Young Writers Society

I re-wrote this completely. Now what do you think?

PROLOGUE

A tall building atop a hill rose out of the mist. It was all that was visible for miles around, and it was indeed a fabulous sight. Spires towered high above the main building, and a bell could be heard tolling, as it did every four hours. Many of the windows were large and highly decorated, but on the north side of the building, where it was dark and cold, the windows were barely slits, hinting that this tall, graceful building had once been something much more military than it was at that time.

A young woman sat at one such window, staring listlessly out into the mist. It had been there for days, and showed no sign of abating. She sighed and turned her head back to the drawing in her hands. It was of a tall, handsome boy with quite short hair who was staring over his shoulder with his back to the viewer. She had been given this picture and had memorised it. Carefully she stared at the picture, before throwing it into the fire, where it swiftly caught alight. As the picture turned to ash, there was a slam of a door and a tall woman with wavy brown hair and pale grey eyes walked into the room. She turned to the first woman, speaking quietly. The first woman stood up and moved towards her companion. She picked a headscarf up from the table and bound it around her friend’s head, hiding all her hair. Her friend then did the same thing with the woman’s own long, auburn hair. Then they both stepped out of the room and walked down a long spiral staircase.

They walked down the stairway and along a narrow stone corridor. Many other women were also going the same way as they were, and one of them came up to them, calling;

“Catkin! Tienkia!” She was a tall, shapely figure with shining golden hair and soft sea green eyes. As she walked along, the brown haired woman stared at her hair in distaste.

“Hair, Sibeina,” she said briefly. The green eyed woman blushed and pulled a headscarf from the belt of her long, white shapeless tunic.

“Sorry, Tienkia,” she said. Tienkia took the headscarf from Sibeina and wrapped it around her head, making sure not one hair was visible. The three then proceeded on with the rest of the crowd of women through the narrow, dimly lit corridors until they came to a huge oaken door. The corridor on the other side of this door was so different to the narrow passageway that one could be mistaken into thinking that they were in a different building entirely.

Instead of spluttering torches on the walls, this wide, carpeted passage had gas lamps that gave off a warm, friendly glow. Tapestries hung on the whitewashed walls, looking much more welcoming than the bare stone of the previous area. A bustling crowd of men ahead, dressed in warm looking woollen attire, were walking the same way as the women. They were talking quietly, unlike the now silent women, and looked at ease in the relative splendour of these passages, indicating that they should be there. The women, on the other hand, felt that they were trespassing where they were not allowed. Even though they made this journey every four hours, every day, they were still not comfortable there. They kept their eyes down and just walked, following the men in front of them.

At one point, a small group of men dashed out into the crowd of women, knocking some of them over and halting the whole crowd. Instead of rebuking the men, the women turned against those who the men had barged into, letting the men walk sedately away. The women who had been knocked over bowed their heads and blushed, murmuring apologies to their elders. Satisfied, the women walked on.

Soon they reached a huge pair of ebony double doors. They were intricately carved, with the detail highlighted in gold and ivory. The women stopped for a while, allowing any straggling men to get into the room before them. They then walked in themselves, keeping their heads down. The large Hall they entered was filled with myriad of artefacts: tapestries hanging from the golden painted walls; gold and silver candle sticks with white candles burning bright even in the daylight shining through the mist and the tall, painted glass windows; and at one end of the room, a huge altar made from oak and covered in golden clothes and candles, as well as other religious objects. Beside the altar stood a lectern with a huge, golden bound book, and standing beside the lectern there was an old man dressed in white, a golden cloak hanging from his shoulders and a tall white hat situated upon his head.

But the women did not look up as they walked into the hall and sat upon hard oak benches at the back. They did not complain that they had no cushions, like their male counterparts. They did not make a sound, but just filed in and sat down, silently and demurely and keeping their heads down at all times. As the last woman sat down, the man at the front of the Hall began to speak in a soft voice. Silence filled the hall as everyone strained to hear what the man was saying. His voice rumbled on, until suddenly he fell silent, a frown upon his face.

The reason he had fallen silent was that he had heard a huge banging from the front of the building. As it banged again, he gestured to a woman seated at the back of the hall. Shyly she stood and left the Hall. The man began to speak again, and everyone in the Hall bowed their heads and clasped their hands in prayer. But before the prayer could be finished the door to the Hall opened again, and the woman who had left re-entered, closely followed by a few burly men in armour and carrying huge swords at their sides and crossbows in their hands.

The man at the front of the room did not stop in his murmur of prayer until the prayer was finished. Then he turned to the armed men and demanded why they were there in a cold voice, for he was angry that they had disrupted his prayer.

“Traitors!” one of the soldiers bellowed. “Forgive us, Your Eminence, but there are traitors amongst you.”

“Nonsense,” the man they called ‘Your Eminence’ said. “We are all true followers of the Light and Our Golden Lord here.”

“Nevertheless, we have evidence that there are traitors amongst you.”

“Well, who?”

“Them,” said one of the soldiers, pointing to where Tienkia, Sibeina and Catkin demurely sat.

