With the mud, the pools of ice, and the branches bending under the weight of the snow, the path through the woods had proven impractical. Yet, Louis regretted it once they arrived on the edge of the plateau. In the altitude, the snow wouldn’t melt and reached the top of their mounts’ cannons. It slowed their pace more than the slush had done. The frozen wind whipped their faces. The sky was blue, and the view on the hills around was breathtaking. The blackness of the spruces and bare trees contrasted on the white, with here and there a shade of rust on a trunk or dead leaves. Fog rose from the bottom of the valleys. Under the crunching of the snow, Louis heard the tinkle of an unseen stream. He sniffed and rubbed his nose with one of his mittens. His cheeks must be red by now. He envied the warm furs of Selen and Ahanu. Maybe he had exaggerated by refusing a bit of comfort. They rode in the wild anonymously. Who cared what he wore? It wouldn’t help if he got sick.
Four shapes holding long sticks stood further on the path. The walkers had gathered near a rocky outcrop. Louis considered the possibility of a trap until he saw the acorns attached to their long, soiled cloaks. The pilgrims hailed at them.
“Good day, my lords. Would you join us in our meal?” a man with a green gugel said.
If their customs were similar to the ones in his world, to join in meal meant that the group expected bread or some charity from their part. Nonetheless, Louis pulled his mount to the side. Their group could well take their break with the pilgrims. They dismounted and sat near the walkers. The boulders offered a protection against the wind. Moreover, perched on big stones, their boots wouldn’t turn wet. Ahanu and Selen took out bread, cheese, and a wineskin and passed them around.
“Thank you,” a man whose face was covered with warts said. “We did not expect to meet travelers on this trail. My name is Osbert. These are my companions, Alan and Michiel, and here is Johan,” the pilgrim said, nodding towards the man with the gugel.
“Where are you heading to?” Kilda asked. She sat on a flat stone with her legs bent. Louis scowled and turned his gaze away. He didn’t remember when she had changed her robes for pants.
“First, to the Priory of Catness. Their blueberry pies are excellent. Then south. To the shrine of Ikses. The priests said that if I kiss the reliquary, the gods will take away my warts,” Osbert said.
“What kind of relic does that?” Lissandro asked.
“The milk teeth of Ikses.”
“A god with milk teeth?” Louis asked, astounded. Osbert nodded, persuaded of the authenticity of the precious remains. Behind the man, Lissandro put the palm of his hand over his face.
“And you, why are you here?” Folc asked the man with the gugel. “You are a bit too handsome and well-dressed for a pilgrim.”
“Oh, I don’t do it for myself.” Johan took a sip of his wine. “I walk for a lord of Embermire. He pays me well. The man enjoys his sins but is afraid for his soul, especially now. Everyone got scared after what happened in Littleport.”
“What happened in Littleport?” Louis asked.
“You haven’t heard about it? Nysa Serin is ravaged by the plague. We thought it was confined to the city, but Littleport was struck. I heard that Lord Bartel of Littleport fled Nysa Serin. A while later, the plague made its first victims in his city. To prevent the disease from spreading, the villagers around blocked the gates and put fire to the city. I’m glad I didn’t see this nightmare,” Johan said while playing casually with his long pilgrim stick in the snow.
Outraged moans rose among Louis’s companions.
“They burned the city?” Selen uttered with shock.
Louis swallowed the news. People had fled from the capital. He couldn’t believe Pembroke would have agreed to such a thing. Had the surveillance weakened? Who was the imbecile who had given an authorization? Worse. How many had crossed the gates? He hoped no one would come again with the brilliant idea to burn entire cities until they returned with a cure.
“You’re quite talkative. Are you not afraid of bandits?” Kilda said.
“The gods protect us. Moreover, we carry no fortune and have shared our last wishes with our priests at home. We don’t fear bandits,” Osbert said.
“Should we meet some, it would only be justice,” Alan said.
“And why is that?” Askjell asked.
Alan shrank under his large hat, as if he regretted his words.
“My companion and I have taken the road to redeem our sins,” Michiel said. “During the war, we may have done a bit of pilfering.”
