#hotguycoldguy

[j-eliasepp]

Hot Guy Cold Guy: Chap 6

Hot Guy Cold Guy: Chapter 6

By: J. Elias Epp

A writing exercise

Two soldiers drug a shackled Skah through the glimmering halls of the Ashmet palace by his arms.

Skah didn’t mind, he simply stared slack-jawed at the enormity of the pillars, the majesty of the art, the beauty of the cloths, and the prolific amounts of gold lining white marble.

“You know,” Skah said as he stared at the height of the ceilings, “I could’ve used more than just a bath and new clothes. Heck, with a palace like this you could have afforded me a better bed than that wooden bench.”

The guard on the right shook his arm. “Quiet you, you’re lucky to get a wood bench. I personally requested them so you prisoners would quit yapping about cold stone. Now you complain about hard wood. Never should have done it.”

“Oh,” Skah tried to shrug but only achieved a head bob, “That changes things. I didn’t say I didn’t like the bench, just that it looks like you guys could afford something better. I’ve been sleeping on sticks and stones recently, the bench was actually rather nice compared to that.”

“Oh, you hear that?” The guard nodded his head at Skah to the other guard. “This prisoner has a modicum of respect, I’ll actually be sorry to see him stoned.”

Skah snapped his gaze away from the tall ceiling. “Wait, what? Stoning? I don’t want to get stoned, stoning is bad, very bad.” He wriggled in their grip and tried to look up at them.

“Shh, shh,” The guard shook his head, “I should say that there is a possibility.”

“That’s still bad, you can take me back to the prison now.”

The guard shook his head. “Too late, we’re here.”

They rounded a corner and three great rectangular arches stood before them. The largest was flanked by two smaller ones to each side. Large gilded reliefs of men standing with staffs stood on the sides of the doorways. The stone was painted with brilliant blues and greens and bright white cloths were draped across openings in the ceiling that allowed shafts of light into the grand hall of pillars before them.

At the end of the rows of pillars was a golden throne with the iridescent blue-green tail feathers of the Oasha bird overshadowing it.

No one was sitting in the throne. Instead, the guards drug Skah to the arch to the left. They passed through the arch and Skah could see that it was still a part of the main throne room, the only thing that separated the two were the rows of large columns. Scenes were painted upon the columns and walls depicting scenes of workers in fields, soldiers at battle and rulers sitting upon thrones.

Attendants were gathered at the other end of the hall where a woman with light yellow hair sat in a brilliant white sheath dress.

Skah thought her hair was oddly shaped on her head, but the guard’s comment about stoning reminded him it would be better not to say anything about it.

“You know,” Skah said out of the corner of his mouth, “this long hall makes it kinda awkward when we’re walking towards them. They’re just staring at us.”

The guard squeezed his arm. “Shhh.”

Despite his feeling of awkwardness, Skah survived being dragged the length of the long hallway. Someone had been kind enough to lay out a long rug to save Skah’s sore feet.

About a stone’s throw away from the throne, the guards lay Skah upon his face and kneeled in reverence themselves.

“Princess, the one who came to the city in possession of Adhiam and the flaming sword is the one lying before you. Do with him as you deem just.”

The rug tickled Skah’s nose. He tried to stifle the sneeze, but he couldn’t help it.

“Achoo!”

The guard on the right grabbed a handful of Skah’s hair. “You dare sneeze in front of her majesty?!”

Skah suppressed a chuckle. It came out as a snort instead.

“Guardsman.”

The man bowed low. “Yes my majesty?”

“Let the man stand.”

Skah was hauled to his feet. Since his face wasn’t buried in the rug, he could see the princess more properly. In a word, she was more vibrant and beautiful than he had imagined, despite how her hair was fashioned to look like a basket plopped on her head.

“You’re very baskety, I mean, beautiful miss.” He blushed a deep red.

She arched an eyebrow.

The guard jabbed Skah in the ribs with his elbow. “She didn’t say you could speak, cur.”

“Oh, right, sorry, sorry.” Skah bowed at the waist while holding his side.

Safira eyed Skah with a level gaze. “Warrior, how did you come by the sword of Adhiam?”

“The cold sword? I fought a guy for it. He said his name was Yucko or something.”

“Describe him to me.”

“Well, he’s sunburnt, has black hair, on the small side, about this high…and he has a temper.”

Safira nodded. “What else?”

