The Kingdom of Liticea: The Sorcerer Prince

Chapter Fifty: Katherine's Song

When nightfall came, snow begun to come down in earnest. What was a few months ago green and brown was now a never-ending white sheet. There was no sound, just the silence of winter.

The air was biting, but it did not disturb the lone figure walking through the woods. With his grey cloak on, Jyarvik could have easily blended in with his pale surroundings. Even in daylight he could vanish, but the night was now at it's darkest. The clouds in the sky blocked every ray of light from both the moon and the stars. The snow was already up to his ankles, but it did not disturb his walk.

In a small clearing, a tiny spot where one could look up in the sky without the bare branches would not block them, he stopped. His eyes turned to the sky and the snowflakes around him became fewer and smaller. The clouds began to part, revealing the face of the hidden moon.

"Great Elder, the Red Mountain has failed. His army is in ruins and his mind is a cesspool of injured pride," His hands went together to for a cup, and he held it to the sky like a thirsty man trying to catch rain, "Give me a sign of what to do, for I cannot reason with that man. Give me a sign, give me assurance that we are not set back!"

For a few moments, the was only silence, and then the gentlest rumble in the air. In a spot as quiet as this, one could have mistaken it for an earthquake. But it was just the flutter of a moths wings. It appeared before the moon, its shape dancing it the light before landing in Jyarviks hands. The legs and the antenna gently tapped and caressed him before the wings fluttered again and the moth disappeared into the night.

"Yes, Elder," he said to the one who sent the little flying messenger. He turned and followed his rapidly fading footsteps back to where he came from. if a few minutes, all evidence that he was ever here would be gone. Even the clouds returned to normal and shielded the land from the moon's light.

The snow was making what should have been a night of celebration into a night of shivers. Their waning fires and even the brief light from the moon would not give them ease. With barely any light and no warmth, a feeling of loneliness had spread over several of the soldiers, especially poor young Wallis.

A few weeks ago, he would be with Darren and Kruger, laughing and talking just as they had been in the nineteen years they have lived in Rengle Fallaner's domain. Now he was alone, freezing in the realm of Horith the Bloody, and his friends were rotting in the ground outside of Talonwood in unmarked graves.

He now had one friend remaining, Jergan Fallaner, the son of the man who sent his friends to their deaths. The more he thought of it the more he felt hatred for his Baron. Rengle was up there in the tower with Jergan and the girl from Noor, while Kruger and Darren got slaughtered down below. How could any man in good conscious do this kind of thing to young boys?

Fuck those lords. If he could, Wallis would drive his spear into every last one of them.

The sight of the camp was no great morale booster for Jergan either. In the place of recognizable shapes of men were vibrating dark mounds that shook if too much snow got on them. There was not enough room in the tents for all of them. He could not even tell who was Ruskaman, Westlander, or Userian. That did not matter to any of them, he supposed. They all froze equally here.

Of all he looked at, he could not find the one he was looking for; Wallis. he had not seen his childhood friend since the Battle of Talonwood and the deaths of Kruger and Darren. But there was no sign of him, but he saw Jergan.

From the shadow of his cowl, the young man could see his future lord through the dark and the snow. Wallis guessed he was looking for him, but the last person he wanted to see was Jergan Fallaner. Even when the heir of Carell Keep walked right by him, he remained silent.