The Boy With the Silver Eyes ~A NaNoWriMo Entry~

When a new boy named Peter Menard comes to their high school, Best friends Sarah Wagner and Alex Haisgen know there's something different about him. When the truth is revealed, a whirlwind of lies, jealousy, and hatred stirs. An old rivalry begins again, and Sarah is right in the middle of it. Sarah must travel to a world were magic, monsters, sprites, and fairies roam. Will she succeed, or will her life end as she knows it?
Cover created by Willow Angel.


31. Chapter 29

November 24th, 2015

Zlo’s POV:

“Wake up, sleepy head,” a voice said, waking me from my fitful slumber. I moaned and stretched, rubbing the sleep out of eyes. I could hear the sound of men training outside, and I sat up abruptly. “Whoa, easy there! You’re in no condition to fight!” Bahadur said, gently pushing me back down. I was delighted to see that the pain in my chest had gone from a racking agony to a dull throb.

“No! I need to train!” I growled, trying to get up again. Bahadur shook his head, slightly annoyed. Sighing I lay back down. “Fine!” I muttered, turning away from him. “Why’d you want to wake me up, then?” I muttered.

“Breakfast.” Bahadur handed me a bowl filled with a thick, gray liquid. It emitted a smell like rancid meat, and it was stone cold. I wrinkled my nose and pushed it away, forcing the bubbling vomit in my throat back down my stomach.

“It’s all we’ve got. Eat or go hungry until dinner!” he snapped, shoving a spoonful of the liquid into my mouth. I coughed at the horrible taste, but I managed to force it down. I smacked my lips. The aftertaste wasn’t all that bad. Sighing, I took the bowl and began to eat.

“Not so bad, huh!” Bahadur chuckled, clapping me on the back. I rolled my eyes, but I smiled slightly. He stood up and smiled at me. “You should be back to normal in no time. I have some tricks I can teach you with your dagger,” he said, his eyes twinkling. I grinned.

“That sounds great,” I said. Bahadur smiled and left the tent. Looking around, I moaned, seeing that I was the only soldier that was in the medic tent. They all probably thought I was a coward!  I sighed sat up, resting my chin on my hand. As I heard the labored pants of the men training outside, I grew more and more restless. I should be out there! I felt fine!

I stood up shakily and pulled on a shirt over my bare chest that I found in a corner of the tent. I found my silver dagger and black, hooded cloak folded neatly next to the stretcher I had been lying on. I slipped it on and grabbed my dagger, walking briskly out of the tent.

“Hey, boy! Shouldn’t you be helping out in the kitchens?!” one Spring Fe laughed, cackling in a heavy French accent. I gripped my dagger tighter and tried to ignore him. “Shut up, Ancil! That boy may be the key to our salvation!” the other sprite said, his dark brown hair whipping around as he turned to face Ancil. Ancil snickered.

“What, that little brindille (twig)? Really, Gaëtan, you listen to too many rumors1” Ancil chuckled. He walked up to me, his face twisted into a sneer. “**Vous avez le corps d'un chien et le QI d'une durée de cinq ans!” he hissed, smirking. Now, I don’t speak French, but I figured that because of the way he said, I would’ve taken offense if I’d understood.

“Ancil! Don’t be rude!” Gaëtan gasped, but he chuckled slightly. I growled and lunged at Ancil, throwing my dagger aside. I punched his mustached-face with a strange ferocity. All the anger and pain that had been built up inside me was let loose, and I screamed.

“*Fou! Fou!” Ancil shrieked, covering his face with his hands. I felt two strong hands grip my arms, pulling me away from him. Ancil’s friend, Gaëtan gripped me tightly, sneering. Ancil strutted towards me, his fist drawn back. I doubled over as he landed a punch square in my stomach. He jabbed and kicked at me. I heard bones cracking; they were probably broken.

“S…stop!” I choked, splitting blood out of my mouth. Ancil merely laughed and continued to hit me. My chest, which had already been in enough pain, was once again on fire. I began to cry out in pain, and I tried to wrench out of Gaëtan’s grip, but it was in vain. I coughed up more blood, and Ancil continued to beat me without showing any signs of stopping.

“Ancil, Gaëtan, what is the meaning of this?!” a familiar Russian accent greeted me, causing me to sigh in relief. Vladimir ripped Ancil and Gaëtan off of me, and grabbed me by the back of my shirt.

“Didn’t Bahadur tell you to stay in the tent?!” he growled, his blonde hair whipping around his head in the harsh wind. Ooh, scary Russian Elf! Run away now! Peter said, slightly panicked. I gulped and nodded at Vladimir.

“Y…yeah, he di…did,” I stammered, avoiding his gaze. He rolled his eyes and dragged me back to the medic tent. “Now you’re even worse off than before! Here, let me look,” he grumbled, sitting me on my stretcher. I winced as he pressed his stone cold hand against my stomach.

“Tell me where it hurts, okay?” he said, pressing various areas of my bruised chest. A sharp pain shot through my body as he pressed my left side. “There! There!” I said through gritted teeth. I gasped in pain, which only made the pain worse. Vladimir grimaced and quickly removed his hands.

“Sorry. Anyway, your ribs are broken. They should heal on their own in about four hours, but until then, keep this ice pack on it,” he said, handing me a slab of ice wrapped in several layers of cloth. I accepted it and he gave me one last smile before heading out of the tent.

Why is stuff like this always happening to me? I grumbled to Peter. I don’t know, why don’t you ask Vladimir, huh?! he snapped. I raised an eyebrow. Peter, you aren’t…jealous, are you? I chuckled. Well, yeah! You haven’t talked to me since you almost died! What’s up with that?! he growled. I rolled my eyes and decided to ignore him.

Hey, Zlo! Come on! Talk to me! Please! I'm sorry!   


*Fou- Madman

**Vous avez le corps d'un chien et le QI d'une durée de cinq ans! - You have the body of a dog and the IQ of a five year old!

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