Another writing sample for another gig....

This past weekend I was asked to submit a sample for a publisher and given some specific parameters they wanted to see to demonstrate my writing style. They asked for a minimum of 2000 words. I gave them close to 4400.

Enjoy!

Two Chapters – writing sample by Brad Havens – BradsMovies@gmail.com 

Word Count: 4,378

 

I cleared the last of the dense brush from the end of the tunnel and pushed my way through. Dawn was breaking across the horizon and it was a clear morning.


Damn, this was supposed to be a shortcut. This was supposed to get me closer to the royal woods, about six hours ahead of the others with clear paths and landscaped trees to move swiftly through to keep my advantage.


But there had been some sort of battle here, and the land was ravaged, torn apart. Improvised walls amongst fallen trees were now scorched and blackened earth. Craters gouged through uprooted trees and blasted remains of hedgerows. What had not become ashes was reduced to charred brittle skeletal frames with barely an indication of their former glory. The only survivors were the eldest trees with the thickest of trunks, their branches high above the conflict, but even those had burned black near the ground.


Fuck.


Whatever known pathways may have existed before the strife had been shredded and made impassable. Navigating this battlefield was going to take me a lot of time. It had to have been from the Queen’s bloody conflict bringing the Baron to heel, and the bodies of the fallen would have been laid to rest months ago. What should have been an easy pace was now going to cost me half a day! Tucker had to have known about this when he was telling me about that damn tunnel. I made a mental note to give Tucker a shot to the balls next time I saw him.


I scanned the broken landscape of shattered trees and blasted earth trying to figure any sort of path that made sense. Grass and weeds had been returning in the time since, making a step in any direction a potential snare. The last thing I needed was a sprain caused by some clingy young vine hidden in this new underbrush. I started moving for the first gap that looked promising. It wasn’t easy going, but I kept focused on the freedom I was buying for myself, and the four people behind me trying to keep me from grabbing it.


Even with the cool of the morning, it wasn’t long before the beads of sweat started to work their way down my back. My knife was a strong, single tang tactical blade, but even that has its limits. Where the brush got so thick I couldn’t cut the branches, I had to double back and work another way through.


Most of my morning had been taken before I came to an easement that had been cut through the damage and debris. It set a clear path going roughly back the way I came or mainly in the direction I needed to go. A quick look at the cut branches and pounded earth told me this was made by some official cleaning crew, probably a detachment from the Queen’s Army to gather any valuables along with their dead. I chose to follow their path and see if I could make up some time.  


Sure enough, I found a wider road that ran alongside the river towards one of the Queen’s Outposts at the edge of the castle gate. This area was looking familiar to me, and I knew patrols would be coming along sooner or later. I took the next cleared path I found leading away from the river, in the general direction of the main castle. I may have made up time on these clear roads, but I had to duck back across the ravaged battlefield to stay on course. The others were somewhere behind me, the sun was moving apace and the sky was showing signs of a storm coming through.


I needed to find shelter before the sun left us all to the darkness once again.


The one good thing about all of this ripped and ruptured land was that there was plenty of debris and even more areas suitable for a basic lean-to protection against the storm. The real trick was to camouflage it in a way so even a nearby predator would not find and kill you while you rested. There were more than the natural predators on the hunt tonight.


I picked a hole that had been gutted on the soft slope of a hill moving upwards toward the castle. I knew that on the other side of that slope I’d be able to look across to the turrets of the castle itself, and I planned to be free before tomorrow’s sunset.


 I took one long, last look across the terrain I had already crossed to get here. The slope provided enough vantage that I could see the long stretches of the Queen’s carefully landscaped forest made into ruin by fierce battles. The break in the trees where the river cut through was further still, but clearly visible.


There seemed to be a flicker of red for a moment, moving with the breeze on the leaves. I leaned closer to the tree I was using for cover. I squinted, trying to notice any motion, any further flicker of such an unusual color – was I mistaken?


No sound but the wind. No scent but the bruised and blackened forest.


