Tristan

Ok everyone here it is! The long awaited sneak peak at my book, Tristan. :)

I hope you all enjoy it.

--Alex







Tristan

Prologue

The wind howled through the rocks, flattening everything in its path. It forced its way through the cracks and cervices, whistling as it made its way toward the beach. A hooded and cloaked figure was there fighting against the wind. The wind paused as if gathering its strength and the person stumbled, surprised at the sudden stop of the wind. The figure started to run, trying to get to the safety of the caves that riddled the bottom of the cliffs. Suddenly and screaming filled the air: the wind was back with more force than ever. The hooded figure braced itself for the oncoming assault. But the wind was to strong. It grabbed the figure and whirled it around like a rag doll before throwing it twenty feet into a solid wall of rock. The figure fell to the ground. Seconds passed. The cloaked figure stirred, than tried to rise pushing itself up with its arms. The wind howled. It slammed the figure into the wall again and held it there. Then the wind stopped and the figure slipped to the sand and was still. The sound of flapping filled the air. A flock of seagulls lifted off from the top of the cliff and flew away towards the south.

A man stood on a hilltop, looking to the north. A black spot appeared on the horizon. The man leaned forward, squinting, to see the spot better. A grin appeared on the man’s sallow and lined face and he visibly relaxed. Suddenly the man was surrounded by birds. Crows, Ravens and Seagulls all flew around him. The air was filled with the sound of caws, croaks and whistles. One by one the birds delivered their messages ad were dismisses by the man until only the seagulls remained. The man turned to the seagulls, his most trusted messengers of the sky.
“Come, my pretties,” the man said. “Tell me of the Rider.”
A plethora of noises filled the air. The man listened intently for a few moments, than a smile appeared on his face and he dismissed the birds with a wave of his hand. He turned to the east, where the smoke of many fires was rising to the heavens.
Yes, he thought. There are things to do and now is the time. There are no more obstacles. It is time to begin.

Chapter 1

Tristan looked up from behind the tree where she was crouched. Not thirty feet from where she was a splendid buck was grazing. She slowly drew an arrow from her bow and nocked it in her yew bow. She was slowly beginning to bring her bow up when the buck lifted his head and smelled the air. The raven-haired girl smiled. The concoction that Moran, the tribe’s healer, had made for her out of pine sap, grass and clovers had made doubtful at first. But she trusted Moran, so she had decided to give the foul smelling mixture a try. Moran had said that if she rubbed it on her clothes and any exposed skin it would mask her scent. And it worked. The smile was still on her face as she lifted her bow up and aimed the arrow at the buck’s chest. As he bent his head to continue grazing she let her arrow fly. It struck the deer in the chest; the buck lifted its head, blinked a couple time than collapsed.
Tristan got up from behind the tree and walked over to the buck. She bent down and examined the wound her arrow had inflicted.
Right in the heart, she thought happily. Maybe now I will be allowed to join the Tribal Hunters.
She drew the arrow from the wound, cleaned it than placed it back in her quiver. She picked up the animal and placed it on her brown horse, Thoron. She gave him a pat then turned him around and headed back to the village.

