Harbingers of El Tinor- (on hold)

Chapter 1- Beneath One's Feet

Wiping the sweat that ran down her eyes, Aithne heard the clanking of metal again. She ducked left into a side passage when with a thud, a huge piece from one of the buildings fell from above.

"Argh!," yelped Aithne, clamping her mouth shut with one hand. Stunned she stared at the very spot she almost walked into.

"Over here!" yelled a feral voice.

Aithne took off, her feet slamming hard against the ground, leaving a trail for her captors to follow. Still she ran, dashing into a left passage and then a right. Taking a left turn, Aithne glanced behind her. There were no signs of her pursuers. Thrilled, she quickened her pace and went left again, colliding into a soft, squishy wall.

Aithne fell backwards. The sky crashed to the ground. And the ground was uprooted beneath her. Gripped with fear, she wondered if one of the soldiers had went ahead to trap her when a face hovered over her.

Aithne blinked rapidly at the person. She had expected the brutish looking soldier who picked up her waterskin. Not a woman.

She had hair that glared like the sun tightly wound in a chaos of short curls. The woman smiled warmly, her round cheeks forming small mounds that swelled. The flecks of gold nestled in her brown eyes seemed to twinkle at her. Aithne couldn't help but stare as the woman cradled her in her arms.

She was the type of woman, that men would clamor to propose marriage to her elders. On the other hand the entire country knows her as the stubborn ghost child. Aithne had the same brown-reddish hair as her mother's, but more ripply, that fell down her back. She even had the same brown eyes and the cackling laugh that would rise higher and higher. Their noses flared when angry the same and they both have the same fiery temper. Although others dared to say that in that regard, the mother could not compare to the daughter. She even inherited her mother's name. She was her mother's spirit reborn. A ghost child. And as of three nights ago, an enraged ghost.

"Are you okay," asked the woman.

Ah, thought Aithne, even her voice sounds lovely.

"You two. Check that way," bellowed the voice closer than before. "The rest follow me!"

"No," whispered Aithne, pushing the woman away from her. She scrambled to her feet and sputtered, "Sorry and thank you."

Aithne took off again but a vice grip on her wrist brought her crashing on to the ground again.

Kneeling face to face, Aithne tried to pry off the woman. Livid, Aithne yelled,"What are you!-"

Without a word the woman released her. But in a flash she grabbed Aithne's shoulders. Aithne had a brief view of the wall rushing at her when the woman twisted her around. She tried to break away from her but it was no use. She embraced herself for impact and clutched the hilt of her sword.

"Ah!" gasped Aithne. She landed with a thud the ground. Looking around, she saw that she was in a dark, enclosed place. It smelled dank of something rotten, probably an animal that crawled inside and died. Getting on her knees, Aithne creeped towards the opening when her sack snagged on something. Dust and debris rained down her. With nowhere for the dust particles to escape, they swirled around, setting her nose and throat on fire.

"Father," Aithne hacked unconsciously.

"Hush," grunted the woman.

The sound of something heavy scraping the ground pricked ears. She looked left and right but could not find the source. It didn't help that the hollow she was unceremoniously shoved into had been getting darker and darker.

The grating grew louder and to her horror, Aithne watched as a chunk of the same sand-mud rubble slid in front of the niche. She noticed it too late.