Young Writers Society

I have updated the beginning of The Two Brothers, let me know what you think. It is quite a bit longer, btw.

The night loomed with a certain chill about it, drifting in slowly from the west. Albern pulled his savaged cloak further over his head, protecting himself from the cold. His thick, brown hair blowing gracefully to one side before tucking it deep behind his ears.

He watched carefully into the forest that surrounded him, seeing it darken menacingly, tempting ignorant wanderers into its depths.

He continued staring, seeing the moon light begin to break through the treetops, watching for a sign of company, any sign that meant he could stop waiting.

He felt for his sword hidden within his scabbard, wrapping his hands around its cool, steel grip, unsheathing it slowly.

“Pleasant place to meet,” Albern jerked his head eagerly towards the voice, tensing his ears. “Though it was rather hard to find, I must say.”

The moon broke through the small opening in the forest, revealing a man leaning against a small willow tree, to the right of where Albern stood, gliding a large, blunt rock over his dagger.

Albern lifted his sword into the moon light, admiring its beauty. Four symbols engraved into the blade looked down upon him, uncertain at their meaning. "The winds whisper worrying words from the east," he warned, sheathing his sword and turning his attention to the man. "The people of the trees have spoken of hearing a vilanchi's cry.”

Albern heard the man go quiet, listening for a sound of movement. He glimpsed him stepping out of the shadows behind him, his long, black cloak swaying slowly to the wind as he walked towards the middle of the clearing.

"Vilanchi's are a myth," the man assured, his words echoing into the quiet. "You should not believe a single word the tree people speak. They are known to speak falsely; it would be a mistake to believe anything they say."

Albern followed him into the middle of the clearing, long grass brushing up against his naked legs, stopping within arm’s length of each other.

"You have heard the stories they tell, surely? For they worship no true god, no true God would accept their foul and inhumanly ways.” He continued.

Albern stared up at the tall, lean man, shocked by his words. “You have changed, my dear Brother, both in height and in attitude. I remember a day when you would become quite upset if you ever heard anyone speaking foully of the people of the trees, for you knew Mother used to help care and educate them. Have you forgotten of these times?”

"They have changed since then,” he answered, rolling his dagger around his fingers. “And not for the better. I have been given knowledge on the tree people's ways recent ways, their beliefs. It is known that smoking willow bark causes you to hallucinate, bringing your greatest fears to life. We all know they fear Vilanchi’s, for they are taught to fear them from the age of two. They are read tales on them, children’s tales, these stories increase in violence the older they become, embedding fear into their extremely manipulative minds. Everybody knows that aren’t real.”

“There were real,” said Albern, pulling his blood-stained cloak further over his shoulders. “The great battle of Wood Grove wiped them all out, but what if one survived? Two even, male and female?”

“Impossible,” said his Brother, looking down at Albern. “They feed on human blood, they need it to survive. There have been no sightings, no deaths, no nothing.”

“What if they found a way?” said Albern quickly, unsure himself at what he was getting at. “What if they found a way to survive?”

Silence fell quick between them. Albern felt the parchment rub against his leg, he had to show his Brother. “Aurol.”

“I’m glad you remember my name after all this time,” He walked back into the shadows. “So what was so urgent? Why ask me to meet you here of all places, out in the cold, the dark. Why not the warmth of an Inn?”

Albern pulled the parchment out his pocket, walking over to him. “This.”

He took Albern’s offering, grabbing the parchment from his hand, unfolding it slowly, reading it quickly.

'Dear Albern, sorry to trouble you, but there have been reports of a Vilanchi lurking around the Wouldering Woods. Search the woods will you, disprove the suspicions. The last thing we want is a Vilanchi causing terror to the town-folk. Good luck and best wishes. Mr Flutwere.' He smiled, dropping the parchment onto the ground. “This must be a joke,” he began, laughing to himself. “You sent me out here for this?” his voice rising unexpectedly. “Five years it has been, five! I expected something exciting, a dragon hunt, goblin chase, killing trolls even, but this!”

Albern picked the parchment off the forest floor, brushing off the dirt.

