Dermont’s Writing Challenge

OK, so this started with a tweet from Rainn Wilson:

Join bestselling author, @AmberDermont at the Writer’s Kitchen.Take her writing challenge, it’s epic! ow.ly/9WcMg

— RainnWilson (@rainnwilson) March 28, 2012

Well, I like writing challenges – even if they take me a long time to accomplish. Here’s the challenge:

Write the beginning of a story from the point of view of a first person narrator who refuses to do what he/she is told to do. What will your character do instead? What lengths will your character go to in order to avoid completing a direct order? Why/How does your character make things hard on his/herself?

Begin with one of the following phrases:

•  I was supposed to. . . .
• My father insisted I . . . .
• Don’t tell me what to do. . . .
• Everyone always wants something from me. . . . .

Here’s my entry. This is written from the perspective of Hanna from “Knights of Herongarde.” Let’s see if I have the nerve to actually post it on the website, like I’m supposed to…

—–

I was supposed to be the one doing the defending here. I was the one with the order from the King.

“Hide woman! No place for you,” cried Donnel’s guard.

This was getting old. Typical male egos telling me to run and hide like the pretty girl. What? Did these idiots think I carried around this sword just for show?

“But I—,” I tried to argue, but the guard blew me off again.

“Hide!” he demanded, and gave me a shove toward the wagon.

I stumbled a bit in the direction of the wagon but stopped. Donnel’s guards were running around, trying to insure the security of the wagon, in which Lord Donnel himself hid.

Lord Dean still sat atop his horse, glancing around, barking orders. He had a legitimate right to be bossing these other guards around. He was a Mark-Bearer of Herongarde – a special defender for the King. I should have that same authority. But I don’t bear the Mark. And I’m a woman.

I looked back at the wagon. There was no way I was going to hide in there. I was charged by the King to act as if were a Mark-Bearer. Plus it was my job to ensure that Lord Trey was kept safe.

“Hide! Woman!” I heard a call from behind me. I rolled my eyes and without looking back jogged around the wagon to the front of the short caravan, to where the main problem seemed to be.

Trey was standing on the front wagon. “Release him at once!” he cried at the people who had stopped our travel. The road was blocked by what seemed to be about ten men. They all looked road weary. Then I noticed that they wore the crest of Falgarth on their clothing. These weren’t ordinary mercenaries. They were the enemy of Herongarde.

And here everyone thought the war was over.

Our own men were lined up facing the Falgarth insurgents. Four were Donnel’s guards, and among them was Lord Balayn. For a moment I wondered where Lord Orrin was, then I saw him.

One of the men of Falgarth held him captive, a sword to his throat. Orrin feigned strength and indifference in his predicament, but I saw fear in his eyes. His neck was bleeding already. He was in trouble.

This simply would not do.

“Hanna! Get back!” shouted Trey. I looked up at him as he glared furiously at me. “Back, woman!” I didn’t move.

“My Lord, I feel that you should accept defeat!” called out the man who held Orrin. Trey returned his attention to the battle line drawn before him.

“We’ll not submit. These lands are of Herongarde!” Trey returned.

“Hah!” shouted back the captor.

This was a stalemate, I realized. It was going to get ugly before it got better. I wondered if I could do anything. A distraction, maybe. I started walking toward the lines of men.

“Hanna,” I heard Trey say. I ignored him. He should know better.

As I walked toward the men, I unbuckled and slipped off my sword, carrying it behind me, so that maybe it would not be obvious that I carried such a weapon.

I walked up beside Balayn. He looked at me, startled to see me. “Hanna, get back. Tis dangerous,” Balayn said.

Really? I thought. I rolled my eyes at him. “Hanna,” he growled.

“Hold this,” I said, pressing my sword belt into his left hand. “I’ve got an idea.”

I wondered if I was lying. It wasn’t much of an idea, but it seemed that these men of Falgarth had been away from civilization for a while, and well, if it had been so long, maybe the appearance of a woman would be sufficient to shake their attention. It had worked before.

I ran my hand across my thigh. That dagger that Trey had given me was still there, though hidden in the folds of my dress. At least I had some weapon, though I did feel a little vulnerable without the sword.

“Hanna,” hissed Balayn, “What are you doing?”

“Not sure,” I said as I stepped forward. I leapt a little, as if I had been shoved out of the crowd. I stopped and put on the most surprised expression I could come up with.

“Hanna!” shouted Trey from atop the wagon. “Get back!”

The man holding Orrin looked over at me. I had his attention. Now what? I thought.

I took a hesitant step toward him.

“HANNA!” cried Trey again.

Orrin’s captor began to grin. I looked around at the other men a Falgarth. They all were looking at me, several of them wearing similar, lusty, grins.

I looked back at Orrin’s captor. I took another step toward him.

“Aye, woman,” the man sneered. “Come closer.”

“Hanna! Go no further!” cried Trey.

I skulked toward the man. I had his complete attention. I hoped that the defenders of Herongarde would have the sense to take advantage of this. I was worried about what would happen if they didn’t.

Suddenly, I found myself standing right beside Orrin’s captor. I could hear Orrin struggling to breath calmly, his captor’s blade cutting slowly into his neck. This was not good.

But I still had the captor’s attention. He was looking at me as if I were something delicious to eat. Every time Trey called out to me, the captor’s grin and lustful expression grew deeper.

I looked the man in the eye and gave him the most sultry smile I could manage. “You’re a bold man,” I whispered to him.

“Aye,” he replied.

“Man all the way down, I’d bet.”

“Oh, aye, woman.”

“More than him?” I asked, nodding toward Orrin.

“Easily, woman.”

“Or him?” I nodded toward Trey.

“He is a child.”

“Perhaps you can show me, aye?”

“I would love to,” he smiled. His teeth were rotten. I tried not to be repulsed by them. “But I might tear you asunder!”

I leaned close to him and whispered directly in his ear. “Sounds wonderful!”

“Mmm,” he responded.

Orrin gasped, and I realized that the time to act was now. I slipped my hand down my leg and withdrew my dagger. I stuck it into the small of the captor’s back.

“And now you’ll let him go,” I hissed.

The smirk disappeared from the captor’s face, but he didn’t release Orrin.

“Hm,” the captor grunted.

“Now,” I growled.

I probably should have just stabbed him in the back and dropped him then, but I kept thinking that maybe there was some hope that this conflict could be resolved with no more blood shed.

I was wrong.