Young Writers Society

A/N Hey guys! It's been a while since I last posted a chapter for this story but here it is! :) Hopefully it's alright though, I've been experimenting with styles of writing so I'm not too sure how it'll go down but hey, live on the edge right? :D

The snow billowed and the wind bellowed.

Lia was frozen to the core and on the edge of her patience. Her food supply was worryingly low, and her nose felt dangerously close to falling off. It was well into the snow season in the mountains now and very much like being trapped in an eternal snow storm. Something flickered in the distance.

There it is again, she thought.

Lia had heard of stories about floating lights that magically appeared when all hoped seemed lost. Follow them, it was said, and you will find your grave. For a long time Lia had tried to avoid the pretty lights. She had tried heading in the opposite direction but the storm was so heavy that she would walk back to where she had started. It was always there in the distance, waiting for her. The strange thing was though, that unlike the legends, the light never seemed to move. It had never tried to guide her, coax her or lure her in any way.

Not a pushy kind of phantom light I guess.

She leaned her back against a tree and tried to take a deep breath. She wasn't the type to succumb to temptation but a week in the woods did things to you. None of them good. Lia glanced at the hovering light, it didn't seem to be particularly ominous.

She took a step towards it.

It wasn't really that intimidating.

Another step.

Not like it might lead her towards something that might see her as a snack.

Another couple of steps.

In fact the closer she got to it, the more it was suspiciously beginning to look like an ordinary lantern.

More steps.

Or more precisely a lantern attached to the verandah of a building.

A lot more faster steps.

A building called... the Jolly Goat?

She was now barely a few paces from the “Jolly Goat.” The light was not some sort of spectre and the building seemed to be only a common inn. Instead, a warm bed and hearty home cooked meal awaited her.

Food...

Lia smiled, marched forward and pushed open the inn's doors. Walking in she could feel the heat radiating from a giant hearth in the centre of the common room. The dining tables were scattered around it and those seated seemed to be mainly weary travellers, mountaineers and soldiers.

Know your surroundings.

The lessons from her father were so ingrained into her that it had now become second nature, instinct even.

Memorise the layout. Search for a secondary exit. Keep a weapon close.

Lia had a secret short sword tucked into the folds of her long coat. Just in case she couldn't get to her sword on her back on time or if she lost it somehow. She made her way to the counter at the back of the room. A young man had been sitting on a stool just behind it but got up as she approached. He slowly hobbled over.

Recently injured, she mused, or born lame. She pushed of her cloak's hood.

“Can I help ya?” he asked kindly, smiling at her.

“Yes,” she replied, “a meal and a room for the night thanks.”

“No problem. How does venison soup sound?” he asked, with another smile.

“As long as it's hot I'll like it.”

He smiled at her again.

He's a smiler, this one.

He reached under the counter and pulled out a key from a container. “Here ya go. Room twelve. Have a seat, I'll get someone ta send out your soup soon.”

She nodded her thanks and set off to find herself an empty table. All the ones near the hearth were packed so she picked an empty one on the outskirts. She sat down and pulled off her wet gloves. Massaging her numb fingers, she tried to get the blood moving again. After several minutes a plump girl with auburn hair brought her soup. Lia put her hands around the bowl for a minute and let them soak up the warmth before picking up her spoon and digging in. The soup was good and hot, and she ate ravenously while keeping an eye out for was going on in the room. Two men adjacent to her seemed to be engaged in a lively conversation.

“I don't believe ya,” said one. He was a weathered old man dressed in sheep skin.

“Nah, I'm tellin' ya Duttor, the market fer goats are still good,” said the other who was scraggly looking man with a hook shaped nose. “I sold ma Grelda the other day fer 300 coppers.”

“That's madness!” exclaimed the one called Duttor. “I sold ma foal fer that price!”

“Aye, yuv been played,” hook-nose chuckled before continuing softly, “though ya know, that could all change soon.”

“What makes ya say that?”

“Haven't ya heard? The Averence is dead.”

Duttor still looked unconvinced. “What's that got ta do with goat prices?”

Hook-nose sighed and sipped his drink. “Everyone knows the Emperor's been wantin' ta wage war with Ascerai for years now, the only one holdin' him back was the Averence, bless him, and now that he's gone they say the Emperor's goin' full steam ahead.”

