Dragon Rider: Armaila

Armaila

Armaila jumped up, and pulled the homemade arrow out of the soft bark of the tree. It made a soft squishing sound.

She'd been practising her archery all morning, but now the wind was blowing too hard for her to continue. She examined the arrow, her light green eyes twitching back and fourth. Satisfied, she put it back n her quiver with all the other arrows. Bow in hand, she began the mile walk back to home. “Uncle!” she cried, as she stepped through the oak wood doorway. Her parents had been summoned by the king; her father had been accused of being part of an assassination plot against the king. Her father couldn't have done it, Armaila knew, but that didn't make the situation any less serious. The trial was still one month way. Her aunt and uncle, on her mothers side were looking after her. Her aunt, Marie, was her mothers sister. Her family lived not but a few miles from where she lived, so she was familiar with all the country side around their farm.

“Armaila!” answered the burly man. Most of the hair on the top of his head was gone, and what remained was a dirty shade of white. With haste, she put her bow down, and ran to her uncle, wrapping her arms around his stout waist. She stood about as high as his shoulders.

“Any word about father and mother?” she said, her green eyes worriedly searching his worn face.

He shook his head, an expression of sorrow was on his face.

“No my child.” He said softly, brushing her autumn brown locks.

“Where is aunty?”

“She went to town, perhaps she will bring back word.” He smiled reassuringly at her.

Armaila nodded; an attempt to reassure herself. Then, just as on the last two days she was there, went into the kitchen to make dinner. Soon the aroma o...

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...f she wants to go, or not.”, interrupted Earl. He smiled at Armaila with a fatherly pride.

Armaila kept silent for a brief while, deciding on whether it would be best to stay or go.

“Did Mrs. Hatcher know how many people will be there?” she asked.

“I think about twenty or so she estimated. We won't know unless we're there ourselves. She said the lady that told her about this was new in town—quite a strange person it sounded like.

Mrs. Hatcher said she appeared normal, but there was something she couldn't put her finger on.” “Aunty, doesn't this sound very dangerous?”

“Yes it does, but somehow I feel we must go—but the choice is yours to make Armaila. I will stand by whatever you choose.” Armaila noticed her uncle had kept silent, he just watched, appearing to feel indifferent.

“I will go. When?” Armaila asked softly, standing up.

“Midnight tonight.”