Young Writers Society

Wow, it's been a long time since I've posted on here! Anyway, this story is something I've been developing for the better part of five years, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback you may have! Also, if interested, I have created a website that provides a more in-depth guide into the Legends of Arenthul. Please give it a look, and I hope you enjoy the first installment!

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The night was clear and crisp. The full moon shone like a beacon in the sky, illuminating the snow-strewn fields and casting the high stone walls of the city in a soft, hazy glow. A cool breeze wafted through the air, disturbing the branches of the surrounding trees and stirring the white powder from their gnarled fingers.

No birds chirped on this cold winter's night.

Normally Aryana would have found the silence calming—peaceful, even—but tonight she found it most unsettling. Such stillness would hinder the stealth necessary for their task at hand, and the thought made her stomach uneasy.

Crouched in the shadows of a small grove of trees at the top of a distant hill, she cast a wary glance skyward and observed the stars above. Barely visible next to the brilliance of the moon, the twinkle of countless dots gazed down over the earth like a million curious eyes. Aryana's worry deepened.

The crunch of booted feet upon the ground behind her drew her attention, and in the light of the moon a glint of silver emerged from the depths of her cloak.

"Ari," a voice whispered in the dark, calling out the name that only few people would know. "Ari!"

"Be quiet, Gereth!" Aryana hissed, sheathing her dagger and turning her attention back to the walled city below. "Have you learned nothing from your years at Hellfire? On a night such as this, your voice will carry."

The taller man, Gereth, mumbled a quick apology before crouching next to her, his eyes surveying the snowy fields before them. "Talon and Flex returned with the supplies half an hour ago," he said, then paused. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes."

Aryana pushed herself to her feet, glancing once more at the stars before turning around and walking back to their makeshift camp in the woods. Gereth was right on her heels, snow and fallen limbs crunching loudly beneath his feet; Aryana had to keep from cringing. Lady's tits, is this what passes for a Ghostwalker these days? she thought, shaking her head in shame. Devourer, take my soul if I was ever that naive!

Not far from the cove where Aryana had hid, a low fire burned in the middle of a small clearing. The warm embers were barely visible beyond the thicket, so the risk of their encampment being seen was minimal; still, Aryana had instructed her charges to maintain an air of caution this close to their objective and build a wall around the flames. She was pleased to see that they had obeyed.

"Is it ready, Talon?" Aryana asked, removing the hood of her cloak as she emerged from the shadows; stunning amethyst eyes, accented by the short locks of black hair that hung before them, glistened in the dim firelight.

Hunched over the campfire, spindly arms outstretched as pointed claws stirred the contents of an overhanging pot, Talon gave a sharp nod and pushed himself to his feet. "The berries melted quick enough," he replied, grabbing the wire handle with both hands and setting the kettle on the ground by his feet. A thin trail of steam rose up from the rapidly melting snow beneath the pot, twisting and curling like a serpent as it climbed through the air.

Removing a glove, Aryana knelt next to the steaming container and dipped a finger inside; the dark liquid was thick, and warm to the touch. Rubbing her fingers together, she watched as the black juice smeared across her leathery skin like ink. "Is there enough for the group?"

Talon shook his head, shadows flickering across his gaunt face, and jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. "The eumbrox Flex snagged should make up for the rest."

Aryana glanced past Talon to the dark figure at the edge of their camp, and then gestured to Gereth behind her. "Help him."

"Why can't he do it?" Gereth sneered, nodding to the man beside him.

Talon watched on, intrigued, as Aryana whipped her head around. "You know why," she hissed, her pupils narrowing into thin vertical slits at Gereth's impudent remark.

With a grunt, the burly man unsheathed his blade and shouldered past the two.

"What about the berries?" Talon asked, drawing Aryana's attention back to the pot by her feet.

