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