Emerald Eyes *FIRST DRAFT*

A tale has long been told of the girl with emerald eyes. But this is more than just a story. Its a destiny...

Book 2 in the Chalson Chronicles. All rights reserved. Cover designed by Alicia Keyes.

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7. Spai Drinking

As soon as we were back at the camp, Rasco took me and others in to a large tent. Xanthe, Raven and the animals were all in there, sitting on some chairs. We perched ourselves on spare ones and exchanged nervous looks. This was probably not going to end well.

"Xanthe, Raven, these are Zeirso and Azelia. They're two of our best new recruits," Azelia shot me a disbelieving look, "And this is Evelyn. You probably know who she is already."

They both exchanged a look and Xanthe moved towards me. She tipped my head back, pulled my eye open with her fingers and half laughed, half groaned.

"So this is the famous Girl with Emerald Eyes," she looked down at me and smirked, "She doesn't look like a fighter."

The girl released me from her grasped and moved back to her seat, eying my intently. I returned her fierce gaze and Rasco sighed.

"Xanthe is one of our best fighters and most powerful people in our group. She's been one of us since she returned from a long journey a few months ago. Raven is a very powerful Warrior Wizard and she's been one of us since the rebels started. We were both part of the same Guild." You could tell he was reliving memories in his as he spoke to us. Xanthe might be one of the most powerful, but I already hate her. The tent door opened behind Rasco and Cassias head popped through.

"Ozias wants to see Evelyn, Rasco. He wants to start her with fight training."

Rasco flicked his head towards me, his eyes boring a hole through me.

"Do you want to say here, girl? You are the most important weapon we will need but you must stay at your own free will." I could feel everyones eyes on me. My brain was whirring, replaying the psychics words in my head. The heartbreak fate is the one I would rather have, but would that come from staying here? I couldn't chose death; I had my brother to think about.

"She's too weak and scared to stay. Have you even looked at her Rasco? The girl's not rebel material." Xanthe sat, smirking, from her seat.

"I'll stay. After all, some of the best here don't look like rebel material." I looked pointedly at Xanthe. Her eyes narrowed and she was about to snap some insult back at me, but Cassia stepped in.

"Follow me then," he grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the tent. I could tell he was biting back a smile. We began to walk away from the main camp in silence, both of us trying not to smile.

"You shouldn't mess with Xanthe. She'd of rip your head off if Rasco or Raven hadn't of been there," he glanced at me with one of the most serious looks I've ever seen.

"I didn't know that," I snapped, blushing slightly. Cassia laughed lightly and lead me in to the forest.

"Where are we going anyway?"

"The fight arena. Rasco didn't want fight training to happen too close to the main camp. No one really knows why," he pushed some branches away and we were suddenly in a large clearing. A large wooden building loomed in to my sight, with a slightly smaller makeshift arena standing in-front of it. People were everywhere in the glade and the clink of weapons was the only sound you could really hear. The building itself had a gray, tiled roof and the walls were flower covered, paneled wood with regular holes to serve as windows. Cassia led me up to the place and I was in a huge room that reminded me slightly of the psychics hut. In the middle sat a table, surrounded by a group of cushions, and a ancient looking gong stood at the back. A old man wandered in to meet us, his lethalness unmissable.

"Cassia, leave us," he shooed Cassia away with his hand and guided me to the cushions. Cassia threw me one last look and disappeared out of the door. I perched on a cushion, watching the man prepare a pot of drink. He brought it to the table and sat down opposite me.

"Now, Evelyn," he began, pouring me some of the green drink,"Now that you're a rebel, you must learn how to fight. I will help you there. I'm Ozias and I will be your tutor until you are lethal to anyone who crosses you. You will begin tomorrow morning, but there is some things I must explain first," I took a sip of the drink, "First, what you're drinking is called spai. It's a ancient drink that warriors drink to gain or recover their strength. Second, you will be staying here during your training. Follow me."

Keeping my cup in my hand, I followed him off down one of the many corridors. It was like a wooden version of my old castle. He led me down a few more corridors and eventually stopped in-front of a wooden door. I stood there, huddled over my spai, drinking.

"Once one tastes spai, it's hard to stop drinking it," Ozias grinned slightly, "This will be your room while you train here. I suggest you make yourself at home. You've got half an hour before your training starts. Spend it wisely," he bowed slightly and disappeared back the way we had come. I slipped in to my room and perched myself on the edge of my bed. It was a small room, with a blanket covered mattress on the floor and a table, exactly like the one from the entrance room, with two cushions around it. The walls were plain, with only one way to the world outside the house. I put down my drink and moved slowly outside. There was a small deck there, furnished with wooden chairs, and flowers crept off the walls, blossoms peeking out everywhere. Leaning against the fence that separated me from the rest of the training ground, I could see Cassia fighting another rebel with a sword. Either I only caught the end of the fight or he was just extremely good but, as soon as I looked, his opponent was on the ground with Cassias sword tip at his neck. He reached his hand out and pulled the other up, clapping him on the back. As he moved over to what appeared to be the armory, Cassia glanced up in my direction. His eyes locked on mine and a grin appeared on his lips. I raised my hand and grinned back at him.

If I win the next fight, I'll teach you how to handle a sword. Deal?

I nodded at him; I could swear that, as he headed back to the arena, he was skipping slightly. I hoped he was.

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