The campfire cast thick shadows on the dark night. A reflection of the mood, as the silence conjured was dense. Across from Artowen sat Eira, now in proper clothes, though her stoic expression remained.

  A hand touched his head gently. “You did the right thing, Arty,” Emerii said as she patted. “No one will reprimand you for what was done, nor should you.”

  He nodded slightly. He did not know if he had fully left his self doubt in the past, but somehow he felt he had made the right decision. It doesn’t matter if it was a poor time to fight, or that we couldn’t beat him. Some things can’t be forgiven, some things force action. That was one of those times, and I don’t regret it. He looked at Eira. I would do it again.

  “That was our first clash with someone of his caliber, and he’s only the seventh. Even if our strength increases it is hard to imagine defeating someone like that in one on one combat.” Emerii chuckled sarcastically.

  Artowen sighed. “You could see his deity, right? What was it like, Emerii?”

  She stared into the fire for a moment. “I’m lucky. Deities appear very etherial to me, unlike Idwyn. I cannot see one until they are fully summoned, but even then, they still are not part of our world. Once we engaged Vhorn, he was encompassed by a giant. If not for the otherworldly nature of the deity, Vhorn’s movements would have been obscured, making it near impossible to do battle.”

  Artowen displayed his open smile. “Sorry to be discussing such matters in your presence, Eira, but I must know as much as I can about that man so I can one day defeat him.”

  She shook her head. “It is quite alright Artowen. When I have regained my strength, I will inform you of everything I know.”

  “You seem close to Idwyn, how do you know her?” Emerii asked.

  Eira smiled for the first time, though tightly. “Childhood friends. In fact, I’m close with your mother as well, Artowen. It has been many years since I spoke with her, as my duties carried me elsewhere. Oh, but I was there for your birth.”

  At the mention of his mother and twist of fate he laughed joyfully.

  In the darkness, two figures approached: Mav and Royce. They carried a single small hare as a catch.

  “A stew will do her good, and she can eat her fill,” Royce said. “If there’s nothing left we can eat our rations, though I wish we could’ve caught another.”

  “You took quite a while, too,” Emerii said in a teasing tone.

  “We aren’t as skilled as Lady Idwyn, and Mav dragged me around looking for something.”

  Mav walked to Eira and presented her a winter drop, a rare flower that blooms only during the winter. “My lady, those clothes do your beauty no justice. A flower to brighten your appearance, and my attention, to brighten your heart.”

  They all stared, dumbfounded.

  Before a response or any words could be uttered, Emerii smacked Mav on the head, then dragged him away into the forest.

  Royce chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, Eira, he has a jagged personality. I don’t think he meant anything by that; he was probably just trying in his own weird way to comfort you. Mav might not seem it, but he is a good man.”

  Eira’s eyes narrowed, then relaxed as she relented.

  Artowen leaned toward Royce and whispered, “I thought he was supposed to be good with women. Why would he try and flirt now?”

  “How should I know? He’s skilled at bedding them, but he certainly lacks tact.”

  Artowen sat back up and displayed his signature smile.

  Eira chuckled for the first time. “You’re a lot like Idwyn.”

  Artowen turned away, bashful at the compliment.

  Royce stared on in amusement, “Other than the physical resemblance, I would disagree.”

  “I’m usually described as a golden grizzly cub, in appearance and demeanor.”

  “That’s because you are Arty.”

  “It’s more about the connection, Artowen,” Eira described, “The gentle, alluring presence that invites friendship. Idwyn may not initially seem the type, but she pulls those around her into lifelong unshakable bonds.”

  The sound of brush interrupted their conversation. Mav came ambling into camp with his head held low. “Sorry,” He said in a quiet mumble to their new companion, then took a quick seat next to Royce.

  Emerii followed, then sat next to Eira. “I think it’s time we had our evening meal. We’ll let our resident cub show his cooking skills.”

  With those words, the mood of the band returned somewhat to normalcy.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Aunt Idwyn had not returned.

  They continued on toward Lenda. Mav guided them without worry, humming or whistling his songs whenever conversation died. They attempted to be conscientious of Eira, but her presence went unnoticed most of the time. There was not much he could do for her, so Artowen left things as she seemed to want them.

  At one point, they were forced to take a detour as a boarpine emerged, the ferocious beast not one to be taken lightly. Massive tusks that would gore any who came into sight, needles that defended its back and promised impalement. Half the height of an average human, even those on a sporting hunt would be wary of such a foe. The royal crest on Mav’s gear was a match, a native to Bardoo that represented the Kingdom’s regality and fierceness.

  “We’re finally at the edge of Lenda,” Mav said one day.

  To Artowen, it seemed the same Bardoo, but as they continued traveling, the land leveled out, and winter was far more alive. The harsh season that Welkia had endured was mirrored here.

  The trudge through the snow severely slowed them down, but they continued onward nonetheless. They took shelter where they could at night or when a storm would blow in, but otherwise they avoided the villages they passed.

  Though none of them knew Lenda well, they were hoping to find a full city. As luck did not find them, the band continued to where Mav was certain resided Pennwyn’s Crossing, the longest road in all of Dradris. That would certainly lead them to a proper city, or those who would know how to find one.