I went to work on the lean-to, repositioning some of the fallen tree trunks and branches over this blasted out hole I had found. It was a near perfect half-saucer shape, with exposed roots jutting from one side that provided a natural defense while simultaneously exposing a smaller hole just about perfect for a man to huddle next to a small fire. I stamped the soft earth firm and used the dried, exposed roots for the kindling. It was relatively simple to drag and reposition the fallen trees over the crater to camouflage the blast zone surrounding it.


I circled around my own site, staying low and cautious. Between navigating the unexpected wasteland and building this shelter, I was betting my competition was closing in. I didn’t have much time. The lean-to looked good enough to me to get started on the fire.


No matter what anybody tells you, you can’t hide a fire in the forest. You might diffuse the smoke, you might mask the light, but you’ll never hide the smell. I had taken every other precaution, but now I had to take care of myself. I could already feel my muscles aching from fatigue and there was far more to do before this was over.


Making my way into the base of the hole where I had prepped the kindling, I pulled the flint from my pocket and used the butt of my knife to tap a few sparks onto the dried leaves and underbrush. A few breaths of encouragement, and soon I had a decent little fire going. The tendrils of smoke wove through the exposed roots, dissipating in different directions as the random breeze carried it. I could hear the first drops of rain tapping on the makeshift ceiling, rustling the canopy of leaves overhead.


The crater was large enough for me to lie down, and I was surprised at how comfortable this little hidey-hole had become. I used the flint to sharpen my knife, and then stretched as I munched from my little bit of provisions, looking forward to tomorrow, when I would claim my prize and win my freedom.


I must have dozed off.


No idea how long, but that twig snap brought me full awake before I finished sucking in my gasp of surprise. It was dark, but the little ripples of firelight keeping my feet warm reminded me of where I was and the imminent danger I was in.


Gripping my knife close, I slid to the far end of the lean-to and slipped over the edge, rolling out on the high side of the slope. With the tree branches positioned over me, I belly crawled out and around to the nearest elder tree still standing. Only then did I dare to look back from my cover to see what was coming.


She was more of a shadow cast by the moonlight than a real woman leaning forward from the trees. If she had held still, she would have appeared more like an ethereal spirit maiden of the woods. I watched as she slowly raised her weapon – and then I knew who it was. That pistol threw darts like a crossbow, but it was smaller, quicker to use, and more accurate. That damn thing was deadly and expensive. Only the Princess of Adarondia used that weird type of air compression pistol.


I watched as she edged out from her cover. Her face was pale, with sharp lines marking her brow and cheekbones. Her damp reddish hair was frayed in half curls that fell below her shoulders. Her eyes were mere slits of focused concentration as she peered at my camouflaged shelter.


She was adorable.


A half cape of sheer, dark fabric draped over her snug, form fitting one suit as she crouched in her wary approach. Designed for stealth and combat, it was already scuffed and torn from her journey so far. The seals on her field boots were still intact, so she wasn’t completely new to this game. She was fit like a royal should be - long legs and toned arms on a lean frame – her entire body tensed and focused like a feline, deciding the best moment to pounce.


I couldn’t help but stare. In that moment, she was perfect.


She locked eyes with me.


Whoops!


I had just enough time to flinch back behind the tree trunk as I saw her raise her pistol and heard the “Thwiiip! Thwiip! Thwiip!” of three darts sent flying after me.


One whizzed past me, right where I had been standing the moment before, the other two crashed and shattered against the bark of the elder tree. There was no mistaking, she had been aiming to kill me.

 

Which was a bit disappointing, I didn’t want to kill her.

 

She was on the move again, not too concerned about making noise now that she knew where I was – she just wanted a clear shot. I glanced out towards her from one side of the tree – I had a smile on my face, but she didn’t. She pointed her pistol as I dodged back and ran for cover in the opposite direction. I heard two more darts sent flying, neither one close enough to worry about as I dove face first behind a blasted tree fallen on its side.

 

I flipped over, knowing she would be moving to flank me. I stayed on my back, knife held in my hidden hand as I called out to her.