“At least they’re real!” He continued, “But no, I had to walk two hours to get here, I don’t even have a horse, not even a donkey, just my skinny, pale legs.”

“You don’t have a transportation spell?” asked Albern sarcastically, surprised by his brothers over reaction.

“Funny,” said Aurol, flicking his fingers aggressively at the ground. Come on now, work you useless things.

Albern watched his brother with intrigue, laughing. “And you think the people of the trees are mad?”

A tremendous fire flamed up in front of Albern, singeing off his eyebrows.

“You were saying?” said Aurol, walking over to the edge of the forest opening, muttering unknown words, forming his dagger into a long, wooden staff. “Eyebrows never suited you anyway, you’ll thank me later.”

Albern felt where his eyebrows once were, feeling the lack of hair. “Why would you do that?” anger building up inside him. “I needed my eyebrows.”

“For bringing me out here for no reason,” replied his brother, hovering a log in the air with his staff, placing it carefully next to the fire. “And for making fun of wizardry ability, and you won’t be needing your eyebrows, beast hunters show no emotion anyway.”

“I didn’t bring you out here for no reason,” said Albern, trying to sound as convincing as possible. “I have a reason behind everything I do.”

“Tonight must an exception then,” He held his hands close to the fire. “Vilanchi’s are a myth, accept it. If you accept it tonight, I will help you search for nothing tomorrow.”

“Are all wizards this stubborn?” asked Albern, watching the embers from the fire float up into the starry sky.

“Yes, yes we are,” answered Aurol, looking over at Albern. “Especially when we are told to walk two hours, expecting an exciting adventure but rather end up being told to search for a children’s tale. If you told me what we were going to do in your letter, I wouldn’t have bothered.”

“Lucky I didn’t tell you then.” Said Albern, giving in to the fires attraction, walking over to the log.

Aurol moved over, giving Albern room. “It’s surprisingly cold tonight,” said Aurol, moving his staff. “Once the fire dies out, I suggest we go to the Bloodstone Inn, it’s only a couple of bridges away. A lot safer and warmer than an opening in the woods.” He chuckled.

Albern nodded, taking a seat. “It is much more peaceful out here though,” he said, watching the fire dance. “I’ve never been one for crowds.”

“Which is why you have no need for your eyebrows, and as I said before, it suits you better. You’re already covered from head to toe in hair, you don’t need anymore.”

The two brothers laughed. “All we need now is an ale and we’d be set for the night.” Said Albern, checking his pocket for a flask, unable to find one.

“Indeed we would,” Said Aurol. “Indeed we would.”

Aurol looked over at this brother, seeing the disappointment on his face. “We shall eat and drink soon, brother.”

“Do you know how to get to the Bloodstone Inn?” asked Albern.

“Just follow the road south, as if you’re going to Cape Melen.” Aurol turned his head back to the fire.

Albern nodded. “It’s good to have you here, Brother.”

Aurol stretched out his legs, getting comfortable. “What would you do without me.”

“Continue doing what I have done for the past five years.” Said Albern.

“And what’s that?” Aurol looked at his brother, smiling.

“Dread the day I ever see you again.” Albern smirked

“Is that right? Was your letter meant for another Aurol living in my house?” He began laughing.

“No, but since it’s our Mothers birthday, I thought we should wish her a happy birthday together, like a family.”

“So this Vilanchi business was just a ploy then?” asked Aurol. “We don’t have to search it, or them.?”

Albern smiled, “No, we still do. But now you can’t say I brought you out here for no reason.”

“I guess not,” said Aurol, smiling. “Though it still seems like a long way to come just to sing a song.”

“Your mother’s birthday isn’t worth the effort? asked Albern, shocked at his brother’s words. “I’m sure she would’ve travelled this far for you, further even.”

“That’s not what I meant,” said Aurol, getting the truth out as quickly as he could. “It just... you know what, never mind.”

“Shall we sing, then?” asked Albern, looking at his brother. “I’m sure she would love it if we did.”

Aurol sat up. “Let’s begin.”

