Hero of AngelStone

PART ONE -

Chapter One

She stared gloomily at her reflection in the full length gold mirror. She seemed so solemn on the outside. So...emotionless. Her blue eyes, usually the color of a noon, sunny sky, were cold and empty. Her tanned features were as pale as possible, and her usual lush red lips were faded to only a light pink. Her long red hair contrasted against her pitch black dress. She had been wearing a lot of black dresses lately, along with her other unnatural facial features, yet she was far from used to it.

Her emotionless state was slightly pleasing to her, knowing that she finally mastered how to deceive others on what she was feeling. For inside, a storm was brewing, full of the worst emotions possible - welling sadness, despair, hurt and anger. And loads of each. Pushing them aside, she grabbed a barrette and pulled her bright tendrils back in the a quick half braid and fastened it as she listened to the sound of horses approaching. It was time, but she was far from ready. Somehow, she knew she’d most likely never see this place again, though everyone around her promised she’d be back before she knew it. It seemed too unlikely in her heart, though she hardly had a shadow of truth and knowing of what this was really about. Kept in the dark so long, she knew her going away was dire, and there was definitely something very wrong about to happen, whether she left or not.

Just then, her Nanny that had been with her for thirteen years, forever faithful in her feverent watch over the young girl, came in the room, holding a warm, dark green cloak and draping it around the frightened girl.

“It’s time, Sorshie.”

Nanny Isobel was in tears, though she tried to hold back. Yet the girl in her arms was fighting to regain her composure, held back tears stinging her eyes viciously.

Isobel led her down the softly winding stairs until they were in the Departure Room, seven men that all looked like some kind of valiant knights stood by the door, awaiting her presence.

“Sorsha Hero Thorne-deLongprey, I assume?” a man with white hair and beard asked. He must have been at least sixty, yet he was traveling in the rough winter weather.

Clinging to the insides of her cloak as if for security and comfort, she nodded.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and looked back at the rest of his companions. “These six fine men and I are going to safety escort you to the best Safehouse known, where we’ll look after you until danger ceases.”

Sorsha looked back at her Nanny. “Can’t you come along? If it’s dangerous...”

But Isobel only shook her head. “Only enough room for One, my dear. But don’t you worry - I’ll be safe. No one wants to bother with an old bat like me.”

Really, she wasn’t very old. Though she never knew for sure her age, Sorsha placed her in her early forties. But that didn’t matter now. Once Isobel decided something, she stood her ground. There was no use in pleading and begging and lose all her dignity in front of all these people. There was no changing Isobel.

“Are you ready?” the elderly man asked.

With her bottom lip between her teeth, Sorsha glanced around her childhood home one last time before giving a firm nod. “I’m ready,” she said with a steady voice, straightening her posture and lifting her chin. But not without mouthing the words ‘I love you’ to Isobel and mentally wishing them both all the luck they’d need. And they’d need plenty, Sorsha knew that much.

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Sorsha let her mind wander as they rode on through the peaceful scenery. She had been after an introduction of each man pledged to help her arrive safely to the Safehouse, which wasn’t all that securing when they kept saying they were to protect her. Ironically, it made her feel much worse - what was the need for all the protection? All she knew was that her father had left the house three months ago on another one of his infamous ‘errand trips’, which she knew absolutely nothing about, and never came back. He was now presumed dead, and since it was declared that he went from missing in action to death, she suddenly had to up and leave. No explanations on why. No words spared to ease her troubled mind. Yet, at the same time, she hadn’t persisted much for any information - the shock of her father’s death still welled deeply in her. As if she couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea, it just didn’t stick. Perhaps this was the reason why she hadn’t cried when they told her. Or at the funeral with a casket that held no body, just a blood stained name. Or even the weeks following this. What did she really care about where she was going or why when she felt the edges of betrayal and hurt creeping their way in to her heart. Her father had left her. Maybe not resulting in death, maybe so. That part didn’t matter. The part that did was that he left on the night of her birthday, when she begged him not to go, which only resulted in icy tears crawling down her pink cheeks as she stood on the porch and watched him leave on his faithful black horse. He had promised to return within a month’s time at most. But he never came back, and now she was on a horse of her own, riding away from the same house he did, leaving behind her last loved one.