“Oh! He has beady eyes like he wants to stab you with them.”

Safira leaned her head towards one of the attendants standing by her.

“Majesty, that lines up with what we know so far.”

She nodded and turned back to Skah. “What was he wearing?”

“Um, he had his face and head covered like this,” Skah put his hands over his face so only his eyes showed, “and the rest of him is covered too. But then he took it all off after I took his sword from him.”

“Oh? And what does his face look like?”

Skah thought for a moment. “Well, his face is kinda…” he stroked his chin, “Its kinda…like…young-looking.”

Safira thought for a moment, then asked, “Why did you come to this city?”

The corner of Skah’s mouth twitched upward. “I didn’t want to walk the rest of the way into your city so I hired your guards to drag me the rest of the way.”

Safira blinked.

“That isn’t the case your majesty!” The guard to Skah’s right protested. “He lies and makes a mockery of you!” He grabbed ahold of Skah.

“Wait.”

The guard stopped.

“I’m sure it was all in jest.” She looked at Skah, expecting an answer.

Skah grinned. “Ya got me. I’ll tell you why, because it was on my way to the Star of the West. But you guys don’t allow swords here, so I was just going to go around.”

Safira contemplated this. If what he is saying is true, she thought, we may have invited destruction upon ourselves.

The prophecy of the Swords of the Heavens wasn’t a well known one. In fact, it was only the mention of a man coming with a sword of fire and a sword of ice that jogged her memory of it. The painted scenes were just barely visible where she had seen them last night. They were in a shadow on the ceiling between two pillars.

She regarded the man before her. The guardsmen had dressed him in a simple white linen skirt. There were wraps around his torso where he had been injured in his battle, but she could still see the musculature like that of one of her soldiers. A man familiar with the rigors of battle and fighting.

Skah fidgeted under her gaze and at the silence. Why am I even here? He thought. What could that annoying idiot have done where the simple sight of his sword gets me brought before the rulers?!

Safira stood and walked over to the place beneath where the prophecy was recorded.

Skah turned his head to follow her movement but met the eyes of the guard next to him.

The man’s eyes said, “Don’t look at her, you cur.”

Skah batted his eyes at the guard but kept his eyes forward.

Safira read the prophecy again and the scenes around it but didn’t find anything new. The prophecy did not say anything about if the man brought the destruction or if the swords did. But perhaps it is implied the man brings the destruction. She thought.

What should she do? Keep the man in prison? Send him away from the city? Kill him? He seemed nice, how could this man bring about disaster upon the city? This man could be an enemy or a possible strong ally. She needed to know more.

She walked back to Skah and patted him on the arm. “Come, let’s talk more in the gardens.”

Skah looked into her crystal blue eyes and blushed.

She smiled, “Where did you last see the man you fought? We call him Zaim, and he brought both a blessing and a curse upon our city.”

  Author’s Note: I am writing this organically. As such, I am simply putting ideas down on paper as it comes to me. For me, this involves a lot of “putting things together” step by step. Sometimes, I find that I have to engage characters in undramatized scenes in order to figure out how things will go between two characters in a situation. In this one, I have a princess who wants revenge for her brother’s death, but cannot ignore a possible threat she knows little about. Then there is Skah who has never been in a palace before, much less knows how to interact with royalty and has no idea what he’s stepped into.

 #skah #princess #warrior #prison #palace #throne #original #character #story #serial #hotguycoldguy #starofthewest #author #write #writer #read #openeppic #jeliasepp #guard #plot

[j-eliasepp]

Hot Guy Cold Guy: Chapter 5

By: J. Elias Epp

A writing exercise

            Safira walked slowly behind the richly ornamented sarcophagus that sparkled in the sun. Her brother’s body was not in it. It would be prepared for the afterlife for another year in the care of the physicians.

           The sarcophagus was carried on the shoulders of royal servants dressed in fine gold ornaments and linens. In front of them walked two rows of thirty mourners. Their wails carried through the air.

           In front of them walked the royal prophets with their tall staffs. For once, their voices did not cry out to announce the coming of royalty.

           The procession walked through the green palace gardens full of fountains, trees, flowers and white marble and gold. The streams of water and polished gold leaf sparkled and shone.

           Servants shielded her face from the sun with large fans made of colorful feathers. It was only mid-morning and the sun was already hot against Safira’s skin where it touched at her heels. She wore her face uncovered so all may see the tears of her grieving. She didn’t feel like it, but it was expected of her.

