Furs stretched across the cave entrance did little for containing any heat, but they helped mitigate the rushing chill of the wind. It also prevented snow from blowing in to their shelter, which in turn kept everybody more comfortable. In this case, everybody being Alir and Lyn; Lyn was still not sure Marcho even registered outside phenomenon, because he certainly didn’t acknowledge it. Night was awkward, but safe at least. The next morning found a momentary lull in the wind but Lyn could see the storm billowing in the sky.
“Tonight is going to be much worse,” she said to no one in particular.
Marcho put his nose to the air and took a great breath. “He approaches.”
Lyn looked at him sidelong, concern etched in her face. “Who? Umbra?” The great wolf shook his shaggy head slowly. Lyn put her hand on her head to shield her eyes, trying to look out into the distance, but she saw no one.
Marcho looked to her with this three glowing orbs and said almost pityingly, “How your people have functioned without the enhancements of magic I will never know. Your senses are dulled to the world around you. He comes, but his scent is hidden by horseflesh.”
Lyn’s lips tightened and she leered at Marcho as he turned back to watch the horizon, but she was admittedly jealous of how in tune he was with his surroundings. After all, if not for him they would not have made it this far. Still, she didn’t think that gave him the right to brag about it and throw it in her face; she couldn’t help what she was, could she?
“Look,” the demon spoke in a low voice, and Lyn turned to the direction he was facing. A large black shape made its way towards them over a hill, coming quickly closer.
“What should we...” Lyn turned to Marcho, but did not finish; the black wolf had vanished. Lyn sucked in through her teeth and swore under her breath. It was evident at this point that whoever was approaching had already seen her, so she had little to do but wait. Still unsure if it were friend or foe, she pulled her bow and, checking the string, nocked an arrow. It had been some time since she had used it, but she was confident it would be a deterrent enough without her having to let fly.
As the figure came closer, she could see it was a large figure indeed. Not strange for these northmen to be large, but what was strange was the horse he was riding; it was huge, heavily muscled, and with mane and coat the color of pitch. Despite the size of it, and its rider, it was moving very quickly indeed. Unfortunately that speed was catching it up to Lyn too fast for her to really do anything with her bow, so all she could do was hope that she wouldn’t need it regardless.
The horse and rider came within twenty paces and abruptly stopped. The figure astride the beast was clad in a dark cloak which hid his features completely. Slowly he raised his hands in the universal sign of peace, and Lyn lowered her bow. The young druid bit the inside of her cheek, trying to think of something to say. She would have loved to have something tough on hand like “who goes there” or “stand firm, ruffian!” But alas, she never did quite have a knack for situational witticism, so she stood instead in silence.
After a moment of the awkward silence, the rider seemed comfortable with the idea that Lyn was not going to shoot him. Lyn herself wasn’t quite so sure yet, but the stranger was confident enough to slowly pull the hood back from his face. Long blond hair spilled out over the dark cloak, and Lyn instantly recognized the face of the man called Skyehart. She stiffened slightly at his unexpected presence. Skyehart, misreading her sudden tensing, stopped mid-motion as one would with a wild animal who was spooked. Seeing that she was not turning to flee or fire, he slowly dismounted and walked in front of his horse, patting it idly on the side of the neck as he passed. He stopped a reasonable distance away, clearly not wishing to appear aggressive. His steely gaze never left Lyn’s, and his hands remained up.
“What do you want?” Lyn choked out, immediately berating herself for not having something better to say.
“Only to help,” the man said, his voice sounding surprisingly young. With a stature such as his, she had expected him to have a deeper, raspier voice. Not that his voice was unbefitting, it was simply more pleasant than she had anticipated. “There is a very large storm coming. My estate is not far away, I promised your friend I would find you on my way home and take you to safety.”
Lyn raised an eyebrow and her nerves calmed themselves as confusion took their place. “My...friend?”
“Yes, the masked man. He said you would have come this way and that you did not know about the approaching storm.”
Lyn absorbed this for a moment, though she did not doubt the truth of his statement. Suddenly she was mad. “I see. So he sent help after the helpless girl, is that it? I made it up this mountain all by myself...mostly. Who says I couldn’t handle the rest?”
Skyehart flushed, fumbling for words. He clearly did not have the gift of tongue that Satora did, but Lyn found that to be a somewhat endearing quality. “I...I truly do not think that was the intent behind his request, my lady...”
“Lyn,” she interrupted suddenly.
The blonde man stopped mid-sentence and looked at her, eyes wide. “Lyn,” he said slowly after a moment. Composing himself, he stood up straight and looked her square in the eye once more. “Lyn. I do not think he intended offense. Nor do I. I am, however, better versed in these mountains, and I offer a suggestion as a fellow traveler that this storm is best ridden out in shelter. I humbly offer my own for your use.”
Lyn looked him up and down, but his eyes bespoke nothing but sincerity. With a sigh, she admitted, “Well despite all that, we really could use some shelter.”
Puzzled, the man repeated, “We?”
