It was a wretched and rainy twilight as she rode with her shoulders slumped miserably along the mud clogged trail leading to Culberry town. The only sounds were the sucking noises of the horse's hooves separating from the muck and the hiss of the downpour. She despised riding in the rain. The way her grey cloak flopped and slapped against her leather clad legs in the blustery wind annoyed her and the unpleasant smell of wet horse, wet leather and wet wool only made being cold and soaked to the skin worse. Her horse shook its mane, jingling the bit and the wind blew the flecks of water warmed by his body onto her numbed hands and cheeks. It was useless to try and keep her hood up in this type of weather which meant not only was her fair hair drenched slick to her head, but incessant drips trickled into her eyes, reddening them and making the angry green stand out all the more sharply. It was in this sorry state that Lin and her horse plodded over the small bridge across the river outside the town's wooden walls.
She had enough coin for a meal and board in the inn but that was as far as she could stretch. A festival was starting and the main event was a tournament of swords, a series of duels with no armour. Death strikes were against the rules but fatalities were common. The prize was 700 pieces of gold. How distasteful and distressing she found this whole business of killing people, it was her only way of supporting herself now that her last safe haven had been destroyed. Her heart clenched tight as the realisation washed over her again.
"Corman" A choked off sob escaped her. Corman her oldest and dearest friend, her lover, gone forever. She would never hear him laugh or sigh or snipe at her again. Never again would she see his eyes intent on a piece of metal as he tested it twisting it this way and that in his rough hands, never again would he would pull her close for a hasty kiss as they sparred together, no matter how she tried she could never beat him. He was the one who had taught her. He always said that to make a perfect sword you had to be a perfect swordsman. It hadn't saved him though and the ring of his anvil was now forever stilled and stained with his blood.
She gasped raggedly and bit down hard on her lip. No more quiet tears slipping into the dark. She could go for months now without the crippling memories creeping up on her. She couldn't bear the emptiness of it. It was not pain, she could handle pain. It was numb, black loneliness, and it was engulfing her slowly. First her sisters, then her mother and now Corman, all taken in violence and pain. She had seen the light of life go out first hand. She carried all of their deaths with her as her penance for what she now did. And yet she was all the more dangerous for that. Her once laughing face had changed to a hardened mask of perpetual pain. With the death of her lover she had felt her heart break apart, and all mercy kindness and love had been flung away with the shattered pieces. "If anything ever happens to me...just keep going Lin," He had made her promise. She cursed him for that.
Blinking the rain and the tears out of her eyes again she cast about in the gathering dark for an inn. Down a winding street slashed at irregular intervals with bright streaks of light from windows, she saw a creaking sign bearing the crude picture of an ox's head above a hearth. Nudging her horse with anticipation they trotted smartly towards it. She dismounted in a splash of mud outside the half full stable behind the Ox Head. Untying her pack slowly due to her frozen fingers she took her time to look around the warm fragrant stable. Finally the last swollen knot loosened and swinging her liberated pack over her shoulder she led the horse over to a small form nestled in a pile of hay. She nudged the stable boy with her foot and a bleary eyed head emerged.
"Yah?" He mumbled sleepily.
"Here," She said abruptly thrusting the reins at him, "Make sure he's dried down well and gets a good feed. I'll know if he isn't treated properly." She watched the boy stumble to his feet to grasp the dangling reins. He seemed to be sleepwalking as he led the large wet animal into an empty stall. He started to fumble with the saddle straps releasing them too soon; the whole thing slid and fell with a dull slap in a sodden heap on the other side of the horse making the animal look round curiously.
"Be careful boy." warned in a soft and dangerous voice close to his ear. With a guilty cringe he whipped his head round. Lin had followed him silently into the stall. He studied her more carefully than before, his eyes travelling from her hand resting on the tip of the sword hilt just peeking from behind her waterlogged cloak down to the long cruel looking daggers almost but not quite fully concealed at the top of one of her mud spattered boots and up her strong slender legs and body to her hard green eyes. Mouth ajar, he nodded once nervously with a strong feeling she knew he had intended to hang up the tack sling a rug over the horse and snuggle up in his nest of hay again. After a long considering look she turned on her heel and walked slowly out the stable door. The boy breathed a small sigh of relief and turned to his dripping charge. They didn't get many people like her in the sleepy town.
The taproom went silent as she entered as usual. Sweeping her gaze quickly around the low ceilinged smoke filled room she spied an empty table in the corner furthest from the fire but near to the stairs leading to the upper floors. Her boots clunked softly on the wooden floor as the conversations started up again around her. Peeling off her cloak and dropping it with a splat over the spare chair she sat down with her back against the wall and adjusted her sword so that it was less conspicuous at her hip. A pretty girl with brown curly hair in an apron approached her corner weaving familiarly through the tightly packed tables and bodies near the fire. Lin clenched and unclenched her fists trying to get the heat into her hands and looked up into the girls smiling face.
"Would you like some warm cider?" She asked pleasantly taking in Lin's wet hair and red hands. "There's also the stew if you want something to fill the gaps. You look all done in."
"I'll take both. And a room if you have it." She replied looking around the room again carefully from under her eyebrow, noting the frequent furtive glances from most of the men at her white shirt which was soaking. She was too tired and full of aches to care. She felt a sudden prickle on the back of her neck as her hair stood on end. She slowly turned her head to the dark corner opposite her. A lone figure in a long cloak was sitting at a small table, his large hand resting on the table grasping a mug. He had his hood up and his face was completely hidden but she felt the intensity of his stare. Her eyes travelled down his shrouded figure. With a professional eye she noted his wide shoulders and long thick legs which were stretched out and crossed at the ankles. Judging by the huge broadsword propped against the wall he was here for the festival too. He suddenly looked away as she unconsciously tensed her shoulders thinking of facing him in the arena, he looked formidable.
"We do have a room actually. You're lucky because were nearly always full during the festival. The weather must be keeping people away. Terrible for the town. Can't abide all this mud. It washes down from the hills. Raining for a whole two weeks you know –"