 

“Hey! Be careful with that thing, you could hurt somebody!”

 

It sounded like she broke into a run straight at where I was hiding. I looked around real quick and broke a short branch from the scorched trunk shielding me. I had just enough time to cock my arm back, ready to throw. She came over the fallen tree trunk in a pirouette of a flip, finding where I was hiding as her green eyes moved over my body to discover my own staring back at her.

 

Time seemed to slow into fractions of seconds. I felt a thrill of electricity jolt through my chest. My balls tightened as I felt my blood pumping between heartbeats. Her eyes seemed to register a moment’s innocent curiosity before fury and the desire to kill wrinkled her freckled nose and face into fierce determination.

 

She stuck the landing like a gymnast. I whip tossed the stick at her near reflexively as she dropped into a firing stance from the knee. It cracked the knuckles just under her trigger guard. She may have been wearing gloves, but it was still hard enough for her to drop that damned pistol, recoiling in pain.

 

I was already up and rushing toward her, knife ready. She backpedaled, drawing her own short blade from her belt and feinting expertly as I got close. It didn’t matter. I slammed into her with a full body tackle and took her to the ground. She was lithe and quick – clever in her grappling defense - but I was twice her size, just as lean, and able to counter her every attack.

 

I kept the fight on the ground, preventing her from getting any distance. She was strong, and tried positioning her body in ways to leverage an advantage. I kind of enjoyed feeling her pressing against me, controlling the rhythm of her breathing as she moved from tactic to position and back again. I could feel her getting frustrated, so I locked her short blade under my tactical edge and swept it from her hands. The next blow would be fatal. I held my blade to her neck and she became rigid, staring at me with an undying rage.

 

She was so fucking beautiful. I could tell she’d seen that look before and it just infuriated her further. Her body wriggled against mine in what we both knew was a futile protest. I stayed on top of her, letting my weight press into her as I held the blade steady.

 

“Why are you trying to kill me, Princess?”

 

“Don’t call me that!”

 

“Answer the question.”

 

“You’re after the same thing I am aren’t you? You’d kill me just the same, wouldn’t you? Anyone of us would kill the other – you’re still going to kill me anyway, aren’t you? Why are you toying with me?”

 

“I don’t want to kill you.”

 

Her shining, cat-colored eyes narrowed. I felt my balls tighten up again – how did she do that to me?

 

“Tell me why you took on this quest.” I eased the knife back slightly, allowing her some breathing space. She held her poise as only a royal could. The bruises and disheveled hair did nothing but emphasize her elegance, her perfectly balanced features.

 

She lowered her gaze as she spoke.

 

“If you know who I am, then you know my father remains in exile, deposed from his throne, no longer a king. If he is no king then I am no princess.”

 

I took the knife away from her throat and sheathed it. I helped her to her feet and we faced each other. She was only a few inches shorter than me, but the way she held herself, I still felt like I had to look up to see her face.

 

“My father is a good man. He was a good king. He was replaced by a despot. A vile abuser who only pretends to mean well, always conspiring. I will kill him myself one day.”

 

I could tell she meant it. God she was beautiful. She continued on so sincerely, I almost didn’t need to be there. It was as if she was repeating vows she had made some time ago.

 

“I don’t do this for myself. I would see my Father restored to his throne. His name, his honor held high in the light once more – that the people would sing in praise of him rather than spit his name as some foul curse. I would take my reward and use it to bring happiness to my Father and his Realm once again.”

 

I was captivated. There was nothing I wouldn’t do for her. She got me.

 

She raised her eyes, searching my own for a hint of her fate. I held my hand on my knife hilt and kept as blank a face as I could muster.

 

“I don’t want to kill you.” I figured that was a good place to start. “If you do restore your father to the throne, then you would go back to being a princess, right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“As a princess, you would be able to grant pardons and set people free?”

 

“Only my Father could do that.”

 

“Okay. But if you recommended someone for something like that, would your father listen to you?”

 

“What have you done?”

