From Ashes and Snow

Old Stories

Unedited.

Chapter Nine: Old Stories.

The Map-Room was found down a series of spiralling stairs where the torch-light flickered ominously as we descended into the earth. Rooms branched off from the stairs and Fyr told me that there were tunnels that ran underground encase people got stuck down on the lower levels during a fight, or a cave in.

The room itself was small and cramped with dreary, pale grey stone walls and a high-packed ceiling to give the room some semblance of space. Shadows extended far beyond the reach of the torches, but the flames illuminated a worn table in the centre of the room where the map had been unfurled and pinned down by four sharp pins.

The Captain gave a short noise of disapproval as he entered, spotting a mug of mead just abandoned on the table. His shoulders pulled taunt as a bow-string, and he crossed the room quickly. "Lieutenant Hoyarn is a scourge upon my life."

I examined the artistry on the walls closely. "I thought that was my role in your life?"

He gave me a cutting glance. "You have no role in my life. You serve a purpose and nothing more."

"That is rude," Kohen murmured as he walked inside. Wide and curious eyes of warm brown took in the room eagerly as he settled on the back of a chair. A long tail unfurled, and he looked between the three of us with a smile. "I am never allowed in here."

"That is because you interfere with important matters." The Captain informed him, while still managing to send me a withering look. "Your curiosity gets the better of you."

"Aviana is curious too."

"Miss Birchwood is needed in here. Once she fails to be useful, she will be gone."

That conjured no pain. I held no love, no loyalty to these people. Once I got what I wanted from them, there was a wide and open road to be travelled with my hounds.

It conjured pain for Kohen it seemed – his face creased, his ears flattening against his skull. "There is no need to be so sour, Captain. We all have good hearts in this room."

Captain and Zentin stared at each other. Mahon Bryant was the man with title, a position of power and Kohen was a wanderer, a lone survivor of a dead species and it was the Captain who looked away first, clearing his throat. "Tell us what you remember Miss Birchwood."

I stood at the opposite side of the table to him, bracing my hands against the table. A rattling breath shook my chest and I stared down hard at my hands. The knuckles were still scratched but healing well.

I took another breath and tried to think of something happy and not bittersweet to quell the harsh lump in my throat, but I failed. My happiest memories were becoming bittersweet because I could never turn to the reasons why they were happy. Those reasons were dead.

With that lump still in my throat, I began. "The bells rang too late. Far too late. We have traps and signals for a mile outside Dratlan, so the guards can know well before that we are being approached. That night, we didn't know until they were right on us."

The memories rose like a beast; it was vicious and unrelenting, and my voice dropped to a quiet whisper as I continued to speak. My shoulders curled in, and my fingers dug into the wood of the table as I forced myself to speak, to relive that night as if it were something to be examined instead of forgotten.

"I knew where I was to stand in the formation. My place was before the gates. I was a proficient soldier, I was needed there. My friend ran and instead of being where I was needed, I followed her. The Sanctum is protected by a great seal. It held all our treasures, all our most sacred knowledge and power." I glanced at the Captain. "The Commander was there with Mentor Lhokin and they were arguing over the tablet of Asha'da."