A/N: Thank you for all the reviews! I'm so glad people enjoyed the prologue. Here's the next chapter.
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize, I don't own.
Dreaming is a dangerous pastime.
If you continue to dream, sometime you receive more than you bargain for. If you receive more than you bargain for, you are often out of your depth. If you are out of your depth, you cannot react as you usually do. If you cannot react as you usually do, you panic. If you panic, you are more likely to die.
But these dark thoughts did not concern the group of people celebrating the sixteenth birthday of a young lad from the village of Littlewood.
Littlewood was a simple sort of town. Named for the pockets of forest that surrounded it, it was secluded, and yet freely accessible by any who wished to visit. There were four roads in the village – two leading in, and two leading out. The folk who lived there never particularly cared who they associated with, but they were careful not to draw attention to themselves by associating with troublemakers. If you lived there, you knew who you were, what your role in society was, and you learned very quickly that skepticism was the safest form of defense.
But all the skepticism and defense had been forgotten for the day, while the people celebrated. Ribbons hung from every conceivable point, food lay spread out on large tables, wine and ale was passed around, and merriment was the look on everyone's faces.
The young lad, or man as he was now to be known, had been plied heavily with ale, and was now lounging next to his best friend and watching the villagers dance to the music of a few minstrels that his father had hired playing fiddles, harps and drums.
"You know, you should really ask one of the girls to dance," his friend told him.
"Maybe, if I can tell which way to stand!"
The two laughed, and then his friend grinned. "But you're a man now, you should be able to grab a girl easily! They'll all want to dance with the new man."
"Not all of them. Look." He pointed to a young woman sitting on a bench by herself and watching the rest of the villagers dancing. A bright red ribbon was entwined through her thick hair, the only sign of her celebration besides a look of quiet cheerfulness on her face.
"Yeah, but Lianne's always been a cold fish," his friend reminded him. "Ever since she and her father set up here, she's always been like that. Never really gets involved with anyone." He moved closer to his friend, and lowered his voice as if he were telling some great secret. "I heard Lukan tried to sweet-talk her last spring, and she said no. Turned him down flat! Well, you know Lukan. Never had a girl say no to him before, not with his looks. Got all defensive about it and tried to make out that she'd been trying to sweet-talk him, but nobody listened."
"Your point?"
"She wasn't interested in Lukan. She doesn't work that way."
"Still worth a try, isn't it?"
His friend sighed and took a gulp of ale. "On your own head, Your Manliness."
The lad grinned and stood up. "Wish me luck."
"Oh, I'll wish you something. It won't be luck, though."
He grinned again, and walked over to the young woman. "Hello Lianne."
She looked up, and smiled. "Hello Ardan. Happy birthday."
Ardan smiled. "Thanks. Mind if I sit down?"
"Not at all." She moved over to make room, and he sat down, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Enjoying your party?" she asked.
"It's wonderful." They watched the villagers dancing for a few minutes, before he turned to her. "Would you like to dance?"
She bit her lip, but nodded hesitantly. "That would be nice."
He stood up, and extended his hand. She took it, and allowed him to pull her up to a standing position. As they made their way into the centre of the group of dancing villagers, there was almost a feeling of shock from them. Lianne never danced. She never made friends, never really talked to anyone, never got involved with anything at all.
Still, it was a party, she reasoned. She should at least make some attempt to enjoy it.
As they finished the dance, Lianne was a little breathless, with a smile on her face. 'I'm going to get something to drink," she told Ardan. "Thank you for the dance."
Ardan nodded. "You're welcome."
As she filled her cup with some ale, she saw Lucy, another pretty young villager with mischievous brown eyes, beginning a dance with Ardan, who seemed a little bemused by it all. Lianne smiled. Ardan was nice, but it was clear that the ale and the high spirits of the night had had quite an effect on him, because he would never normally ask her to dance. Nobody ever did.
"I thought I told you not to get involved."
Lianne whirled around, her hair flying, to see a middle-aged man, tall and well-built, standing in the shadows, watching her with a cautionary look on his face. She shrugged, smiling at him. "It's a dance, Father. It's not a crime."
"You could bring everything down."
"Father, you've been saying that for as long as I can remember. Nothing's ever happened. Why would it?"
"Because-" He stopped as a particularly cheerful drunk ambled towards the table, swept up a jug of ale, and proceeded to stagger off, gulping the ale as he went.
Her father sighed. "Just don't get too involved."
"With a father like you, how can I?"
She was moving away again, and then her father tapped her arm. "Be back an hour after sundown," he told her.
She nodded obediently. He was only worried that the revelries might get too much for her, she reasoned. A curfew was his way of keeping her safe. It was a little restricting, but perfectly reasonable.
"You promise me you'll keep to it?" His grip on her arm tightened. "Promise?"
