The Nightwalkers

Chapter 1

Aniella's hand swipes across her forehead, sweat dripping onto her cheeks. The pack straddling her arms threatens to pull her down to the forest floor, and the Dreampsire blade secured on her belt digs into her hip and leaves a bruise on her bronzed skin. Heat beats down on the grass around her, even as the trees above her scatter the sun's shafts with patches of leafy shade. She puts a hand to her forehead, shielding the sun from her eyes as she inclines her head and studies the smoking fire pit not 20 yards away. Aniella scans the woods, more for lurking creatures than soldiers from the king. The Wendill forest is quite notorious for its animal attacks, and Aniella hopes not to be mauled by a brown bear so close to her destination.

Thomas had told her that he had been receiving several rebel reports from around the Wendill region, more specifically in the Wendill forest, from a group of Observers. He said it was mostly information on supply runs to the King, but sometimes, they'd been able to track a more prominent noble sympathizer in the King's court, or a brigade of soldiers heading towards villages near or on the Belline Line. These are the most helpful, and are what led Aniella to take the two hundred mile trek up to their supposed "camp". The men that work here are so accurate in their reports, she hopes to convince them to join her at Firn to better aid the more violent attacks upon rebel forces near Belline and Reese. Aniella ducks behind a tree when a tent rustles and a young man with shaggy, curled hair opens the flap door and swings his head, scanning the surrounding trees. His hands curl around the sides of the flap, and Aniella is close enough to see his knuckles blanch as he squeezes the fabric. She considers waiting to reveal herself until they're all awake and alert, but her train of thought gutters when the man's breath catches and the sound of a blade leaving it's sheath follows slow, padding footsteps. Aniella takes a breath, then slips away from the tree, her hands in the air and splayed out placatingly. The man freezes, knife hanging from his fingers, and before he can utter a cry of warning to his friends, Aniella puts a hand out in front of her and shushes him.

"My name is Aniella. I'm an informant leader in Firn. I've come to gather three Observers to take back to camp. They are needed in camp to help gather information on Nightwalker legions near the Belline Line. Are you them? "

The man looks at her in confusion, eyes blinking in disbelief .

"Firn? "

"Yes."

He continues to look at her blankly.

"Why send someone to get us? "

It was her turn to look baffled.

"Nightwalkers roam Wendill like lost cattle. I am one of the few people that have been able to kill one." She pulls the Dreamspire blade from her side and displays it between her fingers. He stares at it in disbelief.

"Besides," she adds, polishing her blade with her shirt before sliding it back into its sheath, "Nightwalkers hesitate to kill in groups of four or more. And with me, you'll fill that quota."

The man runs a hand over his face, considering her words with a harried eye.

"What was your name again, Miss?"

"Aniella."

"Come with me."

___

The man's name is Malachai. He'd told Aniella as he led her into camp, offering her a small bow in greeting. She'd smiled, nodded, and trailed after him, hand on the hilt of her Dreampsire blade, as Malachai tore into the tents of his companions and roughed them awake. She now stands before them, and watches as the two rub the sleep from their eyes and stretch their limbs in the grass like sleepy cats.

"Malachai. Is this a scout you found? We can't take anymore wanderers. Our food's getting scarce and we'll have to travel into town soon."

The boy, a tall, lanky figure with short-cropped black hair, studies Aniella, eyes travelling over her face, her travel clothes, her long, knee-high boots, and then back to her face. He frowns.

"No, Luke. She says she's from Firn. An informant. She's been sent to get us and bring our brains back to the camp to Observe near the Belline Line."

Luke runs a hand through his hair, and the boy next to him, a short, stocky blonde, pins Aniella with a narrowed gaze.

"You say you're from Firn?"

"Yes."

"Can you prove it?"

She nods, slinging the pack off her back and digging her hand inside, until she finds a scrap of fabric and pulls it out to show the boy. She places it in his outstretched hand and he studies it, his eyes widening as his face draws closer to the cloth and realization grows on his face. It's a small patch, etched in string with the emblem of the rebellion: three red roses, thorns dripping with blood, and a pale hand outstretched over the tops of the petals. Clear as day, and something only those tied to the rebels can acquire. His head snaps up, scanning her eyes yet again, then he turns to Luke and nods.

"What did you say you were doing here?"