Part 1 - The Border

The freezing wind bit through Aria’s stiff coat like a knife. She trudged along behind Marcus, whose massive figure helped to break the wind. Even now Marcus would stumble and mutter a curse, bringing his hand to his wounded shoulder. The cold wasn’t helping anyone’s wounds or discomforts. As Aria trudged along she wondered for a brief moment if they would ever reach the Thealian border. The night was bitter and unforgiving, and the advantage Theals had for defense was the mountainous border between her and Erland. The snow was swept down the mountainside and into the foothills, making travel very difficult for the group of four.

A light flickered on ahead. Tristen and Adar were leading them, Tristen because he knew the way and Adar to light the path. Aria and Tristen would rotate positions, one following and the one leading to give the other a rest. Adar however hadn’t rested at all, for he was the only one of them who could keep a flame in this weather. The torch in his hand stayed lit and shone out before them like a beacon instead of reflecting back in their eyes like a normal torch would. The little fire wizard almost seemed reluctant to lead, always shivering and cursing the cold.

“Cold I can take, the desert was cold.” He had said. “But this snow! This wet! Breathing this air is like drowning in icy water. If I was a water or better yet a wind elemental I would be able to handle this freeze much better…but with fire this land only seeks to put me out. It doesn’t like be very much, I’m afraid.”

The light still shone through the blowing snow clearly, so even though Adar had complained about the cold and humidity he was still alive and moving. For what seemed like endless hours they had been trudging. Stops for rest were becoming more frequent. At the last one, Marcus had sat on a protruding boulder in the snow and refused to move for a good ten minutes. He was cold, and though the man had seen cold like this many times before, his wound and the length of the journey were weighing his steps. They all felt it, even Adar who had only recently joined them when escaping Zaikaan.

They were all ready to drop in the snow and lay as they were to freeze when Tristen called out.

“I see the pass! We’re close, a matter of steps. We only have a little to go.” Tristen turned. Snow stuck to his face where the stubble of a beard was growing. His unkempt hair flung in all directions in the wind.

“Thank the gods,” Marcus snarled though clenched teeth. For a while now he had kept his arm tied in a makeshift sling to keep his wound from reopening again.

Aria lifted her head, and saw dimly in the snow the pass. The opening to Theals. Hopefully there were guards there. They would take them to Faolan where they could sleep in warm beds and get a hot meal. How long it had been since any of them had slept in a decent bed.

Adar was beginning to show signs of faltering as he stumbled on ahead. The sight of the opening had given them strength for a moment. They struggled on and in a matter of minutes reached the gate. It was shut, and the stone walls on either side were high. There were no guards in sight.

“Guess we should knock,” Marcus growled and raised his spiked club to bang on the door. He was stopped short by a deep voice from the shadows do his left.

“I wouldn’t do that, big man. Put the mace down or I’ll send an arrow through your wrist.” A stocky figure stepped from his hiding place, the dim outline of a bow in his hands showing in Adar’s light.

Marcus indifferently dropped his mace as if he didn’t care about the threat the man made. Still he would heed and drop the weapon, but otherwise bore a look of weary disinterest. Aria wrapped her arms tight around her and stepped forward, slowly so not to aggravate the bowman.

“What’s a group of four doing running about on a night like this? It’s cold enough to freeze Hell over out here.” Another stocky figure, nearly identical to the other stepped from his shelter on the other side. His voice had a good natured tone to it, making it almost hard to believe that he would use the massive spear he clenched in his right fist.

“It’s not by choice that we’re here. We’ve come to seek shelter with our allies in Faolan.” Tristen answered. Beside him he nodded to Adar to rest and dim the light. The two big men had lit the lanterns on the gate. “So if you would be so kind as to lower your weapons and let us pass, we would owe you one.”

“I’m afraid we don’t let just anyone through on a whim. Especially not suspicious looking characters like yourselves, no offence. You do understand, don’t you?” The good natured one leaned on his spear and shook the snow out of his short beard.

“We do, but we’ve walked and ridden and rowed miles and miles to get to somewhere safe. Winter has nearly killed us already.” Aria looked into the eyes of the first guard with the bow. “We’re from Erland, and have the authority to pass into Theals with the permission of the Wintershaw family whenever we wish.”

The guard looked down at Aria, surprised it was a woman who was speaking. In the dark she could have easily been mistaken for a young man. “That may be, so show us. We’ll be glad to let you in if you give us proof of this, for we know everyone who is allowed this right.”

Aria and Tristen each took from a chain around their neck a ring with the royal crest of Erland on it. They held them up for the guards to squint at and examine.

