When he's finished his meal and brandy, Davrin stoked the fire, hung his robe up, and climbed into bed. The sheets were chilly but warmed quickly as he pulled the curtains and encased himself in a cocoon of wool and linen.
It was a couple of hours early for bed yet, but he was too cold and exhausted to do much else, and it was too dark anyway. Burrowing into the bedding, finding a comfortable position, he closed his eyes and tried to rest. Unfortunately, it was some time before he was able to, mind spinning between worries over Cimar and struggling to decide if he wanted to marry a future queen.
CHAPTER FOUR
"Holy tits, it's cold out here," Lee said. He held out his arm, covered in the special leather bracer, and Valor landed with one of her piercing cries. Lee drew her in close, pulling his cloak up to keep her protected from the brutal weather.
"I'm surprised you can still feel anything after all the hours we spent flying." Cimar rolled his shoulders and stretched his aching muscles, which weren't happy with him after all the flying, shifting, and bitter cold.
All around them was snow and ice, so deep and crusted over they could walk on it and pass the tops of some trees. Heavens forbid they go through it. The world was white, from top to bottom, and the wind carried a relentless wind that sapped warmth and will to live. "Let's get somewhere warm. You said you saw something from the sky?"
"This way," Lee said, testing his snowshoes before settling his pack and heading off. He had a sense of direction like Cimar had never seen before.
Pulling up his face cover, Cimar followed, and onward they trudged for what felt like hours but was probably only a half hour at most. Throughout, the sky grew steadily darker, until he feared they'd either be digging into the snow for shelter or trudging by moonlight. Neither option was pleasant, though hiding in the snow would at least be warmer than the trudging.
They came to a stop right as the weak sunlight was surrendering its last rays to the dark, in front of a derelict cabin that barely deserved the word. When the door wouldn't give, Cimar removed his snowshoes and gave it a solid kick, which thankfully did the trick.
Inside, the cabin smelled of disuse but mercifully nothing worse. A handful of rodent skeletons littered the floor; Lee made quick work of them while Cimar set to building a fire. Valor flew to perch on the back of a chair, seemingly content to preen her ruffled feathers while watching them.
When the fire was going, Cimar stripped off his heavy gloves and got his hands warmed so he could make dinner without fumbling and dropping everything.
Lee, in his usual brisk, efficient way, set to work stowing their things for the night, cleaning the floor enough to be workable, and getting their bedrolls set up. He also got Valor fed, laughing as she nibbled on his fingers in thanks.
Though Cimar was still far from pleased about the unfair quest, he was grateful he'd been able to fly them here. Otherwise, the horses would be a burden, and they probably would have been forced to turn them back or abandon them. Valor had flown alongside them most of the way, and ridden in Lee's arms when she'd needed a break. He'd expected more difficulty with her regarding his shifted form, but Valor hadn't seemed to care.
Stretching out his muscles again, Cimar finally set to work on dinner, pulling out jerky and tack, and using the special powders he'd brought along to make a thin broth that would warm them up. He also got a kettle going, though that required going out to scoop piles of snow first, which ruined all his efforts at getting warm.
While the water and soup heated, they sat bundled in their cloaks gnawing at the jerky. "So what do you think we'll find, Lee? Violence or plague?"
"Plague. Let's just hope it's finished the job." Lee took an unenthusiastic bite of jerky. As jerky went, it wasn't bad—venison, and well-seasoned. But almost anything was better than jerky and tack.
Cimar chewed another strip of his own, casting a watchful eye on the pots over the fire. If it hadn't been clear from the start, it was brutally clear now that His Majesty was hoping they'd die up here, or at least get trapped long enough they lost the challenge by default.
If only the winds hadn't kept him from flying all the way to Castle Bone itself. But this high up, especially in this weather, the wind could practically toss around boulders. The only thing Cimar dreaded more than plague was an avalanche. They might survive the former; they definitely would not survive the latter.
Lee poured them tea as the water boiled, and a short time later the broth was done as well, which made eating the rock-hard tack a thousand times easier. It wasn't a terribly exciting meal, but it was warm and filling, which was all that mattered in the end.
When they'd finished eating, Cimar took care of cleaning up, leaving Lee to settle on his bedroll. Instead of lying down to sleep, however, Lee sat with his legs folded in front of him, elbows on his knees, hands close but not quite cupped. Every now and then something seemed to spark or shimmer within them, like glowbugs caught in the summer.
Training exercises, though not nearly as rigorous as he would normally do, since there wasn't space, and he probably didn't have the mental or physical strength at the moment, not after the long day they'd had.
Magic came in two forms: those born with the rare ability to shift, and those who could call upon their own life force and manifest it in various ways, most often light or fire, though in days long past it was said there were mages who could nigh on control the elements. The precise science behind it wasn't well known; most were content to call it the will of the gods and leave well enough alone.
Leonine was particularly adept with his magic, at a level Cimar hadn't seen outside of some of the oldest women in the abbey and a couple of knights long retired. Knights generally preferred to rely solely on their physical prowess, considering magic a sort of cheat. Most of that attitude seemed to stem from envy and resentment, but it was deeply ingrained in knightly culture. Lee, however, was no fool. He had an advantage and he used it, and Castle Bone was likely going to require every advantage they could muster.
"Don't overwork yourself," Cimar said around a yawn. "Get some rest."
Lee smiled faintly, a sign he would listen shortly, and Cimar left him to it. Settling on his bedroll, he wrapped his cloak snuggly around him and was asleep almost immediately.
*~*~*
The morning brought no relief from the snow, but the wind had died down, which made a world of difference as they traveled. Valor launched into the sky with a cry, clearly pleased to spread her wings again. Cimar could have flown them the rest of the way, but he didn't want to risk the wind kicking back up, and arriving on foot would give them a better chance at the element of surprise.
They traveled steadily, pausing occasionally for rest and slightly longer for lunch. Not long after they resumed the journey, the castle came into view. It was nestled in a valley, close to a pond with a churning waterfall. When the castle had been constructed, it looked as though they'd dug out a moat that used the pond to fill it, which would prove useful in a number of ways if they weren't stupid enough to let the water contaminate with sewage and other refuse.
"No smoke, no movement of any sort," Lee said. "I guess we weren't really expecting any, though."
"I'm more concerned there's no livestock. The reindeer might have scattered after a bit, if plague wiped everyone out, but the musk oxen would have stayed close, since there's room aplenty and reliable food and water here. Plague or bandits, there's no reason for all the livestock to be missing. Keep alert, Lee, and be ready to run."