December 8

Kobel, Buckley and I were sat on the cold wood, surrounding a small table and watching the telegraph avidly as if it were going to catch on fire.

“Read it again?” I asked nervously, not taking my eyes of the machine.

Buckley fished around in his pocket, unfolding a long piece of yellowed paper. “New developments- cannot send in case intercepted. Wait for my message tomorrow,” he read out loud nervously.

Silence.

Blake had sent the telegram to Buckley’s father last night, and we were all extremely worried, because the Guard were due to arrive today. This was bad news- we were in no way prepared enough; we hadn’t had time to follow all the procedures we had planned, nor had time to gather anyone else.

And ‘new developments’ could mean anything. It could mean they were right outside the door, or half way across the country. This made everything worse; we now had no idea what to expect. I trusted Blake but sometimes he wasn’t specific when he needed to be.

“Maybe we should get Lorelie and Davies,” Kobel suggested anxiously.

I shook my head. “Lorelie said she wanted to stay with her mother.” Lorelie’s mother had become ill, very ill, nothing life-threatening but Lorelie still wanted to stay at home and look after her.

“Davies is still out training on his own?” Buckley asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

Kobel and I nodded.

Silence again.

Suddenly the telegraph made a loud trilling sound and we all started. I jumped forward as a piece of paper began to stutter out of the little box, grasping it in my hands and trying to read it. I could hear the blood in my ears.

“Sorry if that was a scare,” I read breathlessly, “but I had to leave, they had found me again.” I paused as more paper came out. “All trail of the Guard has disappeared; we have no idea where they are. Waited for them in the Pass, nothing. But-“ I raised my eyebrows, “We have a new recruit, they are on their way to you and should arrive by the time you get this. Lorelie will know who they are. Might find them useful. Blake.”

We all looked at each other then started talking all at once.

“This is good-“

“This is bad-“

“I wonder who it is.”

Buckley was looking somewhat more cheerful and he was obviously relieved. “This is good, right? No Guard?”

“Doesn’t mean they’re not here, just means we can’t see them,” Kobel answered seriously, frowning.

I sat back on the floor. “We’ll still need to keep watch.” I read the telegram again. “He said Lorelie would know them. Who could it be?”

Buckley and Kobel shrugged.

“And he said they should be here by now.” I frowned.

“Held up by the snow?” Buckley suggested.

“Maybe we should get Lo-“ I started to say, but then there was a knock on the door.

“Surely that’s not.” Kobel raised his eyebrows.

“You should answer it,” Buckley said quickly to me, looking nervous again.

Sighing, I got up. “It’s your house; you should answer it, Buckley.”

“But it might be them.”

“So?”

“Well you’re the leader, you should talk to them first,” he answered swiftly.

I felt a small glow of pride and smiled slightly. “Fine. You’re coming, though,” and I dragged him to his feet and down the corridor.

“Hello-“ I started to say as I opened the door and a cold blast of wind blew through the house. I was temporarily stunned speechless.

A man stood in the snow. Stood was the wrong word; standing to attention might have been better. He was older than us, with a hardened expression and chiselled features, his dark hair slicked back. But it was his clothes that had shocked me for a moment; he was wearing a General’s uniform. A sleek three piece suit didn’t seem very war-worthy, but trust me.

Wait. Do I know him? I must know him, if he’s a General.

Think, goddamnit.

Buckley, however, who was not experienced in military matters, beamed at the stranger and nudged me with his elbow.

Say something, you idiot.

“Hello,” I croaked.

Fuck.

The man raised one dark eyebrow and looked at me like I was something nasty on the bottom of his shoe.

“Er, what can we do for you?” I managed to add hastily.

Fuck.

Suddenly I spotted a flash of auburn. Breathing a sigh of relief, I recognised Lorelie and Davies coming towards us through the snow. She’ll know him.

Wait, is this even the guy who’s coming?

The man turned around as he saw my relieved expression to follow my gaze.

All doubt that this was the man who Blake had sent was wiped. Lorelie’s mouth dropped and she halted in the snow.

“Zenith, what the hell?” she almost screamed.

The man sighed. “Blake informed me you’d be here.”

“Wait,” I interrupted. “Are you a Mosgraskt General?”

I had decided this was not a time to be scared of my superiors.

