20. Tainted by Blood

The pastures of green and yellow faded into snow in a matter of hours. I had grossly misjudged the northern borders, both for its unforgiving winds and lack of life. There was no icy path to follow or any sign of civilisation as I approached the vast landscape that was home to the ice shrine. I didn't know what the ice shrine was in worship of, and it was any wonder if anyone would voluntarily brave the elements to reach it.

If I had known what ordeals I would have to face beforehand, I would have brought extra layers. No matter how much I rubbed my hands or blew frozen air onto my fingers, the greedy wind made sure to steal whatever warmth I could generate. Instinct told me to retrace my steps back to Orleans many times, but I pressed forwards.

I hadn't considered what the journey would do to Ornello, and the horse had suffered much worse than I had as we continued north. It would probably have been easier to leave him behind, but I kept him around more for the company and as a duty of care. The lingering sentient of Elle's piercing voice constantly reminded me that I had stolen from Coyote, and I looked out for the horse out of guilt.

Money was no use out here when there was no one to barter with. Wealth meant nothing, and the more I came to realise that, the more I worried about Master Pelham and the more determined I was to find him.

I knew all about energy conservation. I walked with Ornello, guiding him by the reins so the horse didn't expend unnecessary energy bearing my weight. I never once called out to Master Pelham as the words would only get lost in the fierce wind. I searched all angles for any signs of life. To start off with, I inwardly grew hopeful at every movement, only to be greeted with mild disappointment as it manifested into snow falling from dead branches or small rabbits. I soon learnt not to expect anything to avoid discouragement, but I was always on guard for the wolves that Elle warned me of. Perhaps it was because of Ornello's presence, but somehow whatever predators the woods held mercifully kept their distance.

It was nearly a week before I noticed the group of men in the thickets. It wasn't long before they too noticed me, and I was sceptical as they deviated from their path to approach me. For the most part their flesh was covered in a variety of furs and thick clothing, and were clearly more well-dressed against the elements than I was.

They circled me, and as I examined each of their faces, I didn't recognise Master Pelham's amongst them. Many were unkempt, with facial hair that fell over their beady eyes and covered their mouths.

"What brings you out here all alone?" one of them asked in a gruff voice. I noticed how one of them to my right fingered the club in his hand. I looked at each of them in turn, mentally registering what weapon each of them were armed with. Two had swords and one had a particularly cumbersome axe.

I had considered asking about Master Pelham, but Ornello's impatient shifting told me otherwise. He too had reasonably sensed that we were in danger.

I chose not to say anything as I watched them hesitantly try and bring the circle as tight as they dared. Did they recognise my army-issue uniform? Could they tell I had come from Aurelis?

The same man who spoke stepped away from the ring of seven. He was apparently the leader, and one that was worthy of the title. His burly arms bulged underneath the brown fur gloves that reached his elbows. He crossed the snow with ease, slicing through the terrain with equally strong calves. "You're very unfortunate to cross paths with us. I'd like to send you on your way, but we're out for blood here. If you leave the horse, we'll let you live. What say you?"

I let go of the reins, not to submit to the man's request, but so I could unsheathe my sword. There was a possibility I could get out of this alive and carry on searching for Master Pelham without having to worry about Ornello, but that possibility was slight. These were not men I could trust on a whim; who was to say that they didn't want my blood as well when my back was turned?

I let out a controlled breath as I held my sword in front of me. I said nothing, but he correctly interpreted my answer.

Ornello and I, despite being starved for days, were more prepared than we had ever been since we left Orleans. The auburn stallion made a point of snorting in warning and tossed his head menacingly as the men inched forwards to try and get hold of his reins.

I couldn't know how well I could fight in snow, but my days of travelling had helped me understand just how much strength I needed to move around. The leader swung his broad sword tantalisingly before lunging at me. Almost simultaneously, the others in the group followed his lead.

It wasn't about letting the nobles win or train the other soldiers; it was a matter of survival. I had trained so much for this purpose, and as my sword met with my opponents, I could feel no follow through on his part. He was relentless, but ultimately had no skill. I had trained so many like him, but I wasn't going to offer him any guidance for improvement.

These were weapons designed to maim, hurt, kill people. My sword drew its first blood, and the leader gave out a horrible scream in reply. I didn't flinch at the sound or recoil as blood spattered at my feet. I had never been the one to spill it until now, yet I felt no remorse.

I gave a muted groan as a club struck my back. I spun and swung my sword high, ducking ever so slightly to simultaneously avoid the second blow. The assailant received a gash from the chest up to his neck. Once again, I wasn't perturbed as yet more blood splashed freely onto my hand and face. I accidentally caught the strange aftertaste at the corner of my mouth.

The one wielding the axe was more troublesome, more because I hadn't sparred with such a fighter rather than because he was, in any way, skilled. He made a special effort to avoid the breastplate that protected my vitals, opting to slash sideways. I managed to counter a few blows in quick succession, each as strong as the previous.

Just as I parried another horizontal strike, my hand gave slightly at the sheer force of something glanced off my backplate. The tip of the other swordsman's weapon was visible from the corner of my eye, and I could feel the man panting in recoil at the failed attempt to penetrate my armour. The axe found its place in my thigh, but I didn't feel anything. I head butted the swordsman behind me and in a mad flurry stabbed him before he could strike again.

The last few were not difficult to fend off, but I forced myself to make quick work of them before my body had a chance to collapse from exhaustion.

When I finally took in the carnage that I had single-handedly caused, there was a strange beauty about it. Some were still struggling with their ragged breaths, but they were all up to their shoulders in the frozen earth. The pristine terrain had been defiled with scarlet, tainted beyond recognition.

In the confusion Ornello was nowhere to be seen. There was only the disturbed snow of the struggle that evidenced he was with me.

It took a long time for my deep breaths to subside and for the constraint in my throat to loosen. My leg suddenly screamed in delayed agony, and my hand instinctively gripped onto the wound. I kept my pressure there, too afraid to ascertain how badly I had taken the hit. I winced as I tried to bear weight on my right leg, too heavy to lift it.

I had lost my bearings, but I had to press on, one foot first and trailing the other through the snow. I nearly left them all behind, but I stopped at one dead man to rob him of his warm mantle. He had no further use of it now.

I didn't look back, but the immediate warmth that the mantle offered lessened my violent shivering. I didn't know how many trees I had gone past or indeed if I had seen them already. Each excruciating step cost me time I didn't have, yet I refused to let fatigue get the better of me.

I had no idea how long it was or how far I had gone before I had to stop for rest. My injury refused to subside and reminded me at every possible moment it would do everything to impede my search for Master Pelham.

I had to hurry, so I could be there at his side to protect him. Unlike me, his swordsmanship was only in the arts rather than to kill. If he was to face a similar attack to what I had, could he fend them off?

The frozen winds caught my cheeks and the snow soaked my legs as I collapsed at the base of one of many dying trees, but my hand felt surprisingly warm. I managed a grimace as I looked down at my soiled hand. I weakly gathered a generous handful of snow and applied it to my leg, and grew content watching it slowly melt into a stream of red.

A/N: Sorry it took so long - I dropped and changed bits of this, and there were parts of it I couldn't finalise until I knew what was going on in Wolf's head in the next chapter. I'm also going to be a bit busy these next few weeks/months with various holidays, events and hobbies. I'm not sure how realistically I can upload, but I'm really hoping to update as much as I can. No promises though.

I know this is a relatively weak update, but let me know what you think if you can spare the time.