“The gods disapprove lies,” Eliot said, scolding the man, despite that the pilgrim was twice his age.
“We stole, burned, and did a bit of raping and killing,” Alan mumbled.
“Quite a gap indeed,” Lissandro sneered. “And you expect forgiveness from the gods for that? Sure you don’t want to try the king’s justice instead?”
Louis glanced at Lissandro. Don’t tempt me. Yet, in a way, if the men made it through the hills alive, he might give them a chance. But it should at least be a challenge. “For such crimes, you should consider doing the road on your knees. What do you think, Eliot?”
Taken aback, Eliot hesitated an instant. “Yes. Considering the crimes, the gods would show themselves more merciful if the conditions were harsher.”
“But we will have snow to the waist,” Michiel complained. “My lords…”
“Heard the monk? On your knees,” Lissandro said. He got up, followed by Folc.
The two pilgrims complied. Half of their bodies disappeared under the snow. Using their sticks, they tried to move back to the path. Their hats fell back. They tumbled, knelt again, and dug a path with their hands. The vision was more pathetic than Louis had thought. Before he could react, Selen rose.
“That’s enough.” Selen unsheathed his sword and approached Louis. “You know we don’t do such things. We follow the law,” Selen murmured. He gazed into Louis’s eyes and held out his sword.
“I know,” Louis said. “Let’s put an end to this.” He took the sword and walked towards the men.
Alan and Michiel turned around and raised their hands. “No, wait! We did what you wanted.”
“You confessed. According to the laws of Trevalden, rape and murder are capital crimes,” Louis said, standing next to them. “In the name of the people, I judge you guilty and will now dispense justice.” Louis raised his sword and aimed for the neck.
“Louis, wait!” Lissandro shouted.
Louis didn’t. As the blow fell, Alan turned around. The blade cut the cheek and severed half of the throat. Louis’s eyes widened as he realized the mess. In his hurry to achieve him, he wrenched his sword out of the wound, releasing a gush of blood, and pierced the man’s chest instead. Covered in the blood of his companion, Michiel screamed with terror. Folc silenced him with a clean blow to the neck. The head and the body fell through the snow.
Lissandro stepped next to Louis. “That’s why we tie them first and use a block,” his friend said, patting his shoulder.
Ahanu stared at him with shock. “Is that what your people call justice?”
“This was an exception. We have professionals and a justice court.” Louis felt a bit ashamed of his failure. “I’m not usually that messy with a sword.”
“A lack of training these last months?” Selen teased him and took back his sword from Louis’s hand.
“It seems their two companions resumed their journey,” Lissandro said, nodding at the two pilgrims hurrying down the path in puffs of powdery snow.
Louis gave a lopsided smile. “They will have a good story to tell once they reach the priory.” As long as they didn’t know who he was. “En route. We need to move before it gets dark.”
The group progressed on the plateau in search of a place for the night. There was no sign of human life or landmarks but for the pilgrimage stones every half mile. The firs got scarcer. Nothing grew to block the wind rolling down the white, barren hilltops. Louis felt the frost creep through his clothes. He looked around him,
but none of his friends seemed to suffer from the cold. His hood pushed back, Lissandro even seemed to enjoy it. Refusing to show any weakness, Louis clenched his teeth and faced the path again.
After a while, the acorn stones were nowhere to be seen. Louis worried at the idea that they might have lost their way in the middle of nowhere. The sky turned pink, and the first stars shone. A trail of smoke rose in the middle. He followed it down and saw the top of a roof and a sign.
Large as a big farm, the inn stood alone in the wasteland. A lantern hung on a hook in the yard. In the light, Louis noticed an acorn on the weather-washed sign. They dismounted. Holding their horses’ bridle with one hand, they approached the door. A man with a ghastly appearance stepped out. Folc, who stood first on the line, babbled words that made the man tilt his enormous head.
“Out of the way, Merek! You see well that you scare our guests!” a pudgy man with a large moustache came from behind him and chased the monster, who disappeared into the barn. “Forgive him, my lords. He is but a hunchback.”
“We were wondering if you had rooms for the night?” Folc asked.
