mountain to the lower villages.  Tears fell unchecked as she looked back at the village she had grown up in.  Miserable and trying as those years had been, it was her home, the one place she could always go back to.  She slowly turned away.  Hoisting the pack carrying her few belongings onto her back, she began to pick her way down the track leaving behind the only home she had ever known.