Young Writers Society

We leave the next day, and we are well along by the time the sun rises. The red light makes the hills look drenched in blood. But we head west, away from the rising sun, and towards the dark grey sky. We've been riding for an hour now, and I know we won't be there for a long while.

Beside me is the Lieutenant-colonel, draped in her winter cloak and a fur hat. It's colder than usual, though only because the sun has yet to take its place above us, and the wind has picked up. I was offered warmer clothing, but I only took the gloves. It's not until midday when we stop, giving the horses some time to rest before we continue on.

The snow comes heavy. In front of us is but white, and still we dredge on, with a few complaints here and there by the soldiers. For most, I hope they're used to it. Lieutenant-colonel Bergonova stops the platoon and turns to face them. "Such little children I've trained," she says, raising her voice only high enough to be heard above the wind. "A bit of snow isn't going to kill you. Besides, you should show some respect to your prince. I very much doubt he wants a platoon of whining soldiers." She turns to me, shrugging them off. "I apologize. Few of them have seen battle yet, and even fewer have seen these conditions in a long time. Do you remember the last time we've had this much snow, Naslednik?"

I shake my head, but that was a bit quick to answer. "Seven years ago?" I reply, to the best of my knowledge. I was ten, and liked pushing my brother into the mounds of it.

She laughs. "Do you remember how thick it was? It was such a surprise to everyone.... And yet, the peasants still tried a revolt."

"I know. I was young, but not that young. I remember my father being stressed out over the uprising, and the Tsaritsa taking care of a newly born Grigory." He never stopped crying, that child... He grew up to be a very quiet boy, however.

"I'm used to this," she continues, a hint of resignation in her voice. "These are all inexperienced soldiers, though. So they aren't."

"I don't suppose I can't suggest reinforcements from a more experience group, can I?" This new piece of information is upsetting. We need a strong hold on Timofeyev, not just a presence there.

The Lieutenant-colonel is hesitant, I can see it in her shoulders, no longer held as high as before. "What exactly do you have planned, Naslednik?"

"I told you. A reclamation. And if we must do so by force, then we will."

"Timofeyev isn't a guarded village, Tsesarevich. We don't need any more men than we have."

"Lieutenant-colonel, I am taking the precaution that we may need to fight to keep our men stationed there." And, in a way, I'm hoping we can avoid a war. No, I don't want to avoid one. I want to win one. "We will need more experienced men."

She must think me a child, but she agrees nonetheless. "Kovalenko!" The man who greeted me yesterday rides up to meet with us. He bows slightly – with his head – to me, then turns to the Lieutenant-colonel. "Return to Voyennyser and gather another fifty men. Make sure they're veterans." He nods and turns his horse around.

We're forced to trust the terrain. It's hard to see very far ahead of us, and the snow is beginning to pile up on the ground. I know that in order to reach the village, we must cross the Magadan river. But we won't reach that until tomorrow, I'm sure of it.

The snow is thicker now, and ahead of us lays untouched white for miles. Slowly, we dredge on.

There's a sense of satisfaction you get when your goal is visibly within reach. The houses and church of Timofeyev peek over the last hill, black and brown against the white snow. It stopped yesterday, the storm, but it left us with snow up to our knees. In other words, it's been slow. And I'm relieved to see the village in our sights.

"The men are yours to command, Tsesarevich." The Lieutenant-colonel waits for my orders as we reach the small village. The church stands tallest, a spire of blackened brick and stained glass.

With a nod, I turn to face the small army gathered here. "Set up a guard around the perimeter. I'll speak with the people." We ride off, though rather slowly as the snow is heavy around us.

Timofeyev opens its arms to us. The entirety of the village can be seen in a single glace; small houses haphazardly placed along the water, the church at the far side, farmhouses in the distance. It's plain, traditional, and incredibly boring. But the streets aren't empty. If you can call them streets. They've been cleared by the villagers, and there are men standing in them, too many to be native here and the colour of their jackets tell me they aren't one of us. Ilyich whines, but I urge him to keep going. The men, now that I can see them better, wear the uniform of the Zeitriya army. Panic settles in. My right arm tenses, a slight pain emanating from it as I grip the reins tighter. What are they doing here? Then I see her, the little girl runs past a mounted solider, and... what? It's the same girl, I know it. The same blonde curls and pink dress. I hope she gets somewhere safe. How she got here is a different matter.

Someone is barking orders. Someone who sounds like a girl.

"Handle any of the incoming soldiers! Kill them if you have to." She sounds... I don't know how to explain it. There's a hint of steel in her voice, that of someone who has been hardened by experience, and of someone who doesn't normally lose.

