A Sacrifice for Varkanah (On Indefinite Hold)

A Sacrifice for Varkanah Chapter 7

Chapter VII

The next morning found them Saeran yawning as he made his way to the fort’s dining hall. Noticing Rivatha sitting in the corner of the immense room at a small round table with Irilden, Saeran took a spot next to the Queen’s knight. Arranged around the table were seven plates of food: thickly sliced and fried bacon, crispy brown sausages, and runny yellow eggs. He grabbed his fork and began the slow process of eating while he waited for the others, making absolutely certain that he did not make a mess of himself in front of the regal Rivatha.

First came Hesio Arishan, his face covered in coarse hair, the hair on his head slightly matted. Everything about him shouted weariness, his dark eyes watering with each yawn. He plopped down into the chair next to Saeran and began unceremoniously shovelling food into his mouth, some making it into his mouth, some not. Next came Lark and Hathien, who looked surprisingly well rested. Apparently, unlike Hesio, they had found a bathhouse in the castle, and Saeran caught a distinct whiff of flowers as Hathien passed him to sit beside the Queen.

Drennan came last, silently entering the room filled with conversation. He slowly walked to the table and sat by Lark, his face downcast. He used his fork to move the food around the plate, but only took a few small bites of it as he watched the others eating and talking. He did not attempt to join the conversation, content to sit in his own thoughts for a while, as usual these days. What are you thinking, Drennan? Saeran thought, though he knew he could not guess. Maybe he wasn’t thinking of anything at all.

He finished his food quickly, not bothering to savour the warmth of it, not even noticing the spices that the cooks had laboured to include for him. It was a mistake, as he would be walking for weeks yet before he would see another warm meal, and this would be a fond memory as they crossed the Whitevale Mountains. Still, the thought of such a long, very possibly dangerous journey was nerve-wracking, to say the least. The last time he had attempted to cross the mountains, he had ended up with a dead horse and soaked in goblin blood. Could the goblin war still be going on? That was a discomforting thought, but one that he thought best not to share.

“So,” Rivatha said, standing up as a group of servants entered to clear away the dishes and silverware. “Summer is nearly at its end, and it will be cold in the mountain passes. I have arranged for new fur gloves and thick wool coats and cloaks to be given to each of us, courtesy of the barracks. Some poor soldiers may be going without this winter, but that is naught compared to what we are about to do, my friends! Who is ready to climb the mountains?” she asked excitedly, looking around the room.

Unfortunately for the Queen, none of the others shared her enthusiasm for this, which made for an awkward few moments. Hathien had never left Rosehollow Village, if truth were told, and she’d had no experience with mountains. She did not like heights, though, so the thought of mountains was a frightening one for her. Lark did not relish the idea of walking for weeks, so he remained silent. Hesio was simply too tired for excitement, and Drennan just did not say anything one way or the other, while Saeran thought worriedly of a field of dead goblins.

“All right, then,” Rivatha said, after it became apparent that no one would reply. “Let’s go get those coats.”

Saeran rubbed at his fingers with the fury of a man determined not to lose them, attempting to resuscitate his frozen digits as he walked, one stiff step after the other. Each step, though, sent his foot crunching into the knee-high snow, which in turn allowed by far too much of the frozen stuff into his boot. The first few days of that had been hellish, but by that time his feet were so cold that the snow did not even melt and make his stockings soggy. And so he walked, simply concentrating on keeping his numbed feet on the path.