Rubbing her gloves together, she tried to warm up her hands and chase away the thoughts she knew were trying to make their way to the surface. Memories of her own mother, whom she had also loved dearly, for as long as she was able to. When Sorsha was six, her mother had died. She was never sure how, just one day she was happy and playing games with her daughter, the next, she was dead and Sorsha was being dressed in black, like she was again now. As the years passed and she grew curious, she pleaded with her father to tell her what happened to her beloved mother. He’d get all teary eyed as he stared straight back in to her eyes, then would either leave the room or quickly change the subject. So now she was still riding uncomfortably on this horse, wondering what had killed either or both of her parents, their deaths as much of a mystery as why she was here in the first place.

She had debated on asking one of the men why all the security and why they were sent, but all of them looked so focused on what they were doing that she didn’t dare try to break their concentration.

To get her mind off of death and lost loved ones, she wondered about the place she was going to stay in. It was for an unknown amount of time, no one seemingly knowing how long she’d be away. She had lived comfortably in her childhood home. For the most part, at least until her father went disappearing and apparently dying on her, that house was the warmest, most memory filled place she had ever lived in. She had dreams about staying there when she was married and raising her own children there. From what the servents and her Nanny had said, it seemed she’d be gone for a few months. So why did her heart hold such a void for that dream of coming back home to raise her children? Why did it suddenly seem like a hopeless wish?

Too many questions, her mind decided. No, perhaps it was just too little amount of answers. Either way, she had developed quite the headache and thinking hard about fruitless things did little to make it better. So she returned her focus back on her surroundings. It was beautiful, really. Despite the chilliness that clung to the air, it was peaceful. Very little wind, just enough to remind you where you were and to breathe softly against the branches of the evergreen trees, making a light tone as the needles scrapped against each other. The snow graced everything. It wasn’t a hard, icy layer, but a powdery one, allowing easy passage for the horses and for it to not hurt her eyes from the sun’s reflection. Though there wasn’t much of a sun this day - it was low in the sky, about two hours from twilight, and the skies were already filling up with grey clouds. She saw that her other travelers noticed this as well, for a few rode closely together, talking among themselves and an opened map. A few glanced over their shoulders at her, and the old man offered a reassuring smile. She hated that she was among complete strangers, but somehow she remained from feeling hostale and frightened. She had never taken well to strangers, and mainly stayed away from anyone that was out of her comfort zone. Instead of studying the lead men that were pondering over the map and for where to camp for part of the night out of the storm, she switched gears in her thinking. Looking down, she saw that her one hand entwined gently in her horse’s main. It was a magnificent mixture of silvery white that shone silky in the waning sunlight. A white horse with light grey patches over it’s body, it was a thing of beauty and she was proud that they had let her ride it. A gentle mare, apposed to the other taller stallions of various shades in color. All she knew was that she was glad her horse wasn’t black like two of the others were. She was sick of black. Too much of her life was drowned in black, especially the last few months. Black dresses, black soul, hard, cold dark heart. Dark and angry thoughts. Too dark, too black, too much. Pitch black...to match everything else that surrounded her, inside and out.

Cringing, she remembered she was supposed to be staying away from such thoughts and looked around to place her mind on something else, but there was little that she hadn’t already covered. It might be pretty scenery and a fine horse with valiant men, but there was only so much pondering you could do over only three such subjects.

So she turned to the time. How long had she been traveling? At least a few hours...maybe three or four? Which would explain why the bottom half of her body was weeping in soreness and pain and why her shoulders ached. And why she was so bored out of her mind.

She sniffled, digging around in her pocket to find a handkerchief, but finding none. Silencing a moan, she looked back to the three men, no longer so close or with a map in sight. Now they were spread out a bit more, all looking in a few different directions, most likely to locate a pathway leading to the shelter they had selected. Or at least, she greatly hoped. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth from dryness, yet she knew she’d sooner die of dehydration than to speak of it. She had too much of the crazy combination of pride, fright and awkwardness to speak up. That, and her father had taught her never to complain in front of anyone doing you a service. And there was always someone doing her a service, as it seemed, because any time she tried to give a little grief about anything, he’d quickly hush her up and scold her with the look of his chocolate brown eyes. They always silenced any complaints right in her throat.

