Page 8 of Memory of Ashes

One of them grabbed her arm, dragging her to her feet. He spoke to her in a language that she couldn’t understand, although parts of it sounded similar to her own.

“What was that?” She gestured wildly towards the forest. “Where am I? Who are you?” The questions tumbled out of her.

The man holding her tilted his head, considering.

“You speak the old tongue.”

Amelia’s brow furrowed. “What? What do you mean, the old tongue?”

There’d been no mention in the records of any tribes living near the mountains. Not for hundreds of years. Their kingdom’s nearest neighbours were far from the mountains. What foreign land had she accidentally discovered? Why did they refer to her language as ‘the old tongue’, and why didn’t she already know about it? She would have known. This wasn’t right.

The group of men began speaking rapidly among themselves. The archer led them away. Apparently, they had decided she was coming too; the others dragged her along as she trembled in their grasp.

“Where are you taking me?” she demanded as her initial shock began to recede.

They ignored her, continuing to talk among themselves. She twisted free from the man’s grip and ran with no thought of where she was going. Anywhere was better than the forest. The tall grass rustled as it tangled around her legs and slowed her, but they were faster.

She slammed into the earth. A man’s weight pinned her down, stealing her breath. They were taller than normal men; their strength was obvious from their broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms. She struggled against his weight, trying to push herself up as she kicked wildly.

Hands seized her shoulders. Two of the men lifted her as though she weighed nothing and carried her away, holding her tightly enough that she couldn’t wriggle free.

They hadn’t tried to hurt her yet. Maybe they were helping her. There was obviously a language barrier. She should stay calm. Think.

They marched through the tall grass where the forest had ended, leaving the mountain’s shadow behind.

The land looked so familiar, yet she couldn’t place it. She would have remembered this place.

The grass swayed in the gentle breeze, rippling in green unison. It was so different from the landscape she knew. Her homeland was mostly flat and barren, leading up to the rocky mountain range, which marked the end of their kingdom. There was very little green, as not much survived the scorching rays of the sun.

The men wore tight-fitting leather armour and carried weapons. They looked like hunters. So different from her own people. They had knives, and two of them carried enormous bows.

These men looked positively archaic.

She’d given up asking questions. They didn’t respond. They either didn’t understand or were just ignoring her.

The town came into view in the valley below. Buildings of aged white stone were scattered around a blue lake that seemed endless, merging with the horizon.

Before they entered the town, one man took off his cloak and draped it around her shoulders, pulling up the hood to hide her face. He put one finger over his lips and drew his dagger in warning. That was a universal language she understood.

As they descended the slope, she peered from beneath the shadow of her hood, marvelling as the stone structures came into view.

They looked as though they’d been carved whole from stone, with intricate details decorating every building. There were leaves and roses, and little faces that peered from above doorways. She instinctively searched for signs of damage and scars of repair. They looked ancient and new at the same time. Her mind slowed. She’d devoted years to excavating ancient fragments, brushing dirt from damaged artefacts, imagining how they had once looked. It was as if time had not touched those buildings.

Townspeople stopped to stare as they went past. They shared the curled ears and unnerving eyes of the men. Some wore leather jerkins, but most wore heavy woollen robes that fell to their feet.

The gigantic building they approached was the most decorative yet. They passed through the large pillars framing the entrance, ivy carvings trailing around the stone.

The doorway opened into a vast hall beneath a domed glass roof. Its height made her dizzy. Daylight streamed onto robed men gathered around a tiered fountain, its spray sparkling in the light. A large mural covered one wall, depicting figures rising from the darkness into the light as shadow beings tried to pull them back down.

They carried her through the hall, calling to others before taking her into a smaller room.

It was a small chamber with no windows, just decorative slits near the roof that let light through, and a single wooden bench. They unceremoniously dumped her on the bench and closed the door, leaving her alone in the dim chamber.

No sound reached her through the door. Only her breathing disturbed the silence.

She took a moment to gather herself and consider how she might escape. She tested the door handle, but it only rattled. There was no other way out.

What were they going to do to her, and where the hell was she?