I am doing this plot bunny backwards: posting the 1st scene before the back cover blurb. But it only seemed fitting as the first scene was written before I gave much thought to the rest of the book. So, without further ado, I present to you the first scene of my fourth plot bunny:
“The boy belongs
to me,” the woman said, her cruel eyes sending hateful messages. She wrapped her fingers like claws around the
small boy’s shoulder.
Character from Narnia movie via Pinterest |
The man opposite
stood staring at her, wondering at the twistedness of this remote country. “Impossible,” he said, simply.
The crowd that
had gathered around them stepped closer, unwilling to miss any word of the
confrontation between their reigning lady and the stranger.
The woman laughed
lightly. “You are not from this land,”
she said patronizingly. “You don’t know
the customs or the laws. Regardless of
how they do things in your land, that has no bearing on what happens here. You are in my world now.” She was triumphant and mocking.
“That is not
true,” the stranger said.
The woman raised
an incredulous eyebrow. “You are a
native? Really? Name your parents!” she demanded.
“Have you
forgotten Kapulchen and Irea?” the stranger asked quietly. His face looked reproachful.
A gasp went up
from the crowd, mostly from the older generation, and several of them glanced
nervously at their leader.
The woman’s eyes
grew darker but she showed no other sign of recognition. “Folk tales,” she scoffed. “Children’s stories. Some far away king who owns this country and
all the surrounding countries. Bah, no
one even remembers the stories anymore.”
“Your denial
means little,” the stranger said. “The
land is mine. I write the laws. There are no customs aside from the ones I
put into place.”
At this
treasonous statement, the woman pulled a knife from her hip, and three score
men in the crowd drew their weapons. “Watch
your tongue, stranger, or you will die,” the woman threatened. A
faint but deadly smile flickered over her face.
“I believe you are outnumbered,” she said.
The stranger was
unmoved. His steady gaze matched hers,
unnerving her slightly. Why didn’t this
fool submit?
“Put down your
weapons,” the stranger ordered. He spoke
loudly so the crowd could hear him. “I
have heard of this woman’s wickedness and here I find the rumors
confirmed. She is now removed from her
command. I will set up a new ruler
here.” He raised a fist high over his
head, slowly turning to look at everyone in the crowd that encircled him.
“Fool!” the woman
hissed. “You will be dead before your
next breath.”
The stranger
lowered his fist, signaling his own men to advance, and faced the woman again.
“That is not true,” he said firmly.
And as he spoke, an army of 800 men emerged from the trees with their
weapons ready. “And it is you who are
outnumbered.”
The woman lowered
her knife, turning slowly to see the surrounding horde. Anger and hatred seethed from her, but years
of bullying had taught her the power of superior force. Her guards were no match for the stranger’s
army.
“I will go,” she
said, tightening her grip on the boy’s shoulder. “But the boy is still mine. I bought him.”
The boy turned
pleading eyes to the stranger.
“With what?” the
stranger demanded. “What was his price?”
“A handful of
coins,” the woman retorted, her voice rising angrily. “What does it matter? It was a price agreed to by his parents!”
“In all our
lands, the price for a life is another life,” the stranger announced. “Unless you gave yourself in
his stead, then his price was not met.
He is not yours.”
The woman
released her fingers from the boy’s shoulder and shoved him unceremoniously
from her mound. “Fool,” she cried,
spitting out the words. “Will you take
everything from me?”
“I have taken
nothing that was yours,” the stranger said.
“But you have betrayed the people I entrusted to you. You will be punished.”
For a moment, the
woman stared at the stranger. Her mouth
moved silently. Then she turned to the people. “Will you let him speak to me like this?” she
demanded. “I have been your leader for a
generation.”
The crowd was
silent. Years of oppression created a
deepset fear in the people. Even with
the stranger’s army surrounding them, they could not quite believe themselves
safe from the wrath of their reigning lady.
Yet, their fears were coupled with a repulsion that would not let them
speak on her behalf. And so they were
silent.
Then one old
man’s voice rang out from the crowd.
“Long live the son of Kapulchen!” the voice quavered.
The little boy,
now free, joined his young voice with the old man’s. “Long live the son of Kapulchen!”
One by one, the
people in the crowd added their cries to the chant. “Long live the son of Kapulchen!”
Even the lady’s
guards lowered their weapons and cried, “Long live the son of Kapulchen!”
The lady turned
her eyes, glittering with hatred, to the stranger. “They all forsake me, but it does not matter,
oh son of Kapulchen.” She raised her
knife again and shouted, “I will kill you myself!” With an evil look in her eye, she leaped from
her mound with the agility of a cat.
But her intended
blow was not to be. Two guards
intercepted her, pinning her arms harmlessly behind her back. She screamed, a terrible scream like an angry
panther, and then fainted dead away into her guards arms.
For a moment,
the crowd was silent, staring at the limp form of their wicked ruler. After years of suffering her oppressive
power, it was stunning to see her so quickly defeated. Not a man of them would have believed it
possible if they had not seen it with their own eyes. As the seconds of silence ticked by, there
was an air of waiting – as if they half-expected her to rise before them and
send them scurrying to their graves.
But the evil
leader remained motionless in the guards’ arms.
She was powerless, and the days of oppression were truly over. Once certain of her defeat, a victorious
shout rose in the voices of the people.
Long live the son
of Kapulchen!
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