A wicked thought of her younger self came creeping in to her skull. Her father was no longer here. She could do anything she wanted without fear of him finding out and giving her his disapproving and disappointed glare. But that also took the fun out of the idea and squeezed at her heart. She had to remind her self - her father wasn’t dead, just lost somewhere. So he’d find out what she had behaved like sooner or later. She wanted to make him proud. She had spent her life striving for just that, she wasn’t bound to give up now. She’d make him proud of her if it was the last thing she did.

Such thoughts made people around her wonder about her mentality. Most girls her age gave up on the thoughts of their fathers and focused all their minds on a catch for a husband, and details of a house of her own and children. All of that was very nice and lovely for Sorsha, but never quite a first priority. If it happened that a good, decent man fell in love with her, then all the better. If one didn’t, she’d be just fine and happy anyway. She kept herself entertained well enough with her family and with studies. A man was not needed at this point of her life, when she still felt so immature - probably the most immature she had ever felt in her life. Funny, how things happen like that. When she was young, she always felt so mature. She was getting older and a mind of her own - she knew what she was doing. But now she was nineteen and she felt like she could have the mentality of a ten year old. Not so bold and sure of herself anymore on the inside, she at least made sure she made up for it by what she enforced on the outside. As long as everyone else thought she was sure of herself, well, it would have to do.

“Miss deLongprey, we’re going to be stopping in a little villiage off to our right. Perhaps you’ve heard of it - Pemmrey? It’s just until the storm passes. I’m sure you’re quite frozen through by now,” the old man told her. What was his name? She wracked her mind, but couldn’t remember. She wondered if he even introduced himself. She had been too preoccupied to notice much. In fact, she doubted that she remembered any of their names now.

Instead of admitting this though, she plastered a sweet smile upon her lips. “I’m quite fine, but thank you,” she said, though it was a complete lie. She could hardly feel her fingers or her toes, and her cheeks felt frozen and hurt painfully.

“You won’t feel so well when the snow storm hits.” A man from the front voiced. She tried to place his face with a name - he looked exactly like the man who rode beside him. They were the ones with the same last names...so he was either Andrew or Aaron Kane.

Whichever, she nodded at him with the same smile to ackknowledge his words to her, but said nothing. Shy...it was a rare thing for her, only occuring when a group of strangers were around her. In exact situations as this, shyness tended to take over.

Finally, the villiage came in to view. Yes, she did know this place. Isobel had taken her here last Christmas to pick out a gift for her Father. It was a quaint little villiage and she liked the idea of staying for a night. She held her breath for a moment that they’d stay in the same place she and Isobel had, but it wasn’t needed - the three leading men took a turn and went right by the little motel. She sighed wistfully before clearing her mind. She was frozen right through - at this point, it shouldn’t matter where she stayed, as long as it was somewhere indoors.

Something cold touched her eyelashes, and then the tip of her nose. Before it registered what it was, she heard one of the men from the back say, “Oh, here comes the Big One, lets get a move on.”

Within minutes, all the men, as well as Sorsha, were in a stable, caring quickly for the horses. Knowing little about how to care for a horse, she copied everything the man beside her did. It seemed to work well, and soon they were all huddling in to the large lobby room of the motel. She was noticing a pattern in how they traveled - by horse, three men were in front of her, three in the back, and the old man was beside her. Same went for how they walked. Was this for protection too? If so, what happened if they were attacked from her right? She was wide open. Perhaps they couldn’t spare another man for that side of her? Either way, she didn’t care much. She looked at that spot as her privacy - she turned that way when she didn’t want anyone else to get a clear look at her. She’d taken her chances with this ‘danger’ if it meant a little privacy for her.

Wiping the cold headache from behind her eyes, she looked around. A roaring fire was where her eyes landed in thankfulness, her nose sniffling from remembering the bitter cold. Her fingers, toes and cheeks were slowly flawing out so she didn’t have to move so stiffly.

The elder man asked for two rooms, which made her wonder suddenly how the sleeping arrangements would be. She never had anyone sleep in the same room as her before. Well, besides Nanny Isobel, but she was just like her mother so it didn’t matter. But in front of total strangers that she had yet to be able to really trust? It worried her on a few different levels.

“Come, my dear. Lets get you warmed up,” the elder man said, a woman that worked at the motel standing beside him.

