Second Place Story, 2000.

Jathen Longblade

Christine Ricketts

He knew he had made a mistake as soon as the barbarian looked up with pure malice in his eyes, yet he was caught off guard when a handful of tiny stones came flying at him. "Firestones!" he yelled, hoping Durum hadn't forgotten the power that was packed in those tiny capsules. He slid underneath a table and brought it down in front of him for cover just as the pebbles connected with the far wall and exploded. A wave of fire rolled through the room and then dissipated.

Keeping behind the safety of the table, Jathen called out, "Durum? You alright?" Loud curses and mutters answered him. “I guess so,” he mumbled to himself, standing up and brushing bits of ash from his clothes. He winced when his fingers rubbed against his shoulder. When he held his hand up, his fingertips were stained with blood. Looking down, he saw his dagger had made a shallow entrance into his skin, enough to draw blood without causing any real damage. Bracing himself, he slid it back out again. It came freely, along with a thin stream of blood.

“Aye elf, did the fool get you?” Durum questioned, after concluding the damage to his inn wasn’t as bad as it looked. Jathen shook his head and let his arm fall limp at his side. He reached down with his other hand and scooped Dimes off the floor, awkwardly re-buckling the sword around his waist.

“No, I got myself. Any idea as to who they were?”

“I found this on one of ‘em.” Durum held out his hand and Jathen took a step closer to see what it was the man held in his large palm. It was a solid gold coin with a sleeping dragon on one side and a screeching gryphon on the other.

“What is it?” Jathen asked, picking it up, startled by how little it weighed.

“Its a Falcon’s coin.”

The elf glanced up, unfamiliar with the name. “Who are they?”

Durum bent down and picked up his discarded sword and sheathe, sliding the one into the other.

“Society of sorts, cloak and dagger sort o’ thing that’s against the new king.” He shot a warning look over to him. “They were meanin’ to kill you.”

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