Young Writers Society

She didn't trust him. She didn't like him. She was pretty certain she'd kill him with, if not a smile on her face, at least a sense of satisfaction. Sure, it was a bit galling that killing him was an order from the man himself--but really. How could she pass up an order like that, especially after their previous conversation?

It was awfully hard, therefore, for Finn to restrain a bark of laughter as the man slipped in a patch of mud on the trail and landed face first, hands trapped awkwardly beneath his wet bulk. As it is, her amusement escaped as a smirk, and she rode happily past him, pleased when the nag stepped within a few inches of his prone, squirming body; her liking for the horse grew with its apparent disdain for the spy. She watched sidelong from beneath her lashes as he tried to lift himself to no avail.

"Miss Chant! I cannot get up on my own."

She raised an eyebrow, pausing before reining Nag to a halt and looking over her shoulder at him. His face was mudspattered and he blinked furiously as rain dripped into his eyes, straining to right himself. She smirked again and started to ride on when he called out to her again.

"Please, Miss Chant! A hand?"

Eyes narrowed and scowling, she dismounted Nag and threw the reins over a nearby branch, tangling it sufficiently that the beast couldn't get away. "Certain-sure, I'll give ye a han'," she growled under his breath, wiping rain out of her eyes as a roll of thunder drowned her out. "Cut yers off an' han' it over to ye, I will."

Without elaborating, though, she crouched by him as he rolled onto his side and, gripping his bound wrists, helped haul him to his feet with much grunting. He couldn't be any lighter than Seraph, and Seraph had been not only tall and broad, but also all muscle. Finn eyed him suspiciously, then, with a smirk, wiped a glob of mud off his forehead; the remnants dripped into his eyes.

He just looked at her, eyes impassive and water dripping over his slightly-parted lips. "Much obliged, Miss Chant." He looked at her a moment more, then began to stagger on, slipping in the mud every once in a while. Finn sneered after him and untangled Nag's reins, willing this godforsaken journey to be over already.

Much obliged indeed! Thrice bedamned rain falling in sheets--makes it impossible to travel, let alone fight. And the gall of these fools. One wrong step. As if they had never done so. Even to our most bitter enemies, a shred of kindness is the least we can offer.

Dreffan scowled inwardly, but kept his expression neutral--he would not give them the pleasure of seeing his discomfort. He made the decision, however, to refuse to walk, when others rode, after this leg of the journey was over.

He looked around where he had fallen, ensuring that none of his equipment--or worse, his weapons--had fallen from his rig. None had.

With that, he turned and continued on without complaint.

"Dreffan."

His Lord's voice, right in his ear, made him flinch slightly. He reocovered quickly.

"I am here, my Lord," He whispered to the rain.

"You have done well."

"Thank you, my Lord." He did not know why Lord Belfast was communicating him with so many other nearby.

"You will not fail me."

"No my Lord." Dreffan was nervous, now.

He could feel the field of magic around him, as he had been trained to do. His Lord had fallen silent, but the divination was still there. Something is wrong.

All was silent for a moment--as silent as a storm can be, anyway.

"...Seraph?" Finn's voice floated into Dreffan's ear. She was directly to his right, mounted, but he heard her say his Lord's name, regardless.

She was looking around as thought looking for someone.

It cannot be. He would never--would he?

Dreffan continued to stare at her, all sense of subtlety forgotten.

This WAS getting interesting.

The Commander of the Third Rangers lay awake in bed after a nightmare. The howling of the wind had kept him up as well as the day's events. General Harris's assassination had left ripples that he was still trying to figure out.

He heard a noise and reached for the comforting hilt of his sword. Instead, he felt something feathery.

"Hello Alex," Alden said. Alex didn't move, he didn't say a word.

"How did you get in?"

"I slipped in while you were sleeping. Dreaming of me?"

"But the storm-"

"Very difficult to navigate but it effected your guards more."

"Are you here to kill me?"

"It depends on if you will tell me what has happened since you sent your rangers to kill me." Alex thought about lying, but then he remembered the Gryphon's uncanny ability to see one.

"General Harris left the King and started her own country. We needed the book, but you escaped with it. After that Harris had to resort to building up defenses."

"Where is she now?"

"She's dead. An assassin killed her and several of her bodyguards."

"Who?"

"Don't know. Dressed in red, kind of a mean look on his face."

"Dreffan," Alden said.

"Yes, he killed her."

"Now what?"

