Young Writers Society

This place was ridiculous. I could barely step out of the kitchen before there were men grabbing at me and the food and ale I carried, before having to dodge as one drunken man tackled another and began to pound his fist into the other's face. I slid past one lech's questing hands, spitting at his feet as I did so (he was too drunk to notice) and stormed over to one of the tables to deliver the food. A few feet away, a woman slapped a man hard across the face; the action was met with raucous laughter as she stalked away to order, leaving the man rubbing his face and looking shocked. I barely even paid attention, though I certainly looked up when I heard a shriek from one of the other tavern wenches.

I hurried over to the girl, a budding whore by the name of Elin, who was pale as a sheet and gasping for breath. She was one of the meeker ones, and through reasons of self-interest, I'd found myself "adopting" her and a few of the other girls. They looked up to me like a big sister, and I had no problem splitting a few skulls with my quarterstaff. "Wha' happen'd?" I demanded, sliding an arm around the taller, if younger, girl's waist and pulling her close protectively.

"He--he--tha' fella in the corner--he killed two men!"

Obviously Elin was new to the whole whoring business. Most of the whores I knew--hell, most of the women I knew--were subjected to death on a regular basis. Still, having clients murdered wasn't going to look good for the inn, and if the inn suffered, I didn't get my pay--if I didn't get my pay, I didn't eat, and I was rather fond of having my hunger sated. "Go wash yer face, luv, an' sit down fer a while, hmm?" I suggested, smoothing her hair affectionately and gently propelling her in the direction of the door that led to the whores' quarters.

As soon as she was gone, I turned to look where she'd been staring... and saw that friendly face I'd been longing for for so long.

"Valin!" I cried, and the relief in my voice was so strong it was embarrassing. I clapped one hand over my mouth, but the tipsy elf had already heard me, and looked up.

"Finn! Keep your voice down!" he hissed, beckoning me closer.

Adrian woke up once again, his body hungry and cold. He stood up and gazed around. Nothing had changed, the walls still stank(literally) the ceiling still dropped showers of plaster and stone as people moved above. And still his only companions were rats and spiders.

Had he been stupid trying to save Becky?

He remembered next too nothing.

He'd been feeling guilty about not killing Seraph when he could of.

Then it all came flooding back.

They'd been arguing when he suddenly saw eight men all dressed in Harris's uniform.

"Stay here. I'll go see what they want," he had muttered.

He had first asked the men, "Can I help you?"

One of the men sniggered and the leader replied, "No!"

Adrian had replied look at them confused, "Well, then...?"

The guy had replied by drawing his sword and sneering, "You're under arrest!"

Adrian almost fell back with shock and shouted, "WHAT?! but we're on same side!"

The man who was speaking continued, "Were, we follow Harris, your problem just got worse!"

Adrian felt his sword at the scabbard - then a stabbing pain on his head, from being hit with a club. He thrust his sword out the sheath. Adrian then called out too Emily to run. She had said "You en't serious!" and attacked the eighth guy.

Adrian was soon surrounded by all seven men. He was strong fighter, but there was a limit. Still he fought clashing swords with everyone he could. One blind sided him. They got him the in the back of head with the hilt of the sword of sword he assumed. All had went black then.

Adrian sighed out of recollection and at how quickly things had changed. It'd been a year and he was still in here, never knowing if the others were alive or dead.

Zel turned to Alana and said, "Another drunk? I ain't just some other drunk, lady." Another man ran up to Zel to try and take him down. Zel swayed drunkly to the left and dodged the punch. He thrust his arm into the man's chest, snapping a few ribs. The man fell helplessly to the ground clucthing his chest and whimpering in pain. Zel continued, "Yer lookin at the best Drunken Boxer in the land! Besides, it didn't look to me like ye we're handlin it very well by yerself. If this is the kinda gratitude I get for savin a whore maybe I shouldn't have helped in the first place."

The inside of the pub was worse than the outside. Drunken fools who spoke when they were better off silent, who acted, when inaction was the best course, milled about the room with their half empty flagons and their boisterous yells. Dreffan's musings were confirmed when a scuffle broke out, apparently over a gambling debt, and two loud mouthed braggarts began throwing insults and punches across the table.