She took his offered arm lightly, the woman giving her an assuring smile. She was short with curly red hair pulled back in a bun. A friendly kind of pudgy, Sorsha instantly liked her. A very trusting woman she looked like, and that beat six men that were in their twenties.

Two men, the brothers, had left the pack to run in the back of the motel to go to the little tavern and order a round of whiskey to get them warmed up. Instead of whiskey for her though, the woman brought up tea once Sorsha had been placed in her room. The old man had checked it out before she was allowed in, and now he was wandering around from her room to the other room rented, looking down hallways and windows.

“How are you holding up?” he asked her when he bothered to stop for a moment.

“Very well, thank you,” came her automatic reply she always gave when someone asked her how she was.

He offered her a small smile. “I bet you’re quite scared. I doubt you took in anything we told you, but that’s alright. You’ll understand everything over time.”

Her smile weakened a bit. “I remember being told we were going to stop for the storm...” she offered.

He chuckled. “Well, in case you don’t remember names, Mine is Orpheus Sire. I am one of whom created the AngelStone Safehouse.”

“Sir...if I may inquire...why did you make such a journey out to here when the other men...”

“Are younger and more capable? I’m a lot tougher than I look,” he said, good naturely.

She blushed. “That’s not what I meant. I mean...if you’re the Head of the place...”

“I like to make sure our highly important people arrive with the utmost safety.”

Sorsha nodded, hoping that she could get a few answers out of him. “Why am I...highly important?”

His eyebrow lifted, though he hid his surprise well. “You’re a beautiful woman who just lost her father. You’re important,” he said, but it was far from the truth, even she could see. But it was made obvious he didn’t want to tell her the truth, so she backed off.

“How long until we reach Angel...”

“AngelStone. AngelSafe, some call it, to make what it is known. AngelStone Safehouse. But to answer your question, if we wake with good weather tomorrow, it should only take us about two more days, if we go part way through the nights both days. If it’s not so good weather, it’ll take four or five. And if it’s bad, it may take a bit longer than that.”

Her heart sank. The idea of riding like this for more than one day longer was a horrid thought. Too many questions plagued her curious mind to ride in such silence for so long. But she kept this tucked inside of her, though it seemed like Orpheus Sire already read her thoughts.

“It’ll go by quicker than you think, Miss Thorne-deLongprey.”

Her nose automatically wrinkled. “Would you mind calling me by my first name? I’m not very fond of that title.”

He laughed again. “I suppose that’s understandable. At AngelStone though, most go by their last names. But if you wish, by all means. I’ll let the other’s know as well. Speaking of which, they should be up any moment. I have two of them stationed on the stairs, but the rest are taking a break with a brew in their hands. Have to reward them somehow - after all, without them, we’d all be lost. The best trackers we have right here.”

But Sorsha hardly listened. “What are the sleeping arrangements?” she blurted out before she could stop herself.

He seemed to be expecting it. “Two men will be sleeping outside your door. Another two by the stairs. One will be in the next room by the window that is halfway in your room, and the other will be by the front door in the lobby. I shall be resting in the next room. I’m a light sleeper, I hear everything without having to be placed all around the motel here.”

Sorsha sighed in relief. No one would be sleeping in her room. She’d be spared the embarrassment of the men seeing her drool, or, Heaven forbid, snore. She didn’t know if she did either, but it was always better to take precautions, rather than travel for maybe a week with these same men snickering at her behind her back. Which was easily possible with their travel positions.

Orpheus cleared his throat and walked towards the door. “The men are arriving back. I’ll leave you to your peace for the night. I suggest going to sleep early - early to bed, early to rise,” he said like the smiling grandfather she never had. He went out in the hallway, shutting the door behind him.

She sprung from her seat and locked it, then went to her bag and took out her white flannel nightgown. White...she liked that color right now. The opposite of black. Quickly shedding her dress and letting it fall to the floor, she pulled on the approved nightgown, then rolled up her dress and putting it in to the bag. She quickly untied her black boots that were laced up past her ankle, then let them drop by her bag. Quickly releasing her hair from it’s braid, she jumped in to the warm, cozy bed. Tucking the pillows the way she liked them and bringing the blanket up to her chin, she quickly fell asleep, just before the winds started their bitter howls as it was lashed with the frozen snow.

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