A Flash Fiction set in the Lands of Orendathos
Written by: Jonathan Chandler
For the video version please visit:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=np3y_TvOP6w&t=1s
His hands had always been swift, whenever she wasn’t looking. And, before this moment, comfortingly stronger than one would expect by looking at him.
Ryah clicked her tongue for being so distracted, while she twisted to make her legs bring her feet down flat. But Eric wasn’t just flipping her over his shoulder, he also twisted himself so that Ryah’s momentum torqued back her own arm.
She landed without a sword, leaning awkwardly into Eric’s chest, and with her right arm wrenched into the wrong position. She waited a beat for Eric to finish breaking the arm at the shoulder, or to put her into the dirt for a knockout blow.
“I don’t want to do this, Ry. This isn’t some scrap over a score.”
“The Packless don’t draw swords in a ‘scrap’,” Ryah said, adjusting her footing. Eric was quiet, his breath on her ear. “And they don’t make oaths that put them against the guild.”
Eric dropped her. When she turned, ready to see a sword stroke, Eric was over by the lump on the bed roll, whispering for it to wake. Ryah hated how her right ear burned. And how Eric’s eyes were still wet.
Vault of Orendathos 