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The Burning Sword- Virtual Writer 2010's Challenge

Novel By: guitarplayer
Fantasy



~*~*~*~Won first place in Virtual Writer 2010's challenge~*~*~*~
Rosie has never been entirely happy with her life in a small mountain village; rather than darning socks and feeding chickens, she wants to do something worthwhile, something that she enjoys. When the men of the village are caused to form an army, Rosie knows that this is her chance to break the mould.

But women can’t fight! So she is told, but after a mysterious discovery, is that really the case?

(My fail of a cover art is not my background picture, by the way, it's from Chonastock on deviantart.com) View table of contents...


Chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13

Submitted:Oct 28, 2010    Reads: 328    Comments: 29    Likes: 20   


His face was deathly white. If you squinted you could almost see through him, though perhaps the fact that he was violently shaking with fear had something to do with his transparency.

They watched, apprehensive, curious, scared. Some covered their eyes, others steeled themselves to watch, knowing they would be next.

His stomach cramped, as if it were a cloth being wrung to get all the water out of it. He stepped forward, bare-chested and vulnerable, hoping his knees wouldn't collapse with terror.

"Close your eyes." There was no sympathy in that voice. He obeyed, plunging his world into cold darkness. His arm was seized, fingers pressed onto something rough.

An intense icy pressure touched his chest, he felt the skin there part, and a warm feeling melted the cold one, trickling down to his stomach.

The pain reached him, and his breathing sped up, panicked. He heard a loud crack, magnified in amplitude by the fact that he had been robbed of his sight.

They said I wouldn't die. They said I wouldn't be in danger. He realised suddenly that 'they' might not be as trustworthy as he had previously thought.

Something was pressed against the fresh wound- he felt sure it wasn't a clean bandage- and the pressure of it sent spiky darts of fresh pain across his body.

Suddenly he felt his legs go numb, and the numbness spread, shooting up to his chest, swallowing his body. Then it seized him, and he crumpled to the floor, his eyes rolling back, convulsing as he lost all control, and the last thing he heard was his own terrified heartbeat drumming in his ears.

"Good." The cold voice rang out amongst them, icier than midwinter frost.
The silence that met him seemed to chime with fear, as all who stood before him avoided eye contact, staring at their feet as if they were the most interesting things they had ever seen. The voice gave a merciless laugh. "Which one of you wants to go next?"





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