"A guy named Palver has taken over, but several factions are competing to win his favor. A lot of civillians don't like him, he isn't very handsome."

"Are you still going to send people after us?"

"I have orders to. Nothing personal, you-" he was cut off as Alden knocked him out.

"Yes, I know," Alden said. He replaced the sword and disappeared into the storm.

Adrian rode on rain spratting on his armour and drenching his hair, he could just about see in front of him the branches brushing against his platemail. The Horse reared up suddenly neighing in great pain, Adrian held on tightly and climbed off. As he he did he saw Becky talking to Zel he couldn't understand why but this drove him so mad. In a fit of rage he closed his fist and punched the tree he was passing as hard as he could. The pain was immesurable, but he felt much better. Blood seeped through his gauntlet and down on to the ground. He looked down to see the horse had hurt it's hoof. He chose to walk by it, not wanting to hurt it too much.

It was so much, but he couldn't bother anyone, he'd just seem weak. With all his strength he practice his meditating while he walked so he felt no pain. The blood continued to fall from his right guantlet and after a while someone noticed it on the ground. He said nothing and shrugged.

"Beautiful" Zaolris spoke softly to himself. The adrenalin surging through his body from the thrill of the chaos around him; freezing raindrops plummeting from the sky, their chill piercing the skin like daggers. The lightning crackling across the sky, followed by the musical roar of thunder. Zaolris' eyes glowed with glee.

"Zel" Zaolris said, his voice raised above the barrage of sound, "Take point, half pace."

"Shure thin' boyo" Zel said in his half drunken stupor.

if we're lucky maybe he'll break something and shut up Zaolris thought chuckling as he split off from the group to gaze at the captive, watching his every move.

The man held himself high, with a state of arrogance; although his gear had clearly gotten a bit muddy from falling. His hands unwisely tied in front of him. Miss Chant was glancing back every once in a while to glare at him while fingering her sword. Probably should keep an eye on her.

Dreffan stumbled, althouh catching himself at the last moment, only to find a hand reaching out to help. Grasping the hand, he was hefted back onto his feet making eye contact with a pair of cloudy black and blue eyes.

"My thanks" Dreffan said cordially.

Zaolris, never letting go of the rope, reached back and unsheathed one of his knives bringing it to bear. Dreffan, never flinching, shifted his footing to a defensive position. Slashing quickly downwards, the knife cutting through the rope easily. The rope, heavily laden with water, slid from Dreffan's raw and bleeding wrists.

Zaolris, never missing a beat, pulled a new section of rope from his pack and began to retie the bonds behind Dreffan's back while whispering "Miss chant is quite unstable, I believe she'll try and take something precious" and on the last word he finished the not tying it quite tight.

Dreffan turned around too look Zaolris in the eyes smiling "You need not worry for my life." He paused, then winked "but you were not anyway".

Zaolris's only response was to smile and walk away, yet only a few feet away he stopped, turned around and spoke loudly as if challenging Dreffan, "Try and keep up".

"By all means, feel free to lose me."

When back the front of the group Zaolris spoke smiling "I'll take over again, inform the others we'll be doubling the speed". Zell only nodded.

The rapid pace was growing more and more difficult for Becky, and she knew she had it easy. She was giving her horse a rest, leading it along by the reigns. Hail still pelted down in blankets and the mud on the ground was turning to ice.

Nearest her were Zel, and Dreffan. Zel had his collar turned up, and was walking sideways against the wind. He winked.

"Lovely weather," he shouted, half-laughing. Becky grinned and caught up to him. She tugged down her hood and wiped a string of hair out of her face. Dreffan, she noticed, was soaking wet and covered in mud. There was frost forming on his clothes. Zel followed her gaze, then withdrew a flask from his pocket.

"Here. You're shivverin', lad."

Dreffan smiled slightly, and turned to show the ropes binding his arms.

"It's no trouble," Zel said. He smirked and unscrewed the cap, then brought the bottle to Dreffan's lips. Reluctantly, he took a swallow.

"My thanks," said Dreffan.

Becky got back on the horse, leaning low onto its back to avoid the wind. Dreffan's shaking worsened for a bit, then died away, but his movement was stiff, and jerky. His cloak slipped off one of his shoulders, and he didn't bother trying to fix it. Soon after, he fell to the back of the group, and Becky lost sight of him amidst the storm.

Less than an hour later, Becky heard Ria shout, "Enough!"

Becky slid off her horse and headed towards the back of the group, where Ria was.