Their fight was short lived, however, as they knocked into an elf that had been seated behind them. In the blink of an eye, the two men fell away, bleeding from fatal wounds drawn by the elf's daggers. The elf then moved on to the bar to buy a drink to replace his spilled one as if nothing unusual had happened. Dreffan's eyes tracked him as he slid a gold coin across the counter . What was such an experienced warrior doing in a--

"Valin!"

--Dreffan's question was answered. The cry had come from a petite young woman (Finn Chant, Dreffan concluded), who looked as surprised to see Dreffan's target as he was lucky to find him. Dreffan grinned at his good fate.

The smile was short lived, however, as a thin, drunk man stepped in front of him, blocking his view of Valin and the woman. The man was swaying on his feet, and he looked as though a stiff breeze might blow him over. His breath stank of whiskey.

"Well now, aren' you mishter fanshy pantsh--Yer shteppin' int'the wrong pub, mishter.

Dreffan only smiled, which seemed to infuriate the man. The man raised his fist in a clumsy attempt at a punch, and Dreffan shifted his weight slightly for a better defensive position, but there was no need.

The Bloodguard that flanked him, sensing the danger to their charge, burst into motion. The first stepped directly in front of Dreffan, and the second grabbed the man's wrist, then leaned forward to lay the man low with a swift, devastating right cross. As he fell to the floor, utterly dazed, the tavern got slightly quieter. A few pairs of eyes turned to face Dreffan and his entourage, but bar fights were business as usual in this prison-town.

Dreffan turned his gaze to Finn and Valin, who had retreated into the corner of the bar.

Zel got back to his feet after being knocked down by the guard. "Ah, man. That smarts."

The guard who knocked him senseless drew his sword and pointed it at him. "If you know what's good for you you'll stay out of our way."

Zel sheepishly smiled at the guard and his entourage. He lifted his arms in surrender and backed away a few steps. "Hey, I know when I'm out classed. You win this time, buddy."

I spared only half a glance as yet another fight-seeking drunkard was laid low--this by a rather peculiarly dressed man as his companions stood by, smirking with superiority--before hurrying over to Valin as he beckoned. It surprised even myself when my arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him into a tight, brief hug. He tensed a little at the unwonted gesture of affection, and before he'd had a chance to relax I released him, flushing brightly. I smoothed a few strands of hair away from my face and attempted to brush a wrinkle or two out of my skirt, trying my best to retain my dignity.

"It's good to see you too, Finn," he said, offering me a small smile. "But for the love of whatever you consider holy, please don't say my name that loudly! I don't need it spread around..." His eyes darted around for a moment, and seemed to linger on someone on the men who had knocked out the drunkard for half a second before flitting back to my still-flushed face. "Not all that popular with certain factions, hmm?"

I nodded then, speaking in a hushed tone, and slid onto the bench beside him. "Righ', a' course. Wha's brought ye 'ere, eh?"

He gave me a stern, somewhat ironic look. "What do you think?"

Once again, I nodded. "Shoulda fig'red. Go' any plans?"

His smile this time was somewhat devious, an expression of companionable conspiracy. He leaned in closer, arms on the table, to whisper a few inches from my face: "What do you think?"

I grinned.

Smiling a bit smugly at the man with the spiky hair, Alana felt some relief when a man made him a bit humbler. It was always good for male ego's to take a beating once in a while. Besides, how dare he call her a whore! Well...she could be mistaken for one. Perhaps.

Suddenly she spied a young woman talking to a mysterious man in hushed tones. This piqued her curiousity. She wondered quietly to herself what they were about, but besides stealing a few glances their way, did nothing to attract their attention.

Dreffan knew that the Bloodguard were drawing far too much attention than was healthy. With a wave of his hand and a muttered order, he sent the silent warriors upstairs, to the room Dreffan had purchased only moments earlier. The two bodyguards ascended the stairs, surprisingly light footed, until they were out of sight. Dreffan turned back to the bar, a mishevious smile on his face.