The fire had turned to ash by the time the two brothers had finished telling tales of their time apart. The flames that had once lit up the small area of the woods in which they sat had all but gone. Leaving darkness to take its place.

"We must be going", said Aurol getting to his feet. "The creatures that lurk these woods aren't as welcoming as those further south.”

Albern gazed up at the moon, realising how far it had drifted. "Our stories got the better of us,” he chuckled, feeling the chill battle with the warmth the fire had provided. "There is an Inn a few bridges up, we will seek comfort and warmth there tonight."

Albern longed for a good meal and an ale to throw it down with. He had told himself he wouldn't find comfort until he had reached the Wouldering Woods and met with his brother, for the Vilanchi’s were quick moving creatures and it was only a matter of time, if they were out there, until they made contact with folk of the town.

"Grab your belongings, Aurol", instructed Albern, "These roads are lurking with odd folk; desperate odd folk. We must stick together."

"I've had my fair share of encounters, Albern," Aurol sliced his dagger through the night air. "They know not to mess with me."

"I'm sure they'll run away in fear at the sight of you," said Albern with a touch of sarcasm.

Aurol brushed it off.

The Bloodstone Inn stood alone along a narrow road. Its many windows displaying the warm, friendly glow of the fire. Two horses stood out the front, one drinking water from a bucket while the other stared into one of the windows, unhappy about being left out in the cold.

Albern stroked its mane as he walked through the gate, admiring its softness.

Aurol entered the Inn first, followed by Albern. Their presence being stated by a little bell on the door, ringing its usual warning.

Unfamiliar eyes stared up at them both, Aurol recognised only some; pulling his hood further over his face, his past possessing his thoughts.

Aurol had spent many long nights in Inns similar to the Bloodstone, blurring his past with ale after ale, though never completely erasing it.

He walked to the furthest away table from the others, taking a seat. The voices in his head telling him to run, he had become quite accustomed to running, though it was mostly from the truth. The truth scared Aurol, knowing what he knew.

"Two of the best", said Albern to the Innkeeper. “I'll take one of your lamb roasts, too."

"Two silvers, five copper", demanded the Innkeeper; holding out his hand, Albern watched his face contort into an unpleasant smile, revealing his toothless mouth.

"Of course," said Albern, rummaging through his pockets.

He handed over three silvers. "Keep the difference" he muttered, escaping the Innkeepers stare.

'Make it stop, make it stop!' The voices plagued Aurol's thoughts. He held his hands over his face, flashes of bright light lit up the inside of his eyelids. He could still remember what he had done. The voices didn't let him forget. Fragments of the scroll still in his pocket, afraid of what might happen if he ever touched them again, knowing what happened to his wife. Her voice still screaming in his ears, 'Make it stop, Aurol! Make it stop!' He wished the same.

"There you are, Aurol," said Albern with a hint of relief in his voice. "Thought you were sharing stories with the town-folk over there for second."

Aurol took his hands from his face, noticing how wet they were.

"Are you ok, Brother?" Albern asked.

Aurol could feel his brothers stare. "Fine," he lied, just tired. He knew Albern didn't believe him, but he wasn't going to give him the truth.

"Your ales", said the Innkeeper, slamming down two jugs onto the wooden table, half of each drink leaving them. "As you requested".

"And my lamb roast?" asked Albern.

"Coming." Spat back the Innkeeper, walking away.

Albern chuckled. "Our presence doesn't seem to be appreciated."

Aurol gave an agreeing nod as he took a sip from his jug. He had forgotten what finely made ale tasted like.

"That's the stuff." Said Albern, slamming his jug back down on the table, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, leaving a trail of froth.

Aurol finished his sip, placing his jug gently in front of him.

"You beast hunters are such pigs when it comes to eating and drinking." Said Aurol, staring at Albern's empty jug.

"Your lamb," said the Innkeeper, placing it in front of Albern.

"I don't see your problem," said Albern, stuffing his mouth with lamb. "We are simply fast eaters and drinkers, unlike you wizard's, you all eat and drink so slow. It’s really quite painful to watch."