"What?" Alden yelled. There was a coating of ice on each one of his feathers: he glistened like a gem.

Ria stood near Dreffan, who was one one knee. Ria caught his arm and helped him up, but he staggered, unsteady. The first snowflakes were just beginning to fall.

"We've got to make camp," Ria said.

Dreffan shook his head. "I'm fine," he mumbled. His lips were pale, and bluish. "I'm warm."

Ria ignored him. "We've gone far enough. We need a fire, fast."

"We've gone far enough. We need a fire, fast." Ria spoke firmly, leaving no room for questioning.

"Becky, start a fire, Finn help Becky; Ria If you could help me set up camp?" Valin said quickly as Zel went out for firewood. "Sirloaz, go help Zel, we're going to need a lot of wood."

"Sir" Sirloaz replied, then unclasping his cloak, he placed it upon Dreffan's shoulders with a nod of acceptance before walking out into the frozen wasteland.

The rain turned to sleet and hail battering the group as a small fire was given life, its flickering light shedding meagre warmth on becky and Finn, as they slowly coaxed it to become larger, with the small scraps of kindling they had in their packs.

Dry wood was scarce if not completely nonexistent, the long hours of constant rain and storm had wormed its way to even the most covered twigs making them completely protected against the small fire's puny warmth.

Finally a stroke of luck came upon them, in a small uninhabitable cave where a man sized pile of dry branches and the remains of a small tree blasted by the ferocity of the storm rested. Sirloaz and Zel quickly raced them back to camp to prevent further harm to the godsend.

In a few minutes Becky and Finn had a blazing fire going and the color, if there ever was any, began to return to Dreffan's face.

A spark of hope and joy passed through the group gathered around the fire, their savior, their protector for that night.

Valin was at the head of the column, plodding forwards as fast as he could, when he noticed the group had begun to slow down. He kept marching forward, as fast as he could, which, even with the weather, was faster than any of the humans in the group. Soon he noticed the whole group had stopped entirely.
Half from anger, and half from curiosity, he stormed to the rear of the column, where Ria and Becky had begun to build a rudimentary fire.

"What is going on here?" he demanded. "We need to keep moving!"
"What we need to do, Valin, is rest. Look at him," Ria said, motioning towards the now-blue-skinned Dreffan. "He's hypothermic, and this weather isn't helping matters. We need to stop and rest."

"We need to keep moving, Ria. The longer we stay stationary, the easier it is for the patrols to find us. Besides, I'd rahter move in this harsh weather, when our tracks will be harder to follow"

"I understand that, Valin. But we NEED to stop, or we won't be going anywhere much longer," Ria said, putting her hands on her hips for emphasis. Valin looked around.
Dreffan was valiantly fighting to continue on moving. Becky was nodding in agreement with Ria. Alden was nearly frozen in place due to cold and ice and hail. Finn was shiverring in place while trying to give off an aura of being unaffected by the cold, hail and rain.

Frowning, but yet smiling inside, because he knew this was a true mark of leadership (or at least Seraph would say so), he sighed, saying
"Alright. But lets get off the side of the road, yeah?" He said, marching off the roadside and down into a gulley off the hillside on which the road was built.

(sorry its so short and late, but I needed to post at least SOMETHING)

Finn couldn't remember ever being quite this cold. At first, the storm had been bracing, refreshing; the chaos of it all made her feel alive, and the sensory overload only confirmed it. Now, though, she felt cold down to her marrow, shivering so violently that her muscles tightened and hurt. Glancing at Becky, she could see that the other woman was feeling worse for wear too, and Dreffan--well, the man could hardly move. His lips still had their bluish tint.

As Valin went off to find a better campsite, Finn stayed and stared sidelong at Dreffan, facing the fire but eyes fixed on him as though she was under a dragon's spell; this was the man, she thought, who wanted her to kill him. This was the insufferable man who thought he knew her. This was... a man. Had Finn ever killed in cold blood? She couldn't remember now, her mind sluggish with the cold; she knew she had killed. Sometimes it brought a sense of triumph; sometimes nausea; sometimes she didn't have time to feel as they hurried onward. But in cold blood...

Cold blood, there's a thought. If it's cold, her blood's already cold, as is his... no effect, really. Cold, cold, and colder. He'd be weak. He would sleep hard. And in this weather, chances were that everyone else would, too.

Finn shuddered, wincing as the muscles in her chest tightened further, and continued to stare at Dreffan.