“Rooms! Of course, we have plenty of rooms, my lord. Welcome to the Bronze Bells. Please, come inside. Merek! Damn this boy. Merek!” The hunchback poked his head out. “Come fetch the horses.”
The innkeeper finally moved out of the way and let them step inside. Louis pushed back his hood and removed his mittens. The main room surprised him. For a place lost in the wilderness, the hall was large with several boards. The wooden decoration was rustic with dried flowers, embroideries, and animal trophies. In the opposite wall was a large fireplace with an actual chimney. The room’s warmth soothed his frozen limbs. A smell of ham and green cabbage floated from the kitchen.
Two women came out of a back door. Louis judged one to be the innkeeper’s wife. She wore a wimple falling over a dark green cotehardie with a large, brown apron. The other, who was half her size, was young and comely.
“Let me introduce you to my wife, Winifred, and my niece, Ysmay. As for myself, my name is Borin,” the innkeeper said with a profusion of bows, which didn’t fail to irritate Louis. He had an aversion to all forms of obsequiousness, especially in the last two years. The two women curtsied.
“How many rooms do you have for us?” Folc asked.
“How many do you want?” Borin asked.
Caught unawares, Folc didn’t know what to say. “Maybe fo–”
“Two,” Lissandro interrupted him. “We only need two rooms with large beds.”
To share beds was more than common in most inns. Yet, the tendentious look Borin gave displeased Louis. Borin motioned for them to follow him. The innkeeper escorted his group down a hall and up a narrow, cornered stair. Even with all of them standing on a line, Louis felt crushed by the dark walls of the upper floor. There were several doors along the hall. Borin stopped in front of one.
“We have a few guests for the night, but this room and the next one are empty. Supper will be served in a moment. The women will warm the sheets with the bed warmers while you’ll eat.” The innkeeper bowed a few more times and squeezed his way back and down the stairs.
Folc opened the door. Louis followed him inside the room. No one would need to sleep on the floor this time. Two beds were separated by a worm-eaten trunk. The basic necessities—a bucket with a jug, folded blankets, and a pot—were piled on a rush chair. Louis approached the window. The glass was thick. With the extra blankets, they should be able to sleep correctly. Louis turned around.
“Folc, you will stay with us in the room tonight,” Louis said. Folc nodded. “As well as Askjell.”
His words surprised Askjell, but the boy didn’t complain. As Lissandro seemed to be unable to control his squire’s behavior, Louis would keep an eye on him. While Eliot kept his distance, Askjell was turning too familiar with them all. It was time the squire remembered his place. Not that Louis cared about their status, but he cared about discipline and seriousness. They were not on a jaunt. Moreover, Louis didn’t approve of the way Askjell rubbed off on Folc. As they were forced to finish their mission together, he would have a talk with his captain of the guards before the next morning.
“We have a little time before dinner. I will rub down the horses and check that they have all they need,” Folc said. “Askjell, you will help me.” Folc left the room, pushing his comrade through the doorway. Before Folc closed the door, Louis saw the boy exchange a glance with Selen.
“What was that?” Louis snickered.
“I’m cold,” Selen said, walking towards him.
“You wear the furs.” And I wouldn’t mind you to put them on me. Louis thought of the blazing fire in the main room and shivered. “Don’t you want to go downstairs? We could sit near the fire.” Selen cupped the back of his head and laid his forehead against his. Or not, Louis thought. He caressed Selen’s cheek. “We will spend the whole night here.”
“We will share the room, you mean,” Selen whispered. “Your skin is frozen.”
I didn’t want to complain about that. “I may have picked the wrong clothes.”
“I can help.”
Selen opened his cloak and pressed his body against Louis’s, using his hands to rub him warm. Though it did work, Louis knew what Selen was aiming to do. Selen’s mouth closed on his. Louis folded his arms around Selen’s back. Folc had said a little time. What could a little time be? Damn, it’s not even the question. Louis tilted his head backwards.
“We share this room,” he insisted, trying hard to ignore Selen’s hand on his thigh.
“Don’t you want to?”
“Of course,” he murmured. Selen’s warm breath on his neck had taken over his mind.
