From Ashes and Snow

Cowards in the Dark

Chapter Eleven: Cowards in the Dark.

A terrible storm rolled over Haaling during my third night there. The skies howled in great displeasure while the wind tore at the walls, sliding through miniscule cracks and chilling the bones of the outpost's occupants. Then, a heavy flurry of snow fell, unforgiving and relentless.

Beyond the walls, the forest creaked and groaned, like a broken symphony that I listened to for too long before I realised that I would have to light my fires. And search for the hounds to make sure they were not stuck outside. They could survive a night like this – we often had, but I feared what would happen to them if a guard spotted them and got spooked by the luminous pitch of their eyes in the dark.

I went in search of them, padding silently down the halls. My fingers were knotted together against the cold, and the chill seeped too far into my bones as I walked. No one spoke to me as I passed, but their eyes turned to flicker over me.

Looks like that made me over conscious of my injuries. I was like an injured animal, snarling at every threat because I felt vulnerable. Only I was – vulnerable. Alone, lost and surrounded by those who would gladly see me gone.

Stepping outside, I glanced up towards the sky. The clouds were heavy and grey, blotting the moon and stars. I had a guess where the hounds were, and I pivoted on my heel, heading across the snowy grounds to the stables where horses whinnied, encased in the stables warmth.

The light of Atoll, and of Haaling shrank slightly as I walked, but I paid that no heed. The stables were close – that's what I told myself as I saw a figure move from the corner of my eye. I was moving in an instant, dodging a sharp, whistling blow.

A man cursed, and I was turning, my chest heaving as three figures emerged in the gloom. Two wore the Paladins crest, and the third was Magin.

I kept a bruised hand on the hilt of my blade and the woman, the Magin gave me a grim smile as she matched my stance. I recognised the other Paladin soldier, a tall but young man. He was the one who had harassed me while I trained – Dask.

The other Paladin soldier, a dwarf just glowered at me. He held a slim knife- long enough to rupture an organ. Small enough to hide.

"We will not tolerate a half-blood mutt who murdered our Commander to prance around our outpost." Dask growled.

Asha'da. Steel lined my spine. I was not going to die like this. I was not going to die like some forgotten soul in the middle of a storm. For the first time since Draltan, I was not wishing I had died like my kin. They deserved retribution and I was going to get it for them. If I died, it would be facing the man with the amethyst eyes.

It would not be facing these cowards.

"I am not a murderer," My voice was firm. "Your Captain knows that I did not kill Commander Whitely."

The woman snorted in disbelief, and I felt the crackle of magic run through her. "You were the only survivor, and then our camp was attacked."

Carefully I counted my options. I could just pitch and race for the stables, but I did not like the thought of turning my back on them. With the howling wind, I wasn't sure that anyone would hear me if I screamed.

"I fought with you," My unease deepened, fear and fury coiling inside of me. Cowards. The attack was badly planned, but to attack me when I was alone and exposed was the show of a coward. The wind howled again, whipping across the training grounds. It tugged at my body, pulling me to the side.