Ria stood by the fire to warm her hands. Then she sat down and as she watched the flames dance, she thought about her future.

Alden had wanted her to return home, but this had become impossible. She would be unprotected, save by Kira. Soldiers as well as thieves would put her in constant danger. She was still in danger, but so long as Alden could protect her, she would be reasonably safe.

What would happen after all this though?

Ria felt someone looking at her, she turned to notice Dreffan looking at her. Ria clutched her cloak closer and saw Becky. She was drawing pictures in the dirt with her sword. Becky was becoming better with the sword, she had a natural talent. Ria wasn't concerned about her advancement in that area. What she was concerned about was how angry Becky was. She would get so angry that she'd get tunnel vision. That tunnel vision would get her killed in a battle. She'd have to calm down and advance beyond grief if she would ever reach her true potential as a warrior. But she was still grieving...

And there is the problem, Ria realized.

"Becky, come here." Becky obeyed.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Sit down and tell me about your family."

Night came, and the storm persevered, and the group battened down for another night in a cave. Gods, was Finn sick of caves. Tonight, though, it should help her--after all, caves echoed, and despite the relative shelter it provided this one was almost thunderous with the sounds of the storm outside, the wind howling past the mouth, thunder moving from the front to the back and to the front again. No one would be able to hear her, even if her footsteps were clumsier, less quiet and furtive, than usual.

As the others settled down for the night, she sharpened her dagger clandestinely on a stone beneath the cloak tugged close around her body. The scraping sounds were devoured by the noise of the storm, the underlying echoes of human activity and low voices. Near the fire sat Dreffan, shivering, almost blue beneath his golden skin. Finn wetted her lips with her tongue.

Cold blood... maybe, she thought, the blood would freeze on her hands. Is that where the saying came from? It was cold enough tonight... and if that really was the origin of the phrase, she'd never done it before. He'd asked her to, though. She was only being obedient.

Finn...

She stiffened, the dagger stilling against the stone. Again, she'd heard Seraph's voice. How many times did this make? Countless? Not quite, but more than could be written off as mere imagination... she felt her forehead; it was free of fever.

"'M not goin' barmy," she muttered, glancing quickly about her.

"Keep tellin' yourself that," Zel replied jovially, belching, as he passed by to sit down beside Valin, who looked less than pleased by his company.

Finn stared after the man, then looked back at Dreffan, who was now laying on his side, watching her through half-lidded eyes that soon closed, his cheeks still deathly pale but tinged with pools of color now. Her chest tightened, tingled, went cold.

'M not crazy...

"Sit down and tell me about your family."

Becky stayed where she was.

"No," Becky said. The word was almost alien in her mouth; she hadn't planned it, but there it was. Ria looked flustered for a second, but her voice stayed mild.

"Why not, Becky?"

"Why're you callin' me Becky?"

"Don't I normally?" Ria asked, surprised.

She shook her head. Ria called her Stillman; Alden called her Becky. She was supposed to be calling Ria 'ma'am'.

Becky put another piece of wood on the fire, avoiding Ria's eyes. It was still snowing and raining, but the fire was cheery. It crackled and popped, spending sparks up to be snatched away by the wind. The day had been good, Becky decided. She didn't want to spoil it.

"I'm gonna go lay down. Good night, ma'am." Becky smiled.

"Sleep well," Ria said, after a second.

Becky walked away, setting up her bedroll on the opposite side of the camp, near Sirloaz and Adrian. When she finally dared to look back, she saw Ria still sitting near the fire, rhythmically stroking Kira, who was asleep at her feet. Her face was empty, and strangely sad.

It hurt to look at. Becky closed her eyes, and before long, was asleep as well.

[s]Zel looked about the cave with a drunken stare. Everyone was starting to fall asleep. He knew that the others thought he was just a drunk idiot, and he didn't mind. Truth was, drinking was just a shield to hide his real self. His master had taught him never to let his guard down, even around the people you trust. Because you never know when they'll stick a knife in your back. If he looked like a harmless drunk, they wouldn't think of turning on him.

Zel shook his head. He was thinking intelligently again, a sure sign that he needed another drink. He took another swig of his wine, only to find it was empty. He looked inside the bottle before throwing it out the front ot the cave.

"Dammit! Who threw tha'!?" Everyone reacted to the voice and armed themselves as a cloaked man appeared at the mouth of the cave. He looked at everyone and said, "What 'er ye young'ns doing in m' cave?"

