Gadolor

Sleet

Entressa swallowed it as long as she could, but it kept creeping up her throat. The cough had returned. And with it, the headache and fatigue that forced her to admit she was falling sick. She often grew lightheaded and sometimes struggled to get enough air into her lungs.

“It’s the mountain air,” Andel said, “We’ve come high enough to notice it. The mountains are wild, and they pull the strength from our lungs as we breathe. Don’t worry, we’ll get used to it before long.”

Flocks of sheep and goats could be seen like grounded clouds on the slopes. The travelers avoided them as best they could, for where flocks were, there would be people. Entressa enjoyed Andel’s company, but she wished they could meet and talk with others. She missed seeing cheerful children and wise grandfathers, serious mothers and hardworking youths.

Their friend the sun disappeared after a day or two. Cloud covered the sky once more, and chill winds blew. Wind-driven pellets of ice whipped across their faces, along with snowflakes and rain. The road was steep, sometimes switching back on itself as it climbed. Entressa learned not to look down the slope nor think about falling down it. But the road had been made wide enough for wagons, so there was little danger.

Entressa would have liked to walk, to ease the horse’s load, but Andel said it had been bred for such treks and would be all right. Though she didn’t say so, Entressa was glad, for day by day she could feel her bones growing weary. Sometimes her heart would begin racing for no particular reason, and she knew her body was straining, drained of strength by the long, cold journey. Whenever her heart raced and her joints felt like water, she would look up at the mountain peaks and imagine the land on the other side. “There’s a fort of mine just beyond the Pass,” Andel had said, “Our troubles end when we reach it.” Astor is near. It’s only a little farther.

The town Weddel was their last obstacle. It sat on a little plateau nestled between two mountains, serving Sombron as an outpost and local herdsmen as a home. Just beyond it, Weddel Pass carved a narrow path to the opposite valley, where a fort guarded the Astoran side. Andel planned to give the town as wide a berth as possible, for hostile eyes would surely be watching.

As they climbed the brow of the last rise, the town came into view, a dark and blocky mass set atop a bare hill. Boulders pushed the twisting path this way and that, many of them overgrown with moss. Pines towered overhead, but they did little to hold back the breeze that marched up from the lowland. An unbroken sheet of gray crawled across the sky. Entressa rode with her face in her elbow, breathing through her shawl to take the bite out of the frigid air. They hadn’t seen the sun in days.

Behind them plodded a peddler named Ronwec, who lead a donkey that tugged a cart up the slope. The peddler was a pleasant enough man, but his presence was a problem. Andel wanted to leave the path, but with evening drawing near, the honest man would ask why they were avoiding the town. Why would anyone avoid the only settlement on this cold plateau, kept safe by the king’s soldiers? The royal pair couldn’t afford questions like that. Entressa noticed Andel glancing back at the peddler once or twice. Their eyes met, just as she coughed into her shawl. He nodded and looked forward again. She knew what he was thinking: soldiers or no, a warm bed and hot food would help their chances of making it through the Pass. They would just have to risk it.

Dusk had begun to blur the furthest shapes when Andel and Huan’s feet stepped onto cobble. Soldiers stood on either side of the gate, but no one bothered them. The stockade of pointed pine logs was guarded by a tower at each of the town’s corners. Slate-roofed houses leaned over narrow streets as if crowding together for warmth. Dark smoke spilled from their chimneys. Entressa thought it perhaps the drabbest, grayest place she had ever seen. Andel turned to her with a smile. “Here is a stable where Huan can sleep. Are you ready for a soft bed, love?” The thought was so wonderful, she forgot to answer. For her part, Huan tossed her head in anticipation of sleeping indoors.

They passed by the gate again after leaving the stable. Just then, clattering hooves filled the street and a soldier rode through. “Wait,” Entressa hissed, pulling Andel into a shadow. They hid there, holding their breath. The soldier sat lightly in the saddle, with a great gray cloak covering his chain armor. It was a scout.

“Ho,” came a shout as the scout reigned in his horse. He turned to talk with a gate guard.

“How’s the weather on the hill, there, Kennen?” asked the guard.

“Cold as bloody hell,” spat the scout. “What kind of people have come in today?”

“Just a rabble of peasants and peddlers.”

“Yeah? Sharpen your eyes tomorrow, woodenhead. I saw a suspicious horse on the path this hour.”

“Suspicious?” The gate guard wrinkled his nose.

“Gray, like the Commander’s. Don’t you know we’re hunting that northern scum?”

“Huh, haven’t I been told it every day.”

“Keep your eyes open and you might get paid. I get a share in it, though.” The scout patted his stamping horse. “I can’t stop with the likes of you—the captain will want to hear of this. Stay awake, now.”

With that, he trotted off, leaving the gate guard to call after him, “Hah, good evening to you, too.”

Andel waited until the street was quiet again before taking Entressa’s hand. He led her out of sight, down an alley to the inn they had chosen. Crossing the threshold felt like stepping backward in time five months. A wave of warmth hit her in the face, and she thought a layer or two of ice melted off her. Andel sat her down at a wooden table so he could go rent a room. Folding her arms atop the wrinkled wood, Entressa lay her head on them, thankful for the homely seat, thankful to be somewhere warm. The headache gripped her temples, and her throat burned. She could still feel the wind whistling about her ears. The solid wooden bench pitched and jolted beneath her, as the horse’s saddle had done all day.

Andel’s voice drew her out of the doze. His hand touched her shoulder as she looked at him with bleary eyes. He half-carried her to a small room, where a plate of food waited. She sat on the bed, thinking it the softest thing she’d ever felt. He pointed a bean-laden spoon at her. “Eat hearty,” he said encouragingly.

“’Mm not hungry,” she mumbled.

He looked at her sympathetically. “Yes, you are. You’re thin as a twig. You need the strength; eat what you can. This is our last meal in Lortosa.”

She frowned. “What about breakfast?”

He winced. Eating the beans, he refilled the spoon and pointed it at her again. “We can’t stay here. You heard the scout—he saw us. The soldiers know we’re here, and they won’t rest until we’re found. They might lock down the town and even search door-to-door. We’re trapped if we stay in Weddel.”

She sighed as she chewed a mouthful. “No sleep tonight, then?”

“I’m afraid not, my love. Take courage. Tomorrow we dine in Astor.” He smiled again. “Wait until you see Torestin, my father’s city. And Shern, and Eldredge, and—and everything. It’s all yours, the moment we reach home.” He paused, reflecting. “We can sleep until midnight. It’ll be no good moving until the town is quiet.”

“How will we get out? The gate is shut.”

“There’s a small door in the wall nearby, and it looks to be guarded by one man. We can sneak out that way. Then, onward across the Pass!” His eyes gleamed.

She sighed. Very well, then. After finishing the food together, she settled into the bed, while he sat on the floor. She was determined to sleep for at least a few hours. Before sleep, Andel spent a few minutes polishing his sword with a greasy rag, wiping away the moisture that could make it rust. He hummed a song that farmers sang when planting their fields.

Daffodils in springtime
And roses, with the rain
When all is green and waking from
The frozen winter days.
The girls are dancing on the hills
A stream is laughing sweet
The birds, they join a shepherd’s song
That rolls over the trees

Candlelight danced on every draft of air, flicking his shadow up and down the wall. The polished steel sent golden reflections across the ceiling. Satisfied, he eyed the weapon critically. Sliding the blade into its weathered sheath, Andel glanced across at the bed, where Entressa watched him dreamily. “Good night, my love.” Leaning over, he blew the candle out.