He and Lorelie both spoke at once.

“Yes,” he said clippingly.

“He’s my brother,” Lorelie hissed, fists clenched.

Well, I wasn’t expecting that.

“Let me get this straight.”

 

 

Buckley, Davies, Kobel, Lorelie and I were sat around a table in Buckley’s kitchen.

The General was also sat at the table, opposite me and beside Lorelie.

His expression was not encouraging.

“Okay, so you’re Lorelie’s brother, but you haven’t seen each other since you went to the army.” I paused. “How long ago was that?”

The man’s lips tightened. “Seven years.”

I glanced at Lorelie, but her expression was unreadable.

“And you’ve come to help us. But you’re a General of the Mosgraskt, why would you want to help us?” I couldn’t help being a little suspicious.

There was a pause.

“You clearly have no idea what you are doing,” the General replied icily. “So-“

“What gave you that impression?” I interrupted irritably. For the moment, I didn’t care what rank he was, I was not going to be put down.

“You are the only one here with military training,” he began coldly, and I made sure I didn’t look at Davies. “Your team is disorganised, you have barely any weapons, and you have no plan. Surely you cannot be suggesting you are ready to be part of it?”

“We do have a plan,” Davies suddenly said firmly.

“And what is your plan?” the General asked scathingly.

I was really beginning to dislike him. Even though he was Lorelie’s brother.

“We wait for the Guard, just like everyone else.” Davies glared at Zenith. “Split into pairs and attack on four fronts. Disable the Outer then fight the Inner. Meet at the Pass entrance, and then take the Residence.”

There was another moment of silence.

“You really think you could take Lady Labyrinth’s Palace?” Zenith asked coldly, one dark eyebrow raised.

I decided that someone else could answer that.

Damn, he’s taking the silence as an answer. Quick, say yes-

“There you are,” he shrugged. “You’ll need a better plan than that if you’re going to survive this.”

“And what exactly do you think ‘this’ is?” Lorelie suddenly spat at him, not even looking at her brother.

He had no qualms about turning to face her. “The biggest purge this country has ever had to face,” he replied shortly.

“We know that as well as you do.” Kobel said mildly.

Zenith turned his gaze on Kobel. “You’ll need a better plan,” he repeated icily.

“Well if you’re so keen for us to get a better plan, why not give us one?” I snapped.

“That’s why I’m here,” Zenith didn’t change his expression and his eyes were still cold, so it was very hard to believe him.

“No, you’re not,” Lorelie hissed suddenly, turning to glare at him. “You’re here to finish what you started.”

I stared at her and wondered frantically what she could possibly mean. Everyone else around the table had frozen.

“And what exactly did I start?” Zenith turned to meet his sister’s gaze.

“You know perfectly well,” Lorelie snarled, seemingly wanting to say more but being too angry to speak.

Zenith stood, chair scraping against the floor. He glared at her. “It was not my fault, he brought it on himself-“

Lorelie launched herself at him with a scream of fury. Not behaving like the controlled fighter she usually was, Lorelie had knocked her older brother to the floor because of sheer surprise, and was now punching and scratching every part of him she could reach.

We had all stood, but we were frozen, aghast, and helpless in watching the scene unfold. Buckley looked frantically at me for help, while Kobel and Davies simply stared, open mouthed.

Kobel seemed to come to his senses within a second or two and leapt forward. I dashed around the table to assist him, my heart pounding. We both got hold of Lorelie’s arms and dragged her off of her brother, still screaming at the top of her voice.

Once I knew Kobel had hold of Lorelie, I looked down at Zenith. He was looking just as shocked as any of us were, and it was a light relief to know that an expression other than arrogance could appear on his features.

What was that all about?

December 7th

(alright yes forget about the chapters being on their corresponding days)

(bet no one noticed anyway :D continueeee)

 

On my first day I shot my first man.

Cadet training was in the GAPP camps, up the North. It was always winter there. The snow made the blood easier to see.

I was sent to Camp 7, the one nearest to the city of Kovast and furthest away from the Residence of the Lady Labyrinth. It was a bit of bad luck I was landed there, because the camps furthest away from Her usually attracted far more activity from the Revolutionists; higher chance of getting into trouble.

“Have you all been outside in below 50 celcius?”