           She wore a richly ornamented headdress, a broach necklace made of linked plates of silver, and a brilliantly white sheath dress. Her light golden hair had been glued stiff so it laid down to her shoulders in the shape of a bell.

           The procession was long and stretched all the way back to the palace behind her. Her mother and father walked at her sides. Many more relatives and officials of the city followed.

           The palace gates opened before them and immediately the people of the city began to wail. Guards were already posted along the road on either side. As they walked through the gate, guards fell in beside the royal family and officials.

           She let her tears go. They ran down her face and dripped to the ground. Just in case, tears were painted on her face in black to resemble tears she could no longer shed.

           The sounds of people wailing was a cacophony of noise around her.

           For an hour they walked through the city, then out past the walls and into the desert. Her brother’s throne for the afterlife was far from complete in the Halls of Ohuros. Someday, she would see him again.

           The procession walked along a white marble road to a building in the desert sands. Green trees were around it. White pillars capped with gold stood along the path with linen strung between them to give shade.

           This path led to a hall with a ceiling just as tall as the pillars outside. Wide steps led down into the bowels of the earth. Torches lit the darkness.

           The long rites of passage were completed in half-darkness. It was evening before the procession made its long walk back to the palace.

***

Safira changed, then proceeded to her throne room adjacent to her father’s. She would accept only the most pressing business if there was any.

Eight servants were waiting with bowed heads as she took her seat on her throne.

“Tell me, which of you has the most pressing news?”

One of the servants stepped forward and kneeled without looking up. “Princess, the sword Adhiam has been found.”

She sat forward. “How?

“A traveling swordsman had it in his possession, however, he did not have the sheath. He was found trying to enter the city yesterday evening. The sword has been secured, but not before a guardsman clutched it in his hands and its curse killed him. Even now it is still in his frozen hands.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. “Do the people know?”

“We kept the sword and the body under a tarp, but the chill couldn’t be contained. The cart that took it to the armory passed by many commoners. I’m afraid rumors have already spread that the masked swordsman has been finally killed, and many others.”

“Where is the swordsman?”

“Waiting in the palace jails princess. He’s been there for most of the day. Shall I send for him?”

“No,” she felt her anger burn against the man, even if he wasn’t the swordsman who killed her brother. “He can wait. How did he not fall to the curse?”

“He is under an equally powerful curse. He carried a sword with him that burns like the sun. No one has attempted to draw its blade for fear of it. He also bears wounds like those the captains suffered before they died at the hands of Zaim.”

She sat back in her throne. This could mean that the swordsman proved greater than Zaim. He wielded a sword like the sun and bore wounds like the ones that had killed her city’s captains.

The words of prophecy painted on the stone on the pillars of the room caught her eye. With growing dread she read the painted scenes.

Nine stars crowning the head of Akhumet fall

From the east comes a man

He bears a sword like the sun

And a sword of stars

He comes to the city

In ten days it is ruined by flame from the night sky

 Author’s Note: The continuation of Hot Guy Cold Guy is back after some pickaxing at the ole writer’s block! Sincere apologies for those who were waiting for its continuation. As a part of writing I realized I couldn’t sit on a half-finished piece forever. I have to follow through. Many of the writing exercises I have posted will eventually be completed and brushed-up in the future. So look forward to that!

 One technique in getting over writer’s block is “skipping” over the hard part that you can’t get past. That is evidenced in this piece as I want to show some things to the reader but have a hard time tying it together fluidly. So, I show the one part, then narratively skip to the next piece I want to show the readers.

 #story #writing #throne #princess #sword #prophecy #desert #palace #sarcophagus #tomb #mourning #original #character #author #write #read #hotguycoldguy #exercise #openeppic #jeliasepp

[j-eliasepp]

