Page 23 of The Sea of Zemira (The Zemiran Chronicles 1)

The horses stepped forward, pulling them along the path towards Brecken’s harbor. Nola looked into Sabre’s eyes and over to the left of her hair. She spotted her ears slightly pushing out of her long strands.

“You’re an elf,” she said, immediately regretting it. Elves were spies. Their identity was meant to stay hidden from the enemy. But when those words slipped her mouth, Nola admitted she knew her secret. The woman’s shoulders stiffened, and she placed her hand on her sword.

“Please,” Nola said, holding up her hand, “I’m not your enemy.”

The woman gave her a small smile and released her hand from the sword. “You may have to prove that here in a moment. I hear something,” Sabre said, looking out through the curtain. “These bastards still won’t give up.” She pointed out the window. “It’s the king’s soldiers.” The Elven woman glanced to meet Nola’s eyes and added, “You don’t do anything unless I tell you, understand?”

Nola nodded quickly, feeling a nervous twitch in her gut. The carriage stopped abruptly. Nola gripped to the side to keep from flying forward towards the others.

“Step out of the carriage. Put your hands above your head so we can see them,” they heard a deep voice shout from outside the coach. The muffled sound of the driver answering a few questions alerted the Elven woman. Nola reached forward, gripping hold of the little girl’s hands.

“Everything will be alright. I won’t let anything happen to you,” Nola assured the little girl. She looked up as Sabre’s eyes went wide.

“We should have taken the western route,” Sabre said, quickly pulling her hair forward to cover her ears.

“Do you have any weapons?” Nola asked. “Aside from that sword?”

Sabre replied, “Just the one on my hip.” She pointed to the weapon in her sheath. “You?”

The siren girl unzipped her bag, revealing her bow and a tiny clasp-knife.

“Do you know how to use that thing?” Sabre asked dryly.

Nola nodded. “Yes,” she replied, “but never on a person.”

Awe transformed Sabre’s face. Then she peeked out through the curtain again, watching two of the guards approach the coach on their horses.

“Well, you’re about to get your opportunity,” she said.

Nola’s stomach lurched. She had already realized she was about to venture to the Eastland Forest to build an army to go to war. Still, the opportunity to fight an enemy came faster than she anticipated; she was terrified.

The driver opened the side door and whispered, “Sorry, Sabre.”

The elf secured her coat over her sword and stepped out after telling her family to stay put.

Nola looked at the man. “Protect your daughter,” she instructed. “I’ll help your wife.”

“She is not my wife,” he muttered quickly. “She’s helping us lead the resistance.”

Nola learned about the rebels years ago from her parents. But she had not met a single one. Mainly because they were too afraid to reveal themselves. Many had feared retaliation; others had simply left the movement altogether. A small amount of hope reached Nola, knowing there were still others out there willing to risk their lives to save the kingdom.

Nola stepped out of the shabby wagon behind the Elven spy, leaving her bag open and next to the door. They both raised their arms in surrender. Suddenly the guards’ shoulders slumped. Their facial expressions changed, as though they believed the women were far from being a threat. Nola dropped her hands and walked back slightly until her right heel hit the wheel of the coach.

One of the men, the skinnier one, rushed forward, pressing his hand aggressively against Nola’s chest. He pushed her hard against the side of the carriage, keeping her in place.

“Who are you?” he asked, snapping his fingers at the other guard who stepped off his horse.

“I’m her sister,” Nola lied. Sabra smiled in approval. Nola may not have known much about the resistance, but she was aware they traveled together. Those days, you either traveled by family, or you were up to no good.

A quiet sigh of relief hit her as he eased up on her chest. The man withdrew his hold on her but stayed close so she still could not move past him.

Sabre cleared her throat. “We’re just heading to Brecken Terrace’s tavern for a drink, sir. Is there a problem?”

The two men exchanged a glance, and the one next to his horse withdrew his sword and pointed the sharp end at Sabre’s cheek.

“Do you have any weapons on you?” he asked, addressing Sabre.

“I have my sword,” she affirmed. Not trying to hide it.

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