Hi, this is Candid Confinement here, this is my first draft of the second novel. I thought I would finish the fist one, but this story sucked me in. This is a historical novel set in the fictional land of Vandalur. PLZ read and comment.


3. Betray to Ascend


Vandalur forests, Outlaw’s camp.  LEADER


The sword directed at me whizzed through air. I shifted my hip weight to my right and flailed my arms upwards. The sword slashed empty air and completed the motion. My sword was on the other end. How could I get to it? I looked at the sword that had confronted me, its owner still on the other side of the flap. His hesitancy shone like a sun, the sword stood at the point where the arc ended. I caught it and tried to wrench it free from its invisible holder, but was pulled back. I kicked blindly at the flap and the contact struck home. I opened the tent and peered outside, my face exposed to the lashing winds.


The rain had deposited droppings of slush and this acted in favor of me. The assassin was dropped in an island of stranded water. He glowered at me, his mail and sword etchings vindicated my suspicions that he was an insider. I stepped out of the tent and it proved fatal, because he slung the sword at me.




                                                 GENERAL OF CAVALRY, Outlaw’s

I saw the slur of blood in the empire general’s armor. I wiped them off. “Don’t get caught, mate”, I said helping him board the ferry; I hurled the bag at the boatman and released the anchor.

“If the winds bless, and the boats sprout wings, you’ll be making Balar by tomorrow morning. There, at the island, I managed to procure another yacht, the yacht will be bound to the outskirts of Madarasa, Kanya, from there it’s your ride”, the boatman and the general nodded in unison and the former ferried the boat out of shallow waters.


I turned to return to the forest, I had to engage the soldiers until the boat evaporated out of the horizon. My presence would be missed, so I went to the late leader’s cabin and took a piece of paper and scribbled in it, in the leader’s handwriting “Order for the men to obey general’s order till morning”. The rehearsal had taken root and I liked to exercise the Leader’ power. “To live in the spoils of the other has an odor of its own”. These were my father’s words, and I made it a point to follow it.


I returned to the forest and told the pager to make contagious the message to assemble.

The soldiers, now foragers of wealth assembled, some puzzled, others galled at being perturbed.


I made sure my voice was loud and let my larynx vibrate “I am your leader”.

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