Free Creative Writing Examples #11 - Read Book "For Honor"

. . . The lad set his cape aside and removed his hat to reveal he wasn't a he at all, but rather a she. The poorly fixed blond hair tumbled down her back, and she fixed a steady gaze on Compton. Compton put the gun back into the compartment without making a sound. "Please excuse my appearance and the deception, Milord Compton, but there was no other way I could reach you without the charade. My father, Thomas d'Anlass, sent me to you. He told me that you would give me further instructions."

"Mademoiselle Laurel," his lordship half asked. Clearly the woman was Thomas' daughter, and equally as obvious was her expectation that she would be able to simply step into a role very similar to the marquis'. Never had his long-time friend done or permitted anything so asinine before. "Parbleu, why did your father get you involved in this international tangle? He should not have subjected you to such danger."

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"Milord, with all due respect, I have always been in danger, whether I stayed at home or accompanied my father on his missions as a spy for King Louis XIII. I do not think that the danger to me now is significantly greater than it has been in the past." From inside her doublet she withdrew a portfolio of papers and presented them to the man. "These are the documents my father and I obtained upon our last visit to Brussels more than a year ago. I put them in your safekeeping until such time that they can be safely delivered to his majesté."

Free Creative Writing Examples #11 - Read Book "For Honor"

"So now you'll have me turning a marriageable, single lady into a spy. You are what . . . scarcely nine and ten?" He didn't wait for an answer. He knew Laurel had just reached that age a fortnight earlier, though she'd obviously played at being a young lad on the verge of manhood for years. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle. I cannot permit it. I'll have to send someone else." It'd be hard to find someone else, particularly someone who worked well with Thomas, but it had to be done. How dare his old friend and the best spy in his network put him in this untenable position!

"I'm not so young, milord. I am already nearly an old maid, or have you forgotten that I am no longer a girl and no longer a very desirable catch on the marriage market?" Save for the impressive dowry that came with her, but she chose to overlook that fact. "I may only be a woman, but especially in this I am more capable than most any man you will find. No, you'll send no one else, Compton," she stated and stood, leaning her hands against his desk. "No one else knows where my father is or how to reach him. I do. Unless you send me, you'll never get in touch with Thomas d'Anlass again. Nor will you ever get your hands on the last of the information he has gone to acquire."

A vein throbbed in Compton's temple as he stared at the defiant woman before him. He didn't doubt she would follow through on her ultimatum. In that respect she was very like her father. "Very well. Be seated," Compton said as he laid a map of Europe upon the table and began imparting instructions to her. Laurel's willfulness would be taken care of later. Thomas' too.
"Then I go to Calais?" she concluded with a question.

"Oui," said Compton. "We've gotten wind of Prussian, Austrian, and Spanish agents passing very damaging information to an agent here in France who will be taking the information to England. Needless to say, this information jeopardizes the kingdom and sabotages our war effort; if it were to reach England, the effects would be devastating. Their plans must be brought from Calais and returned to his majesté. We cannot afford to have traitors at the very heart of France."

"Have you no further information about who the traitor, and spy, is?"

"I'm afraid we haven't much more. Your father's the one who has been tracking him for eight and a half years." Compton expelled a breath. "The most I can tell you is that he's a man with a great deal of power, influence, and access. Obviously, we can't afford to waste any time when tracking this man." He handed the marquis' daughter a packet with some further instructions. "Get going." Before he changed his mind regardless of the potential consequences. Did Thomas ever have a lot to answer for! Especially if Laurel was anywhere near as good as Thomas at losing men sent to tail him. For some reason he suspected she was.

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Laurel secreted the instructions in her doublet underneath the jerkin and the cloth that tightly bound her breasts. Her soft leather boots, very similar to those musketeers wore, echoed off the cobblestones and blended in with the sounds of the busy port city. She darted around the corner and searched for her horse.

Stopping short, she pressed herself to the wall, flat. How had they found her so soon? Well, the horse was lost. Poor Rebelle, but there was nothing she could do for the faithful animal now. Those men obviously knew Rebelle was from the Marquis de Langeac's estate. She took a fortifying breath and dashed back in the direction from which she had come.

At least she still had a hefty sum of money and one of her father's basket hilts. Hopefully she wasn't too out of practice with the sword, for she had a sinking feeling that she would have to be using it all too soon.

And her other numerous skills too.

Laurel quickly checked her hair and was satisfied to note that the tight braid had stayed pinned underneath her hat. As long as no one looked too closely, no one would ever suspect she was not the lad she pretended to be. The woman stopped short as she caught sight of a merchant talking to several armed swordsmen; hired blades. The merchant looked up and pointed at her, indicating that was the boy who had come in on the horse in question. At first she thought herself paranoid, but then she saw the four fighters weaving their way through the crowd and towards her.

Diantre! The devil!

Her ladyship wasted not so much as an iota more of time. Abruptly, she backpedaled and sprinted away from the men, turning and twisting through the streets in an effort to lose her pursuers. Unfortunately, she didn't know her way around Marseille very well, and these men most obviously did.

"Saperlipopette," she exclaimed, and added "drat" for good measure, as she found herself faced with a dead end and saw her pursuers closing in on her inexorably. This couldn't be happening. She wouldn't let this happen. . . .

Free Creative Writing Examples #11 - Read Book "For Honor" Justin Bieber's Big Announcement Tube. Duration : 3.82 Mins.
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Free Creative Writing Examples - Read Book "For Honor" #10

By this time all eyes were focused on the two men. Tension gathered more tautly in the air, waiting and shivering to see blood spilled. Or spoiling for a fight. D'Artagnan followed Porthos' lead and bought drinks for the rest of the guests and focused his efforts on distracting everyone's attention from Athos and Aramis.

