THE CROWN AND THE FLAME by ROCHELLE PIETERSE (classic books for 7th graders TXT) 📕

“That’s a deal,” Zayden smiled widely.

“Hand over your weapons,” the man commanded now. Skyelar and Sir Luke reluctantly handed over their weapons.

“And your money.” The woman added.

“Greine, were not thieves,” the man said briefly.

Slowly Greine shook her head, “taking money from captives doesn’t always make you a thief. Sometimes it makes you a plunderer, or a conqueror…”

“They might be Justin’s friends, do you want to explain to him why we stole from people asking to see him?” the man hissed.

“This patrol was much more interesting before we got paired together,” Greine said with an effort.

“This sort of thing is exactly why Justin insisted that patrols have at least one of his former soldiers,” said the man.

“Blah, blah, blah. Don’t take their money, I’ve got it,” she mocked. “Come along you two.”

As they were led through the grasslands by the mercenaries, Skyelar whispered to Sir Luke, “I thought you said we could trust Justin. Why not tell his people who we really are?”

His response came quickly, “A lot can change in two years. We are vulnerable, like a newborn. This world is not safe for us yet.”

“Yeah, I got that when they took our weapons.”

“As far as I can tell, they’re only being cautious.”

“At least this is a chance to impress them. I’ll need their support to…” She spoke softly.

“Hey! Something on your mind?” Greine asked as she turned around at the two whispering captives. “What are you two whispering about?”

Sir Luke smiled widely, “Just that you and your companion seem mismatched.”

“Oh?” she waited for him response.

“Yes…one of you seems to have gotten the lion’s share of the armor.” Skyelar answered. “He’s got full armor. And you’ve only got woven leather to protect you.”

“Ha. Pretty boy, Cian’s just like all the rest of Justin’s men. Castle-born, so cocky and prim with all their fancy armor and shiny swords from Dragonstead…” she leaned in to whisper laughing. “Between you and me, he spends hours trimming that beard…” they all laughed uproariously.

“At least I take time to wash myself regularly. Some of us hold ourselves to higher standards,” Cian roared.

“Greine, you weren’t ever a soldier for Dragonstead?” Sir Luke asked.

“Oh, not me,” she remarked. “I’m a mercenary, through and through. Everything on my back, I paid for myself. I follow Liath. I’ve been in his outfit for eleven years now.” She shrugged, “Cian here came with Justin and his company. He’s still getting used to the mercenary life. Bet he misses having someone to bow to.”

“Very funny, Greine,” Cian said on a laugh then turned serious. “I’m done fighting for kings. What have kings ever done but sit on their thrones, polishing their crowns while men like me die in the mud for them?”

“Does anyone really polish a crown?” Greine asked amused.

“You blame the royalty, Cian?” Skyelar asked confused.

Cian’s face turned pale and when he spoke it was almost like a whisper but the anger on his tone could not be misheard. “I went away to war with promises that my family would be looked after. But when the war was lost and I finally made it back, our home had been burned and my wife and son had starved to death.”

“All I can say is I’m sorry about your family,” Skyelar said sympathetically. “That must have been devastating. I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about.”

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to endure. Not everyone can understand that. I’m glad you.”

“Believe me… I get it.”

“Anyway, that’s how I ended up in Justin’s army… at least he keeps his promises.”

“Well, the fool queen got her due. Cian’s just sore that he was on the losing side,” Greine said.

“The fool queen?” Skyelar questioned.

“You know the one,” Greine said. “Got her cut off when she tried to call all the kingdoms together.”

“And so you call her the fool queen?” Skyelar asked.

“Yeah, got a problem with that?”

“No, no problem at all,” Skyelar said calmly.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I’m surprised. I thought you’d lose your temper,” Sir Luke whispered.

“I don’t like what she said, but we need these people on our side. Starting a fight wouldn’t be smart.”

“I guess you have grown up,” he answered.

They entered the mercenaries’ sprawling camp. All around them, armed men and women bustled about, sparring, drinking and laughing.

“There are hundreds here,” Skyelar exclaimed. “I didn’t expect so many.”

“Two thousand, actually. The biggest mercenary force in the five kingdoms,” Cian said, a small satisfaction on his face.

“This is a most impressive encampment,” Sir Luke added.

“Yeah,” Greine remarked. “It’s good to return to the modest comforts of home. Tents. Hot meals. And lots of ale. Speaking of which,” she turned to Cian, “we’ve been out on patrol too long. I need a drink. How about you, Cian?”

“You can’t seriously want to stop for ale now. Not when we’ve got these two with us,” Cian said.

“Aint like they’re going anywhere.” She shrugged, “why not take a break? We’ve earned it.”

“Typical mercenary,” Cian laughed.

“You talk so high and mighty, but you’re one of us now,” Greine grinned.

“That may be, but at least I still have discipline.”

“Disciplines for fools. Have a drink with me. We can play some knife games, and our ‘guests’ can wait,” Greine urged.

He shook his head, “I don’t know…”

“This could be our chance to get to know them…,” Skyelar whispered to Sir Luke. “To figure out what they’re willing to fight for, other than gold.”

“And just how are you planning to persuade them to talk to us?” Sir Luke asked.
“That’s easy. A little ale ought to do the trick,” Skyelar smiled. “Drinks on me,” she said loudly for them to hear her.

They stayed were they were, silent and frowning, glancing at one another. Cian spoke first, “You… want to buy us a drink?”

“We could all use a break,” Skyelar said.

“You hear that?” Greine smiled widely, “I like the way this girl thinks.”

“Very well, Greine. You win again.” Cian said as he led the way to where the mercenaries have set up a barrel of ale and logs of fallen trees to sit on.

Greine shouts, “Four pints.”

“Four?” Sir Luke asked.