As she walked though the village to Moran’s tent she acquired many stares, some open, some concealed but most open. She stopped when she got to Moran’s tent. She hoisted the deer to her shoulder and adjusted her weapons: her bow and quiver of arrows, a dirk and a Delmoore, a one sided hilt less sword, than said in a loud voice,
“Moran, I have returned from the hunt successful and come to you to give you a portion of my kill in return for the services you gave me, as is custom in our tribe.”
“Ah yes. Tristan,” a voice issued from inside the tent. “Come in. We were just discussing you.”
Tristan lifted the flap and enters the tent. She paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the light. When her eyes had acclimated she saw that Moran was not alone in the tent. She dropped the buck and bowed, a hand on her heart and the other touching her forehead.
“My Chief.”
“Rise. I see that you were successful in your hunt.”
“Yes,” Tristan straightened, “I was.”
Chief Jahgdir motioned for her to sit. She sat, gracefully folding her tall body into a crossed leg position.
“We have been discussing your future, Tristan,” said Jahgdir, motioning to himself and Moran, “and we have reached a decision that we both agree on,” Moran glanced at Jahgdir, an odd look on his face, “one that we think you may like.”
Tristan sat up excitedly. “I can join the Tribal Hunters?”
“In a way,” said Moran.
“You see,” said Chief Jahgdir, “I have decided that you will be married to Janks. He has taken the appropriate steps and asked me for your hand. I have agreed.”
Tristan stared at him, her gray eyes blank and her jaw agape. “Wha-what?” She whispered shocked. “You want me to marry Janks just, just like that? You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to.”
Moran looked uncomfortable; Jahgdir said sternly, “Tristan when you arrived at this tribe two years ago knowing nothing but your name, my wife and I took you in. You became our adopted daughter, and in turn my wife became your adopted mother and I, your adopted father.”
Tristan opened her mouth to interrupt but Moran held up a bronze hand silencing her. Jahgdir continued as if nothing had happened. “Therefore I, as your father, can decide who you marry. Or don’t marry,” he added.
Tristan opened her mouth again, than shut it and looked at Moran. He inclined his brown head slightly. She swept her long black hair out of her gray hazel flecked eyes and said, “I don’t want to marry Janks. He's a conceited old pig! And how will marrying Janks get me into the Tribal Hunters?”
“How DARE you insult your future husband!” hissed Jahgdir with barely controlled rage, his black pupil less eyes alight with fury. Moran laid a hand on the chief’s well muscled arm. “Calm yourself, My Chief.”
Jahgdir took a deep breath. “You will speak respectfully of your future husband from now on is that understood?” he said seething. He plowed on without giving her a chance to respond. “You will be joining the Tribal Hunters in this way: as you know, each family is thought of a small tribe within this tribe. You will not be hunting for the whole tribe,” he swept his hand around in example, “but you will be hunting for your own tribe, you and Janks.”
Tristan jumped to her feet. “How can you do this to me? You know I want to join the Tribal Hunters to hunt for the whole tribe!”
“Be calm Tristan,” said Moran, also standing, “relax.”
“Put yourself in my shoes Moran. How could I possibly calm down! I’m being forced to marry some guy I don’t want to and my dreams are being crushed! All in one day! And you want me to calm down!”
Jahgdir had remained sitting on the floor during Tristan’s tirade. Now he too rose from the floor and clapped his hands twice. Two huge men stepped into the tent. They were twins and looked almost exactly alike. Both had broad shoulders and were well muscled everywhere. Their names were Rantn and Hantn and they were both strong enough to wrestle a bear and win, which they both had done as their rite of passage into manhood at twenty-two. The only difference between the two was that Rantn has blond hair and Hantn, brown.
“Please take Tristan to her tent and keep her there until I say to release her.” Jahgdir said.
The twins bowed than turned to Tristan. “Please come with us Tristan,” Hantn said kindly to her in his deep voice. “We don’t want to force you.”
Tristan took a step backward and shook her head. “No. I can’t. To go with you would mean I will comply with his wishes.” She glanced at the Chief than turned back to the twins. “I'm sorry boys,” she said her voice and eyes sad. “I just can’t.”
The blond- and brown-haired men looked at Jahgdir. He gestured vehemently at Tristan. They closed in on Tristan.