Hot Guy Cold Guy: Chapter 3 Written By: J. Elias Epp Illustration By: Fnming (I don’t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes) Yuko heaved deep breaths as he shuffled one foot after another up the hill. The heat and humidity beneath the canopy of trees was suffocating. The ever-gray sky could be glimpsed through the branches. “I, I think I know how he feels,” Yuko gasped. It had only been thirty minutes since he had started following Skah and his ox. Already, Yuko felt like he was going to pass out from the heat. “Stupid,” he said. Sweat trickled down his forehead. “Stupid. All the more reason to get the sword back.” He whisked off his hood and the scarf covering his face. The humid air did little to cool him. He stumbled to the side of the road at the top of the hill and sat on a rock there. He undid his heavy cloak, his gloves and shirt until he only had his pants on. His pale skin was slick with sweat. His face was youthful, but bore the day’s fatigue and a decade of travel. He looked out over the land. He could see the path as it wound through the trees. He couldn’t see Skah. He looked further, towards the horizon. Nothing. In a panic he stood up. He looked to the sides of the path, near the rivers and streams, anywhere that the trees gave way. Nothing. A movement caught his eye at the base of the hill. There was Skah and the ox, slowly meandering their way down the path. Skah was holding Yuko’s sword, Adhiam, and snow fell gently around him. Yuko slumped back down on the rock. “Stupid. I could probably take a nap and still catch up.” He bundled up his clothes and slung them over his back. He made sure to keep a knife in his belt. “I should kill him,” he mumbled. “I should run ahead and ambush him.” He stood up with effort and started a slow plod down the path matching Skah’s pace. Sweat dripped off his chin. “I should wait till night, and…and…huff, huff, huff…kill that ox too.” He kept mumbling as he dragged his feet down the path. *** Skah stopped for the night in a clearing by a stream. Yuko didn’t even wait, he circled around Skah’s position and traveled upstream. When he reached the stream he threw aside his travel pack and bundle and let himself fall into the stream face-first. He burbled bubbles before pushing himself to the surface and gasping for breath. Then he took long gulps until he felt he would burst. He found a tree next to the stream and sat against it while letting his feet hang in the water. He re-filled his water skin and wished he had another one. He had quickly run out while following Skah. He relieved himself in the stream. Although not honorable, it made him feel a little better that Skah was downstream. His head started to clear as he sat in the cool shade and water. His anger returned and his thoughts turned to how he would get his sword back. If Skah continued on this path, he would eventually find himself in Ashmet. Yuko nearly lost his life there, more importantly his sword. He had made more enemies there than half of the places he’d been before during his long travels. Even a street urchin would recognize Adhiam and himself. If Skah went there…Yuko closed his eyes as if in pain. He had to stop Skah at all costs. *** Yuko waited till night before creeping towards Skah’s camp. He crossed the stream and approached from that direction where he would have the best view. He crawled the last few meters slowly, careful not to make any sound. Skah was obviously an Enden. Rumors told that they could sense the winds, speak with animals and scurry through the trees like squirrels. Yuko wasn’t sure about that. He peeked out from beneath a bush. At first, he couldn’t make anything out of the dark shadows. Then, he saw a shadow move as if someone were crossing their legs. There was a shadow leaning up against a tree. Yuko waited as evening light faded from the sky and the half moon gave its light. The shadow pulled something out of a pack, something long, then unsheathed his sword. Yuko quickly shut one eye against the bright blade. He watched as Skah’s features and the clearing were brightly lit. The ox was lying nearby, flicking flies off with its tail. Skah was awkwardly lighting a pipe with the tip of his sword. In the middle of the clearing…in the middle was Adhiam, stuck in the ground point-first. The air around it glittered with ice crystals no bigger than specks of dust. The specks glittered in the blue moonlight like frozen fairy fire. The frost spread in all directions along the ground and over plants from the sword. It almost looked as if there had been a light dusting of snow. Skah sheathed his sword. Yuko switched his eyes. He ground his teeth. “You bastard!” He mouthed, still afraid of Skah’s rumored powers. “Adhiam is no tool! It is a blade for generals and