Zel recognized that voice. He pulled himself to his feet and made his way to the front of the group. Valin put his hand on Zel's chest to stop him. "We don't know how dangerous this man is."

Zel lightly pushed Valin's arm out of the way and continued toward the man. The man spotted Zel. It was difficult to see his expression under the hood. "Zel, is tha' you?"

Zel's face lit up. He practically jumped on the man and hugged him. "It's been so long! How have y' been, old man?"

"Y'd better le' go of me before I snap yer neck, kid." Zel released the stranger and they both began to laugh. The man removed the hood of his cloak. He was old with gray hair and wrinkles all over his face. "It's been three years."

"What's going on?" Valin asked.

Zel had forgotten all about the others. He turned to face his group and said, "Everyone, this is Master Quinn, my teacher. He's the guy we've been look'n for."[/s]

(There, I've killed two birds with one stone. I've edited my post and I saved my post for when I need it.)

OOC: Dono and I had some important business to finish up before we leave the cave, and the arrival of Master Quinn interrupts that, so this post should go before Dynamo's.

IC:

They were sleeping. Finally. The storm still hadn't let up; a dull ache was forming behind Finn's eyes to join the faintly queasy feeling in her stomach. Her knife was sharp; the fire was low; they were asleep, and relatively far from the spy. If he struggled, he wouldn't wake anyone up, as long as she could stifle any shouts. The echoes weren't that loud.

Moving as quietly as she could given the cold stiffness of her limbs, she stood; she stretched briefly to rid herself of that stiffness, one of her daggers held tight in her fist. She stepped softly over the uneven floor, almost tiptoeing over to where the spy slept, careful to disturb as few stones as she could. There--asleep--and on his back, nonetheless. This would be easier than she thought, and over faster, and then she could curl up and go back to sleep.

She stood over Dreffan, breathing deeply and slowly, heart pounding in her ears almost as loudly as the storm itself. As if she was moving through water she crouched, looked at his face, and drew the hand with the dagger back across her other side, ready to slice it through the soft flesh beneath his chin.

Her hand had moved a few inches when his bound hands came up and struck her shoulder and neck painfully; she fell forward, unbalanced, and the dagger skittered not far across the ground; a sharp stone, about the height of her smallest finger, had embedded itself in the fleshy part of her palm when she threw her hands forward to catch herself. She tore it out as quickly as she could, lunged for the dagger, but it was gone already--he'd managed to cut his bonds, and she couldn't help but cry out a little, the sound swallowed by the storm, as he appeared behind her, grabbed a handful of her hair, and pressed the blade to her throat.

No no no! This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! He'd asked her to kill him--he was supposed to die quietly! Finn stared at the minor stalactites above her as the blade pressed against her pulsepoint, hand throbbing and mind spinning.

"I am not your enemy, Miss Chant," he hissed near her ear. She could feel his breath on her skin and his fingers in her hair, though he wasn't pulling it. "Please refrain from any further attempts on my life."

She whimpered. She couldn't help it. He was supposed to die!

The blade slipped away from her throat, moving coldly across her skin for a moment, and he released her hair. The dagger fell with a clang on the stones beside her, and she grabbed it, turned on her back, and pushed herself away from him quickly. He stood, bonds cut and bleeding from a scrape on the face, and then sat back down by the fire to stir up the coals again.

Finn fled to the darkest corner and hugged her knees until dawn, nursing her bleeding hand and staring almost fearfully at the man by the fire, her thoughts interrupted only occasionally by the whisper of her name in a familiar man's voice, somewhere in the recesses of her mind.

"Do *not* touch her again, Dreffan. If she was harmed, you will pay dearly."

Dreffan felt the throbbing in his head, a manifestation of his Lord's emotional state. He was upset, and rightfully so, but Dreffan knew he had done what was right. He had not harmed her, and would not harm her. She would come to no harm, under his watchful eye.

"Is that understood?"

When Dreffan did not answer immediately, a flash of pain shot through his temple. He gritted his teeth but said nothing.

"Answer me." For a moment Dreffan's breath caught in his throat and he could say nothing.

Dreffan had never known his Lord to be impatient.

"Yes, my Lord. I understand," he whispered through the pain.

Then the connection was gone.

Dreffan's head still throbbed. His breaths were ragged. Something is wrong.

He leaned his head against the cave wall once more and slid down it until he was seated. The warmth from the fire was missed, but he kept his distance. In the morning, he would summon his mount, if they would allow him. No more walking.