"We eat to saviour and drink to enjoy, though I must admit we can get carried away sometimes. Mostly in the amount we drink, not the speed." Aurol took off his cloak, for the fire was burning magnificently.

He realised his mistake straight away, flicking his cloak back on to cover his face, hoping no one saw, but it was too late.

Men began to rise around them.

"Funny to see you here." Said one of them closest to the fire, unsheathing his sword from his belt.

Aurol kept quiet, kicking Albern in the shin.

"What was tha-," Albern's reaction was cut short, he noticed what was wrong straight away. "What did you do, Aurol?" whispered Albern sharply, reaching for his sword from under the table.

"Later." Snapped Aurol, placing his hand on his belt, feeling his dagger.

"What are we to do?" asked Albern desperately.

"Stay still," Aurol commanded, reaching for the bits of scroll in his pocket. "Don't move a muscle or we'll all be dead."

Albern glanced at his brother, unsure in what he meant.

"What do you mean we'll all be dead?" whispered Albern.

"Do as I say, Albern." Aurol counted five men, all of whom were stepping closer by the second.

Albern readied his sword. "We have to do something, Aurol," begged Albern. "We can’t just do nothing.”

Aurol didn't reply.

One of the men ran at them, then all went quiet.

Albern picked himself up from the ground, his hands in excruciating pain. His sword lay flat on the ground, the markings engraved into it glowing a bright orange.

"Aurol!" cried Albern. "Are you ok?” He looked around, unable to see anything within the darkness.

All the flesh had been melted from his hands, he fell to the ground in pain. "Aurol!" he cried for a second time," tears beginning to roll down his cheeks. "Please don't be dead."

He heard movement around him, "stay back!", he warned, reaching for his sword, gripping on it. "Argggg!" The handle burning what was left of his hand.

The movement turned into a faint voice.

"Albern?" It whispered. "Where are you?".

"Aurol?" Albern looked around him. "Is that you?".

The voice disappeared, Albern was thrown back into panic. He tried to pick himself up from off the ground, but the pain didn’t let him.

"Albern?" The voice broke the silence again. "Where are you?"

Albern looked around again. "I'm over here, Aurol!" noticing a figure walking towards him. "Aurol?"

The figure broke the darkness, Aurol's face was covered in ash, he held a staff out in front of him, a blue crystal was illuminating out the top of it.

"There you are, Albern." said Aurol, bending down.

"I thought you were dead, Brother," said Albern, looking at his brother’s face, not a hint of fear on it. "What did you do, Aurol?" He asked, looking around at the devastation.

"I didn't do anything." Aurol looked over at the sword lying flat on the ground. He had questions he wanted answered, though now was not the time.

He began wrapping Albern's hands up with some cloth.

The warmth of the Inn had vanished. The fire had been extinguished. Six bodies layed dead on the floor, including the Innkeeper.

"We must be going, Albern," said Aurol, helping his brother to his feet. "These men have families; we have no business being here no more."

Albern was in shock. The pain he was feeling was beyond all he had ever felt before. "It was the sword that burnt my hand, Aurol," assured Albern, watching it lay innocently on the ground. "It was as hot as dragon’s breath, the symbols engraved into it were glowing bright orange. I have no idea what it means.”-

Aurol believed his brothers words, for even he didn't know what it meant, though he was concerned it wasn't anything good. "We will take the horses, Albern," instructed Aurol, looking over at the window. The two horses were still there. "I'll carry the sword until it cools. Come now, Albern, we must hurry."

The two brothers left the Inn, the little bell on the door ringing their exit, yet no one heard.

The night air was crisp and lonely. Aurol untied the horses from the fence, hoping they would stay calm.

"We will ride to Cape Melen," said Aurol, helping Albern mount his horse. "We must speak with Uncle Woodley."

Albern agreed silently, feeling the parchment rub against his leg; he knew what he must do, but he wasn't going to argue with his brother, he was too weak.

"Cape Melen is a one-day ride away," said Aurol, mounting his own horse. “We must ride quickly.”

The two horses galloped down the lonely road, as quickly as they could.