Lyn stammered for a moment, remembering now that Marcho had disappeared to Gods knew where. “We. Yes. We, as in my companion Alir and myself.” She motioned to Alir, who ruffled his feathers at the sudden attention.
Understanding dawned in the blonde warrior's eyes, “Of course. I would be glad to receive you both.”
Skyehart lifted Lyn on to the back of his huge horse, mounted himself, and took off. The wind began to pick up once more, blowing the flakes of snow into a dancing torrent. Lyn’s breaths came out in icy bursts as they ran along. Looking up, she saw they were approaching a high hill, upon which stood a massive keep. Amidst the swirling snow wind it stood like sharp black glass. Lyn saw that the outside was covered in icicles and piles of snow leaned against the stone edifice. The wind howled around the stone spires, which were topped with spikes longer than Lyn was tall. She was in awe of the place; she had never seen such a structure, and even the stone buildings and walls of the first city she had come to in the Eastern Province seemed ill-designed and thrown together compared to this fortress.
“This is your estate?” Lyn called to Skyehart over the wind. He said nothing, simply nodded and directed the steed up the slope towards the imposing manor. As they passed through the outer gate, Lyn felt suddenly nervous. She did not know this man, they were in the middle of nowhere with an incoming storm, and if this ‘estate’ was telling at all of the family mentality, she might be in more danger within than without. A logical part of herself told her that her true fear was being cooped up inside this great cage of stone and ice, and she had to agree. But that didn’t mean she had to like it.
They reined the horse in and Lyn dismounted. Skyehart walked the steed over to a stable which was well built against the weather, and began to unsaddle and brush down the horse. The building was surprisingly well insulated; as Lyn walked inside it the wind was cut out completely, and the straw in the stalls helped against the cool stone. However, all the other stalls were empty.
“For such a large stable, I would have expected there to be more horses,” Lyn ventured conversationally.
Her blonde comrade was quiet a moment as he gently brushed the pitch mane of his mount, then he said slowly, “There used to be more.” He offered no further statement, but Lyn felt there was a well of emotion behind those few words.
She decided to let it rest, and focus ins
tead on something more positive. “Your horse is beautiful...what is his name?”
“Stygian,” the man responded, and Lyn saw a small smile appear on his face.
“You’ve had him for some time, have you?”
“Yes, since I was much younger. I raised and trained him myself.”
Lyn blinked, and said, “That must have been quite a ride. He’s…well he’s huge!”
This elicited a chuckle from the large man. “Yes, yes he is indeed. And he has quite the spirit. But we understand each other, he and I.”
He finished wiping and brushing down his equine friend and packed away all the riding gear. He motioned for Lyn to follow him, and they went around to a large and empty coop. “Here is where we kept the birds. You can keep yours here if you like.”
Lyn looked to the coop with doubt. She had never confined Alir before, she was accustomed to having him with her. She was not sure what the generally accepted procedure was here, if her companion was allowed in the manor proper with her or if animals were expected to stay outdoors. Without prompting, however, Alir took flight from his perch on her shoulder and in to the coop, landing on one of the perches therein.
“Seems he likes it,” Skyehart mentioned. “I always felt guilty putting such majestic creatures in such a small space, but my father used to say that they appreciate the darkness and seclusion. My grandfather was a great falconer, he built this coop for his treasured birds and spared no expense doing so. My father used to say...”He cut himself off, shook his head, and closed the door to the large enclosure.
Lyn looked at him expectantly, wondering if he was going to finish. When it was evident that he was not, Lyn shrugged and turned to follow him to the large house.
“We can bring him and Stygian some food,” Skyehart said.
Lyn said nothing, but was grateful for his thoughtfulness. True to his word, the man procured some meat for Alir and some oats and apples for Stygian. They went their separate ways to feed their companions.
“I get a good feeling about him, Alir,” Lyn said conspiratorially when she was sure Skyehart couldn’t hear her. Alir peered at her with one eye, cocking his head to look at the meat she was carrying. “Oh alright, you just want the food.” She fed him until he no longer seemed to be hungry, and then cleaned up to go back into the house.
Skyehart met her on her way and let her in. Once inside, there was a large room seemingly dedicated to taking off one’s clothes and shoes. Lyn was not accustomed to doing so, but she saw the benefit; tracking in all the snow and mud through such a place would be a nightmare to clean! After they stepped out into the house proper, Lyn was surprised to find it dark, cold, and devoid of any other people.
Skyehart, noticing her looking about the place, commented, “It didn’t used to be this way. I’ve had to shut up most of the house. But please, let me get your room prepared and a fire lit.” With that, he strode off into the shadows of the manor, leaving Lyn to look about.
There were great windows which let in light from outdoors, but it was murky and grey from the storm. It gave the place an air of abandonment, which saddened Lyn greatly. She could just make out the great hearth in the main room, and large couches that were covered with shrouds. She imagined what the place would have been like full of life and light, and seeing it this way felt like a loss. She stepped further into the main hall, her footsteps echoing against the shadowed walls. Through the large windows, she could see the snow blowing harder now. Despite this, she heard or felt nothing of the wind. At least there is that, she thought.
