Aitha

Still reading, still interested, still liking it! I especially enjoyed Jessit's mother. The interaction between her and her sons is intense.


One nitpicky.

Jessit nodded. “Brother,” he replied simply.

The man’s gaze flitted from Hunter to Maw to Aitha. “Why have you come?” he demanded of Jessit, a touch of anger seeping into his voice.

“These are friends,” was the simple introduction Jessit offered. “We are fleeing from the royal guard. We will stay here one night, Bryan, and leave at dawn. If possible, we would like to find a couple rides.”

...

“Has anyone seen you?” Jessit’s brother asked in a brisk voice.
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In a very short space of conversation, you call Bryan four different things. It's confusing and awkward to read. Also, after Jessit calls Bryan his brother, it seems odd that he adds Bryan's name later in the conversation.

If I could suggest a change, I would just stick with calling Bryan "brother/Jessit's brother" until the mom has a chance to speak here

Jessit’s mother grabbed Maw’s other hand. “Don’t listen to Bryan,” the kindly woman said, casting a warning glance at her son.
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Just because that seems like a natural way to introduce things. If you feel people need to know Bryan's name earlier on, I would use the mother to introduce his name rather than Jessit, as again it seems more natural.

Anyway just something I noticed that was bothering me, and I know you said you hadn't proofread yet, so :) Awesome developments. Sorry for not reading sooner!
 
Chapter Five (Part Three): Jessit

I'm glad to still have my readers. :)
And take your time reading it, Mandy, I'm sure taking my time writing it. :p

Zella said:
I really like Jessit's mother.
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:) That's exactly what I was trying to do, create a really likable person.

And thank you for pointing it out, Mandy. Will edit that bit (and other minor things I noticed when proofreading). :)



Against the far wall of the house was an unmade cot, obviously Bryan’s bed. Against the right wall appeared to be the kitchen area, with its stove and pots and pans. On the left was a doorway which led to another room. There was no door, just a piece of old cloth which served as a curtain.

“Welcome to our home,” the woman said happily. “We’ll dispense with your introductions, for the less we know of you the safer you are.”

Maw turned away slightly, as if ashamed that she could not return the hostess’ trust and honesty. Aitha moved closer and hid a smile; she had missed Maw.

“However,” the woman continued, “there’s no harm in you knowing us. I’m Nadya, wife of Jonathan. This is my son Bryan, and Jessit you already know. Their father . . .” at this point her eyes misted over and she lost her cheerfulness. “He’s in the room,” she said in a slightly hoarse voice, indicating the curtain. “You’ll forgive him if he doesn’t greet you. He has not been well.”

There was a moment of silence, in which Jessit lifted the curtain and quietly entered the room while his mother dabbed at her eyes. Bryan glared at Jessit’s back, his eyes seeming to ask “what right have you?” But he said nothing before his mother.

Aitha did not know the details of what burdened this family, but she wished to comfort the woman who had shown them such kindness. She shyly reached out and patted Jessit’s mother comfortingly on the shoulder. The woman grasped her hand. Looking at Aitha, she forced a smile and said gently, “thank you, child.”

A moment later she seemed to recover a bit. “I do not suppose you’ve had dinner yet?” she asked. “Knowing Jessit, he has probably pushed you to limits.” which was almost true. Since the rescue they had walked into mid afternoon before stopping briefly for a quick and unsatisfying lunch. Since then, they have had no food.

Wife Jonathan was already by the stove, digging out pots and pans. “Bryan, go around back and bring me a chicken,” she ordered her son.

Maw looked up in surprise. “No!” she cried, “You need not kill a chicken for us! Anything simple would do. Please, you’ve already done too much.”

The kindly woman laughed kindly, “surely, you would not forbid me from indulging my son who so rarely comes home?”

Maw could say nothing to that, even though she knew that the chicken was surely for their sake, not merely Jessit’s. It was rare for farming families to have any meat save for the most important occasions or festivals. Jessit’s mother was preparing a most lavish feast for her visitors.

As Bryan returned with the dead chicken, Maw joined Wife Jonathan at the stove. Helping each other prepare dinner, the two women began a low, constant conversation. A fast friendship was already forming between them. Bryan sat moodily upon his cot, occasionally casting angry glances at the curtained room, from which came from time to time an inaudible murmur of voices and the occasional cough. Aitha and Hunter settled themselves in a corner on the floor to await dinner. Hunter seemed somewhat more relaxed than earlier that evening, and Aitha, though tired, was happy and content. They seemed to have shaken off the royal guard for the moment, and it was good to have Maw back. Watching Maw work had a hypnotic effect, and Aitha eventually dozed off.
 