I grip the sword that had been given to me, my entire body is tense, a strain on my shoulders and chest. Your first actual battle, Kazimir. Are you prepared for this? I hear hooves behind me, a thundering and cracking ice. Deep breath. Exhale. Of course I'm prepared. My heart beats loudly, blood rushing in my ears. Turn, you fool. See who's behind you. Slowly, I face whoever it is, and it's a blur from here.

I feel my arm pulled out from me, a sharp tug as someone gallops past. Ilyich tries to keep up, but I'm dragged off him, left to watch the horse as someone else ties a rope around his neck and leads him off. And then I fall. The ground hits me hard, or do I hit it? My shoulder takes the entire brunt of the pain – a jolt rushing up to my neck, chattering my teeth in my skull. I try to get up, onto my knees and off the icy ground, but I only make it so far. I'm dragged again, this time by my collar, and I spin around, gain my footing, and unsheathe my sword. Ahead of me is a girl with brown hair tied away from her round face, staring me down like a hawk. Her clothing is heavy, though not draped in furs like the Myraichskii army. There's a grin on her face as she takes out a small dagger and spins it around her hand. She looks to be about my age.

And then, she charges, passing me with one wide swing of her arm. I sidestep out of the way, and now I'm looking at a rider-less horse... Where did she go?

The cold of the steel blade against my neck tells me. My heart pounds harder. I want to run, but I can't. With every breath, the blade cuts into my neck, however barely. She's holding it with the flat end. It feels like the flat end. That's good. Very good. Oh gods, am I going to die?

"Did I scare the princeling?" I can sense a smile on her face, and I try to calm myself down. She pulls the sword out of my hand with surprising strength, my wrist strained by the attempt to hold on. She pulls out a rope, ties them together, then to my body, and soon I'm unable to move. Forcibly frozen as the cord cuts off circulation to my hands, though just a bit. She lets go, standing now in front of me, grinning. "Sorry," she says, cocking her head to the side. "Your invasion ends here. But the Kaiserin will appreciate your effort." There's a sharp pain in the side of my neck, and I struggle to focus.... The... rope is cold. Very cold. And the ground rushes to meet me.

#

My head hurts... And my body aches.... Can I go back to sleep? Why is this all so uncomfortable? My rips are being pressed against something, hard, and... Oh, that smells like horse. I open my eyes, and try to move, but nothing.

"The princeling awakens." Who...? The voice continues, and ah, I remember her now. "You're lucky your horse followed you. Otherwise, I'd have made you walk the entire way." She doesn't speak Zeitryskii, but rather my native language, with amazing fluidity.

Looking down, there's a bit less snow here, from what I can see. I try to recollect my memory of last night. Last night? No, it was... I don't know. "How long has it been?" My words slur, embarrassingly, and oh gods, have they poisoned me? Drugged me?

"A day," she replies, still looking forward as if I'm some kind of unwanted child.

"I assume you're taking me to Kreistung, then?" Everything slurs. It sounds horrible, gods. "I can negotiate my freedom with the Kaiserin myself."

"I'm only the messenger, princeling. I'm here to deliver you to her. What you two do after that isn't any of my business." I remember now. The fight, and my defeat. This girl.... Woman. No, girl. This girl is fast and strong, and she holds herself with confidence. She speaks to me with slight annoyance, that's the tone I hear in her voice. Annoyance. Almost as if she doesn't want to be here any more than I do.

And yet, I don't know her name. I ask her for it, but only silence in return. And so, I ask again, frustrated. "Do I not get to know your name?"

"There are a lot of things you won't get, princeling. I suggest you grow used to it." Again with the annoyance. It's a slight edge in her voice, the impatience seeping through.

I am still unable to move, and the horse treads slowly over a fallen log covered in snow. I strain my neck to look up, only to see a landscape somewhat recognizable. It's been years since I've travelled to Zeitriya, and unfortunately the trees look all too similar to one another. They're covered in white, dark green pine needles jutting out from beneath. But my neck hurts, and I relax again, falling limp on the side of a horse. ....How humiliating.

This isn't Ilyich. This horse is brown, not black. That's obvious. And his horseshoes are not red.... Have I honestly resorted to pointing out the differences between this horse and my own? I pause for a moment, watching the snow pass by beneath me. Yes, I answer. Yes I have.

The ride for the rest of the day is long. I have little else to do but wander with my thoughts, and unnecessary conversations with myself. That sounds pathetic. In all honesty, I don't talk to myself. I swear. I think.

Day passes and we stop in a clearing. The soldiers build a fire, and the girl lifts me off the horse with surprising ease. To be fair, a lot of things about her surprise me. I should stop saying that. It's a relief as I feel the strain lifted from my ribs. She stands me on my feet, and I take care that I don't slip on any ice as I try to gain my balance. Tied up like a hog and surrounded by an enemy's army. I watch as she leaves me, walking towards an empty space with her belongings piled in the snow. She is graceful, manoeuvring the ice and knee-high snow. I take cautious steps backwards, watching as the white of snow becomes more and more littered with dried and yellowed pine needles. From here, I have a view of the men that accompanied us.

