Stormchild: Emeline and the Forest Mage

36 Traitor

    The cold hit him like a wave when his feet touched the snow. No longer concerned with the bulge in his trousers, he fiddled with his coat, trying to get it over his shoulders in time. It was a bare covering, and no protection against the howling icy winds. 'Mage?' he called, turning to face the man just as the door was almost closed.

    The Mage opened it again. 'You want a coat, son?'

    Färin shivered and ached down into his bones. He nodded, his teeth chattering.

    'Here.' A thick fur coat flew from the Mage's other hand, and it dropped to the snow, slipping out of Färin's frozen fingers. Färin's fumbling hands struggled to get it onto his body, and then the warmth seeped into him, making him feel human again. He smiled, and the Mage nodded in approval and shut the door with a bang.

#

    Avétk wondered what Durek was doing right then, while he, Färin, and the boy walked up a snowy trail in a desolate landscape. As far as he could tell, it was somewhere mid-morning. Durek would be warming up for practise with his students, crouching and bending as he always did until, as he called it, 'readiness had permeated his being'.

    The routine of his time with Durek was something he missed, and Durek had always been there to help him when he had difficult questions to answer or choices to make. Their footsteps crunched down the snowy road. Cold sunlight from the sky was obscured by wind-strewn snow, dust, and smog. The pale morning light looked bleak and uninviting, and it did not sit well with him.

    Sunlight should be bright and warm in his opinion. But why complain? Had he not long ago decided to take everything in his stride? Besides, a man as acquainted with death and violence as he was, was not deserving of warmth and gladness. This was his lot in life, just like the sordid task the Mage had given him.

    Färin was to accompany him and the boy, and at the second bend in the road, Avétk would deviate from the path to the precise location the Mage had described, and there kill the child. Why was the prissy man tagging along? He hadn't the faintest idea, but he bore with the simpering man and his slower pace. Fathers, the wind burned his cheeks and eyes, howling like it was calling the moon back, all forlorn and heavy-hearted.

    Maybe this was some form of test from the Mage, to see if Avétk and this Färin could work together, or elsewise he was trying to send their imminent fight away from its former close proximity to the women.

    'So, Avétk is it?' The lordling jogged up from behind, but Avétk ignored him, keeping his eyes on the boy who walked ahead of them, shivering but clutching the ligt firmly.

    'Listen, I want to apologise for my brash behaviour earlier,' Färin said, 'It was not proper, and though I have my excuses, I would much rather put it behind us so that we can travel amicably.'

    Avétk smirked, but still did not make eye contact. 'Do I look like the amicable sort?' In truth, he just wished the man would shut up so they could get on with this sordid task.

    'Well,' Färin started, 'I can't say what sort you are, but I feel it's important that we stand together. I mean, I don't even know where we're heading and what the plan is.'

    Ahh, so that was why the man had changed his tone so quickly. Avétk grunted. His favourite response for pesky people who asked too many questions.

    'Is there a plan?'

    Avétk did not answer. Silence was so much more satisfying. Färin would just have to wait and see. Finally, it seemed he'd got the message and shut his mouth. On they travelled, down the winding road until they reached the second bend, where two Great Oaks towered into the sky, standing like obelisks in a windy, barren landscape, and marking the start of a wooded area.