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Rated: 13+ · Chapter · Fantasy · #1659742
Chapter 1: Sanctuary
Chapter 1: Sanctuary

The road was becoming worse. It was littered with animal dung and the incessant northern rain made the ground muddy and slippery. Alana's legs were aching as she trudged up the final hill. The grey palace walls were only a stone's throw away, yet it took all her willpower to keep her legs stepping forward. She steadied herself as she felt her foot slide beneath her. Looking upwards, she could imagine the sentry guard, standing back and watching this mud-splattered girl trudging towards the castle. She finally halted, shaking as she stood in front of the closed, wooden drawbridge. She could see no one, but instinctively knew she was being watched.



Filled with sudden hope, Alana raised her voice against the howling wind, and addressed the unseen guards. “Please,” she called, her voice cracking with weary anticipation. Soon, very soon, she would be inside the castle walls, protected for the first time in months. “Please, will you let me enter?” There was no reply, and Alana feared she had not been heard. She spoke again, but her request was met with stony silence. Panic was beginning to constrict her throat as she realized the drawbridge would not be opened for her. She needed to get inside; this was her only hope.   



Alana heard horses, their trotting hooves fast approaching. She looked dully over her shoulder and saw a company of four riding up the palace road. Despite her desperation, Alana instinctively shuffled off the road, not wishing to be flattened by horses’ hooves. Left leg. Right leg. Her feet sunk in to the muddy ground. Lacking the energy to move, and with nowhere to hide in the open plains, Alana waited, praying that the approaching party were not scouts of the Empire. 



The riders passed, giving her no thanks, or any sign of acknowledgment at all. The three taller and broader men were uniformed in grey tunics, tied around the middle with rough, black cord. The emblem of a bird, its wings outstretched, was printed upon their chests. Although unfamiliar with the Airea court, Alana supposed that these men were palace guards. The remaining man was notably smaller than his companions, his lithe frame moving side to side in his saddle, his hands dejectedly holding the reins. Dark curls were plastered to his head in the rain, and Alana saw his shoulders heave with a sigh as the drawbridge was lowered. As they waited, the man's companions pressed in closer on his left and right, and behind him.



With a sudden jolt, Alana realized that this was her chance. The drawbridge would be down, the palace easily accessible. If she did not seize this opportunity it could be hours before the gate was lowered again. Or worse, she could be left on the road, forced to plead her case again to the unlistening stone wall. With what little energy she had, Alana pushed herself forward, stumbling with exhaustion. The horsemen had entered the palace now, and Alana began to run. A thrill of excitement ran through her as she felt the wooden drawbridge under her feet. She was now within the castle walls, and that changed everything.



"Oi!" shouted a sentry guard, walking sternly forward, his pike titled slightly towards her. He looked her up and down, taking in her stained britches and travelling shirt. "What do you think you're doing, Ginger?"



Alana bristled at the man's tone, surprised she had any energy left for indignation. That was not how he should talk to any lady, irrespective of her state or hair colour. Besides, surely these sentry guards were accustomed to worn-out visitors.



"I said," the man repeated, using his height advantage to glower down at Alana, "What do you think you're doing, ginger?"



Alana opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. She was simply left standing there, water dripping down her face into her mouth, which remained stupidly open, but silent.



"Oh, for damn sake," shouted another sentry from the dry comfort of the guard house, "Find out what the redhead wants so we can send her packing and raise the bloody bridge!"



The guard looked at her again. He spoke each word very slowly, emphasising the letters so that spittle hit Alana's face. "What .... Do ... You ... Want?"



The situation seemed to have caught the attention of the riders. The non-uniformed man had dismounted, absentmindedly passing his horse to a stable boy as he watched Alana. One of his companions had placed a tight grip around his upper arm, as if afraid that he would make a run for it.



"I've had enough," spat the guard, grabbing Alana roughly around the shoulders began to push her back over the threshold of the palace grounds.



Alana's throat constricted with fear. If she was pushed back out, surely they would never let her in again. This was her one chance at safety. She needed to speak. She needed to say something. "s....ssss...." stuttered Alana, "Sanctuary. Please, Sanctuary."



The guard huffed, ignoring her cries and continued to push her across the drawbridge. Alana dragged her feet, feeling a splinter pierce her foot through the hole in her shoe.



"Sanctuary," she sobbed, pushing her weight against the guard. "I plead sanctuary!"



Still no response from the guard, and Alana saw the muddy ground road only a few steps in front of her. She went to plead again, but was cut short but another voice.



"What the hell do you think you're doing?"



The sentry stopped pushing, and Alana seized the opportunity to turn around and explain herself to, what she hoped was, a more sympathetic ear. The rider was standing in front of them, his arms folded menacingly across his chest. He was a tall, lean man with angular features that gave him a graceful, almost effeminate appearance. His eyes, a pale blue, glowered at them. The three men remained closely at his sides.



"Answer me. Now!" he ordered and with a jolt, Alana realised that he was addressing the sentry, not herself.



"My Lord Rowan," began the guard, false respect barely covering the bitterness in his tone, "I was just –"



"This woman has pleaded sanctuary," Lord Rowan said, "She has pleaded sanctuary within the palace walls. By law, the law of your  King, that gives her right to a room and to rest here, until her case is heard by the council. Until further notice, this woman is a guest of the Kingdom, and you will treat her with the proper respect that such a position deserves. Understood?"



He did not wait for an answer, but turned on his heel and walked away, encumbered slightly by his companions. Even as he disappeared, Alana saw his head turn, ensuring his direction was followed. It was. With much muttering, and the bitter murmurs of 'Stupid, mixed race bastard', Alana was allowed back inside, the drawbridge drawn up behind her. The chains stopped grinding and a resonating 'thud' filled the courtyard as the gate closed. Alana's heart leapt as she heard the noise. For the first time since fleeing the empire, she was truly safe.



Flooded with a mixture of excitement and exhaustion, Alana's head began to swim. She turned to the sentry, and made to speak to his foggy outline. No words came out, and she felt herself falling to the ground, darkness engulfing her.

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