  The capital of Lenda had fallen with swathes of land, so Artowen knew they had moved the royal family, but the location was unknown to him. Unable to approach any villagers for directions or information, those poor, frightened souls would flee and hide at the mere sight of the band. Even soldiers of Lenda did not face them.

  The grim atmosphere was the worst he had experienced; the crushing defeat of the previous year destroying the people’s spirit. No resolve to live was in the actions of the few he had seen. It was a wonder the Kingdom had not fully fallen.

  They had thought of leaving Eira to one of the villages they passed, but considering everything, it seemed ill-advised. When the idea was brought up, she firmly shook her head. Artowen was inclined to grant what little of her desires he could, given everything she had experienced, horrors he could not even fathom.

  During the first sunny day since their arrival in the Kingdom, they were spotted by a group of outriders. Their steeds kicked up snow in a cloud that obscured their appearance. Eira threw her hood up and stepped to the back of the group. Artowen waved to make sure their presence was known. It was the first time they had been approached.

  “Halt!” An authoritative voice commanded over the noise. They had been waiting, but the man still felt the need to assert that they do so. When the five figures slowed their horses, one strode out ahead of them, a man around their own age. “Are you the ones who have been causing problems in the countryside?”

  “Problems?” Royce asked with the usual indignant bite in his voice. “All we’ve done is walk.”

  “Strange figures in the night, stealing food and valuables, scaring the commoners and threatening them,” The haughty figure explained.

  Royce’s face turned red.

  Before he could make the situation worse, Artowen said, “We have certainly traveled the roads; however, we have not even fully set foot into a village. I will not take offense, you are all diligent in completing your duties,” He grinned as he held his head high.

  The man examined Artowen, then snickered. “What business do you have in our Kingdom? You are obviously not of Lenda.”

  “I am Artowen the Promised One. We seek to meet with your King so the Drajin alliance can be fully realized.”

  The rider scowled. “A convenient excuse, but you should get your facts correct before lying. A Truthsayer should be accompanying you, but I see her nowhere.”

  “My aunt had other matters to attend to, but she will be rejoining us soon.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t see a resemblance to Lady Idwyn. You are an untrustworthy lot, likely a plan of usurpation in these hard times. Hand over your weapons; you are to be taken into custody. Time will reveal if what you say is the truth.”

  Despite the insults levied at himself and his friends, Artowen was cool-headed. The man ahead of him obviously respected Aunt Idwyn, and that was enough to keep any indignation at bay. “We will not. I ask you to change your mind.”

  “What?” He reached for his sword. The other riders readied their spears.

  “You heard him,” Royce said, taking his right side.

  “I am Emerii, warrior of Welkia. Guide us to your King or be prepared to be torn down from your perch.” She took his left, a mocking smile on her face.

  Mav looked ready to bolt as per usual.

  Silence, and preparedness for bloodshed.

  A click of the tongue from behind. Eira dropped her hood and strode forward, “What they say is true, Lord Prince. Idwyn has sent us ahead to await her arrival.”

  The rider’s eyes widened. Then his head snapped to the side to avoid her gaze. “I thought you were dead.”

  “I’m very much alive, sir.”

  “Have you come to rejoin us?”

  “Hardly.”

  Only the cry of a distant animal carried on the winds resounded in the open field.

  “Very well,” The Lord Prince finally said, “I will escort you to our fortress. I doubt my father will see you, but you can await Lady Idwyn there.” His eyes met Artowen’s in a glare. “If you are using my tutor’s name in vain, I will have your head.”

  Emerii and Royce were still exuding bloodlust, but he put that aside. “I gave my name, Lord Prince, but you have yet to introduce yourself.”

  He sneered. “I am Brymoor, heir to Lenda of the Dradris Kingdoms.”

  The fort was located at the top of a steep, wide hill. Singular in nature, it gave an open view of the plains and sparse trees, perfect for defense. A deep trench was dug at the base, with a makeshift bridge that could be pulled away if an attack occurred.

  The snow created a difficult climb, but they pushed to the top, where they were greeted by barricades and a wall comprised of wooden logs. The entire fortress was of Drajin design, created from the trees of the area. Standing resolute was a single flag, displaying the noble hen.

  Far in the distance, black smoke bellowed, a tombstone for someplace unknown to Artowen.

  Entrance was granted, and Artowen, with his companions in tow, followed Brymoor into the fort. It was a crushing, debilitating place. God, what has happened to the once prosperous Lenda? The weight here is heavier than even the depressing villages we passed.

  Only soldiers and their families resided here, but those families appeared as refugees. Broken and cold, awaiting death. Dirtied clothes and small fires to keep them warm, furs were scarce and fought over. The barracks and halls must be overflowing for Drajin to be on the snowy ground of the fort like this.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the cries of discontent from those around.

  Brymoor grunted. “Pathetic, I know. You will not be able to see my father, but you can await Lady Idwyn here. I will find you space.”

  His friends were silent, the demands of travel and the atmosphere draining them. Artowen nodded.

  Brymoor turned to examine him. “We do you a kindness, leaving you with your weapons. Perhaps I’ll have to test if you are capable of holding that blade. Eventually.”

  Artowen ignored the challenge. His mind was turned toward the people. Regrettably, he could not do much without his aunt, not in this situation anyway. But I must do what I can.