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The Nayro War

Novel By: aria aiedail

Small novel entry for the music and magic challenge by Underxyourxspell. My song was The Summoning of Heroes by Immediate Music. Enjoy. View table of contents...


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Submitted:Apr 12, 2012    Reads: 28    Comments: 3    Likes: 3   

The Summoning of Heroes by Immediate Music

Chapter One - The Red Dress

There was a mumbling sound, it was words muffled heavily and she could not understand them. Vaguely she grasped at her mind for meaning but instead found that she was uncomfortable and it was bumpy. Blearily those green eyes opened, the world was spinning about Caila until it fell into a rhythmic rumble and tumble of being stuck in the back of a cart. She sat up, an ache in her head, just behind the eyes, the kind of ache that pinches tender nerves that can not be rubbed better. Caila moaned with the pain, finding it hard to sit up in the long, ruffled red dress she wore. Caila spend a few moments remembering several things. She was dancing the night before in the ball held by a noble, she had been hoping to avoid it but her parents were determined to marry her off to the Lord's son. The dress was hot and she wanted to get it off of her, at least rip the skirt off so her legs could breathe and lastly, she could not remember ever going home after the party.

Caila, she realized with a slow expression of mixed fear and awe at the wooden container she was in, was kidnapped. As quickly as a disorientated mind allowed she stood up and fell because the cart shook.

Now Caila grit her teeth and stood up, determined to open the door in the side and of course found it locked. Every grain of the wood stood out to her but a way out was lost in a hazy mix of confusion. The iron handle was cool in her slender hands but stubbornly would not open. She pushed, she pulled, kicked and lost her balance, tumbling back into the piles of fabric that was the skirt of her red dress. Caila let out a big, puffy sigh that blew strands of red hair out of her face. The beautiful bun her Nana had made was coming apart strand by strand, obviously the only place those strands ended up in was her face. Caila narrowed her eyes, vision now clear of hair, and looked at the door with a focused hatred. That lock stood between her and freedom.

She found her footing one more time, stumbling with the rocky motion of the cart. The talking she had heard was all around her, people were just outside the cart, they did not know that someone was being kidnapped in the back of the cart passing them by! The injustice of it, she could be in a town and miles away from home, with no hope of being saved. With a girlish whine of frustration she beat her small fist on the door and the entire left side of the wooden vessel exploded outward. There were shrieks of fear as people started bleeding from shards of wood impaling their bodies. The cart stopped, people were writhing in pain. A man stood their grasping at the wooden shrapnel stuck in his eye, while the other eye stared at her.

"She's awake! Urisel, quickly!" A figure dressed in darkness came into veiw, she did not really see him, her shocked focus was on the man with one eye. The figure grabbed her arm, which would not have broken Caila's stunned state, and then wrenched her out of the cart, the pressure on her arm hurting as she tripped over the long skirt of her dress. Once the pain registared she yanked her arm back.

Useless. A big, shaven man loomed over her and held her arms, his grip hurt her and she kicked out, legs fighting the currents of her poofy skirt and hit the man in between the legs. He cried out, grip loosening for a fraction of a second in his pain. Caila was free, knocking over the man bleeding from his now shrapnel free eye and slipped into an alleyway. She fought her dress around the corner, a blur of alleyways meeting her as she stumbled forward, her mind focused on the only thing that mattered at the moment.


Losing focus on that goal would get her killed. Her father taught her that, well, he taught it to her brothers when telling stories about the days of war and soldiers fighting magical leviathans. Her mind hugged the phrase of enduring to the end and focusing on survival. She stopped, suddenly, mind blanking as her alley split into three different ways before her. The gears of her mind jammed as she floundered over the decision, no path went straight forward. The odd angle disrupted her thinking long enough for two men, the shaven man from before being one of them, to swing around a corner.

In a panic Caila dived for the closest weapon she could think of, a wooden plan that lay on the floor by rags and bits of trash. It was around the corner so the men assumed she was making an escape and lurched forward, she only caught a glimpse of the shaven man's surprised face before smacking him down with a blow that was made heavy as her entire body leaned into the swing. After batting the man's head with a sickening plonk made by the wood making contact with the man's skull. He crumpled, as he finished falling to the floor she was swinging the plank around the opposite way, a snarl of determination on her face as the man raised his arm to block it. This time it did not bounce off. The second man looked at his arm and the wood in shock, his bluish grey eyes staring at the thin in wonder. He breathed in.

"AHHHHHHH!" he began to screem, the wood had two long nails sticking out of the opposite side that had hit the shaven attack, now those nails were three inches into the man's arm, piercing his bone and shredding his muscle. With a sickly squelch Caila backed away, pulling the now bloody weapon out of his arm as he suffered. He looked up at the girl he was supposed to kidnap and saw a demon in a red dress as Caila lifted her arms above her head and then whipped the spiked wooden plank downward.

She ran from the alley, turning a few corners before seeing a comforting sight, trees! She felt close to nature, to roads and returning home. As long as she focused on survival maybe she could forget the lifeless eyes of her attacker as he fell down with a piece of wood stuck to the top of his head.


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