They all carry the typical traits of Zeitryskii, a large, stout nose, square faces, and a mouth almost too small for their face. Many of them walk by, grinning in satisfaction as they pass. By now, I've sat down in the snow, leaning against a tree whose branches just barely go over my head. I match their eyes, every single one of them, as they look at me as their prisoner. But I need to remind them still, that they are mere soldiers, and I am a prince. No matter what, I am above them, because the blood of the gods runs through my veins, while they are mortals in every sense of the word. Or am I getting ahead of myself. A shorter one, a compression of a man, ignores me as he goes about his business, and I can only think of how I was caught. Rather, how were we ambushed?

A coincidence, perhaps. But no, I remember the girl telling her soldiers to kill ours. Was that deliberate? The wind blows past, and I bear the blast of snow that accompanies it. It stings slightly, but not enough for me to be bothered by it. The girl.... Somehow she was in charge. She doesn't look like a Zeitryskii, and I turn to face where she has her camp set up, in hopes to be proven correct. She stands in front of her tent, grinning to herself in pride, hands behind her back. There's a beat of silence, and the snow stops falling from the clouds above. A bird sings in the distance, and the mutterings of the others in the camp are muted. She turns her back to the tent, walking towards me and I quickly avert my gaze with a jolt. Suddenly, I'm very interested in that crooked tree that two men are trying to build camp around. It no longer grows up, but sideways, and the snow is piled high. How strange.

"You're an idiot for sitting down while tied up." I look up to the girl, stoic expression and – she definitely is not from Zeitriya. Or at least, not ancestrally, with a small, button nose, striking green eyes, stout body and wide hips.

I cock my head to the side and reply, "What do you mean? I'll be fine." Putting my weight forward, I shift my legs to the side and under me as I stand. "See? Fine."

"I suppose the princeling has more coordination than I thought." She grabs my collar, and I'm forced along with a hard tug. She has to reach up to do so, but she does anyways, and I wonder, where is she taking me?

The snow makes me stumble, and her height has me bent over, an awkward mix of trying to maneuver the snow and keeping up with her pace. This girl's essentially dragging me along behind her, and she pushes me into the tent. Inside, there are two beds, well apart from each other, and a small pile of clothing. There's some food thrown to the side haphazardly, and I realize just how hungry I am. "That one's yours," she tells me, pointing to the one on the left. "You can use your coat as a blanket. I don't trust anyone else in the camp to watch over you for the rest of the trip." I nod, and she continues on as I try to squeeze out of the ropes, but still, my upper body provides no movement. "Don't try, they're enchanted. Besides, how else am I going to keep watch over you?" She grins again, wryly this time.

"You could at least untie me for the night," I say, wishing I could get some feeling back into my arms. "What do you expect me to do? Jump on Ilyich and make a run for it?" The idea in itself is ludicrous. "From what little I know of you, you'd have guards watching the camp throughout the night. You would have brought along only the men and women that you trust to escort a prisoner of my ranking, and I assume they're well trained. If that's the case, I don't have much of a chance. Besides," I start, smirking as I mock her earlier tone, "how else am I going to complain to the Kaiserin when I see her?" A sharp laugh chirps out of her, the grin returning in a more mocking tone.

"The princeling is clever!" she exclaims.

"I have a name," I insist.

"I like princeling better, Kazimir," she says, drawing out the "eer" at the end of my name. "How do I know you won't run? Or is your ego so damaged that you must take it up with the Kaiserin?"

"I won't run. I value my life more than the prospect of freedom, honestly. I'd rather speak with Annika and hope she has some sort of explanation for all this. But... I would like something in return." A raised eyebrow and a skeptical gleam. I continue on, hoping she doesn't think me a liar. In this situation, at least. "Your name. That's all."

She frowns, but gives it to me anyway: "Herja. My name is Herja."

I nod. "Thank you. Now I... would not mind you taking these ropes off." I turn so that my back is facing her, and she undoes them, tugging at the cord. A wave of air and feeling rushes through my entire upper body, and shake my arms slightly, enjoying the freedom. Never really realized how badly I missed it until now.

"You're still travelling with us as our prisoner, princeling. Keep that in mind." She closes the tent and sits on her bed.

"I am aware," I tell her, placing my coat down as a blanket and blowing out a candle. "But thank you... Herja."

The last candle goes out and it's dark, with the only light coming from a campfire outside. I take my boots off, crawl in, and my last thoughts in the darkness before I fall asleep are of the girl, and how in the span of two days, Herja has managed to surprise me more than anything I've ever experienced.