“You have to come with us, NOW!” Rantn commanded harshly.
“No!” shouted Tristan.
Rantn stepped angrily forward with his arm outstretched toward Tristan’s tan arm. She reacted with lightning speed; she grabbed the approaching mans arm, than twisted and slammed her foot into his stomach. Rantn doubled over. Tristan changed her grip on his arm and threw him over her shoulder into a wall of the tent. It collapsed and Rantn rolled out onto the ground. Tristan turned and blocked a punch thrown at the side of her head by Hantn. She grabbed his arm and landed a retaliatory punch on his face. She twisted his arm dislocating it at the shoulder. He collapsed screaming. Tristan kicked him in the back and sent him sprawling on the fur covered floor at Jahgdir’s feet.
Both Moran and Jahgdir were looking at her, the Healer with shock and the Chief with anger. Tristan turned to face the two men.
“Look, I'm sorry for all this. I didn’t want to fight them.” She started walking backwards toward the tents entrance. “But if I am to live my own life and follow my dreams I can’t do it here. I--”
There was a loud crack. Tristan’s eyes rolled up in her head. She crumpled to the ground, unconscious. Peering though the tents entrance was the round, youthful of a young boy holding a wooden sword. He stared with shock visible on his blond framed face as he looked down on the crumpled form of Tristan.
“Fa-father, said the boy, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Saiken and I were just playing. I'm sorry,” he said again.
Jahgdir walked over to the boy and patted him on the head. “Do not linger on it my son, I'm sure she will be fine. Moran?”
The healer looked up from where he was crouched next to Tristan. He removed a hand from the back of the girls head and said, “She will be fine. She has a nasty bump on her head though. She will have a rather large headache when she regains consciousness.”
Jahgdir smiled at his son. “See? She will be fine, Malen. Run and play.”
The boy nodded than ran off shouting, “Saiken! Saiken! Come out! Everything is ok! Come out!”
The chief turned the smile gone, replaced by a scowl.
“Will they be alright?” he asked Moran gesturing at Rantn and Hantn.
“Well, Hantn has a dislocated shoulder, and judging by the way he’s walking I’d say Rantn has a couple broken ribs.”
Jahgdir cursed, “Drat that girl!”
Moran ignored the outburst and said, “Jahgdir will you please help Rantn to his tent. He needs to lie down until I can bind his ribs.
“Fine,” Jahgdir sighed, running a hand though his blond hair. “Do you need me to send someone to help you with Hantn?”
“No he is unconscious so I will able to relocate his shoulder without help.”
“Will he be able to use it immediately?”
“Just a little,” said Moran “He shouldn’t abuse it. It would be painful and it would injure it more. As it is his arm will be stiff for several days.”
“When he wakes up,” Jahgdir said from the tent entrance where he was supporting Rantn, “have him take Tristan to her tent; then get Turik to guard her.”
Moran looked up from his position at Hantn arm. “Can I treat her first? She--”
“No!” Jahgdir said angrily, cutting of the brown haired healer. “She goes to her tent as she is! No treatment! And she will stay there and receive no treatment until I say so!” With that Jahgdir stormed out of the tent practically dragging the young blonde haired man at his side. “Ah Tristan” Moran muttered, “you’ve certainly made a mess of things for yourself.”
The pounding in her head woke Tristan up. She groaned and rolled over, then sat up clutching her head.
Where am I? She thought with faint surprise. How’d I get in here?
She tried to stand but the room spun making her nauseas. She dropped back onto her bed. She rubbed her face then gingerly felt the back of her head. Her fingers felt a large bump there and she winced.
Uhh. I need water. She stood up slowly and the room stayed in its proper place. She walked across the tent on slightly weak legs, took a cup from a shelf and dipped it into a water filled bucket. She took a drink. “Ahh….” She sighed. She put the cup down and splashed water on her face.
I need to get something for this headache, she thought. She turned and saw that her weapons were propped neatly against a wall of her tent.
Now who did that? It certainly wasn’t Jahgdir, she thought wirily. She picked up the dirk and fastened it to her belt but left the Delmoore and the bow and arrows where they were. She lifted the flap to the entrance of her tent and was shocked to discover Turik Elderiad standing there with his back to her tent, facing the village. “Turik…what are you doing?”