Power Quest: The Rebellion of Terrakia by Andrew Koenig (best books to read fiction .TXT) 📖

trudged behind her, his eyes examining the barn from end to end.  “Something feels off.”

            Shaking her head, Amanda made her way to the large, weathered doors.  The paint was chipped off, but one could still see flakes of the once reddish ochre paint. 

            “You always have a bad feeling,” Amanda chuckled, placing her hand on the rusted, iron door handle.  “Now how about you help me open this door so we can get home, huh?”  As she gripped the handle tighter, Amanda felt rust shavings scrape onto her hands, coating them with their burnt orange chalk.

            Chuckling, Casimer grabbed the handle with Amanda, the same chalk rubbing itself into his palms.  “Touché, Amanda.  How much firewood do yo-” he stopped midsentence, the small grin fading from his face.

            Glancing over at him, Amanda put her hand on his arm.  “Are you okay, Casimer?” She asked, looking at him.  Her brow furrowed and she fought against the urge to twist her hair with her slender fingers. 

            Casimer held up a finger and pressed his ear to the musty, wooden door, the flakes of paint clinging to his cheek.  Straining to hear out of his left ear rather than the right, Casimer gently closed his eyes and held his breath, praying to the gods they would let him hear what he thought he heard.

            From inside the barn, Casimer could hear two men speaking with great gusto.  The first spoke with deep and smooth clarity, such that Casimer could practically make out exactly what he was saying.

            “We need more –pons, Alld.  How fast –an you for- them?”

            The second voice was powerful and gruff, and it practically rumbled the entire barn.  There was no need for Casimer to strain himself to hear the boisterous Glacydilian; he was loud enough to be heard from outside.

            “It’s very hard with such a small forge and such… ah, strict, government regulations.  I’ll need a more private area if I’m going to fill this order.”

            “Of course.  Perhaps we could set up a –ew fo- here.  You –an work in pri- when you can.”

            “Anything for the revolution.”

            Casimer stepped back from the door, his eyes wide and breathing heavy.  Sweat trickled down the back of his neck, soaking into his collar, and forcing the hairs on his to stand on edge.  With a thud, Casimer fell to the ground, covering his pants with a thin coat of dirt and grass.

            Amanda grabbed his hands and lifted him back to his feet, helping him regain his composure.  She gently placed her hand on his arm and looked into his eyes, concerned.  “What’s the matter Casimer?  Do you need to see a physician or an alchemist?”

            Shaking his head slowly, Casimer motioned to the barn with a limp toss of the arm.  “There are no kids in that barn, Amanda,” he began, his eyes pointed to the ground, yet focused on nothing at all.  “There’s a rebellion in there.”

            Cursing under her breath, Amanda frowned and tugged on Casimer’s sleeve.  “Come on,” she whispered, motioning to the town.  “If we head home now, we can pretend we never heard anything.”

            “Why would we leave now?”  Casimer asked, grinning from cheek to cheek.  “This makes everything so much easier!”

            “What are you talking about?”  Amanda shouted under breath, glaring at Casimer as a flicker of fire burned from her eyes.  “If the city guards ever find out we were here, we’ll be killed!”

            “Exactly why they won’t find out we were here.”  Casimer assured with a sly wink.  He grabbed the iron door handles and looked over his shoulder at Amanda.  “Now are you going to help me open this door or not?”

            “No!”  Amanda hissed, her impatience raising the volume of her voice.  “We’re leaving now, Casimer!”

            “You can leave if you want,” Casimer snapped, fire burning in his own eyes as he stared down Amanda.  “But I’m going inside this barn and joining this rebellion.”

            Amanda scoffed and shook her head.  “What makes you think they’d even let you join?”  The stern look fell off Casimer’s face as one eyebrow rose higher than the other while he tilted his head.  Amanda chuckled in self-satisfaction.  “You’re hardly seventeen, Casimer.  I’m sure most, if not all, of the people in there are going to be adults in their twenties and thirties.  They probably don’t want to hang out with a teenager all day.”

            “I never really thought of that…” Casimer mused, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.  A grin crept over Amanda’s face, but quickly became an unamused frown.  “Not my problem, though!  I’m going to join this rebellion if it’s the last thing I do!”

            “It just might be the last thing you do, you idiot…”  Amanda grumbled, twisting her hair in stress.  “Why do you want to do this so badly, Casimer?” She pleaded, her voice heavy and soft.  “Aren’t you worried about what could happen?”

            Casimer nodded, his mouth twisted in a half smile of sympathy.  “Of course I am, Amanda.  I know how Zeke responds to rebels… Mr. Kinley was too real an example of that…”

            Twirling her blonde hair between her fingers, Amanda shook her head.  “Then why do you want to become a rebel?  You’re just going to get yourself killed, you know.”

            “Maybe,” Casimer began, staring into the light of the lantern, his voice airy and distant.  “But I owe it to people like Granny Velma to try and bring this city some peace.”  He chuckled and shook his head, scratching the back of his head.  “I mean, she gave me everything I have, so the least I can do is give it all back for her sake.”

