frozen ground, and this time, instead of trying to hit her,
he simply sat down on her back.
“Hey, get off me!” she yelled.
She kicked her feet and tried to punch at Brannis, but
she could not put any strength behind her punches. When she tried to struggle
to her feet, Brannis just pushed her back down. There may have been little
difference in their height, but Brannis was clearly the heavier of the two; the
girl was tall, but scrawny.
“Not until you say you are sorry to Iridan, and
promise to leave him alone.”
“What? No, you cannot make me,” came the indignant
reply.
“Well, I have nowhere to go until dinnertime, and I am
not letting you up.”
“I will get you for this! You had best let me up.” The
girl was starting to sound frantic now.
“Well, I would say that is not a very good reason to
get off you. What if I do not want to be ‘got,’ huh? Maybe you just cannot hear
me clearly. Lemme help you with that,” Brannis said and plucked the knit woolen
hat from her head.
A long cascade of reddish-gold hair fell loosely to
the ground about the girl’s head, tied with green silk ribbons that would have
been quite pretty had they not been crushed up under her hat along with her
tangled hair.
“Hey, give that back!”
“No.”
She remained silent after that, refusing to give in.
Brannis was running short on ideas and was starting to think that maybe he
should just let Iridan punch her a couple times and call it even. Then he
noticed she was starting to tremble. It was a bitter day, made worse by strong
breezes that seemed to cut right through clothing and chill one inside and out.
Though the mop of hair that had fallen from her hat obscured her face, he could
still see her ears, and they were beginning to redden from the cold. Then there
was the sniffling, and that was the deal breaker.
I have gone and made her cry , he thought in dismay.
Trying to maintain his tough attitude despite feeling
as low as if he had just kicked a puppy, he pressed the hat roughly back onto
the girl’s head and got off of her. Still sniffling, though she did not seem to
be aware she was doing so, she stood up and glared at Brannis. Hair stuck out
every which way from under her hat, which had been pushed down nearly over her
eyes, red rimmed and watery. Despite her pitiful state, she looked Brannis
squarely in the eye.
“I do not care if you promise or not,” Brannis told
her, “you are not going to beat up Iridan anymore, got it? He is my friend, and
I am not scared of you.”
The girl thrust out her chin in defiance but spun
about and ran off towards the girls’ dormitory before she began to cry in
earnest. Brannis then turned around to check on Iridan, who had hidden behind
him when the girl got up.
“Umm, Brannis … your nose is bleeding.”
*
* * * * * * *
Ah, Iridan, how long have I been keeping you out of
trouble .
Brannis’s thoughts returned to the present. He had
always thought of Iridan as sort of a younger brother, though in truth Brannis
was the younger by half a season. The girl, he had learned shortly after that
incident, was Juliana Archon, the high sorcerer’s granddaughter. She was a
summer ahead of Brannis and Iridan at the Academy and was now a member of the
Imperial Circle.
With so many more pleasant memories of Juliana to
choose from, he wondered why his wandering thoughts had chosen that one. After
a brief moment of reflection, he supposed it was because he had been thinking
about Iridan before he began daydreaming and Iridan had not been present for
any of the best ones.
*
* * * * * * *
By the time the hermit returned to camp, Brannis’s men
had set a small fire and begun eating from the meager rations that had been
salvaged from their campsite. Having left their broken pots behind, they had
taken the liberty of searching the hermit’s small home in hope of finding
something suited to the task of cooking a meal in. Finding the tiny cottage to
be sparse of all but the barest of
he simply sat down on her back.
“Hey, get off me!” she yelled.
She kicked her feet and tried to punch at Brannis, but
she could not put any strength behind her punches. When she tried to struggle
to her feet, Brannis just pushed her back down. There may have been little
difference in their height, but Brannis was clearly the heavier of the two; the
girl was tall, but scrawny.
“Not until you say you are sorry to Iridan, and
promise to leave him alone.”
“What? No, you cannot make me,” came the indignant
reply.
“Well, I have nowhere to go until dinnertime, and I am
not letting you up.”
“I will get you for this! You had best let me up.” The
girl was starting to sound frantic now.
“Well, I would say that is not a very good reason to
get off you. What if I do not want to be ‘got,’ huh? Maybe you just cannot hear
me clearly. Lemme help you with that,” Brannis said and plucked the knit woolen
hat from her head.
A long cascade of reddish-gold hair fell loosely to
the ground about the girl’s head, tied with green silk ribbons that would have
been quite pretty had they not been crushed up under her hat along with her
tangled hair.
“Hey, give that back!”
“No.”
She remained silent after that, refusing to give in.
Brannis was running short on ideas and was starting to think that maybe he
should just let Iridan punch her a couple times and call it even. Then he
noticed she was starting to tremble. It was a bitter day, made worse by strong
breezes that seemed to cut right through clothing and chill one inside and out.
Though the mop of hair that had fallen from her hat obscured her face, he could
still see her ears, and they were beginning to redden from the cold. Then there
was the sniffling, and that was the deal breaker.
I have gone and made her cry , he thought in dismay.
Trying to maintain his tough attitude despite feeling
as low as if he had just kicked a puppy, he pressed the hat roughly back onto
the girl’s head and got off of her. Still sniffling, though she did not seem to
be aware she was doing so, she stood up and glared at Brannis. Hair stuck out
every which way from under her hat, which had been pushed down nearly over her
eyes, red rimmed and watery. Despite her pitiful state, she looked Brannis
squarely in the eye.
“I do not care if you promise or not,” Brannis told
her, “you are not going to beat up Iridan anymore, got it? He is my friend, and
I am not scared of you.”
The girl thrust out her chin in defiance but spun
about and ran off towards the girls’ dormitory before she began to cry in
earnest. Brannis then turned around to check on Iridan, who had hidden behind
him when the girl got up.
“Umm, Brannis … your nose is bleeding.”
*
* * * * * * *
Ah, Iridan, how long have I been keeping you out of
trouble .
Brannis’s thoughts returned to the present. He had
always thought of Iridan as sort of a younger brother, though in truth Brannis
was the younger by half a season. The girl, he had learned shortly after that
incident, was Juliana Archon, the high sorcerer’s granddaughter. She was a
summer ahead of Brannis and Iridan at the Academy and was now a member of the
Imperial Circle.
With so many more pleasant memories of Juliana to
choose from, he wondered why his wandering thoughts had chosen that one. After
a brief moment of reflection, he supposed it was because he had been thinking
about Iridan before he began daydreaming and Iridan had not been present for
any of the best ones.
*
* * * * * * *
By the time the hermit returned to camp, Brannis’s men
had set a small fire and begun eating from the meager rations that had been
salvaged from their campsite. Having left their broken pots behind, they had
taken the liberty of searching the hermit’s small home in hope of finding
something suited to the task of cooking a meal in. Finding the tiny cottage to
be sparse of all but the barest of
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