warriors! A harbinger of death! Because of me it is fea-” Skah, smoking his pipe, stood up and walked over to the sword. He drew it from the ground and took it over to the stream where he held the tip in the water. Yuko felt the chill spread around him. His hand grasped his knife. The stream froze. Skah smoked his pipe and gazed at the sky. After a few more moments he tugged on the sword and nodded in satisfaction when it didn’t come free from the ice. He rocked it back and forth. Yuko opened his mouth but he clamped his hand over it. He winced as the ice cracked and broke and Skah pulled out a chunk of ice on the sword’s end. The sword bent a little under the weight. Skah whistled as he happily swung it back and forth before bringing it up to smash the ice on a stone. Yuko shut his eyes. He heard the smash of ice and he slowly opened one eye. Skah put the sword back in the middle of the clearing and shivered, rubbing his shoulders. He walked back to the broken ice where Chase was already licking at a piece. Skah warbled a merry bird tune and picked up a piece of his own to lick on. Yuko groaned quietly and hit his head on the ground. It was taking all his willpower not to rush at Skah in a rage. It would be suicidal. Skah had two swords of merit. Yuko only had the advantage of stealth and surprise on his side with a knife. Just a normal knife. *** Yuko waited. He breathed deep breaths and closed his eyes, trying to calm his righteous fury. He waited until Skah went to sleep, then he waited some more. He felt the day’s fatigue settling on him like a heavy weight. He roused himself and drew back from his position. He circled Skah’s clearing again until he was on the other side of where Skah was sitting. All he needed was the sword, then he could beat a hasty retreat even if Skah woke and attacked. Yuko crouched and slowly, very slowly, began to inch out into the open of the clearing. A breeze rustled the leaves of the trees. Please, he thought, let the rumors be false. Don’t sense the wind, please, don’t sense the wind. He inched closer to the sword. He could feel the chill seeping into his skin. If felt good. Patience, he reminded himself, patience. The cold air clouded his breath. I should have put my clothes back on, he thought. He saw now that Skah hadn’t struck the sword in the ground, but in a log half-buried in the dirt. Yuko shivered as he came close enough for his sweat to begin freezing. He glanced at Skah. He was still sleeping. The ox too. He shivered again and quickened his pace. He was almost there. The air sparkled around the sword in the moonlight. It sparkled like the night sky’s stars turned into slow flying fireflies. Yuko reached out a shaking hand. Sssssthump! A strange-looking knife struck the log. Yuko’s breath caught. He jumped back instinctively and a knife flew past him. He jumped and rolled behind a tree. He waited a second, then peeked a head out for a moment. In the moonlight, he could see Skah pulling a knife stuck in the tree behind him. Yuko ducked back behind the tree. What was insulting to Endens again? He thought. “Hey!” Yuko yelled. “What do you want thief?” Skah yelled back. “Have you given up on your honor? Bwahaha!” Yuko ground his teeth together. His face flushed hot. “I’ll salt your ancestor’s graves you fool!” Silence. Yuko swallowed. That was stupid. Of all the insults for Endens, that one was the worst. A fiery light suddenly shone from the clearing. Yuko ran for his life. Skah laughed behind him. “Come back thief! Fight me honorably for your insult! I accept! Hahahaha! Is running away honorable?! Hahahaha!” *** After that night, Yuko tried everything he could to get his sword back and slow Skah. He set traps on the path far ahead and Skah would walk around them. Yuko cut down a rope bridge over a river. Skah swam across. He set ambushes, Skah would ambush his ambush by sneaking up on him. One time, just for fun, Skah snuck ice down his pants and laughed as Yuko leapt into the air from the shock. It was the birds. Yuko knew it. They would sing when Skah approached and tell him what Yuko had done. The birds were on Skah’s side. So, Yuko set snares for birds around his traps. Skah heard about it and took wide berths around those areas. Yuko tried sneaking up on Skah every night at different times. Chase flicked Skah with his tail and woke him up when Yuko approached. The breeze blew and whispered about Yuko in Skah’s ear. An owl would land and hoot “who, who?” As they traveled, the trees starting thinning and grew more scraggly. The rivers grew farther apart. After another day of traveling the forest suddenly gave way to sparse bushes and parched dirt. Yuko suffered more and more from the sun. On the third day of his attempts, Yuko sat on a low hill overlooking the