“It will be quick,” Selen cooed.
“How should I take that?” Louis said, slightly offended.
“On the bed,” Selen said, missing the point again. He unclasped his cloak and tossed it away.
Selen pulled him to the nearest bed and made him sit on it. Sitting astride him, Selen brushed his long curls back while he tasted his mouth. Louis took hold of one of his hands and glided his tongue around the fingers while his other hand kneaded Selen’s bottom and dragged him closer. Their crotches stroking each other turned him on, and he felt through the cloth that it was mutual. Too much cloth. When he tried to slip his hands under Selen’s clothes, his friend stopped him.
“Your pants…” Louis suggested.
“We have no time for that,” Selen said.
“Then, why—” But Louis stopped himself when Selen slid to his knees between his legs. Selen unfastened Louis’s belt, raised his tunic and shirt, and wrapped his arms around his bare hips. The touch was warm and soft. Affection blended with desire and oozed from his love. Selen resumed his fondling. Athirst, Louis sat still as Selen’s hands moved upwards from his thighs to his loins. Selen’s caresses stirred him to the deepest of his flesh. His hands curled on the blankets. “And what about you?” he whispered while Selen’s long fingers fidgeted with the laces of his pants.
Selen gazed at him. The dim light passing through the window reflected in his eyes. “Let me take care of myself.” Though he couldn’t see it, Louis heard the smile in his soft-spoken voice.
Louis lay his back on the bed and felt the furs around him. He lay on Selen’s cloak. He smelled the perfume of his skin and a light odor of sweat. He loved this smell. As much as he enjoyed Selen’s hands on him. Selen’s nimble fingers unlaced his pants. Heat rushed to the lower part of his body when Selen touched him with his moist lips, and Louis took a sharp intake of breath. The room was pitch black but for the reflection of the lantern light outside. Or maybe it was the moon. In the darkness, Louis heard each kiss, each swirl of Selen’s tongue. He led one of his hands to Selen’s head, caressed his neck, and tangled his fingers in his long, silky hair, keeping them away from Selen’s face. Selen took Louis’s other hand in his. Their fingers entwined. Whatever their lust, Selen always made him feel that there was more. Louis stifled
a moan. Selen’s gentle tongue and lips slithered around the pulsing head to the base with ravishing rubs. His love’s other hand settled over his swollen balls and pressed the spots which could trigger or delay his deliverance. With his eyelids half-closed, Louis stared through the window. Snowflakes danced in the wind. It must be cold outside. Yet, he didn’t care. The furs were warm. His body was burning. His heart was engorged with blood, as was his cock. No. He wouldn’t use such words when with his love. It was pure, sincere. It was…
“Oh, fuck. Don’t stop.” A spasm ran through his body, and he clenched Selen’s hair. Selen’s throat let go of him.
“Should I make it quick?” Selen murmured.
“If you don’t and someone comes in, I don’t think I will be in a good mood,” Louis breathed. “But I would prefer you straddled me. I want to please you.”
“I can’t. Too many clothes on. But my hand is quite busy right now,” Selen added with a sweet and naughty voice.
The thought turned on Louis’s imagination. Selen lowered his head again. To avoid hurting him, Louis closed his hand on a lock of his hair instead. Yet, Selen took it back and made him grab his head. Louis’s aching loins craved for release. His hips rocked, following Selen’s moves. Outside, the snowflakes melted and turned red. Or was it his brain? The perfume of the furs engulfed him. He was close. Don’t open the door. Don’t open the door. Don’t… The image of Selen’s busy hand flashed in his mind. His fingers squeezed Selen’s and contracted on his scalp. His whole body tensed and exploded. His mind lost itself. His teeth unclenched, and the moans he had tried to repress floated softly away.
Slowly, Selen crept on top of him and held him tight. With his cheek against his, his friend gazed through the window.
“I love you,” Selen whispered.
Louis caressed the side of Selen’s head. “Why don’t you mind doing that here? Don’t you care that people are around?” No one would care if they wenched. They could even be as loud as they wanted. But this was different.
Light from Aphelion 2 - Tears of Winter Page 25