"He told me to fetch the prisoners--didn't say anytthing about not having any fun while I'm at it, right?" Dreffan said to the bartender, who was staring at him rather intently.

Trying to figure out where I'm from, no doubt, Dreffan thought, amused.

"Whiskey, bartender. A pint, if you will." The rather large man nodded and pulled a bottle and mug from behind the counter. As Dreffan slid a coin across the bar, the man poured the amber booze.

"What brings yerself here, laddie?" Dreffan was amused by the man's question--he'd already heard the answer once.

"Retrieving some prisoners," he replied coolly, as if it was routine. He turned around on his stool to get a better view of the pub, and let his gaze drift back to Finn Chant and the elf, Valin.

The whiskey was interesting--much more stout than Dreffan was used to, and far less flavorful than Nemanic ale, but enjoyable nonetheless.

"Tha's Miss Chant," the bartender said suddenly. Dreffan realized that he had been staring at Finn while he mulled over the whiskey.

"Hmm?" he said.

"Miss Chant," the bartender said again. Dreffan feigned ignorance.

"Is it? That's an interesting name."

"Aye. A bit rough around the edges, that one, but purdy enough, if you ask me," the bartender said.

Then she stood up. Dreffan did as well. It was at that moment that he realized that he was showing too much interest. However, it was too late to stop. He decided to play along. Putting a stupid grin on his face, he looked at the bartender.

"Keep another ready; I think I'm going to need it."

"Ye'r prob'ly right, laddie. Good luck."

Finn began making her way back to the bar, and Dreffan adjusted his path so that it would cross hers. He slipped his hand into his satchel and around the smallest of the three slips of parchment there, then "accidentally" knocked into the woman as she walked past him. With the collision, his hand snaked to her apron and dropped the note into the pocket there.

"Oh my--terribly sorry, madam. My apologies," he said, stuttering slightly. Her eyes snapped up to his, her eyes narrowed and looking for a fight, and he flashed her his most disarming grin. His act appeared to work. Her features softened, and she looked back down.

"S'alrigh'. Jes' watch yer step, nex' time."

Now that the fight was over Zel decided to leave the bar and find someplace to sleep. Of course he could just rent a room in the inn, but he was too drunk to remember.

He spotted a stable off to the side of the street. "Well, looks like I'll be sleepin there t'night." He walked into the stable, found a good pile of hay and went to sleep.

10 fully armed soldiers marched down the steps, their Shining green and silver armor reflected the flickering torches along the dungeons spiraling stone staircase. Upon reaching the last few doors one of the soldiers stepped forward and handed a sheet of paper to the guard.

"Released?!" the man slputtered, "But but-"

"Just unlock the door Joe, Orders are orders" one of the soldiers replied

"Wake up" joanne said angrily kicking Sirloaz unmoving body, "You're being released." At those words Sirloaz picked his head up and just stared at Joanne.

"It's just prisoner transfer, you aren't free yet" a Soldier said.

"Ok get ready" joanne said interrupting as he began to unlock the many locks holding down Sirloaz's chains. The soldiers uneasily gripped their swords; a few of them unsheathing their sword and holding it ready.

The final lock clinked as it landed on the cold stone floor; Sirloaz took his first step since his last escape to attempt. "So, when do these come off?" He said nodding a the remaining chains which prevented majority of his movement.

"They don't, we don't trust you that much. Now get moving"

Sirloaz was shoved into the hallway escorted by 10 soldiers as he began a slow march up the winding stairs.

Dreffan lay on his cot that night, playing his plan for the morning over and over in his head. He would send a Bloodguard to deliver a message to the Head Gaoler, informing him to have the prisoners ready for a meeting with him in the morning. Sirloaz, Stillman, and Temperest, Dreffan recalled. Armed with a quill and small piece of parchment, he did just that. A few minutes later, one of the Bloodguard was gone.

Dreffan then settled down for a much needed rest. He hadn't been lying to the Gate Keeper when he'd said the journey had been a long one. If anything, it had been an understatement. The trip had taken close to three weeks, and in that time they had only stopped to rest ten times. He'd counted each one as a blessing. Dreffan was the only one of the group that had shown any hint of exhaustion, though; the Bloodguard, as well as the steeds Lord Belfast had supplied them, were as tireless as they were mute.