 

“That’s not the question. The question is could you convince your father to grant a condemned man his freedom? If I helped you complete this task, would you help me achieve my freedom?”

 

I could see the gears turning. She was a shrewd woman. Clever. Even as she was giving me an appraising stare, I couldn’t help but glance up and down that well-toned body, highlighted by the glistening rain caught in the moonlight.

 

“I suppose, if your crimes were not horrific, they might be excused in service of a greater goal.”

 

“If I do help you restore your father, the king, you’re not going to turn around and have me executed are you? You swear to me that you will petition the king for my freedom. Do you swear?”

 

“I, Roanna Adaron, daughter of the deposed king, Rondoval Adaron, swear on the souls of my ancestors that when my father is restored as King of Adarondia, and I am made Princess once again, I will petition the king for your freedom. Please help me to restore my father to his rightful throne”

 

I was transfixed. I had to snap myself out of it. I nodded a few times as much to get my head back as to agree to the deal. I played it off.

 

“Then gather up your weapons, and let’s get back into the shelter. We’ll need to rest up before daybreak. We breach the castle with the rising sun.”

 

She looked at me, and then looked around for her knife and air pistol. I watched her sheath her knife and pick up the pistol. She checked it, reloaded it, and then pointed it at me. She smiled.

 

I was genuinely pissed. I gripped the hilt of my knife, but didn’t draw.

 

“Is this what an oath from Princess Roanna of Adarondia is worth? Nothing but betrayal?“

 

She kept her smile, enjoying the upper hand.

 

“I haven’t broken my oath. I simply don’t trust you well enough not to break yours. Now lead me into your shelter.”

 

----------

 

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

 

“Oi! Wake the fuck up you lovebirds!”

 

My eyes snapped open to see Roanna staring back at me, panicked. She had fallen asleep sitting, propped up against the wall opposite me. She raised her pistol from her lap and looked in the direction of the voice shouting at us from outside.

 

“Playtime’s over!” As he called out, I shuffled over to the edge of the hole and took a look. He was stout, with leather armor that looked as if it had been tied down with ropes intended to provide another layer of protection as well as hold the leather in place. Thick with muscle and gripping a battle axe in each oversized fist. His hairy face was visible under a leather skull cap that dangled straps down over his ears.

 

“Drag your carcasses out here and die proper!” He struck his battle axes together – CLANG!

 

I drew back and looked at the princess, who had a firm grip on her pistol and was controlling her breathing. I looked right in those exquisite green eyes.

 

“We’re going to have to kill him.”

 

She held her breath for a moment, then nodded. We switched places and she moved to the edge where she could get a shot at him. She looked out but didn’t raise her pistol. Then I heard him rush up from the side, and in a moment he was smashing the makeshift ceiling in with his battle axes.

 

THWACK! THWACK!

 

The combined blows shattered the already blasted trunks, and the shelter was suddenly thick with tree branches and debris. I heard the princess scream, but I only had time to scuttle out before getting pinned myself.

 

“Here, you!”

 

He was behind me. I spun, looking to roll away on the downward side of the slope. Something hit me right under the ribs below my shoulder blade, knocking the wind out of me. I landed face first and slid along the leaves down the slope a good four or five feet before hitting my head on a tree stump. I laid there limply, stunned.

 

Dimly, I could hear the princess scream again. Thwiip! Thwiip! Thwiip! And he was cursing in pain.

 

“Aurgh! You treacherous brat! Come here!”

 

I took in gulps of air as I rolled myself over and into a sitting position, hand on my ribs to feel for damage. Nothing broken, but I was still going to feel that for days.

 

“AAAAEEEEE –“ her scream was abruptly cut short in a way that could only mean one of two things. I pulled myself to my feet and looked over to the sounds of the struggle.

 

She was still alive. He was laughing now. That big hairy beast of a man had her ensnared by her own cape and he was laughing as she struggled to pull away from him. I steadied myself and looked around me for something heavy. My eyes fell upon the battle axe he had thrown at me.

