CHAPTER THE FIRST

I will strive to update weekly, maybe bi-weekly if i can get organised enough

All Charcters belong to ME, Nefairious, do not steal them or borrow them without my explicit written permission. All characters and events, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Okay now that, hats out of the way, on with the story.
P.S. it may be a short first chapter but the next few chapters will be longer, i promise.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Chapter The First

Existence

ONLY A MADMAN would step out into the world in such a state, yet he was no madman; unfortunately for him he was very much sane. Markus pulled his wools and furs tighter around his body, to ward off the inevitable chill of the season. All around him, the landscape was buried under blankets of cool white fluff, that is, if you weren’t currently standing a foot deep in snow.

A tall elegant horse, stood a few feet down, kicking his hoofs into the white substance and shaking his mane in annoyance.

“Peace, Arid, I need to check the cart.”

It was only to be expected, after all, in such weather one was bound to come across a dilemma or two. Whilst trotting down the traveller’s road, a large object had almost over turned his small cart. Markus pulled his fur lined hood farther down his face; the cart seemed to be fine, he turned and prodded at the wheel and its hinge to make sure all was well. The wood looked slightly more worn down than usual, but that was fine, it would at least last him until he reached the city walls.

Arid snorted softly and turned his head away.

“Be quiet, it’ll last.”

Markus turned to the patch of snow by his left wheel. A smooth white rock peeked out, the very tip of it pointing towards the sky; though it was blunt, it would have caused him severe trouble to have his cart break down a whole day away from the nearest point of civilisation. The traveller’s roads were hardly well kept, for all their frequent usage, the smaller villages and towns could not afford to maintain them and neither was the crown willing to spend coin on the poor. This particular road, however had a good reputation, free of bandits and the like, then again it was the winter season, who would dare risk their lives on such traitorous journeys? Markus frowned. Milestones, the boulder like rock, buried under snow was hardly distinguishable; it was no wonder he’d tripped over one, however they were always placed as far out of a traveller’s way as possible.

“Damn!” he whispered furiously, “Arid, we’re off the road!”

There were moments such as these, when the best thing to do was just turn back and wait it out, yet he had no such luxury, time was of the essence. A shipment of Messinian silks and spices had arrived at the city port, the day before last. He had received notice from an acquaintance soon after, they would not be able to ward off potential buyers for long. As a young entrepreneur, such opportunities did not come often.

He shivered, blew warm air into his hands and rubbed them together; which did absolutely nothing for the stiffness in his joints and the numbness in his face. Hunching his shoulders together, Markus drew in a deep icy breath and pushed at the back of the wooden cart. Arid whinnied and kicked up into a slow trot, having to drag his long legs out of the sucking snow, then immediately fall back into it.

“Almost, just a little more. Arid now.”

Using all the power in his arms he righted the cart, so that now it stood facing the narrow valley to his north. A cloud of white smoke billowed continuously from the horse’s nostrils as he moved restlessly in the snow. Markus ducked into a crouch and once again inspected the wooden wheels of the cart. The density of the packed snow, made it so that the wheels were clogs with that the stuff; making any motion stiff and slow, at this rate he and his cargo would not reach the port city of Nazradei for another half day; most likely longer, if the snow did not ease up.

As if like a prayer, the torrent of biting cold wind and snow slowly settled, over time it would recede like a wave. The sleek black animal turned towards his companion and fixed him with a pointed glare and blew out a puff of condensation, in an indignant manner; as if to say, it’s your fault I’m here in the first place, do something about it.

“And what do you expect me to do, give a dirty look and expect it to melt?”

A snort, yes.

“Keep moving you stupid beast or no more apples for you.”

With that threat, he trudged his way to his horse and urged him on with a pat to the rear.

~*~*~*~*~*~

The pair trudged their way to their destination, the land remained still, under the cool mantle of snow, the bears and small mammals slept. A pale imitation of death, which swept from one corner to corner, mountain to mountain; yet, for all her sweet guile, the horse and man forced their way through their weariness, driven by their need to stay warm and reach the city soon, soon, always soon.

The cart creaked lowly, the wheels having frozen rigid a while ago. Arid whined, the cold making him somnolent and the cart dragging him deeper into the snow. Markus placed a gloved hand on Arid’s neck and patted him reassuringly.

“Stop here for now.”

Arid came to an abrupt stop.

Markus dug a path to the cart, rummaging inside its contents for a flask and a leather skin bag, and then forced his way back to his horse. Arid whinnied and shock the leathers of the bit.

“Yes, I know, break.”

The bit removed, they ate in silence, chewing slowly to ease the numbness in their face. Only rapid blinking prevented his eyelids from sticking together; he pulled off a glove with his teeth, popping it beneath an armpit in order to better grip the flask. It was hot to the touch, pulling a pain filled groan from him while he carefully poured a measured cupful into Arid’s mouth. Arid jerked, his breath escaping in rapid puffs and low whines, and in another moment, all the tension drained from his muscles, so that he slid languorously into the snow. Around him was puddle of cool liquid, beneath him frozen earth. Steam billowed from his skin.

Markus chuckled and knocked back the potent liquor, grimacing as it burnt its way down his throat to settle in his belly like a warming flame. He has laced it with a warming charm, well to be more precise his wily grandmother had insisted he take her carefully brewed potion, it seemed she’d laced it with alcohol too.

The snow had settled the sky now finally clear and filled with pinprick of light, as a child he had sent his childish prayers to them; believing them fearies, charms and spirits to grant his many wishes; whatever his overactive imagination could come up with, then. He’d met a feary during his seventh summer, shivery at the memory he moved closer to the heat radiating from Arid.

“Come on, no time for rest if we’re going to make it before noon.”

Even through Arid’s noisy complaints and narrow eyed glances, they strove forward, dragging the cart behind them, leaving deep furrows in their wake. Some time later, as the plains morphed from barren landscape into sparse growth and trees which towered ominously high above them, thinning out to acres of farmland freshly cleared; the pair came across the second obstacle.

Markus knew he was falling, yet with nothing to impede his descent, fell anyway, into ice and onto something else. He pushed himself up and off the person, it definitely felt like one.

“Shit.”

Hastily, he brushed of the snow, a torso appeared; blindly feeling his way up until his hands brushed against his chest, even through the gloves one could feel it was a male; up, up to reveal a pale face. In the moonlight, the paleness of his skin was shocking. The shadows of his eye cavity and lashed stood out against his skin in relief. The eyelids were closed, now sealed together from the cold; little beads of frost clung to his eyelashes, smooth over his elegant eyebrows. More filled the crevices of his mouth, ears and nose. His lips were dark, in the moonlight a garish blue. His skin looked chilled; Markus removed a glove and touched it to a cheek. Cold, dead.

The boy, for the features were soft, all curved angles, from chin to brow, a child barely ten summers. Why would a child be out in a place so far away from human contact? The clothes were thin and worn; the blizzard must have caught him unaware. The boy’s face was smooth almost devoid of any emotion; at least he went peacefully, thought Markus, stroking a cool cheek, eyes full of sadness. It was then he made his decision. Markus brushed away the remaining snow and carefully hoisted the child into his arms.

Arid kicked up snow, impatient to move on.

“I will not leave him here, the least I can do is give him a burial.”

The cart, though small and lightly packed with merchandise, had enough room to fit the body snugly once everything was pushed to one side.

“Let’s go. I don’t know how much more of this weather I can stand.”