Stormraven

Chapter Four - Part Two

The talks between Hetman Borlav and the others did not greatly interest Vardmir.  He had heard it all discussed before, the reasons for their journey and their plans, and felt no need to go over it again.  As Ludjak and the others of the company followed Borlav into the keep, Vardmir instead turned and headed back into the town.  The premonition he had experienced still troubled his mind, and he desired to meet a pair of the Order who lived in Pravodar to discuss it with them.  In truth one of them rightly deserved to be called a Frozen Sister, a rarity, for female wizards occurred only once or twice a generation.

The pair, Alija and Prezmo, were an old married couple who had served the Order well over many years.  Now, mostly retired, they lived in Pravodar, their children grown and moved on, with a bushel of grandchildren as well.  Between them they had many years of knowledge and experience, yet more than that, they shared a gift of foresight, one that only functioned when they were together.  Vardmir felt sorely in need of it, to seek guidance for the road ahead, and perhaps insight into the premonitions that weighed upon him.  If any could explain it, it was the pair of them.

Their house was in the northern part of the town, tucked up against the walls that surrounded it, and in sight of the river.  A simple fence of logs, bound together with vines surrounded a log house with a thatched roof and small patch of ground.  The pair were out in the yard in front of the house as he arrived, working the soil and the garden they had planted.  A couple of chickens scratched around in their garden, while an old dog snoozed in front of the hut's door.  Alija, still slender, stood up from her work as he opened the rickety old gate and entered.  Her long hair, once black, now had plenty of grey in it.  Prezmo had put on weight over the years, while at the same time loosing his hair.  His bald scalp was leathery, though he still possessed a thick, grey beard.

"Look who it is, dear," Alija said, "Young Vardmir has come to pay us a visit."

Prezmo took a break from digging up a patch of soil, readying it for planting, stretching his back as he turned towards Vardmir.  "Hello youngster.  Come to save me from this life of drudgery?"

"Now, dear," Alija said, gently admonishing him, "He hasn't come all this way to hear you complain.  Come inside, dear, and you can tell us all about it."  She started to walk towards the front door, but then abruptly stopped, turning to fix him with an enquiring, thoughtful expression.  "There is something wrong, isn't there?"

"I am not sure," Vardmir admitted, "Which is why I came to talk with you."

Alija nodded, turning back to the door.  She stepped over the dog and opened the door to let them in.  The dog, who Vardmir remembered as being full of life, did little more than half open an eye, not moving from her spot.

"Poor old girl in reaching her twilight," Alija said, her voice echoing sad acceptance.  "Much like us I am afraid.  She does little more than sleep now days."

"You have plenty of life left in you," Vardmir protested.

Alija gave him a gentle smile as she entered the hut.  "It is nice of you to say so, but I am beginning to feel the winters in my bones, and for one of our Order that takes some doing."

The interior of the house was simple, yet neat and comfortable.  At the back of the single room that formed it sat a large bed, covered with sleeping furs.  The centre of the room was taken up but a wooden table and a couple of benches.  Various bundles of herbs, dried vegetables and preserved meats hung from the ceiling, while chests, woven baskets and clay jugs lined the walls, mixed in with various tools and a spinning wheel.  Prezmo's old sword hung over the door.  A small cabinet and workbench sat beside the small cooking fireplace, the only part of the house made of stone.  A tripod sat above the smouldering coals in the fireplace, supporting an iron pot.