The War of Queens

Prologue

This is the second book in the series. If you haven't read the first book, The Broken Crown, you can click the external link :) (you can also continue reading, I don't think there should be any problems understanding the plot)

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He drew the harsh wool cloak closer around his body, shivering in the cold. It did not help much; the winds still penetrated his only armour against it like icy blades. His teeth clattered loudly as his mount brought him through the uneven landscapes. The cold only made the pain of riding that much worse; at least the pony had safe footing.

 Ahead of him, mountains rose so tall they reached the skies. Their tops were covered in snow that never melted, and with the winter on its way the white dust had begun crawling downwards. He was not built for the cold of the North, not built for it at all.

His pony was slowly moving upwards, towards the mountain pass that led to Wolfsbane. As soon as he entered, at least the wind would be cut off. However, along the steep sides of the mountains surrounding Wolfsbane, dark evergreen trees grew and amongst them, packs of wolves hunted. He needed to reach the gates before dark and before the creatures began moving downwards.

 He spurred the horse on, finally reaching the shelter of the mountains. The wind grew less harsh and biting but it still whistled among cliffs like a thousand ghosts.

 The road weaved through the mountains as uneven as had there been no road and several times, his horse slipped. As darkness fell around him, the horse slipped more often, growing unable to see clearly the contours of the ground.

 “Just a little longer,” he hissed through his teeth.

 Finally, he reached the wall that kept strangers from reaching Wolfsbane. Tall and looming, it was built in strong, rectangular stones that he supposed went on for layers. Like everything in the North, it was built to last, not to be pretty. Far, far above him, he could see the guards on their posts. They had seen him, too.

 “Who are you, and what is your business?” one of them shouted down at him.

 He tilted his head upwards and drew back the hood of the cloak. The cold made his ears go red almost instantly, even without the wind. “I am a Servant of the Solar Temples in the South,” he roared back as loud as his sore throat could manage. “Let me in, before I am eaten by wolves!”

 “Wolves don’t come this close to the gate, Servant,” the guard assured him in a brisk manner of voice. “But how can we know you speak truly? Why do you not wear a Servant’s cloak?”

 He looked around him pointedly. “Would you wear a Servant’s cloak in this weather?” he asked, waiting for a moment for the answer he knew would not come. “I bring a Servant’s ring for legitimacy.” He pulled out the bronze ring and showed it to them.

 The guards looked at each other momentarily. “What is your business here?” the speaker then said.

 He tucked away the ring once more, safely into his pouch. “I wish to see Lady Caterina.” After a moment’s thought, he added, “And some warm soup would be nice, too.” He wondered about the security; surely, a single man could not be such a threat.

 The guard laughed. “Let him in,” he told one of his mates. “He is a Servant, even if m’lady won’t see ‘im.”

 The chains rattled as the gate was lifted. He urged his pony forwards, through the hole that was created. Inside, there was more stone and emptiness, except for a few huts built up along the mountainsides. Woodcutters, no doubts.

 He dismounted his pony, but kept it close by the reins. Two guards approached him.

 “What did you say your name was, then?” one of them asked.