“Us!” Tienkia cried, causing all the women to gasp. “But I am a devout servant of Our Lord!” She protested as the soldiers came towards her. “Tell them, you two!” she cried to her fellow accused.

“Shut up and run!” Catkin hissed. “You’ll never make them believe you!” She grabbed their arms and dragged them through the ranks of priestesses, who just sat there stupidly watching them. Once they were in a corridor she let go of their arms and continued to run.

“What is the meaning of this?” Tienkia demanded. “We just have to get them to believe that we are true Priestesses of the Light!” Catkin stopped and turned to face her.

“They believe that we are traitors,” she said. “Nothing is going to make them believe that we are not. Now run, unless you want to die.” She turned and began to run again, but suddenly a door in front of her banged open and a dozen soldiers stormed out. Sibeina screamed as one lunged for her, but Catkin kicked the soldier in his groin. One soldier grabbed her arms and she skipped away from him. More soldiers grabbed Tienkia and Sibeina, and as she watched and dodged her friends were tied with rope. Another soldier grabbed her, but she grabbed him and, to the amazement of those watching, slung the soldier over her hip and onto his back and carried on running, dashing away from the other soldiers. She heard more screams behind her, but continued to run without hesitation, for she knew that there was no chance of getting her friends free now. Her only chance was to run.

“Catkin!” she heard Sibeina cry, and Tienkia shrieked her name too, in anger. Tears fell down her face, but she had to keep running, she had to keep fleeing from the soldiers. She made a mad dash through the wide, regular corridors that linked the men’s rooms and the main rooms of this place. The soldiers followed her easily, and even began to catch her up, for they were wearing breeches and she was wearing a long tunic that hampered her running. Suddenly she saw a fine door with familiar letters carved into it, and she had to smile. In desperation Catkin dived into the room, which the door marked as the library.

She ran between the bookshelves, keeping out of sight of the main door. She knew that the soldiers would find her in here if she was not careful, but she had more of a chance evading them in here than from out in the wider corridors. If only she could find the women’s entrance that lead to the women’s section, then she could evade the soldiers successfully. The narrow corridors of the woman’s section were a maze she could hide herself in, and she knew them well, whereas the soldiers did not.

She screamed suddenly as a soldier jumped out in front of her. Luckily for her he was only one, and his companions were spread out, scouring the library for her. They reasoned that, as a priestess she would be easy to overcome. It was this reasoning that made the soldier in front of Catkin grin widely. She scowled at that grin and lunged headfirst at the man. He did not expect this, and fell with a thud onto the hard floor. Cursing, he stood up, but Catkin had grabbed two of his knives at she had bowled him over and stood, knives in hand, facing him. The soldier warily unsheathed his sword, and Catkin threw her knife. Her aim was true and it pierced the vein in the soldier’s neck. A look of surprise crossed his face as he sank to the floor, his life blood flowing out of him. Catkin stared for a long second at what she had done, then turned and began to run again, holding the other knife tightly in her hand.

She managed to evade the other soldiers, and soon she came to a small door marked with only one symbol – the woman’s symbol. She grinned as she reached this door and pushed it open. Slipping through the door, she silently closed it behind her, just as she heard a cry from elsewhere in the library. Someone had found the murdered soldier. Catkin’s grin fell from her face, and she turned and dashed through the passages. Left, right, left, left, up some stairs, right, right, straight ahead, left… She took a twisting, turning path through the network of passageways until she was near the top of the building. A locked door proclaimed to be the door up to the tower. She fished around in the pouch at her waist for the key to the door and opened it before going through and closing it behind her. She began to climb the tower, but did not climb all the way. She knew that there was only one quick way out of the tower, and if the soldiers found her at the top, she was cornered. Instead she reached a tiny window in the tower wall; the first of many. Eight steps up from this window she reached out her hand. In the darkness her hand groped across the smooth wall until she found a slight depression, and then the hole at the centre. She inserted her key into the hole and turned, and a section of the wall opened out.

In times of trouble this strange door in the tower had been built as an escape route. Not very many people knew about this hidden door now, and Catkin was not supposed to. But she knew many things that went on inside the Temple that she was not supposed to know. She climbed out of the door and stood upon a narrow ledge of rock. She was hidden from below, but not from above and from the other towers. She knew, however, that no-one would be in the towers at this time of day, especially not with her escapade. However, she also knew that soldiers soon might climb into the other towers. She cautiously climbed down the side of the tower, being careful not to fall onto the roof, for that would surely mean her death.

When she reached the roof of the main part of the Temple she immediately hid herself amid the crenulations and huge stone gargoyles and angels on the roof that were said to protect the building. Dashing from cover to cover, and making sure that she was hidden from all the four towers, Catkin managed to reach the edge of the roof, at the front of the building. She stared down, making sure she stayed unseen by anyone on the ground. The soldiers appeared to have given up on looking for her, and instead were dragging Tienkia and Sibeina out of the Temple and into carts that were to take them, she guessed, into the citadel of the Light. She sighed, tears falling down her face as she watched the carts carry her friends away from her.

“I will rescue you,” she murmured. “And I will explain everything. I promise…”