Our Instructor didn’t have a name, none of them did. And we weren’t allowed to know each other’s names either, so we just got called numbers. I was number 15.

We had only been here for a few hours, but we had learnt by now not to say anything in response to questions. If you said something stupid you would be shot, and to the Instructor, whatever came out Cadet’s mouths was always stupid.

“Good. Let’s go then.”

The Instructor was grizzled, grey-haired and rough looking, with a thick Russian accent and broad shoulders. A typical Mosgraskt Agent, you might say, but I had no experience in these matters. I’d only been to one parade before and that had been when I was very young.

But I liked him, probably because he was the only other Russian there and made me feel not so alien.

We were shoved out into the blizzard without further ado, with only our thin standard issue jackets.

The Instructor handed out pistols, seemingly unaffected by the painfully harsh wind, handling the guns with ease. All ten of us lined up instinctively, hardly even being able to see a few metres in front of us through the slashing snowstorm and shivering madly.

“Shoot the target.” he said simply, standing to the side and kicking the first Cadet in the leg to indicate that he was first. I swallowed; I’d be second.

We all squinted into the ivory curtain. About twenty metres in front, barely visible, were dark shapes, all in a line. There were circular shapes and others that I couldn’t define.

The Cadet next to me didn’t dare wait any longer so lined up his shot and fired. It was barely audible against the screech of the wind. The Cadet lowered his pistol and glanced at the Instructor for approval. One tiny nod.

Then a tiny nod in my direction.

Clasping tightly with both hands I raised my pistol and squinted, trying to aim for the dark thing that was my target.

The snow cleared a little and I could make out my own target.

It was a human, still alive, strung up on a pole, rope tied around the feet and hands above their heads. Eyes staring, terrified.

“Well?” I heard the Instructor enquiry mildly.

I had obviously paused without meaning to.

I lined up my pistol and fired.

December 6th

“Okay, so, according to our reports, they should be here in two days.”

“That’s if we trust Blake,” Lorelie interjected.

I shot a sidelong glance at her. “Yes. Why would we not trust Blake?”

My throat became a little dry.

Lorelie obviously didn’t have a good enough answer for me so she shrugged, her hazel hair rippling on her shoulders.

“You were saying, Leventri?” Davies asked dryly.

Davies, Lorelie, Buckley and I were stood in a circle, sunk into the crisp ivory snow that lay in the clearing. The weather had calmed slightly so the trees were swaying not quite as violently, but the wind still managed to whip up our hair. Annoyingly, Lorelie’s did not seem to be affected whatsoever.

“Yeah,” I said absently.

Davies and Buckley were looking at me, eyebrows raised.

“Sorry, I was wondering whether we should get Blake here. I mean, if we’re going to do this, he’ll need to know what’s going on,” I said, recovering quickly.

“I suppose,” answered Davies, a little sceptically.

“We could send him a ‘gram,” Buckley suggested tentatively, “Instead of dragging him all the way from the Basin. He don’t like walking, remember?”

I shrugged.

“And anyway, we’ll need him for lookout.” interrupted Lorelie. “Without him, we’re blind. We won’t know what’s coming.”

“If there is anything,” I reminded her. She scowled.

“I thought you were trusting him?” she snapped, evidently annoyed I had seemed to switch sides.

“I am. But we’ll keep in mind some possibilities.”

“The possibility that the merchants are lying bastards, you mean,” Lorelie nodded approvingly.

Davies threw a look at Lorelie. “Back to the point?”

I shivered, my breath whirling like smoke in the icy air. “Seen as though Kobel isn’t here, there’s not much point doing training-“

“Aw come on, we won’t stand a chance against the Guard!” Lorelie said angrily. She waved a hand at Buckley. “He doesn’t even know how to swing a sword. We’re going to die.”

My eyes met Buckley’s. He looked terrified, and I was suddenly reminded of how much younger he was compared to us.

Lorelie’s right. He shouldn’t be here, let alone preparing to give his life for his country.

“Die, do you know what that word means?” Lorelie was evidently taking our silence as a prompt for her to continue. “Forget our families, forget our homes, everything. Never see-“

“Alright,” Davies interrupted loudly. “That’s enough, Lorelie. We know what we’re in for.”

The look of fury on her face resembled the look on a wolves’ features when her prey has escaped.

