Young Writers Society

137.1390

It was an hour past curfew, but Ryder was still lounging in the old grand oak. This was her place to be alone, her spot to process thoughts that shouldn’t be brought back to the village. People weren’t usually fond of change and that’s all she could think about. Life wasn’t bad how it was, but it could be better. Now that she was a leader she’d have to adjust the way she handled herself.

Being a leader was barely different than her life before. Now she was obligated to attend village meetings and participating in Collection Day. Otherwise her life was basically the same. She didn’t get a pass on getting her hands dirty. She still had to kneel in the hard, dry dirt to grow callouses on her palms while snapping berries from twigs. It was long and boring work, all for what? To send it to the people in the city below.

Ryder loved the city despite what it’s people did to her village. She had been sitting there for hours, watching the sun set and seeing the citizens bustle along beneath her. The hill gave a great view of the spread of the city. From up there one could see the houses and the street markets and the city hall.

And then there was the castle. It was beautiful as it was every night. All sizes and shades of stone made up the outside. The windows looked to be lined with pure gold. A candle filled every one of them along the long expanse of the castle and lanterns lined the main path. The grounds were illuminated by a dual effort of the natural light of the moon and fire. They clashed to create colors that broke through the darkness.

Flower beds could easily be seen surrounding several statues. The statues were scattered across the front lawn and stood tall for everyone could see. They were made of a material like silver. Ryder doubted they actually were silver as it was very expensive, even more than the royals would be able to afford. There was a man dressed in fighting armor holding a helmet against his hip. A woman stood tall, her dress rippling, frozen in time. Yet another statue depicted an animal of some sort. Ryder guessed it was a goat. Why there was a statue of such an animal on the castle grounds she didn’t understand.

The last statue was the grandest of them all. It stood in the middle of the lawn with the path winding around it. A woman with long hair, dressed in male clothing stood next to a man dressed the same. He had thin hair that almost didn’t show in the statue. He wore a crown and looked out onto the grounds while the woman looked to him. Despite never getting close enough to see, Ryder knew there was lust in the woman’s eyes. She loved the king, but could never have him.

They were Celeste and King Marcus. Together they ruled Ellyna nearly four-hundred years ago. Marcus had a queen, but everyone knew Celeste was the real mastermind. She was a sorceress, could bend magic to her will with only a thought. Back then the country was plagued by invaders. She worked to stop them and protect the citizens from the attacks.

One day they both disappeared. After weeks of a war that should’ve been prevented, Marcus called for his surrender and vanished. The soldiers watched him leave, unknowingly being in the presence of their king for the last time.

Marcus’s line never continued. His son was too young and died within a few years from a terrible disease. His wife lost her mind to grief and forfeited the crown to another family. Which is where they were today: stuck with a royal bloodline that barely understood their kingdom.

One day Ryder would get close enough to observe the statues better. Tonight would not be that time.

A quick movement to her right got her attention. She turned and saw a shadow emerge from the trees a dozen yards off. The figure was tall and large. It wore a dark jacket with a hood, matching pants, and a large sack over it’s shoulder. Not that she could see that far tonight; she had seen the figure before at a closer range.

Every full moon, the figure jumped from the trees to barrel down the hill. It made its way through the city to gather supplies the villagers needed.

Stole. The figure stole.

Ryder shook her head. She couldn’t think of it that way. The things the city had were always supplied by the villagers. It was taking back whatever was theirs to begin with. She saw no wrong in that.

The figure was called the Wanderer. Everyone from the village new him, even worshipped him in a way. He was their savior despite the fact that he never was able to bring back enough of whatever he took. There was no way to carry that much back up the hill without getting caught.

Dots of light appeared across the hill below followed by guards shouting to one another. The figure had been spotted. It wouldn’t take him long to escape the guards and make it to the city. Ryder had sat and followed his path a few times before. He was inspiring. Every one of the villagers thought so.

Ryder sat for a few more minutes. She didn’t want to go back to the tiny house in the village square to lay down in a bed too small for even her and will herself to sleep. She’d rather be in the tree, watching the people below her bustle about as if the sun had never set. It was so different from the life she was living. That’s where she would’ve been if her parents hadn’t abandoned her.

More guards were hurrying toward the Wanderer, shouting orders to one another under the impression that they would catch him this time. He was never caught. He was too smart.

Ryder sighed and lowered herself from the tree. It was time for her to go. The Wanderer would be fine. She looked forward to seeing what he brought in the morning. There was always something interesting. He had never missed a day. Tomorrow wasn’t going to be any different.