The Rose War [UNFINISHED]

Chapter Two - Lies

        I sighed in relief when my feet finally hit the hard, dirt floor of our underground hideout. “Releij,” I called into the blackness. There was no reply. I felt Mother brush past me.

“We need a torch,” she said and then I was left standing alone. A moment later a light flickered in the distance and I heard Mother's voice, “Fiandra, over here.” I walked towards the light being careful not to trip over anything. Mother and I walked down the long tunnel for a while until we at last came to a large, wooden door. Mother pushed and it opened with a rasping groan. We stepped inside the inner room to find it filled with light and people. Everyone sat huddled in small groups against the walls. The torches in their holders on the wall cast warm light around the room. 

“Releij,” I pushed through the people, searching for her familiar face. Then finally I saw her, curled up in a dark corner. Her tears had left streaks on her soft, dirt-stained face. “Mother, I found Releij!” I turned to see Mother rushing towards me. She knelt down beside Releij and lifted her head gently onto her lap. Releij's eyes fluttered open. 

“Mother?” she said, “I thought you and Fiandra would never get here! I thought you had been killed. Fiandra, there's blood on your forehead!” I reached up and felt the warm wetness of blood. It must have happened somewhere in the chaos back there, I thought. I suddenly felt very tired so I sat down and rested my aching head on Mother's shoulder. 

I must have fallen asleep for the next thing I knew I was lying on the rough floor and someone was shaking me roughly. I opened my eyes to find Releij's face inches from mine. I jumped up in surprise and she laughed. “Come on!” she said cheerfully, “We're leaving to see if our hut is still there.” I don't know how she could say that last sentence cheerfully. There was nothing fun about arriving upon the spot where your hut had been standing to find a pile of ashes. There had been so many raids in the past year and I didn't look forward to rebuilding our hut again. The one we had currently been living in was our third one that year. I sighed but stood and followed Releij down the passage and out into the forest. Mother was waiting for us outside and started walking towards out hut the moment we stepped out. We hurriedly followed, but as we neared our hut we all slowed down a little. None of us wanted to find out whether the hut was still there. 

We pushed through the last overhanging foliage and out into the clearing. I groaned. What had once been our hut was now a pile of ashes and rubble. “I like it better when the raiders burn our hut to the ground,” Releij commented, “At least then we don't have all this,” she gestured towards the rubble, “to clean up.” I saw that Mother was already digging through the pile searching for her precious pots. Releij and I helped her until we had salvaged everything that wasn't too damaged and cleaned up the whole mess.

“Fiandra, Releij, I need you both to go and collect sticks and wood for our new hut. I'll go down to the stream and start mixing up some clay,” Mother said when we had finished. I picked up what was left of our ax and set off to find some good wood. Releij turned and went in the opposite direction to collect the sticks. 

As I hacked my way through the thick underbrush I came upon a small forest of little trees. They were the perfect size for the framework of our hut so I began to cut them down. The sound of a twig snapping behind me made me jump. I set down my ax and looked around. There was nothing so I went back to chopping. Then suddenly a voice spoke out of the forest. It was no more than a whisper and I strained to hear the words. “I've been watching you...Fiandra,” it said, “I know who you really are...but you don't,” I looked around frantically but saw no one. 

“Who are you?” I asked, pulling my dagger out. 

“Someone you wouldn't remember,” the voice said. I whirled as a hand touched my shoulder from behind. A bent, old man stood behind me. His long gray beard reached his chest and a rough, faded cloak was draped loosely about his shoulders.