REBELLION

Prologue

His attention was caught by the snapping of a twig down in the valley. He held himself still, forcing even his breathing to silence, and turned his eyes to follow the sound. The disturbance came not a moment too soon; he'd been starting to doubt the quality of his informants.

It was a few moments before the girl emerged from the dense cover of the trees. She walked barefoot up the slope, a purposeful look on her face, and though she looked up she didn't seem to see him hidden between the branches. She was a thin child, short for her thirteen years, with stunning red hair which flowed down her back. She looked so like her mother.

She came blinking into the sunlight, paused for a moment, then seated herself cross-legged on the ground. Now she was closer, he could see she'd been crying.

He'd been thinking for so long about what he'd say when he met her but now she was here, tearful and intense and real, he felt everything he'd rehearsed slipping away from him. Nothing in his thirty-one years had really prepared him for this.

She pulled a slate from her pocket and began scratching something; he couldn't quite see what she wrote but she'd fallen into an intense concentration, stylus moving rapidly across the slate as she worked.

He lowered himself from his perch, slipping silently to the ground, and took two small steps towards her. He knew he'd made very little sound - certainly nothing that couldn't have been attributed to the shuffling of a small creature or the gusting of a summer breeze - but she stopped writing and looked straight up at him, fixed him with the penetrating stare of those bright green eyes.

"Excuse me," he said, aiming a small bow in her direction. He watched the battle between fear and curiosity play across her face. He knew this was the most important moment, in a way, and it was out of his control - if she was too scared to be intrigued, there would be no sense in persisting. Yet he badly wanted her to pass this first test.

"Who are you?" she asked at last.

He breathed a silent sigh of relief, but he knew he couldn't yet afford to fully relax. "My name's Laban. I'm sorry to disturb you, I was just going home." He took another couple of steps towards the rock face, tucked his fingers into familiar crevices, and started to climb.

Her incredulous voice interrupted him. "You live here?"

"Yes. Well, almost - just on the other side of the hill."

"You can't." The flat certainty of her tone amused him; she had a typical child's arrogance. "I've been up - you can't live there."

"Well, I do," he said, and continued to climb.

Once his fingers reached the sharp ridge of the summit he decided it was time to show off, so with one smooth movement he somersaulted over the ridge and dropped comfortably onto the rock ledge some ten feet below. He moved just far enough inside the cave to be sure that he was no longer visible from the hilltop and paused; waiting, listening. It was only a moment before his ears picked up the sounds he was hoping for - the echo of someone clambering up the rocks.

She was bold enough to follow him, then. That boded well.

<< prev | next >>

(c) All content copyright Rachel Cotterill 2010