“Your woman is buyin’. You’re drinking with us then,” she answered.

“Yeah, she’s not a monster, Luke,” Skyelar added. “Cheers,” she said then to a sip of the ale.

“Is this wise?” Sir Luke asked concerned.

“Sir Luke, we might be slaughtered by mercenaries before nightfall. Let’s at least have some fun before that.” Skyelar kept her voice soft, “Besides, this is all part of getting to know them.”

The four of them joined a circle of mercenaries sitting on the ground. One of the mercenaries twirls a knife in his hands and then gives it to Cian.

“What’s the game tonight? Flinch,” Greine said excitedly.

“I’ll play. And I’m wagering a day’s pay,” Cian said.

“There ya go, Cian. You do know how to have fun every now and then.”

“It’s only fun if you win,” Cian scowled. He hands over a bunch of coins to the mercenary taking bets.

“What’s this game?” Skyelar asked curiously.

“Flinch,” Greine replied and continued to explain. “You throw a knife as close to your own foot as possible. Winner is the one who gets the closest without bleeding.”

Skyelar watched as Cian squared off against another mercenary. They both stood with their feet apart and threw their knives.

“Here goes,” Cian breathed but he hits his own foot. “Hffff! Dammit!”

Greine cracked with laughter, “Cheer up, you can always win back your money.”

“I’m more concerned about my toe.”

“It’s barely a scratch, you baby. All that armor…” Greine chuckled, “you soldiers are all the same. It’s like you’ve forgotten what it’s like to bleed for a living.”

As the mercenaries continue the game, Greine takes a big swig of her beer and turned to Skyelar and Sir Luke.

“So what’s the story between you two? Are you siblings? Friends? Lovers?” she raised her eyebrows.

“I beg your pardon!” Sir Luke’s eyes widened.

“You don’t have to beg, and you certainly don’t need my pardon,” Greine exclaimed.

“I meant, how could you assume such a thing?”

“Easy there, your Lordship.” Greine held her hands in the air as if surrendering, “didn’t expect you to be so high and mighty about it. Most men would be flattered. Well, what’s the story then? What’s going on between you two?”

“He’s like a father to me,” Skyelar answered calmly.

“Old enough to be your father, sure, but that never stopped a man, did it?” Greine smiled.

“Believe me, it would stop Luke,” Skyelar laughed.

“The honorable kind, huh? Though all honor left this land when the queen was killed.”

Just then, Cian cleared his throat and steps up to the trio. “Enough gossiping, you three. I’m tired of stabbing myself in the foot. I want to see someone else bleed for a change.” He glanced at Skyelar, “Will you play, girl? I’m going double or nothing on the next round. Come on, don’t let me down.”

“I think I’ll play,” she smiled before adding. “I’m good with a knife.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear,” Cian smiled widely as he sat down.

“Too bad you’re going up against me,” Greine teased. “I can’t pass up a shot at taking Cian’s money.”

“Why you sneaky little…”

“Ahem,” Sir Luke cleared his throat as he looked at Cian. “Have faith in Skyelar. She’s more than capable.” Skyelar send him a thankful glance.

“She’d better be,” Cian said.

Cian hands her his knife.

“Are you sure you want to play? Toes don’t grow back, you know.” Greine said as Skyelar stood across from, and was grinning at her and tapping the flat side of her own knife against her palm. “So… are you ready?”

“Of course. I’m always ready,” Skyelar grinned back.

“Good, because there’s no backing out now. Who should go first?”

“Why don’t you go first?” Skyelar urged.

“Yes, why don’t I?” Greine said with confidence. Greine smirks and squares her shoulders. She winks at Skyelar and tosses the knife in the air. She catches the knife by the handle and immediately hurls it to the ground, not breaking eye contact the entire time. “Ha!”

Skyelar looked at the knife. The blade is embedded in the ground barely an inch from her foot.

“Your turn,” she boasted. Skyelar took a deep breathe to relax. She held the knife in her hand, hefting the weight of it.

“Just throw the knife already,” Greine said impatiently.

“Don’t rush her!” Cian shouted holding his hands out to Greine as if to stop her from moving a muscle, “My money is at stake!”

“Take your time, Skyelar,” Sir Luke encouraged her.

She breaks eye contact with Greine and take a brief glance at her feet. Greine chuckles as she flicks her wrist sharply and release the knife. The knife lands in the ground with a thus so close to her boot that it scratches the leather.

Skyelar looks down, “Can’t get much closer than that!”

After measuring the positions of the two knives, both Cian and Sir Luke confirmed that Skyelars knife is the closest.

“I win,” Skyelar said excitedly.

“We win!” Cian said proudly.

“Hmph,” Greine groaned then smiled, “See there, Cian? She’s good luck for you! You finally won!”

“”It was no big deal,” Skyelar said calmly.

“I knew I liked you. You’re all right Skyelar,” Cian smiled.

“Thank you,” Skyelar smiled. “Seems like you folks like to gamble.”

“Everything we do is gambling. Just sometimes you pay with coin and sometimes you pay with your life. At least this way, I believe in what I bleed for…money,” he said his voice harsh and urgent.

“Have you no sense of honor left?” Sir Luke asked disgusted.

“Not really,” Cian snapped. “Not unless there is profit to be made from honor, and then I’d reconsider.”

“Very funny,” Greine said as she stood.

“Come along, now. No more delays. We’d better get you to Justin,” Cian demanded. The mercenaries led them to a tent at the center of the camp. A familiar man stood inside, overlooking a table covered in maps and plans.

“Travelers here. They say they know you, Justin,” Greine said. Just then Justin looked up. His eyes going wide at the sight of Skyelar and Sir Luke.

He quickly recovers, “Travelers? You let just anyone