path. The slope was fairly steep with many rocks. Skah came lumbering along with his ox. A bird flitted by him. He looked up and waved when he saw Yuko. Yuko shook his head and let his head fall to his chest. He was sweltering in the heat. He had his cloak over his back to protect him from the sun. His skin was already burnt red and peeling from the previous days. Skah continued walking down below. Yuko took out his knife and threw it at him. Skah dodged it and kept walking. Yuko’s shoulders slumped. He saw a rock at his feet and kicked it down at Skah. Skah looked up at the sound of it falling and stopped. The stone started a small rockslide that sent stones smashing down on the path in front of him. The rockslide settled and Skah shook his head at the covered path in front of him. “Hey!” Yuko yelled. “Hey what? Is that the best you can do?” Yuko motioned to the direction Skah was traveling. “Where are you going?” “Down the path.” “No, really.” “Seriously, down the path. I don’t know where it goes.” “You don’t have a destination?” Skah shrugged. Then pointed at the horizon where a star still shone brightly in the daylight. “The Star of the West?” Skah nodded. Yuko rolled his eyes. One of those dreamers, he thought. Skah started walking again. “Don’t go into Ashmet! Skah turned. “Why?” “They don’t let you carry swords there. You’ll be thrown in jail!” Skah raised an eyebrow and nodded. Yuko frowned. “I’m serious.” Skah smiled. “This from the guy who’s been trying to kill me for the last few days. I wonder, what could be in Asmet?” “I’m serious!” Skah turned to Chase. “How about you? How does a straw bed sound?” Chase grunted and swished his tail. “Skah!” Skah turned away and continued walking down the path. “Skah!” Yuko watched in disbelief as Skah kept walking. He rested his head on his arms, exasperated. *** Yuko woke with a start. The sun was shining in his eyes. It was past midday. “What?” Yuko looked around. He’d fallen asleep. He jumped up. Ashmet was under a day away. Two days by Skah speed. He quickly gathered up his things and slid down the slope. “Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!” He had to catch up. *** Skah approached the city gates. By now the terrain had turned into desert, sand and rocks. The sun had nearly set on the horizon. Skah had filled one of the jars on Chase’s back with dirt and had stuck Adhiam in it. It didn’t give off such a fierce chill that way. However, Skah had had to walk and sleep near Chase the past few days with his own sword so the poor ox wouldn’t freeze to death. With the two swords together, the air was more or less lukewarm, though on the cooler side. Skah looked at the Star of the West over the buildings of the city. He patted Chase’s back. “We’re almost there.” His fingers absentmindedly touched the two soft black feathers tied to the pommel of his sword. “Kangee’s dream will come true.” When he came close to the guards they lowered their spears. “No weapons are allowed in the city. Hand them over.” “Huh, he was telling the truth.” Skah mumbled. “Well,” he said louder, “then I guess I won’t be entering the city.” He turned to leave and Chase followed. The orange handle of Adhiam was sticking out of the jar. “Halt!” Demanded one of the guards. “That’s! That’s the sword!” “Sound the alarm! Catch him!” Skah slapped Chase’s rump and together they started running away. *** Yuko crested the ridge, panting heavily. He looked at the city he had left only a week before. What he saw made his stomach churn. Chase and Skah were running away from the city down the road. Behind them, coming out of the city gates were a group of horsemen. Yuko made a move forward but stopped. It was difficult as it was to take on horsemen with a sword, much less a knife. The horsemen quickly overtook Skah and Chase and surrounded them. Yuko sat on the ground and put his head in his hands. Skah raised his arms in surrender and laughed. A Note from the Author: I decided to change the title since I thought it fit the story better. I’ve been just writing as I go and titles are usually decided on after a story is finished. I feel like it brings across the humorous side of the story and what the story is mainly about. “The Star of the West” gives the sense of an epic journey. While that may still be a part of the story, “Hot Guy Cold Guy” is closer to what I want the story to be like. That is, the relationship and humorous antics between two very different traveling swordsmen. The picture I used this time was by a creator going by the name of fnming. I believe they used to have a DeviantArt account but it is no longer active. However, his/her pictures can still be found on Pinterest! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it! Be sure to like, comment and follow! :D