I agree, liked the downtime :) I'm a little afraid something will happen in the night but for the moment I'm enjoying Aitha's ability to sit in peace.
 
I'm glad to still see my readers. :) Thanks.
@ Mandy, am I that perdictable? :p
@ Narnia56, I'm glad you like it. I do hope you stick around and keep reading. :)
Enjoy.

Aitha woke with a start. Aromas told her that dinner was almost ready, and a strange bitterness revealed that Wife Jonathan was preparing herbs for the old man, Jacobson. Aitha looked around to see what had woken her. Maw was pale with fear, and Hunter and Jessit were both on their feet. There was a man in the doorway. A second glance told her that it was the man they had met when entering the village, Jacobson.

“The royal guard are coming,” he repeated. “They will be entering the village soon.”

Bryan turned on Jessit in fury. “What have you done?” he asked with the rage of a wilde tempest. “What have you brought upon our family?”

Jessit matched Bryan’s rage with a cold passion. “I did what was right,” he replied coldly.

Wife Jonathan stood between her two sons. She suddenly seemed small in face of her sons’ great furies. “Please,” she pleaded, “this is not the time.”

“Indeed,” Jacobson snarled, “this is quite the wrong time for family feuds.”

Aitha stood beside Maw and took her hand. It worried her that Maw was trembling slightly.

Hunter turned to Jacobson. “What do you suggest we do?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Leave. Now.” was the curt reply. “Hide in the fields. In my cornfields, if you like. And let us hope that they have no dogs. If they do, follow the stream and lose yourselves in yonder woods.”

Hunter nodded his thanks and swiftly led Maw and Aitha from the hut.

Jessit cast one last glance in the direction of the curtained room, then turned to bid his mother farewell. But Bryan angrily stepped in between them, and roughly pushed Jessit away. “Don’t touch her,” he said in a dangerously angry voice. “Don’t touch our family.”

Though Wife Jonathan reached out to her eldest son, Jessit coolly stepped away. “Farewell,” he said softly before walking out the door to join his companions. Bryan glared after him.

Hunter and the rest waited for Jessit around the back of the hut. “Can we take Jacobson’s advice?” Hunter asked as soon as Jessit joined them.

Jessit replied with a quick nod as he led them among the fields. “He may not like me, but he hates the royal guard more than anything else.”

Aitha walked beside Maw, supplementing Maw’s frail strength with a courage of her own. Maw was scared, but bravely not showing it. For her, if nothing else, Aitha needed to be strong tonight.

~*~

Chellanis reigned in his horse as they entered the village. “So, this is his village,” he mused quietly in the silent night.

“But would he be here?” asked the man who rode by his side, Jan, the knife-thrower. “And how do we find him?”

“We ask,” replied Chellanis as his slid lightly off his horse, “politely.”

Behind him, twelve soldiers slid noiselessly off their horses too.

~*~

The farmer whom they had woken from sleep had been cooperative enough. A single soldier who claimed to have urgent news for his friend’s family could be forgiven for intruding upon one’s sweet slumber. And of course he understood the need for secrecy. It simply would not do to worry the neighbors.

Chellaniss rode to the last house on the path. His men followed unseen from within the shadows.

A sharp tap brought a young man to the door. A farmer, obviously. Perhaps Jessit’s brother?

Chellanis nodded a greeting. “I beg pardon for waking you late in the night,” though judging from the quickness in which the door was answered, this man had not been asleep, “but I have an urgent message for Jessit.”

“Then you have come to the wrong place,” the man answered. “You have a better chance of finding him in the city.”

With that, Bryan started to close the door. But Chellanis slid in his fingers and held it open. He smiled, “let us not play games. Jessit’s life may be in danger. As a friend, I have merely come to warn him and offer my help.”

Bryan laughed, “Firstly, as I have already told you, you have come to the wrong place. Secondly, if you are indeed his friend, as you claim to be, then you should know full well that he would not accept your help.”

“Perhaps you do not know him as well as you seem to think. But that is irrelevant. I know Jessit is here. He told me. Please, let me in to talk with my friend.” There was almost a hint of pleading in his quiet voice.

“Good night,” Bryan snapped, and slammed the door shut.

Chellanis managed to withdraw his fingers quick enough to prevent them from being broken. Studying the door before his face, he sighed. “If they refuse to do this the pleasant way . . .” He shrugged without finishing the sentence. Turning around, he spread his hands, welcoming Jan to try where he had failed.
 
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hahaha no, you're not predictable, I've just read waaaaay too many books :p This Chellanis (sp?) guy is scary. I'm a bit afraid to see what happens next.
 
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