“Problem?” I asked through gritted teeth, glaring at her. Buckley was shaking in his boots, appearing like he was about to cry.

She remained stonily silent, still glaring. Eyes flaming.

“I’m just saying,” her words were now slow and deliberate, “that we need to be prepared. The Guard are the elite. The elite of the elite. If we’re going to have a chance, we need to know what we’re doing.”

Silence.

“Agreed,” Buckley suddenly piped up. “I’m good with a bow, but no use with a sword.” He looked meaningfully at each of us. “If they get here tomorrow, I’d have no chance,” he said solemnly, echoing Lorelie’s words.

Another pause.

“Alright then. Buckley, you go and get your bow, we’ll still need it,” I ordered, feeling in charge again. “Davies, can you get your blade too? More the better.”

The two boys nodded and immediately left the clearing.

“Lorelie, you-“

I was cut off as she suddenly threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. I wasn’t quite sure what to do.

“Er-“

“Leventri, I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely. I was acutely aware of her body pressed against mine. “I shouldn’t have said it.”

I knew what she meant; even so, I was surprised by her apology. Lorelie was not one for apologising for anything, let alone saying something.

“He looked so scared,” she murmured, her face buried in my shoulder. My vision was filled by her thick amber hair.

Don’t do anything stupid. Remember what you said to Davies. You don’t know if you do.

“Lorelie, I’m sure he didn’t take offence. He knows what he’s in for.” I chose my words carefully. “We all do.”

There was a pause.

“I’m scared,” Lorelie whispered.

“Of what?”

“Dying.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Heck, we were all scared of that. Who wasn’t? It was death, and death was it, the end, finished. It wasn’t like some other mistake where you can correct it or continue on like nothing’s happened.

Death just happens and that’s it.

“You’re not going to die, Lorelie, you’re the best fighter we’ve got,” I gave a shaky laugh.

“No, you are, you’ve been in the army and everything!” she replied sceptically.

I was beginning to get a bit scared- Lorelie never admitted someone else was better than her. She must be ill or something.

“Yeah but they don’t really teach you much,” I answered seriously. I couldn’t help notice that she was still hugging me.

Suddenly she broke away and I looked carefully at her expression. She was back to normal, a half scowl on her face and a couldn’t-care-less-about-you look in her auburn eyes.

For a few moments I wondered what I’d said, but then the cause of her abrupt break off was revealed. Buckley and Davies came jogging back through the snow, weapons in hand.

“Lorelie, up for a challenge?” Davies twirled his silver blade at his side, giving her a quick grin.

“Bring it on,” she bared her teeth, stepping even further away from me and drawing her own sword from the sheath at her side with a screech of metal.

So life went on as normal.

December 5th

The weather was still bad outside. Wind howled all night, tearing through the snow laden streets, hail lashing at the windows like angry wildcats.

The next morning I looked out to the house opposite. In the top floor of the house, there was a man sat in an armchair, facing the window. Facing my house.

As I peered closer, I saw the sullen, dark expression on his face and his black eyes.

He was looking at me.

He was watching me.

Swallowing, I pulled the curtains closed.

I could still feel his eyes burning through the fabric so I left the room.

December 4th

The next morning I woke to the sound of the howling outside.

Overnight the frozen forest had turned into a snarling animal, enclosing the town in a cage of furious wind. Rain lashed against my window in surges; the frame rattled angrily. I groaned.

I hated bad weather.

Then I realised it was not just the gales that had woken me up.

“LEVENTRI, YOU BASTARD.”

The yelling was really quite loud, considering it was travelling through three doors and a floor.

“GET DOWN HERE.”

Surely that wasn’t my mother.

Irritably I pulled on a pair of trousers and rubbed my eyes. I thought I knew who it was, who it sounded like, and I wondered what he wanted.

Actually, I knew what he wanted.

But I didn’t really care.

As I hobbled down the stairs, I ran a hand through my hair and caught sight of the man who had come to talk to me.

He was standing in the doorway, somehow had got the door open and hadn’t bothered to close it behind him or take another step into my house. A small man with tight, thin features, it was always surprising how he could evoke such a frightening anger in his pale eyes.

Thankfully, he stopped shouting, but the emotion did not leave his voice.

