Ghost of a Forgotten Past

Chapter 1- Never Return

              It was still and quiet the night that it happened. Young Lanora was snug and warm in her bed, her widowed mother sound asleep in the bed beside her, in their small wooden house, when the first war horn threw out its eerie cry across the dark valley, rolling and rumbling off the steep mountain sides. Lanora woke with a start, warning bells were clanging, doors banging and the shouts of pain and terror reached their ears, as the smell of smoke and burning flesh choked the very air they breathed. Before she could react Lanora's mother was scooping her up and stumbling out the door, just as their little house burst into a crackling, hissing bonfire. People were running everywhere, a herd of cattle went thundering by, trampling at least nine people who were too scared by the fire to see the oncoming stampede. As her mother fled Lanora looked over her mother's shoulder and caught a glimpse of a large man, silhouetted by the raging flames, upon a tall chestnut horse, striking down Buck the village blacksmith. Revealing a ragged smirk of pleasure as sword sliced flesh, Lanora could see every line of his grotesque face, the large scar cutting across his whole face starting from the tip of his left ear and ending somewhere below his collar and she was afraid. At last she tore her eyes away from the hideous face and looked around, it was then that Lanora realised that a bunch of rebels had raged war on the defenceless village, all the rest of the rebels were wearing some form of mask and they were burning, slashing, smashing and killing everything they saw.

Lanora was thrown on to the back of a young black colt, a rope thrust into her hand, and her father's sapphire dagger in the other, her mother screaming at her "run my child, run and don't return!" and with that said slapped the colt on his shiny black rump, and darted away drawing attention to herself so as though to give her precious daughter time to escape. Those were the last words she would ever hear from her mother, the last time she would look into those kind grey- blue eyes. Lanora didn't stop she kept spurring the jittery colt on, only looking back once long enough to see, that no one was giving chase, the shrinking fiery glow of her beloved village and hear the muffled commotion. With tears streaming down her small face she galloped on fighting to keep her balance on the fear driven horse. By the time she had brought the young colt to a skidding, sliding stop they were both exhausted, the colt from the wild gallop and Lanora from her hysterical crying. Sliding down, the slippery sweat covered hide she fell to her knees all... went...black.

When she finally came to, she sat up and looked dazedly around through blurry eyes, finding herself in the middle of a dense forest, still tightly clutching the colt's rope. Rolling over on hands and knees, she heaved herself up to a standing position and wondered why she was here and not at home with her mother, when all in a giant rush the memories of the previous night came gushing into her head. She could see the flickering hungry flames, felt their searing heat, smell the putrid smoke and hear the screams, the terrified screams of desperate people frantically trying to find a way of escape. Then the worst memory of all surfaced, it was that man's face a face that would haunt her forever she would never forget that fateful night.

After gathering her bearings she got up and studied her surroundings in all directions, finding the way she had come was quite easy, from the deep skid marks and churned up earth where they had come to a sudden halt. Tears came to her eyes she started to sob and sank to the ground once again, whispering to herself "where am I?", "how far have I come?" and "what do I do?" She was in the middle of a forest and deathly scared. After crying herself out she sat and thought she was desperate to return home, but even though she was only seven Lanora knew to return would surly mean her death. So she turned and started off in the opposite direction. All day Lanora walked until she came across a bubbling, clear stream. Kneeling on a rounded rock, she dipped her hands in the water, it was cool and soothing. Cupping her hands she brought some up to her lips and sipped, it tasted fresh and sweet, each gulp slowed her breathing as the liquid ran down her throat it felt good. This was the perfect place to stay rest and think about what was to come next. Here she would remain until it would be safe to head home.