Aryana stared at the dark liquid for awhile, absently rubbing her fingers together before glancing back up at the shadowed figures on the edge of camp. "We'll use a light coat on the face," she explained, scratching the tip of a pointed ear with an absentminded hand as her pupils returned to their normal shape. "With what's left, we'll paint Badalan war symbols on their walls." She tossed Talon a sidelong glance and added, "You should be familiar with those."

Even in the sparse firelight, Aryana could make out the tufts of thick brown hair sticking out through various gaps in his leather armor. Regarded by many as barbaric savages, her experiences with the Badala peoples throughout the years had instilled in her a sense that they were far from such accusations—provided they did not taste the bitter tang of blood on their tongue. She had witnessed its effects on their kind once before, and after nearly escaping with her life she dared never again to cross paths with a Badalan when the Thirst took hold of their minds.

As the light from the fire danced across his thin face, Talon's brown eyes glinted with a yellow hue—despite the threat they could pose to even a friend, Aryana always did marvel at the race's impressive night vision.

Catching her gaze, the young Badalan shot Aryana a grin, jagged fangs peeking at her from beneath thin lips. "I know those symbols all too well, I'm afraid."

The sight of his pointed teeth brought another thought to her mind, and Aryana raised a concerned brow. "You do have your mouth guard, I trust?"

His eyes narrowing at the mention of his handicap, Talon reached into his satchel and withdrew a large silver object. Pinching the edge between two fingers, he held it up for Aryana's examination.

It was a thin silver plate, no bigger than his hand, shaped specifically to fit over the curvature of his mouth. The back was lined with supple leather, with a steel bit for him to bite on and a leather strap to tie around his head; the bridle for a beast, as so many have teased before.

"Never leave home without it, Ari," Talon said, his voice low as he looked at her. "You know that."

Aryana nodded. It was the standard mouth guard given to every Badala that enlisted as a Hunter, to prevent them from tasting blood and turning on their own comrades; it was not something Talon was proud to carry with him, and Aryana felt culpable for having ever mentioned it.

"I was only concerned, dear friend."

As Talon put away his mouth guard, Aryana stood up and wrapped a hand around the metal handle, hooking the pot back onto the spit. The kettle hissed as the liquid inside began to bubble. "Don't need our paint to freeze over."

"Do you think this'll work?"

Aryana was silent for a moment, watching as the fire crackled and snapped beneath the iron pot. Life as a Hunter had not been what she had expected when she graduated from the Hellfire academy just two short years ago. The element of danger was still very real, as the scar across her left breast constantly reminded her, but the assignments she had been given up until now had bored her tremendously.

Still, she remained hopeful that this job would more than make up for the lack of excitement.

"Nothing's ever certain in our line of work, Talon," she said after awhile. Then, shooting Gereth and Flex a quick glance, Aryana leaned closer to her companion. "Keep an eye on those two."

Cocking his head to one side, Talon raised a thick eyebrow. "They're only skinning a bull, Ari. How hard could that be?"

Aryana shook her head. "They may have survived long enough to become Ghostwalkers," she started, pulling her hood back over her head. "But they're new blood, fresh out of the academy. We may need them for this mission, but I don't trust them."

This elicited a snort from Talon. "You don't trust anyone."

"Nonsense!" Aryana quipped, but her smile belied her tone. "I trust you."

Talon shook his head, but even without the aid of night vision Aryana could sense his smirk. "I'm your year-mate. Thirteen years of suffering your scathing wit makes me an exception."

Aryana rolled her eyes. "Just watch them," she said. "We can't afford any mistakes; we need to be ready."

"Under a full moon, and without any cover?" Talon creased his brow, turning a worried gaze to his friend. "Aryana, this is a suicide mission."

"Our client was very specific with his terms, Talon." Aryana said, ignoring Talon's consternation. She looked once more to the sky before turning around and heading back to her post. "Tomorrow night we strike."

"Always gazing at stars." Talon had meant for it to be a whisper, but Aryana was still close enough to their camp to hear his words.

The eyes of Thosol are upon us, dear friend, she thought, a small sigh escaping her lips as she crept towards her perch. May He forgive us for what we're about to do.