“Ah,” realisation seemed to have dawned upon Duttor. “A war with Ascerai would drive goat prices down?”

“No ya dullard! Food'll be more scarce, it'll drive the prices up.”

Duttor smiled, “Well, then that's a good thing then! I'll sell ma Fellie fer a killin'!”

Hook-nosed was silent for a minute before saying, “I suppose, it depends which way ya look at it.”

The two men fell into silence and resumed eating their forgotten meals.

Lia's own bowl was almost empty and was contemplating ordering another when the inn doors opened and three well built, black-clad men strode in. Each carried a deadly looking sword at their belt and wore black silk masks. Each had a ring upon their left middle finger. Lia felt her heart jump into her mouth.

Why...? she thought.

No one watched as they passed through. No one wanted to draw attention to themselves. No one wanted to be noticed by the Illyari, the Emperor's special guard, his deadliest assassins. The young man who had served her before hobbled out to meet them.

Lia stared into her bowl and tried to be inconspicuous, not wanting to reveal her burning curiosity. The Emperor's men! she thought. Why are they here?

“Hello, sirs! How can I help ya today?” he called.

The men ignored him and started walking around the inn, looking at the people seated. After a moment one of them walked up to the young man and said, “We are looking for two people. A young man of seventeen years. He's travelling with a child of about 11. She's an albino.”

Albino?

“Albino? I've never seen one in ma life.” replied the young man. “We don't have any youths travelling with a child anyway.”

The Illyari stared at him, before turning to his comrades as they ceased their searching and joined him.

“Anything?” he barked.

They shook their heads at him. He made as if to leave before pausing and turning bock to the young innkeeper.

“By any chance have also seen a young girl? Around sixteen years of age, half Allurian.”

Panic seized her chest, they were looking for her! It was the Emperor who had killed her parents? Her heart began pounding so fast that she feared it would burst from her chest and fall into her soup.

The young man shook his head, “No blondes in this room as ya can see, sir.”

It was true, the room was only filled with the Liandorean browns and blacks and the Ascerian auburns. The Illyari gave the innkeeper one last look before gesturing to his companions. As they exited the inn, Lia could almost feel everyone in the inn release a breath. She realised that she had her hands had clenched into fists and when she opened them they started tremble. Scared that someone might see, she shoved them under the table.

“They could have searched a little better don't ya think, Fidor?” asked Duttor.

The goat men sure love to talk, thought Lia. She was still trying to get her heart to resume beating.

“Shh, keep it down ya dimwit. These are dangerous time as ya can see.” warned the hook-nosed man.

“Well, I'm right aren't I? All they did was look at some faces. They didn't even check the rooms.”

Fidor glanced around before saying. “Don't ya know anything? These mountains are out of the Emperor's power. He has ta share them with Ascerai.”

“Well, m family has always seen them as Liandorean.” declared Duttor as he sipped his drink.

“And mine have have seen them as Ascerian. It just depends on who ya ask.”

Lia was feeling sick now. She couldn't tell if it was because she had eaten too fast or whether it was because of the visit from the Illyari. If she had to pick she would say the latter, but it didn't matter because either way she had indigestion. She got up from her table, picked up her bag and wove her way through the maze of tables and up the stairs. When she reached the landing she searched for her room. The place had a nice pine smell to it, from all the wood. Just like-

Home.

She inhaled a ragged breath and tried to search faster. Finally, she found room twelve, she fumbled with the keys as she tried to unlock the door. Once she got it open she stumbled inside and threw everything she was holding onto the floor. The room was threadbare with nothing but a mattress and some blankets in the middle. She was feeling horribly sick now, she could feel bile rising up to her throat. Lia looked around desperately before finding a bucket in the corner of the room. She grabbed it before kneeling and retching heavily; bile, bits of venison and saliva all being thrown back into it. She had come so close to being found, only her mother's darkening cream had saved her. Tears streamed from her eyes as she heaved out more of the once delicious soup.

“Pa, why do you always wear that ring?” she remembered once asking her father.

Her father had gestured to the one on his left middle finger and said, “This one? This is a blood ring, sweetie, it marks me as one of the Emperor's men. It shows that I am always bound to him, by iron and by blood.”

Lia gave another heave as the contents of her stomach emptied and as she retched into the night, she cried for all that she had lost.