Hearing footsteps approaching from the darkness beyond the hall, she turned to see her host appearing from the shadows. The murky light from the windows cast him in an eerie glow as he stepped into it. His armor glinted in the pale light and caught Lyn’s attention.
“Why are you wearing your armor still?” Lyn asked, her voice carrying into the empty hall. She cringed at the volume; it seemed like she was breaking some kind of reverent silence.
But Skyehart only gave a half smile and said quietly, “I always wear it.” Coming closer, he motioned for her to follow. Taking her to a door off the main hall, he led her to the kitchen. “Let me get the main fire started here, and we’ll get some supper going. I’ve got the fire in your room ready, so it should be cozy by the time you are ready to retire.”
“Thank you,” Lyn said hesitantly, “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble, what with the house being shut up...”
“None at all. It is probably good to put a little life back in to this place again. It has been quiet for a long, long time.” He seemed to lose himself to his thoughts, and did not continue. Not wanting to disturb him, Lyn decided to take a look around the place. She had to admit that a deep curiosity was awakened in her; she had heard stories about great castles and fortresses, but had never imagined being in one. Seeing it in such an ethereal state heightened its sense of mystery.
She opened the door back to the main hall and shut it softly behind her. Looking about, she noted there was a small passageway leading out of the main hall, deeper in to the place. She bit her lip and turned back to look towards the kitchen. Through the silence, she could hear the young man preparing the fire.
Lyn stepped slowly down the passageway which, lacking windows, was much darker than the hall from which she had come. A door barred the way at the end of the passage, and with one last glance behind her, she slipped through. The door opened up into another grand hall, this one dominated by a large staircase to the upper levels. Pillars lined either side of the hall, and great shelves packed with books stood next to lounging couches, all covered with shrouds. The windows in this hall matched the entrance hall previous, and through the dim shafts of light she made out the dark silhouettes of armor standing at either side of the staircase. In the silence and shadow, they seemed to be like funereal guardians, standing their deathwatch. Lyn shivered, and looked about for a source of light. All of the sconces stood empty, and the candlesticks devoid of candles. Lyn could not help but wonder what had happened in this great place, where everyone had gone. She imagined Skyehart staying here in darkness, all by himself in the silence. She imagined him sitting in an empty room, facing a cold fireplace and surrounded by the barren furniture. How lonely this must be, she thought. It was no wonder that he had shut up the rest of the house.
Lyn proceeded forward slowly, trying to mask her footfalls in the silence. There were no rugs or carpets or furs laid about, only cold stone and covered furniture. She saw great tapestries hung on the otherwise empty walls, but they too had been covered and she could not make them out. While she was peering at the decorations, she noticed that there was a door atop the staircase that stood ajar. Curious, she moved to the stairs and began to ascend. Without thinking, she put her hand to the banister and noticed it was coated with a thick layer of dust. The druid paused, rubbing the dust between her fingertips. Lyn surmised that a long time had passed since someone had come by way of this room; why would they have left the door open? Even more drawn now, she proceeded to the dark portal at the top of the stairs, wondering where it led. Offhandedly, she wondered if her host would be upset at her wandering, but she quickly dismissed it as irrelevant in the face of her curiosity.
Lyn had always been an adventurous one. The forest had been home to many excursions and explorations when she was younger. Her childhood was filled with games of imagination, where she was a great adventurer in a strange world with new people and experiences to be had every moment. As she had grown, she felt very keenly the confines of the forest pressing down upon her, and had begun to pine for a life more in line with her childhood visions. That craving for adventure and progress had gotten her this far, and she wasn’t about to stop now. She stepped in to the doorway and stared beyond it, trying to make out where she was. Something creaked beyond her vision and she cringed for a moment.
“Hello?” she called gently, not knowing fully why. Skyehart had never said that there was no one else here, but Lyn had gotten the dis
tinct impression they were alone in the empty manor. If that was the case, she thought to herself, why is someone here now? She stepped forward in to yet another passageway, this one much shorter. The passageway terminated in to a large sitting room dominated by a wall-length stained glass window. Lyn caught movement and crouched, her hand moving to her knife hilt, but was embarrassed to find that she had been seeing her own movement in a mirror. Dismissing her dramatic reaction, she looked about the room further, trying to ascertain where she was. One wall of the sitting room stood strangely barren, with two large hooks a few feet apart from each other. Lyn tilted her head, wondering what had been there. In the corner of the room one of the deep shadows stirred and Lyn gasped as it unfurled into the shape of a giant wolf. Three red eyes opened and a great maw parted to reveal glinting teeth.
“Marcho!” Lyn whispered furiously, “By the Void, what are you doing here!” A deep rumble filled the room, and Lyn took a step back as the shadowy wolf seemed to slither over to the wall at which she had just been staring. He took a deep breath and his great snout split again into a wicked grin.
“Yes...” he hissed.
A silhouette cast itself over Lyn and with a yelp she turned to find Skyehart’s massive form darkening the doorway. Lyn, panicked now that he had seen the demon that had followed her, turned to say something but saw that the ebon wolf had gone.
The Elder's Path Page 10
