Refuge In The Shadows

1.

When else can one be safe except during the night? The full moon basked the rolling hills and green meadows in an eerie yellowish glow. Not a sound could be heard across northern Wales save for the gentle whirring of the wind. How easy would it be to reveal one's concealed truths with only the enchanting moon, twinkling stars, and whispering wind as witnesses?

Hidden from view by a scattering of trees, a stone castle overlooked a sleepy village from its position on elevated ground. A formidable looking structure, the castle melted into the shadows of the forest around it; however, a glow from the northern windows indicated activity inside. At the base of the hill, footsteps echoed throughout the vast expanse of the woods, shattering the delicate veil of placid quiescence. Two figures, exposed by the natural light of the moon, approached the castle in haste. From afar, these silhouettes gracefully danced as they leaped effortlessly over rocks and weaved deftly around trees. Reaching the castle's entrance, the shadows opened the wrought-iron gate and slipped silently inside.

At the north side of the castle, one could not help but take a peek through the stained glass windows. With so much liveliness emitting from the sight, it would be impossible to look away. In what appeared to be a dining hall, men of ages spanning from late adolescence to middle age enjoyed the comfort of food and drink. Mugs of ale and empty plates littered the surfaces of tables. To the common eye, this gathering appeared to be an ordinary event, but if one were to take a closer look, she would discover that these diners were anything but boisterous and harmless. Engaging in casual conversation with their acquaintances about recent births of foals and runaway herds of sheep, the men restlessly perched on the edges of their seats and kept their keen eyes on the windows and doors: caged lions ready to be set loose at the first sign of opportunity.

Amidst it all, a young man about two decades old ignored his companion's mindless talk about his recent purchase of a new farmhouse. After five minutes of hearing the words, 'hay,' 'stables,' and 'crops,' he politely terminated the conversation and sent the man to find another to talk to. Soon after he left, five men seated themselves at the table and expressed their curiosity of the man's recent arrival in town. Smoothly easing into yet another conversation, the man pulled out a dagger from his jacket pocket and twirled it carelessly between his fingers, watching, waiting.

*****

The clinking of a fork tapping against a wine glass rose above the hum of activity. A menacing man about fifty years of age tried to capture the attention of the men with little success. Having enough, he took out a pistol from his pocket and fired a round into the ceiling. Slowly but surely, conversation died down until hushed whispers remained. Fearing that he could not rein in the men for much longer, he hastily reminded them of the new training regimen that would start early the next morning. Before he could say any more, time was up. They resumed their discussions; their attentions long gone. But as the chaos began to rise once more, the oak doors of the hall creaked open, snuffing out the lively chatter.

The deafening sound of the ancient doors groaning in protest echoed throughout the hall. The men craned their necks to get a better view of the intruders, but it was the younger generation who blanched at the sight. Their masks of mild disinterest gave away to looks of solemness and unease.

The source of the disturbance, two young individuals, one male and one female, commanded the undivided attention of every soul in the hall. As they shared the same midnight black hair, grey-speckled blue eyes, and willowy frames, even the most mentally incompetent could distinguish the pair as siblings. Their flushed faces and the smears of crimson blood on their clothes were obvious hints of the violent nature of the pair's latest escapade.

The male's angular jaw was clenched as he regarded the inhabitants of the hall as if they were nothing but scum, an expression indicating a dark history between them. His chin-length hair was held back from his face by a half ponytail, although a few strands had torn themselves free due to the recent physical activity. A lone, jagged scar tore through the otherwise tanned and unblemished cheek as a reminder of the danger that lurked under the disarming beauty.