“Ivonov.” he nodded coldly, but it wasn’t a nod of recognition, it was a nod that said you are in massive trouble, you little git.

I decided to play it cool, so I nodded back at him. “Djuric.” If he was going to use my last name, I’d use his.

“I saw your meeting yesterday,” the man snapped, his eyes icy.

“So?” I replied defiantly.

“I haven’t heard from you.” he glared at me.

I glared back, fire growing in my throat. “I told you I never wanted to talk to you again-“

The man’s attitude changed from infuriated to sly smugness. “Surely you’re not serious?” he drawled. “You need me.”

I was suddenly very cold; then noticed I still didn’t have a shirt on.

“No, I don’t. I don’t want anything to do with you anymore,” I said through gritted teeth.

He raised a thin dark eyebrow. “You’re sure? It will not be my fault if it happens.”

“If what happens?” I spat nastily at him. It wasn’t even a question, more like a taunt. I knew what would happen.

There was a long silence.

“I suppose the reason you don’t want my help anymore is because of your so called friends?” Djuric snarled, suddenly angry. “Are you so sure of their loyalty?”

“Yes.” the fire in my throat burned, forcing its way up.

“I wouldn’t be, if I were you. If you can’t be sure of yours, you cannot be sure of theirs.” he said darkly, and gave me one last seething look before sweeping out the doorway.

I breathed.

For a few moments my feet were rooted to the floor as the fire died in my throat. The cold returned.

“Who was that?” a voice asked softly from behind me.

I turned round. My mother was stood at the top of the stairs, clutching her night robes with a worried expression on her delicate features.

“It was Djuric,” I said carefully.

“I thought you said he’d left the country to find better work,” my mother’s brow creased and my heart clenched.

“Well he came back, just to check how we were.” I tried to meet her confused gaze with strong eyes.

“I heard raised voices. Abigail woke up.”

She looked so fragile there, standing weakly with her hands limply clutching at the cotton, sunken eyes. I hadn’t looked properly at my mother for a while, and what I saw scared me.

“No, everything is fine. He was a little angry about something else, that’s all. Go back to bed,” I suggested gently.

With a dazed nod, she turned around and shuffled back into the shadows.

I shivered and my insides squirmed guiltily as a sudden wind blew the door. It slammed shut with a resounding clunk.

This was not over yet, I feared.

December 3rd

I slept better that night. In the late of the morning, when the sun had risen fully over the pine forest and the birds were singing in the branches, I set off with Davies for wood.

We had been good friends since childhood, and he had been the only person in the village I had really connected with and felt comfortable with for a long time. But a rift was caused in our friendship by the army. At fifteen, we had both tried to get into the Battalions for training. I got in, he didn’t. It was as simple as that. I was then away for two years, not having any contact with the village at all, not speaking to my parents, or my friends.

When I returned, we didn’t speak for a while.

But we soon grew close again; even though we never talked about the military training Davies had been denied.

“Lorelie was looking at you yesterday,” Davies said casually, as we wandered through the snow towards the forest.

“So? You looked at me too.”

He grinned. “Yeah, suppose. You like her, though.”

I looked up into the clear dome of pastel blue sky as two shadow crows flapped overhead.

“Aw come on, Lev, don’t lie to me,” Davies bent down and snatched up a long branch from the ivory blanket, twirling it at his side like a blade.

“I don’t know.” And that was the truth. Sometimes I’d catch myself thinking about her, thinking about how pretty she was, how her fiery personality clashed with mine. Opposites attract?

But other times I’d just think of her as my friend; a good friend, but nothing more. But it didn’t confuse me, perhaps because there were more important things going on.

“Mm,” he looked at me doubtfully. We walked in silence, my boots clearing through the snow and his leather shoes getting soaked. He didn’t mind, though.

Reaching the trees, I decided to change the topic.

“Do you still lie to your mother?”

He nodded, grimacing. “Yeah. I mean, I’m not going to break the treaty. But I still don’t like it.”

We had all made an agreement that we wouldn’t tell anyone what we were up to; that included our mothers. All of our fathers were away fighting on the northern front, save for Buckley’s.

“I don’t know whether mine knows,” I said, watching Davies twirl his makeshift weapon absently. “She doesn’t question my lies anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean she knows.”