The remaining Bloodguard stood in front of the door, as still as the bronze statues that lined the main hall of Belfast Keep. Despite his inanimate appearance, he knew the guard would leap into action at a moment's notice, likely faster than he could.

He had seen the Bloodguard fight only once, in the barrens of the Blood Plains, just as they had broken for camp. Dreffan had been just settling down to sleep for the three hour rest he could afford, when without warning the Bloodguard drew steel and peered into the darkness.

Before Dreffan could begin to ask what was wrong, a score of skeletal hands burst from the earth beneath Dreffan's feet, grasping his ankles. With unearthly strength, the skeletons in the ground pulled themselves to the surface, held together by the abundance of Arcane Energy that littered the Blood Plains, remnants of a war long over. Even as the revenants pulled themselves from the ground, the Bloodguard struck--their blades, wielded with amazing grace and power, cut through bone and energy to devastating effect. Many of the skeletons were decimated before they managed to get their torsos out of the ground, while others pulled one leg out only to be cut down where they stood.

In moments, the skeleton ranks were destroyed, the arcane energy that once held them together shattered. The battle took no more than half a minute.

Dreffan was brought back to the present by the door to his room opening.

The second Bloodguard stepped in with a nod, then took his place next to the first.

"Delivered, then?" Dreffan asked. The Bloodguard nodded again.

"Excellent."

I slipped out of the crowd and up the stairs to the open room under the eaves, where the whores and some of the waitresses slept. My shift had ended, but I wasn't just going to turn in, like most nights--just get out of this gods bedamned skirt and back into my trousers, then head down to Valin's room for some reconnaissance work.

I was folding my skirt onto the narrow straw cot that I called mine when something fell out of the wide pocket. I frowned and put the skirt down, then bent to pick it up. Parchment... I unfolded it and found two words scrawled across it. It had been so long since I'd read anything, but luckily my da had forced both Liam and me to learn the skill. I took it over to the lantern by the wall and held it up to examine more closely.

Kill me.

I shivered, reread the message, then folded it and slipped it into my shirt, and headed down to the guest rooms to meet Valin.

Kill me. Kill me. Who would be leaving me notes like that?

Seraph... whispered a voice in the back of my head. I mentally slapped it, shook it, and threw it to the ground. Why would Seraph want me to kill him? Why would Seraph even be writing to me, a bitter part added, since he'd left me without looking back so many months ago?

Kill me...

"He's coming," Kira said.

"Thank you Kira," Ria said. She opened the door. Valin was a few feet away.

"Are you Valin?" Ria asked the elf.

"Who told you that?"

"A ranger."

"What do you want?"

"I'd like to talk to you privately."

"About what?" Valin demanded.

Ria opened the door slightly, revealing Kira. Valin's eyes went wide with recognition.

"Come in, we'll talk more," Ria said. Valin entered and said nothing.

"What would you like to talk about?" Valin asked.

"What has happened to Alden?"

"He's dead," Valin said, sitting down. The bluntness of the statement shocked Ria, as well as the content. It took her a few seconds to recover.

"But the hunting parties-"

"They're chasing after a ghost."

"How do you know he's dead?"

"I saw where he died. Several months ago, our group was travelling along, when one of our party betrayed us. He was a good friend of mine. He knocked me out and what he did to Alden I can not say for sure. When I came to, the river was full of blood and feathers. A few minutes later we were ambushed by soldiers. If I had not been knocked out, I might have been able to prevent his death," Valin turned his head, before standing up.

"Who killed him?" Ria said, her voice was shaking.

"His name is-" Valin stopped as the door creaked open. The next few seconds was a blur of motion, Ria barely heard someone cry out. When it was over, there were two more people in the room.