            Amanda gave Casimer a gentle smile, followed by a close hug.  “I understand,” she whispered, releasing him from their embrace.  “If it’s what you feel you need to do, there’s nothing I can do to stop you, I guess.”

            “Thanks, Amanda,” he began, smiling brightly at her.  “I-”

            “Don’t misunderstand me, though,” Amanda interrupted, her eyes locked onto his.  “I want nothing to do with this.”  Casimer nodded his head quickly, his eyes wide and innocent.

            Smiling, Amanda waved her hand and began walking towards the city.  “Well, I’m going home, then.  Have fun in there!”  She grinned, shooting him a wink.  They both broke out into subdued giggles as Amanda picked up the lantern and swiveled around on her heel.  The giggling, however, was cut short, as Amanda walked right into the chest of a boy dressed in all black wool.  Amanda gasped and dropped the lantern to the ground with a metallic crash.

            The boy pushed the soot black, mid-shoulder length hair out of his face and menacingly grinned from the corner of his mouth.  “Beautiful night, isn’t it?”  He asked, his voice cold and monotone.  “Quite the night for spying, wouldn’t you say?”

            “Wh-what?”  Amanda stuttered, staring into the boy’s deep, ashen eyes.  “We were j-just…” 

            “Don’t hurt yourself,” the boy began, glancing over at Casimer.  “And what about you?  Do you enjoy doing the Imperials’ dirty work?”

            Casimer scrunched his brow as he studied the boy’s face.  “You’re that guy… The one from the college!”  He shouted, his eyes lighting up as he recognized the boy. 

            The boy nodded, rolling his eyes.  “Well, there are lots of ‘guys’ from the college, but I do seem to recall helping you out of some guard trouble, though I can now see that I was mistaken.”

            Amanda shook her head, awe-stricken by being so close to her crush of three years.  “What are you talking about?  What do you want from us?”

            The boy pulled a thin, steel longsword from the holster on his hip and pointed it at Amanda and Casimer.  “You spies are now the prisoners of the People’s Liberation Rebellion of Kaneele.”  Casimer and Amanda looked at each other and gulped as they were led into the barn as the large, rotted ochre doors of the barn opened before them.

People's Liberation Rebellion

 

A great, orange fire in the middle of the barn lit up the faces of two hundred men and women, each staring at Casimer and Amanda in rage and confusion, murmuring amongst themselves.  In front of the crowd, two men stood, facing the incomers, their faces stoic and stern.  The man on the left was much larger than the man on the right.  He had thick, shoulder length white blonde hair and bright, sky blue eyes which studied Casimer and Amanda inquisitively.  He wore a ragged, sleeveless blacksmith’s tunic, and Amanda could see the scars and tribal tattoos that covered his arms, twisting from shoulder to wrist, like writhing snakes.  A long, straight scar covered his squat nose in a line from cheek to cheek.  He glanced at the smaller man on his side, as if looking for guidance.

            The man on the right studied the two prisoners with rich, honey amber eyes.  His lips were thin and pursed tightly as he examined the situation, practically communicating wordlessly with the boy who brought Casimer and Amanda into the prison.  His fine, sable brown hair reached to his shoulders and flitted about whenever he moved his head. 

            “Why have you brought these two here?”  The smaller man asked, his voice muffled by the silver mask covering the left half of his face.  His eyes glared at the boy, stern and demanding.

            The boy cleared his throat and motioned to Casimer and Amanda.  “I caught them spying on us just outside.  I assume they are spying on us for the Imperial troops, so I’ve brought them here to face the rebellion’s justice!”  Some in the crowd cheered, raising their fists in the air, while others peered around the barn, hesitant to add to the growing tension.

            The tall man nodded his head and scratched his chin, as if considering which of the myriad of punishments the crowd ought to dole upon these villains.  Casimer looked around the room, taken aback by how many people were in this barn, plotting a rebellion.  Amanda, on the other hand, was fixedly staring at the man with the mask.  After a moment, her eyes lit up, and she snapped her fingers.

            “You’re Zak Iliev!”  Amanda shouted.  “You’re a professor at the College of the Arts.”

            The man in the mask chuckled and raised an eyebrow.  “That would be me.  You must be one of my students.”  He scratched his head, trying to recall her name.  “Er, Amanda, correct?”

            Amanda grinned and nodded.  “Yes!  We’re both your students at the College!”

            Casimer nodded his eager confirmation.  “Yeah!  If we’re students, then we couldn’t be spies, right?  Why would an Imperial want to be at the College, anyway?”  The crowd murmured, considering Casimer’s point, much to the dismay of Casimer and Amanda’s captor, who grunted his growing discontent.

            “I imagine the bastard Imperials would like to infiltrate the College to keep tabs on its professors.”  The taller man boomed in the thick, nasal accent of the Northern Glacydilians.  He crossed his arms and flexed, sending the snake-like tattoos on his arms on a wavy dance.

            Zak nodded, crossing his arms as well.  “That’s true.  Being students doesn’t mean you’re not spies.”  Glancing between Casimer and Amanda, he grinned from the corner