[j-eliasepp]

Yuko paced back and forth in a grove of dried-up trees near the city.

“What am I going to do?” he asked no one in particular. He paced for a bit longer then kicked a dried stick out of his way. “I just ran from this place! Now I’m back?!”

He sighed and sat down on a dry stump. “I must be cursed.”

The sun was setting, painting the sandstone sides of the city into an orange-red shade. Far off in the hazy distance near the horizon, rain clouds drifted lazily over the western side of the city. Near that area was a vibrant green stripe across the landscape where trees hugged a large river.

Yuko searched the length and breadth of the city’s walls and buildings. “I don’t think I can face you again Kalia.”

The sun slowly fell below the horizon, its light brushing the tops of the buildings for a few minutes before leaving the city in shadow.

Yuko stood and carefully approached the city. Dusk was the best time for sneaking.

It pained him, but he knew exactly where he was going. The city’s springs used to flow into a now-dry streambed not two weeks ago. Those springs were the only reason the city came this far out into the desert.

Yuko picked his way along the streambed. Drifts of sand obscured parts of it but he found his way. A cool night breeze picked up and rustled his hair.

He crouched and crawled along the ground out of sight of the wall. He never tried to peek out at it. A guard would surely see the movement.

Yuko made sure to keep his bearing, using the light of the Western Star to guide him through the many offshoots of the rambling streambed.

By the time the sky was fading from blue to purple and the second star could be seen in the night, Yuko crouched at the streambed’s turning point under the city wall.

He was lying down behind the streambed’s bank. The wall was only a sprint away at this point. It wasn’t a very tall wall. At this point in the city it was about five arm spans. Still too tall for Yuko to climb but that was beside the point. He was a horrible climber anyway.

The faint scrape of guard’s feet on stone reached his ear. Two of them. They spoke in low tones and then started walking again.

If only he could sneak through the stream’s iron grating in the wall, he could deal with anything else in the city. It was the way he had escaped the city, he should be able to make his way back through.

 Yuko allowed himself a single, quick peek. The guardsmen were walking in opposite directions. He waited until their footsteps grew distant, then crawled as quietly as he could over the sandy parts of the streambed.

He could almost feel their eyes. Any guard on the wall looking down would be able to see him right now.

He stopped and listened. His panting was too loud so he held his breath. He could hear the footsteps stopping just over the sound of his heart beating in his ears.

He frantically looked around. He should be in shadow, but he didn’t trust it. There, just a short ways away, only twenty paces from the wall was an overhang the bank of the stream created. He scrambled for it and slid under. As he did so, he accidentally kicked a stone and it clattered across the other rocks of the streambed.

Yuko pushed himself as far back under the overhang as possible, but too late he realized how shallow the overhang was. The shadows of dusk had played a trick on him.

           “Hey! I think I saw something!”

           Footsteps came towards Yuko.

           He stayed as still as possible. Movement now would only confirm the guard’s suspicions.

           “Yeah? You sure it wasn’t a rat-dragon like last time?”

           “It looked bigger, down there, in the dry streambed.”

           Silence.

           Out of the corner of his eye, Yuko could see the two guardsmen with their torches atop the wall.

           “Hmmm, I don’t see it. Where did you see it?”

           “Eh, hard to say. About thirty paces from the wall.”

           More silence.

           “Well, I’ll go get a torch to throw down there.”

           “Here, I’ll just use mine.”

           Yuko held his breath.

           The flaming torch was thrown from the wall. It sailed through the air and Yuko lost sight of it for a moment. He heard it land somewhere on the ground behind him.

           Yuko let out a tense breath. It hadn’t landed in the streambed.

           “You dolt! I oughta smack you.”

           “What?! I’d like to see you throw half as good!”

           “No, I’m going to go get us two more torches is what I’m going to do.”

           Footsteps leaving.

           Yuko risked moving his head. One guard with a torch was leaving, the other without a torch was walking after him.

           Yuko took the chance and quickly started crawling on his belly in the shadow of the streambed.

           “Come on! Just throw your torch down there!”

           Yuko scrambled to all fours, pacing himself in a low jog so as to not to make too much noise.

           “I’m not going to stub my toe like you do all the time! Stay and watch will you?”

           “Fine, fine.” Footsteps walking back.

           Yuko tip-toed the last few steps to the small grate. He resisted a sigh of relief.

           Not moments later, the other guard came back and landed a torch smack-dab into the streambed.

           Yuko shook his head and turned to squeeze his small frame through the grate. He was awarded with a bump on the head. He gritted his teeth against yelling an obscenity.

           He felt between the iron bars, confused, then realization dawned on him. The iron grate had been blocked up with rocks. There was no easy way into the city anymore.

 Note from the Author:

This last part was fun and challenging for me. Not only did I want to create tension with Yuko sneaking into the city, but I also wanted to reveal a little of his backstory. I had to answer the question of “Yuko came from this direction, wouldn’t he have been in this city? And why wouldn’t he want to go back?”

In the end, this led to one thing, and then another, and eventually I was figuring out the end of the story. Before, I didn’t have a clear short-term objective beside the interactions between the two characters. Now, there is going to be a story unfolding. It likely won’t be the end of Hot Guy Cold Guy, but I hope it will make a good beginning.  :D