“Yeah, but sometimes she looks at me and I wonder.”

“Think fast,” Davies shouted suddenly, and a branch flew in my direction. I hadn’t noticed, but we had reached a clearing in the trees and he was already five metres away from me, his own branch in both hands.

I caught the stick and twirled it over my shoulder into my right hand in one smooth move.

Silence.

As we stared each other down, now completely serious, wondering who would make the first move.

Davies suddenly stepped forward, and I came out to meet him. With a cry we met, the clash of wood echoing through the trees.

As we sparred, my muscles began to tighten, reflexes quicken, grip strengthen. I could feel the fighter in me striving to get out. My senses absorbed everything; the sweet smell of the pine under the crisp snow, each crack of branches, slight taste of metal, the touch of the grain underneath my fingers. Watching as Davies picked through my steel defences, trying to get past me.

But I was quick, too quick for him. I remembered back to my sparring training in the Camp, how I had been defeated by my instructor so many times, and the final fight where I had beaten him.

Keep going.

Keep going.

We had been taught never to give up.

If it was one thing I had taken from my training, it was that.

There was always a chink in the armour, no matter how good the fighter. In my instructor, his chink had been his pride. He thought he was too good for me to beat him. He was wrong.

Davies was an excellent sword fighter, much better than I had been before the military.

Landing three blows left and right in quick succession, I saw his left heel twist slightly in the snow, so I slammed my branch forward, knocking his out of his hand. He fell back on the snow.

For a moment I was unsure whether he’d been hurt or not, but then I saw the wide grin across his face.

“Nice one,” he laughed. Smiling, I held out a hand and helped him up, brushing the snow off his shoulder.

“You’ve still got the fight in you,” Davies noted, a little more seriously.

I nodded. “You too.”

“Let’s just hope we won’t need to use it,” he added, turning away, slinging his branch over his shoulders.

December 2nd

It snowed that night.

The ground had already been frozen with dry ice, so it was not difficult for the ivory carpet to lay. Nightingales called out through the inky blackness and mice scurried below the stationary bracken back to the relative warmth of their dens. No light pierced the fir forest.

Just before the sun rose, the heavy clouds over the town cleared and left wispy tendrils of white.

I had not been able to sleep. Thoughts of what Buckley had told me yesterday whirled around my head, needing answers, wanting proof. I didn’t want to believe that the Guard was coming, didn’t want to believe it was going to be this soon. We always knew they would come eventually, and they would bring a Revolution, but not this soon. Not now.

I was sat at my window, head on arms folded, watching as the amber light began to spread across the surrounding landscape. Every pine was laden with pure white snow, and the sun would do nothing to melt it.

As the sunlight breached the tops of the trees and swept into the street below me, I looked down and smiled.

A girl, of about seventeen, opened the door of the house opposite and stepped out into the virgin snow. She seemed to shiver, tempted to go back inside, but stayed where she was, crossing her arms against her chest. Her long chestnut hair gleamed in the golden light. I sighed.

“Lorelie,” I called quietly through the open window.

The girl looked up, startled. “Leventri, what are you doing up?”

“Up here? This is my house, Lorelie,” I grinned.

She tutted. “I mean, why are you awake? You usually only get up past midday, you lazy-“

“Alright, alright, no need to snap.”

She glared at me so I decided it was about time I said something of value.

“Has Buckley told you?”

“Yeah, but he said you wanted to talk to me about something,” she said, somewhat curious. She shivered.

Trust Buckley to make her wonder.

He had gotten the impression, right from when I first met him, that Lorelie and I had something special going on; that I always wanted to talk to her and she always wanted to be with me.

This was not entirely true.

“Er, yeah, we planned a meeting for today,” I replied carefully. “The House.”

“What is there to discuss?” Lorelie said tightly, not bothering to raise her voice so I could hear her better. After all, everyone else in the village would probably be asleep.

I raised my eyebrow. “What on earth did Buckley tell you?”

She scowled. “He told me the Guard was coming back. That doesn’t mean they actually are. Those merchants tell stories, you know that.”

“There you go then, that’s something to discuss.”

She just looked at me, but the irritation had left her hazel eyes.

A moment of awkwardness struck me, for some reason. I wasn’t sure what else to say. Should I continue talking? Or say goodbye and make up some excuse to leave?