“Royal ambassadors? Nobles?” The bowman questioned.

“Prince and princess of Erland. The seals on the rings have a special detail to them that only the royal family use.” Tristen put his ring back on the chain. He shivered violently. “Is that proof enough?”

The guards nodded simultaneously and the second guard took a key from his pocket and unlocked the small door in the gate. They made small bows to Aria and Tristen as they passed through, but carefully eyed Marcus and Adar. They whistled to the next watch to take their place. Two guards came grumbling down out of the warm guardhouse and stood outside in the snow where the first two had been.

The first two guards, now giving their names to be “Bran” and “Bryn” (they were brothers, the first one to speak being Bran and the second Bryn) escorted the small group to a long building. Half of it was fit for living with a kitchen, privy, and beds. The other half was set to be a barn and storehouse. There was a room set of for hanging vegetables to dry and barrels of salt pork to cure. Another room was for equipment, one side for the animal harnesses and tools, and another with weapons, mainly spears, shields, and bows. Bran and Bryn led them into this room.

“We’ll ask your guards here to leave their weapons in our care for the night.” Bran said. The ride to Faolan is a day to the west and it would not be wise to set out in this storm, at least not in the dark.”

Adar tossed his dagger and small knives onto a table. He didn’t seem to care about giving up his weapons. Marcus was a different story, and it took five minutes of persuading and arguing and threatening to get him to leave his mace, shield, daggers, bow, and sword behind. The sword he would have parted with, for it was of Taaltic make and only something he had stolen in Zaikaan. His mace and bow however were his beloved weapons and he did not want to leave them in the hands of someone who might tamper with them. Finally, hunger and tiredness chipped away at his stubbornness so that he set his weapons on the table as well, with only a threat to bash anyone’s head in if they fiddled with his things. Aria and Tristen were allowed to keep their weapons.

“You can sleep here. The beds are warm. But first let’s get some hot food in you.” Bryn grinned as he saw the eyes of the four light up at the prospect of food. He turned to his brother. “Bran, why don’t you put some of that lovely stew on?”

Bran grumbled. “Why do I always got to do the cooking around here?”

“Because you’re my little brother, and you love me, so you’ll do the nice thing. Besides, you’re a better cook.” Bryn grinned at him, showing spaces in his mouth where teeth used to be.

“The privy cleaner’s a better cook n’you.” Bran turned to the stove and pitched in a few logs. “Even with what he has to cook with.” Bran wrinkled his nose at the thought. Bryn chuckled at his brother’s comment.

“Right you are there. Remember the porridge I made last week?”

“The rest of the boys thought you’d poisoned it.”

“Exactly.”

Bran shrugged in defeat and put a pot of water on the stove. He pulled out some spices and then a piece of meat from a box of ice. That was one advantage of winter; meat could be kept fresh for a week in a box of clean ice. Cutting it up and tossing it the pot of boiling water, he added a few more things until the whole living space smelled wonderful. The four travelers sat on beds or chairs and constantly watched Bran, waiting for the soup to be done.

There was a pawing and whining at the door that lead into the animal’s quarters. Bran looked up from his cooking and at Bryn, who was dozing in a chair.

“Hey you lazy oaf, let poor old Bear in. He’s probably smellin’ the soup and wantin’ some. I can give him the scraps.”

Bryn opened one eye and after standing up and making quite the display of stretching and complaining about being aroused, went to the door and let a large dog into the room. “Bear” was a fitting name. The dog looked like a mix of wolfhound and a very large guard dog breed. It trotted in and sat its enormous self next to the warm stove and looked up at Bran with pitiful eyes. Bran glared down at him and tossed him a scrap of meat.

“No more begging you spoiled brute. You’d do well to take some food to your poor mate. You’re lucky you don’t have to handle the pups.” He tossed the dog another chunk of meat and shooed it out. The dog trotted back into the barn area.

Aria watched the dog leave and sighed. She chuckled a little and nudged Tristen’s elbow.

“Imagine Cedric’s reaction to that beast. He hated dogs.”

“He’d have rolled over and died right there.” Tristen grinned a little. “If it was to only see that, I still…well…”

Aria looked at Tristen. It had been hard for him to accept the loss of their guide because of his pride. Aria knew he wasn’t cold hearted, but he didn’t want to admit he actually missed Cedric. Tristen and he had always argued over everything, and more than half of the time Cedric won.

“I do wish he was here. I wish he hadn’t died.” Tristen whispered and looked through the corner of his eye at Aria. He seemed a little uncomfortable. “Should have told him I wasn’t really mad at him.”

Aria slipped her hand into her brother’s and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “He knew.”