My fingers pressed against my stomach, where the note lay beneath the fabric against my skin. I heard it crinkle a little as I shifted my hand back down to hang by my hip. Maybe I would tell Valin about this--he'd recognize the handwriting, perhaps (or, blessed be, wouldn't recognize it at all), or at the very least have some idea of what to do. I mean, how did it get into my pocket, anyway? Could someone have put it there? None of my girls would play that sort of prank, if they were capable of writing in the first place--and there was enough opportunity as I was taking food around for any drunk in the place to do so.

My mind flashed momentarily to the man who'd run almost headlong into me right before I'd come upstairs. Strange looking fellow, but he had a smile that made me feel all melty and--and--GIGGLY inside. I scowled. If it was him, I had double reason to kick his ass. Or kill him, if that's what he wanted me to do. Assuming it was him.

Now I was just confusing myself! I stepped down into the guest's corridor, but hesitated as I saw Valin stepping into a woman's room. So the elf had found himself some action, hmm? I was bizarrely jealous as the door closed behind them. I shook my head--what was I on about? So Valin had some sort of lover he was meeting here... so what if I hadn't been his reason for coming here? Like he would've known or cared anyway. Since Liam died, and Seraph disappeared, no one cared. I was used to it. And Seraph, if he was alive, certainly didn't care anymore, so it was just me and my girls here at the tavern...

...And whoever wanted me to kill him. Or her. No, it seemed like a man's handwriting. I hesitated, pulled the letter out again and examined the words. Just two of them. Kill me. My body shuddered compulsively and violently as I reread them, and, shaking, I replaced the letter, sliding it back inside my shirt, and started towards the room in which Valin had disappeared. I needed his counsel, and he had told me to seek him out, so I'd just have to live with interrupting his little tryst.

I hesitated as another figure approached the door to the room though. I recognized her--Alana, one of the barmaids. She hesitated by the door, then went down on one knee and gingerly pressed her ear to the wood.

My eyes widened with alarm. If she was spying... well, my memories of Valin's quick judgment were awfully clear. "Alana!" I hissed, hurrying down the corridor and waving frantically at her. "Ge' away from there!" I grabbed her arm, and she tried to shake me away, landing one fist hard against my shoulders repeatedly; I lost my balance and fell against her, and against the door.

Much to our combined horror, the door opened; we fell into the room, sprawled on the floor. I looked up to see Valin and the unfamiliar woman staring at us, the former with his hand on his sword and a furious expression.

Becky's hand had swollen to almost twice the normal size. She had tried to set the bone, but she knew next to nothing about advanced first aid. The pain at least gave her something to think about, though, instead of dwelling on her situation, for which she was grateful.

Suddenly, the door to her cell banged open. Becky jumped to her feet, squinting into the greater light.

"What's happen'd? Where are you taking me?"

The two guards didn't answer. They grabbed her by the elbows and dragged her from the cell, roping her arms together. Becky winced as the ropes slid over her hand. After a minute, she quit struggling.

"Good girl," one guard muttered. Becky glared.

They pushed her into a larger cell. She looked around, eyes adjusting to the lower light. Two male prisoners were in there, as well as several more uniformed guards. She didn't recognize anyone.

"What's this for?" she demanded.

"You're to wait here," a guard answered stiffly. The door closed. Becky looked around, but could tell right away escape would be impossible, especially without her weapons. The other prisoners were watching her. One was bound excessively, even chained to a weight. He smirked coolly at a harassed and jumpy looking guard. Becky saw in the torch light that his eyes were two different colors.

The other was bruised and tired looking. He'd been stripped of most of his clothing, and there were scars on his chest. He wasn't even tied up.

"Stillman?" the bound man said, through his gag.

Becky whirled around. "What?" she yelled.

"Becky. Becky it's us," the other said.

"Sirloaz? Adrian?"

Becky wanted to hug them. It had been so long since she'd seen a familiar face. She didn't, though, remembering her vow.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

Adrian nodded, though he didn't look it.

"You?" Sirloaz asked.

"I thought I said no talking!" the man guarding him spat, kicking at him with the toe of his boot.

"Relax, Joanne." He moved slightly and his chains clinked. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Do you know where we're bein' took?"

"Prisoner transfer," Joanne said. "No talking."