“Well, I’ll see you later then? I’m off to the store,” Lorelie called up, raising her voice a little.

“Sure, bye.” I replied, relieved. Lorelie half waved then began trudging through the snow down the street into the shadows.

I sighed through my nose and pulled the window shut.

“That won’t work.”

“We haven’t got anything else, Kobel.”

The meeting had already been underway for half an hour and we had come to no conclusions. We all sat around the dying wood fire in the centre of a large, empty room on benches. The embers still cast an eerie glow and made the shadows dance.

I lifted my head and looked around at my… team? group? Something.

Ultimately, there were six of us. But only five ever came to the meetings; the sixth member, Blake, was our spotter so he was always out in the field.

Lorelie was sat opposite me, her auburn hair spilling over her shoulders like a waterfall, her silver lumberjack hat loose. She was an extremely good tactician, and mostly got her way when it came to plans. Occasionally I would put my foot down when she came up with her most extravagant ideas to get us all killed. She was also a good fighter, even though we hadn’t been tested for a while. At least, not for real.

Sitting next to her was Kobel in his big fluffy jacket. He was the youngest save for Buckley, but was wiser than he looked. Serious and level headed, he was excellent in a crisis. He had deep dark blue grey eyes and short cropped black hair.

On my right was Buckley, who always sat next to me, which I didn’t particularly mind and meant I didn’t have to endure his stares, because he wasn’t very flexible and couldn’t twist his neck round to look at me for very long. Apart from his adoration, I liked him. He was enthusiastic and always did whatever it took to get a job done. He was the shortest in our group, quite noticeably, and he had thick dark blond hair, wavy but cut short so it wasn’t too uncontrollable.

Then on my left was Davies. He was probably the strangest in our group: he didn’t seem to have a first or a last name, we just called him Davies. We knew hardly anything about his family, except that his father had left, like most of us, for the army last year and that he lived with his mother. Ruggedly handsome, even at the age of eighteen, he attracted the attention of most of the girls in the village, something he disliked greatly. He wasn’t arrogant, far from it, but sometimes I caught him looking in the mirror a little longer than ordinary, as if he was wondering what all the fuss was about. That’s what I liked about Davies best. He was acutely aware of everything that went on around him, but at the same time really couldn’t care less about it, unless it was important.

And then there was me. Leventri Ivonov. Eighteen. Shoved into the army at fifteen, pretending to be seventeen. Shot his first man on the first day. Born in Moscow, Russian accent long since dulled.

I wasn’t sure how to describe my personality. Some people would say that meant I didn’t know myself, but I would argue that I knew myself better than most people did.

So we were working out what to do.

“Look,” I said, sighing, “it all comes down to whether we trust the merchant who told Blake. If we do or don’t, we need to decide something.”

“Those traders always tell stories. They have before; remember when they gave us the scare about the Czech miners?” Lorelie said importantly, obviously making her point.

“But if the Guard really are coming…” Buckley added nervously.

“Then we need to prepare.” Kobel looked up, for once, a hint of warning in his eyes. There was a moment of silence as we all began to digest what it would actually mean for the village.

The Guard were the Palace’s army. They were trained in ruthless combat; they were strong, determined and had never lost a battle. But the force that lead them, the Palace, was weak. Decades of battering and wars had driven them to the edge, the very edge. Barely in power at all. But their army, their Guard, had power, and they were prepared to use it in defence of their Lords and Ladies. They were dangerous because they knew they had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

They had been planning the Eliminations for years, but because it was a Top Secret operation, no one knew when they would come.

We had estimated it would be next year spring.

But this was a little early.

A little too early.

“The trader could have been mistaken. He could have seen the Fourth Regiment, they usually do patrols down the Pass,” I suggested.

Davies shook his head. “By the sounds of it, they would have been too large to be a Regiment.” He looked at me. “But it could have been a patrol of something larger, yes.”

“We should train anyway, just in case,” Lorelie offered quickly.

“How?” Davies asked bluntly. “We’ve only got your sword, Buckley’s bow and arrow and your guns,” he nodded at me. “We cannot prepare for battle with that.”

The word battle echoed around the room as the sharp shadows flickered on the walls, the fire giving little warmth.

