The Song Mages

A short extract from a friend of mine who is a very talented author. Please take into account that this isnt my work and am posting it on behalf of him and he holds complete copyright. Please check out his blog at http://www.tripletsdad.blogspot.com and his Helium writing account at http://www.helium.com/user/show/88068

 Anyways, please enjoy it as much as i did and please comment feedback.

Chapter II

Gyowi ran as fast as she could down the moonlit cobblestone street. She was furious, furious with Petrovoch for pawing at her, furious with her mother for inviting him into their home, and furious with herself for not running away earlier. She gritted her teeth and ran harder.
It was when she saw the lights of the riverbank that Gyowi realized she still held her dagger in her right hand. The bloody blade glinted in the distant torchlight, bringing back in sharp relief the events earlier that night.
She had awoken to the sounds of her mother and her mother’s lover, laughing raucously as they entered the home. Gyowi had rolled over and covered her head with the blanket, doing her best to ignore the sounds of lovemaking in the next room. She had finally drifted off to sleep and was dreaming of hunting with her father, when she heard Petrovoch’s voice.
“Little sweet one,” he said, his wine-soaked breath on the back of her neck. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a very pretty girl?”
Gyowi was wide awake now, her muscles taut, senses alert. She thought this might happen, had prepared for it. Her mother had probably passed out, as she often did when she drank too much. Petrovoch had been winking at and complimenting her for days now. Still, she was terrified. It was one thing to imagine a disgusting, hairy man trying to touch you, quite another to actually experience it.
“Let me look at you,” he said, pulling the blanket back.
The hunting dagger her father had given her was under her pillow. She gripped it firmly. In one smooth motion, she sprang forward, turned and slashed. Petrovoch’s hands were reaching out to grope her. The blade sliced both in one motion. He reeled back, screaming.
Gyowi jumped off the bed and ran toward the door. Her wooden chest was next to the entrance. She kicked the lid open and grabbed her traveling cloak and sack with her left hand –- packed in preparation for just such a departure. Her bow was leaning against the wall, her quiver hanging above it; she hooked them with her right hand. Another kick opened the door latch and she bounded down the stairs.
Gyowi began to tire. The river was very close. She could see soldiers loading boats, and hearing their voices finally brought her to her senses. What was she doing? She was a girl of twelve, barefoot, dressed only in a nightshirt -- that now clung to her sweaty body –- and was about to approach an area of the city swarming with legionaries.
One block from the riverbank, Gyowi ducked into an alleyway. It was dark, but she thought it would be safe, being so close to where the troops were. Unlike other armies, the Oyot were disciplined and kept order in the towns and cities they occupied. True, they looted and pillaged when they conquered, but once they held a possession, they made sure it was peaceful and the inhabitants law-abiding.
Gyowi set down her belongings and quickly put on the clothes in her sack. As she pulled on her tunic she realized her hands were shaking. It was almost impossible to buckle the belt around her waist.
Something came out of the darkness. She jumped back, wishing she hadn’t placed her dagger on the ground. A rat scurried past. Gyowi muffled a laugh, relieved.
She pulled on her soft leather shoes, picked up her dagger and wiped the blade with a piece of cloth. Then she grabbed a handful of her long blond hair and held the blade above it. She hesitated. Her father loved her hair. He always commented on it and encouraged her to grow it out. Cutting it would disappoint him, she knew. But keeping it would only invite trouble. If Petrovoch had been dangerous, how much more so a legion of frustrated troops. She sawed her hair with the knife.
Once done, Gyowi huddled in the shadows among the buildings and watched the soldiers at the riverbank. They were loading watercraft by torchlight.
“Move, lead butts, move!” a centurion barked in Oyot at the soldiers in front of him. “We ain’t got all night.”
The men were trying to lead a skittish donkey onto a raft. A trooper finally smacked the animal hard on its posterior. It scrambled aboard...