"All right, I promise!" she told him. "I'll be back an hour after sundown. Try not to pace the floor right through."
He relinquished his grip, and disappeared, leaving her wondering what on earth it was she would find when she returned home.
The road was rather slippery underfoot, and Lianne had to judge her footing very carefully. She had left the high spirits of the party with relative ease, save for a lone drunken Mikhail who had had to be dragged away by Niall the tavern owner. She had heard Mikhail's pleas for one more drink as she slipped through the town and towards her home.
The lanterns were lit inside her home, and there was obviously a fire going, for she felt warmth as soon as she stepped inside. "Father?" she called. "I'm home."
"Lower your voice and come here," he told her.
Confused, she obeyed, heading through the small home. Entering her room, she saw him sitting on a small stool with a small bag in his hands. He handed it to her, and she glanced at it. "Look inside," her father told her. Obeying, she discovered a waterskin that smelled distinctly of mead, and a thin parchment parcel, yellowed with age, and with a lone word on the front. She tried to make out the word, but couldn't make it out from the sharp lines and circles.
"It says your name," her father told her. "It's a letter."
"But I can't read," she protested. "Why do I have a letter when I can't read?"
Her father sighed. "I want you to swear to me you will obey the instructions I'm going to give you. Whatever happens, you must not disobey me, even if my life depends on it. Do you swear?"
She frowned, even more confused. She had always obeyed her father – he was there to look out for her. Why would he need reassurance of her obedience? She nodded cautiously. "I swear."
He seemed satisfied. "You know the way to Leonasflow, yes?"
She nodded. "Why?"
"You're going to go there. Don't speak to anyone on your way, especially not Imperial soldiers. Hide the letter from anyone and everyone you meet. You can't let anyone know you have it. Leave no trail. I cannot stress that enough, Lianne. You must not leave a trace of evidence that you have been anywhere."
"But why?"
Her father lowered his voice even more. "There's been a rumour circulating that there's another Dragon Rider, yes?"
Lianne nodded, scoffing internally at her own father's folly. Nobody thought it was true, though. Every so often it would happen, but it always proved to be false. Why would it be different this time?
"It's true," her father told her. "There is a new Rider. He'll help you, but you must stay alive and keep the letter with you at all times. You cannot let any of the Empire's men get hold of it, or it will mean disaster for all. Do not drink from the waterskin at all."
"Father, how can you know?"
"Lianne, that is not important for you to know," he rebuked her. "Listen to what I am telling you now. Do not get distracted from questions with answers that are not yours to know."
She hung her head, shame-faced. "Yes, Father." She looked up at him. "I don't even know where the Rider is, though."
"Follow the Ra'zac from Leonasflow. They're heading south, and it's fairly obvious that they're hunting the Rider."
"But I can't fight. They'll kill me."
"Then run. You have legs, don't you?" He raised his eyebrows at her. "Lianne, I wouldn't ask this of you if it wasn't important."
"But why aren't you coming with me?" she asked.
He sighed. "Someone's got to make sure the Imperial soldiers don't follow you." He stood up, and she saw an old sword leaning against the wall behind him. Why did he have a sword? He kissed her forehead, and looked at her. "Go. Everyone's too drunk to care who's there and who's not, and if anyone starts searching for you, they'll think you're at the party. You remember what I told you?"
"Go to Leonasflow, follow the Ra'zac from there to find the Rider," she repeated. "Don't talk to anyone, especially not Imperial soldiers, and keep the letter with me at all times. Run if they catch me. Oh, and don't drink from the waterskin."
"Good girl." He hugged her, and then released her. "May the elements guide you." With that, he picked up the sword and returned to his sitting position on the stool, but this time, he laid the sword across his lap.
There was a shout from outside, and their eyes widened in horror. "Go!" her father ordered. "Now!"
She ran through the house, snatching up her cloak and heading out the back door. As she ran through the door and out into the night, looking back, she saw men dressed in the uniform of the Empire heading into the house, and she wondered what significance the letter in her hands held for them.
As she reached the fringe of trees around Littlewood, she cast a look back, and was horrified to see the little house she had called home alight, and the company of soldiers heading into Littlewood. What if they hurt any of the people there? She had never really had friends there, but murder was still wrong, and if any of them were hurt, it would be because of this letter.
Was a letter really worth people's lives?
She almost began to head back into Littlewood, but her father's words rang through her head. "You cannot let any of the Empire's men get hold of it or it will mean disaster for all." She had sworn she would not disobey him, even if his life depended on it. She had always obeyed him so far. She couldn't let him down now.
So she ducked into the trees and ran.
A/N: On a side note, I'll be updating this every Tuesday. Feel free to give me constructive criticism, but I don't accept flames. Either way, please review!
Sarah :D