Crescent (Old Version)

+ Part 53 +

I felt as soon as Ceth had appeared behind us, and Fides nickered, tugging and backing away as he neared. I ran my hands over her, just as Moira had done, but she kept backing away until eventually he stopped just behind me. Her scoffed at he took her in. "She's been troubling since the day I bought her. Scares like a cat."

"Maybe she just doesn't like you." I whispered quiet praises in her ear as I rounded toward her back, ignoring him as I looked over her saddle. I'd only ridden a horse once or twice before, but I pretended confidence as I put a foot in the stirrup and threw a leg over her back, settling in the worn leather easily. Fides only stirred slightly before I gathered her reins and began trotting her over the bridge. "Better keep up!" I called after Ceth, smiling when I noticed that Moira was already mounting another horse with the help of one of the stable-hands.

Past the gate, the snow fell in heavy waves. I was glad for the thick coat I wore even as I passed under the canopy of the trees and into the blue forest.

Ceth and Moira caught up in no time, and I didn't miss the small army of guards that accompanied behind them.

If I had expected to leave without an escort, I was naïve.

The ride into town was quiet, but long enough that I knew I was definitely going to have sores between my legs when I retired for the night. We kept a steady pace, but even so, it was more than a hour before I saw anything. The maze of twisted tree branches and fallen trunks opened onto a trail lined with posts, cracked globes of flickering candlelight attached to the top. The path led down over sloped hills of snow to a city that hung just over a cliff. Smoke pummeled up from chimney tops and large manors scattered throughout glittered with ice. But, surrounding it all where giant thick-walled pickets like knives sticking up out of the snow. Guarding them, soldiers stood out in all black against the landscape.

Ceth's horse cut across the path in front of me, followed by a team of about six guards. Six more lingered behind Moira and I as we slowly took the path down. We passed by what seemed to be a checkpoint where soldiers allowed travelers in and out of the city. One look at Ceth and the spiked doors allowed us entry to the city before scraping closed behind us.

It was like the city was born into ice. A soft glimmering sheen of frost covered each cabin window and fenced store front. Wind howled through the cluttered alleyways. The few people who did trek into the cold wore thick woven coats and knit hats, but most watched as we passed from inside, their heads poking into view from the corners of windows and the cracks of doors.

The further into town was trotted, the busier it became. Villagers, both young and old, carried thick chests of goods between hovels, and it wasn't until we came upon a street leading toward one of the larger manors that we stopped and Ceth veered his horse toward mine.

"I'll meet you back at White Stag for dinner."

I glanced at the gated commune behind him, not missing the shining niceties of the homes on the road he was to follow. "Where are you going?" I wondered aloud.

He smiled, leaning over his saddle and pressing a cold kiss to my lips. There was a devious look in his eye again. "Good luck with the Butcher."

He steered his horse down the boulevard, and I raised a brow toward Moira as he left. "Butcher? I thought we were meeting with a man named Brack."

Moira's horse nickered as she steered him forward with a harrowing glance my way. "Very few know the Butcher by Church Brack anymore."

I shook off the chill that settled against my skin, hoping that the man's nickname was nothing more than an occupation as I followed after her. The store fronts and homely cabins quickly transitioned into gated brick buildings, darkened with soot and ash. A loud hum filled the city blocks, growing louder as we neared the edge of the city where the cliff dropped off.

The sound was loud enough at the last brick building on the cliff that I could feel the vibration underfoot as Moira dismounted and adjusted her skirts again.

I quickly followed suit, stretching my legs for the first time in hours as I glanced around. The soldiers lingered behind, but Moira rounded the building until we found the entrance carved into the side of it. Moira rapped twice before the door swung open on its hinges, and we stepped inside.

It was no warmer than our trek getting here had been, but the stale blue air inside was still. Still and unmoving just like the forest at dark. The smell of iron, of magic, filled the room, and it wasn't until we crossed toward the middle that I saw the room wasn't really a room at all. Across the wooden floorboards in front of us, there was a curtain blocking us the frigid elements from outside. Moira walked toward it. It wasn't until she yanked the curtain open that I heard a voice behind us.

"Ladies." The smiling voice echoed from behind us and my hand immediately found the blade at my side as I turned toward the darkened corner. "I'm insulted you left the guards at the door."

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The blade felt slick in my hand, but my grip didn't relent. I searched the corner and only allowed myself to take a breath when I saw the shadow of a man standing a few paces away.

He stepped into the light, revealing no weapons, no threat- only a gapped smile of black teeth.

Moira nodded her head toward the man who came only to about our shoulders. "Butcher."

"Aye," he greeted, but his eyes remained locked on me. He grinned when he saw the blade still in my hand, running a hand down the red beard that came halfway down his belly. "Now that's a pretty little blade. Where'd ya get it?"

I didn't answer immediately, but one more look at Moira, who still had her hands casually clasped in front of her, and I lowered it. The blade, one Ceth had fashioned with jewels and decorative sparkling metal, was all for show. But it could still manage a lethal blow if wielded correctly. I smiled at the man as I looked him over again, but it didn't reach my eyes. "My fiancé had this made for me, but I'm rather fond of the many others in the castle keep."

The Butcher chuckled, a hearty rounded sound, and he stalked toward me, a slow stilted gait. For a moment, his greying eyes just watched me, but he smiled and held out a scarred palm toward me. "Yer fiancé, is it?"

Moira gave a purposeful smile my way. "Butcher is aware of your... situation..."

That was word for it. I set the blade in his awaiting palm, still weary of him as he examined it carefully. He was obviously skilled with a blade, and I could tell from the bunched callouses and his muscled arms that he probably did work with a blade of some sort. I just wasn't sure with what kind yet.

He twirled the blade, tossing it into the air and testing the balance. "Pretty," he said again and held it out to me by the blade, black grin wide. "Can't say much for its practicality, but. Have a feeling you'd make do."

My mouth tilted upwards. After months of having nothing and no one to help protect myself, I'd say it's an apt assessment. "It's like I said. I prefer others."

His eyes wandered towards Moira. "So, you're here about the gala. Thought the Head of House normally did this part alone." His arms motioned to the vacant space around us. "Shopping and such."

Moira twisted her hands nervously, but otherwise showed no other indication of discomfort. "This year's different. Everyone knows that."

"Not everyone." His attention turned back to me, eyes sweeping over me before he shuffled toward the curtained wall furthest from me, sweeping the dark curtains back and revealing the landscape beyond. I normally would have raised a brow at him, asked him what he meant, but as soon as I saw the snow whipping over the drop-off just beyond, I felt the breath knock out of me.

What lay below was nothing like I expected.