“I think we should presume the merchant was mistaken for now,” Kobel said carefully; Buckley and Lorelie opened their mouths to protest, but then I stepped in.

“Good idea, Kobel,” I sighed. “We’ll do that, then. But,” I added loudly, as Lorelie glared, “we’ll train in the meantime. It would do us good anyway.”

I looked around. Davies nodded as did Kobel, Buckley shrugged, not willing to argue with me, and Lorelie scowled but seemed to accept my judgement.

“Meeting dismissed, then.”

 

 

 

-end note-

If you see any kind of ‘CHECK’ or ‘FINDOUT’ it just means I haven’t edited that bit yet, just ignore it :3 xx

December 1

It was a long and dark December.

On the rooftops, I remember, there was snow.

They said the Revolution was coming; the Revolution we had hoped and yearned would come. But they said it would not be the Revolution we had hoped and yearned would come.

It would be a different kind of revolution.

We were not sure what to expect.

Blood, we were sure of.

This December would not be a peaceful one.

“I thought you said you would be back before dark.”

“I told you, I had to deliver something to Mr Fischer,” I lied quietly, trying not to wake my baby sister as I sat down on the wood to take off my boots. They were laced with ice.

My mother was also quiet for a moment as she looked at me, folding her arms.

“Don’t you believe me?” I challenged, now meeting her gaze.

My mother’s eyes always fascinated me. How they could change colour in every different light, go from silver to amber in a flash. Now they were her worried eyes, a deep chocolate brown. I knew she wasn’t really angry, but I suddenly felt guilty.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” I said sincerely.

She shook her head and turned her back on me, returning to her washing. But I could see her eyes had cleared a little, so I was pleased.

“Make sure you shake them, they looked soaked,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder at my boots, leaking shadow onto the dry wood.

I said nothing but the corners of my lips were tugged into a small smile. My mother could do nothing except be my mother. It comforted me.

Picking up my shoes and walking to the door, I passed my sister’s cot. She was curled in her blanket, safe and warm. I envied her for a moment. My father had named her Abigail before he left, and I thought the name suited her; she was a gentle baby, not a screaming, distressed child like the Morberrys had.

Once I opened the door, the howling wind struck and whipped through the house, making the log fire hiss in anguish.

“Oh hush,” I muttered irritably to the gale. Sometimes I really despised winter; it could be so harsh on those who had done nothing. My little sister turned in her cot and sniffed.

I clanked my military issue boots together and the webbed ice cracked off in shards, falling to the cold ground outside our doorstep.

“Has Mr Fischer sorted out his claims yet?” my mother called to me. I could barely hear her voice through the wind so I hurriedly shut the door, putting my boots in the corner, formulating an answer. I decided simple was best.

“I didn’t ask him, he seemed busy.”

“Okay.” She ladled out thick vegetable soup into a bowl. I had not noticed the smell before, but now a wonderful aroma of pumpkin and parsnip filled my senses and I was suddenly very glad I was home.

As I sipped at my soup cautiously and the steam occupied my vision, I thought about where I had actually been.

Buckley had intercepted me on my way back from the farmhouse and had almost knocked me over in his eagerness. He was younger than me by a few years, and we all knew he was awed by me because I’d done service. It had taken a bit of getting used to, his astonished stares at my trench coats, boots and hand guns. But he was a good kid, and I was beginning to like his enthusiasm within our group.

“My father got a telegram,” he had spurted breathlessly, not even bothering to greet me. His green eyes shone like moons in the twilight. It must be important.

“What did it say?” I replied sharply.

“They’re coming back.”

The air was suddenly heavy.

“Blake was talking to the merchants, and they said they’d seen them through the Pass, only a week away from here, and-“

“The Guard?” I breathed with dread, cutting Buckley off.

He nodded.

We were silent for a moment, Buckley looking at me with anticipation. But I could see the same feeling of trepidation in his face.

“Then we need a meeting tomorrow. Go and tell Kobel and Davies and I’ll tell Lorelie,” I swallowed. “Usual place, usual time.”

Buckley nodded again, then hesitated. “Leventri?”

“Mm?” I met his gaze.

“Did anything like this ever happen in Russia?”

I thought for a moment on how to reply.

“Yes. But it was in October, and it had been a Revolution for the people. This will be war.”