The blond-haired man swallowed tightly, almost as if it were hard for him to do so, as if something were lodged in his throat. "I'm sorry, Aramis," he finally said very quietly. "I didn't know." Athos pushed away from the table and rose to his unsteady feet. "If you'd be so kind as to help me to my room, I think I should sleep this off." Aramis nodded and went to assist his friend. As the pair passed the proprietor, Athos and Aramis both flipped him several pistoles and said, "Sorry about the mess."

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* * * * * * * * * * * *

Free Creative Writing Examples - Read Book "For Honor" #10

Porthos halted Aramis. "Is he going to be all right?" Porthos asked, his tone uncharacteristically sober.

"He is still asleep," Aramis informed both his fellow musketeers. "I told the caravan leader that since our duty was discharged, he was welcome to leave us, and we'd find our way around Marseille and back to Paris. My guess is Athos will not be getting up until at least midday at any rate. Even then he is probably going to be suffering from a nasty headache. I daresay we will not be leaving any sooner than tomorrow." Aramis glossed over the hangover with his customary aplomb.

The other musketeers nodded. D'Artagnan addressed the would-be-priest. "What'd you say to him?" Concern was evident in every inflection of his voice.

"That is a private matter between Athos and myself. I cannot tell you that sort of thing. I am sorry." His tongue traced his even white teeth. "I know you are worried about him, D'Artagnan. We all are. Just be careful what you ask Athos. The man does not like dwelling on any part of his past, and I especially doubt he will want to talk about milady."

"Well, if it isn't the pot calling the kettle black," Porthos commented. For, if anything, Aramis was just as reserved as Athos about revealing his past. In fact, they knew less about Aramis than about Athos. Seemed even the best of friends kept secrets from one another. Maybe even the apparently completely open D'Artagnan was more secretive than he appeared to be.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Where's the Marquis de Langeac?" the man with a hawk-like nose asked the two men standing before him. "You were charged with finding the marquis and those papers that he gave to his daughter. Well?"

"We done our best, monsieur," one man said. "It was hard enough to find out his identity, and then discover that he'd given the documents to his daughter." For a prominent, old, and established family, remarkably little was known about the marquis or his family.

"I don't pay you to devise excuses, Joseph. You would do well to remember that fact. Now what about the good marquis and his daughter?"

"As far as we can tell," the other man, Guillaume, said, "Thomas d'Anlass contacted his daughter and warned her to flee. So when we arrived at the estate, only the servants remained."

"Really," his superior observed. "I see I have a great deal of incompetence to deal with. A situation which must be rectified."

"Monsieur," Guillaume said. "It was not a total loss. Thomas was injured, and we know he and his daughter did not leave together. In fact, we have reason to believe he enlisted her help and that she is seeking to complete his contacts and deliver the documents in his stead. Nor does Thomas even have all the papers. We know that. So we have an idea where he might be going so he can get the complete information."

All of which did very little good unless they knew where the woman might be heading. The hawk-nosed man turned his back on Joseph and Guillaume and stared out the window into the peaceful, moonlit night.

Thomas d'Anlass. He pondered the name and what he knew of the man several moments and then turned his thoughts to the marquis' daughter. If he was recalling correctly, she must be between eight and ten and twenty years, and single. Laurel--that was her name. A blond-haired blue-eyed girl who was raised more as a son than a daughter, he suspected. "I'll take care of finding Laurel d'Anlass. I have enough contacts in the places she might go for aid. You two will see to it that no messages find their way to Paris or the king, and alert my agents in Belgium and Austria. I want the marquis found."

"Oui monsieur." They replied in French rather than their native German and scurried from his presence to carry out his bidding. The marquis would be found. Now they knew how to track him.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

"Milord." The servant entered the well-appointed study.

"Valent." His lordship acknowledged the servant and then looked up from his morning paper. He took a brief pinch of snuff and set his morning papers aside. "What can I do for you?"

"Milord, there is someone here insisting to see you."

"And this person is?"

"That's just it. The lad won't give his name. He says he won't talk with anyone except for you, and he refuses to go until you've seen him. He's gone so far as to threaten to create a nasty scene."

"I assume he won't say what he wants to see me about either." Valent nodded in confirmation. "What did he tell you?"

"Well, monseigneur, I don't know if it's important." When the servant paused, his lordship gestured for him to continue, and that he'd be the judge of how important the information might or might not be. "He kept mumbling something about les trois coronets."

"Did you say 'les trois coronets'?" his lordship repeated and Valent nodded. "Send the boy in here immediately, and see to it that no one disturbs us. Absolutely no one."

Valent bowed and exited. Moments later he entered the room with a lad who was sporting a full cape and hat pulled low, hiding his face. "Please be seated and make yourself comfortable. We should not be disturbed. What news is it that you bring?"

"You are Milord Compton," the contralto voice inquired and he confirmed he was the half English, half French lord. The lad still hadn't taken off his hat and cape. Did he have no manners, or was he something he wasn't supposed to be? He reached under his desk for the flintlock pistol he had recently procured and loaded it as he surveyed the visitor. Better to be prepared in his line of work. He'd learned that much over his decades in control of France's spy network. One reason for his longevity. . . .

Kat Jaske http://www.forhonor.com ©2006 All rights reserved.

Free Creative Writing Examples - Read Book "For Honor" #10 Laura Marling - All My Rage Tube. Duration : 3.03 Mins.
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'All My Rage' is taken from the album 'A Creature I Don't Know' out now: bit.ly To download the track from iTunes click here: bit.ly www.facebook.com Music video by Laura Marling performing All My Rage. (P) 2012 The copyright in this audiovisual recording is owned by Virgin Records Ltd

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