 

I had just scooped it up and turned to face them when I saw him yank on the cape, pulling her off balance as she stumbled towards him. With his other hand, he cracked her in a sweeping blow that landed just under her jaw. She collapsed like a rag doll in front of him.

 

“Now I show you a real man.”

 

He moved to unbuckle the straps of his armor at his midsection. Roanna stirred feebly from the ground.

 

I didn’t bother closing the distance any further. I took that battle axe in both hands and threw it with everything I had. The handle caught him just above the shoulder, flipping the axe around to hit him flatly across his skull.

 

It was an ugly hit, no grace about it whatsoever. The edge of the blade never touched him, but the flat of the axe blade swatted him hard enough to knock his skullcap sideways, and he stumbled down to one knee.

 

I jumped on top of him before he came to his senses, but even then, his survival instinct was fierce. I still had the upper hand and shoved him into a position where I could strike the fatal blow. I couldn’t tell you why, but I hesitated for a split second as I got this vision in my head – like an eagle flying above, made curious by the sight of violence – I saw her watching us, struck rigid as I clashed and carved blood streaming gashes into this hulking beast of a man seeking to tear us both apart if he could.

 

She had recovered her senses enough to find her pistol. From the peripheral, I could sense her getting to her feet as I struggled to contain my confusion as much as this struggling enemy of ours.

 

I suddenly felt overwhelmed with a paralytic shyness, as if shamed right at the moment of ecstasy – what might she do should I reveal how brutal I can be? Might she try to kill us both? Allow me to kill him before killing me? Or worst of all, abandon me to this carcass I will have made for us, leaving me alone without even a fear of threat from her?

 

The stinking brute sensed my distraction and moved to overthrow me, knocking my blade away from him, lunging to clutch at my ankles.

 

So, it was Death for him, then. Unavoidable, inevitable Death. Now his time had come.

 

Up until about five minutes ago, I don’t think either one of us knew there was killing to be done today. No denying or pretending any further.  The way he was fighting, it was clear he was still hoping it was gonna be me, but it was too late for any tricks.

 

Even so, I did try to maneuver him so she wouldn’t see the blade sink into him. Thought I might spare her that, but the bulky, bleeding, hairy, stinking mess of sweaty flesh and flowing blood flinched.

 

I had to spin sit him down like he was a rude child in kindergarten, only, instead of simply holding him in place, I plunged my knife to the hilt – so deep into his chest there could be no doubt. I pushed his head forward so he could watch me twist and pull the blade from his punctured heart, followed by the natural river of claret gushing in greater volume as his panic accelerated his own demise.

 

I never took my eyes off of her.

 

As he was sat down to his final deliverance, she was taut, held in place by muscles awaiting their next command, confused into a stillness of their own. Her slingshot pistol wavered, the barrel lolling from side to side like a cobra scenting for a strike.

 

Her eyes flicked between the rhythmic pulse of red flowing from the fresh gash in our enemy’s chest to my own unflinching gaze. I wiped the blood from my knife on the tattered cape that had fallen, draped over his shoulder, watching for any sign of what she might do next.

 

Back and forth and over again. She wasn’t frightened, exactly. She was…

 

Curious.

 

As she stood facing us, I felt his body weaken, go slack. I pushed it over. No need to check. He was dead.

Now it was just me and her once again. And now I had shown her something she had never seen before. And I had done something I never thought I would have to do again. I could see her shallow breathing, the adrenaline rush pumping through her veins. Her eyes betrayed her inner struggle for self-control – the need to do something, or for something to be done.

 

Of course I recognized it.

 

I was bathed in it and still my spirit demanded more. She could see it in me. All the fury, all the lust, the desire to dominate and control and even kill if need be – all those things that would frighten most people on into their nightmares, she saw within me and she did not look away.

 

We knew what we were, and we knew what was coming next.

 

It was unavoidable. It was inevitable.

 

It was Blood Lust.


©Brad Havens, January 2026 - no reuse without permission.


*---> Thanks for reading! If you'd like to hire a creative writer, or need a consultant, get in touch - thanks again & enjoy the day!



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