His eyes were deranged. He bit at the skin around his fingernails, pacing the marble floors listening to the ramblings of the Astromancer. Cahir was not pleased to be called in by Vega’s crowned head. He came out of civil duty to the people of Vega, not for him. Even so, it was strange to Cahir. It wasn't just the Vega's kingdom that were recruiting their guard, it was all of Mechty too.
“Yes, yes, yes…” the King muttered under his breath. His adorned fingers were bleeding. “So winter shall end?” His haunting eyes bore into the Astromancer who quivered under his gaze.
The Astromancer nodded, “Y-yes your grace.” He bowed, sweeping his navy blue robes behind him.
The King clapped his hands together grinning madly as he turned on his heels. “That’s simply wonderful!” He made his way up the steps of his throne room taking a seat next to the dusting dress, and skeletal bones of his deceased Queen. The arrow in the left quadrant of her chest the only thing keeping the remains seated in the chair. Cahir’s lips tightened into a hard line. He stood at attention in the sea of men, his eyes diverting away from the King’s disquieting demeanor. There was only so much that he could take watching the King cradle the bones of the departed Queen’s hand in his own.
“Did you hear that conjurers? Two of the four Prophets will be left in our great land of Mechty. One of which our great Astromancer has seen arriving in the borderlands of Arcturus and Spica, the other is likely to die within hours of arrival.” It was almost relieving for Cahir to hear the first glimmer of hope in the King’s voice. “Our best hope to make Vega as great as it was, is to locate the prophet before the other kingdoms do. This is why I have gathered all two hundred of our conjurers to locate and secure the whereabouts of the prophet and bring them back safely to Vega. You all know very well what it is the prophet can bring to your...quaint little villages.”
While it would be difficult to find a particular man among the many that stood clothed in animal pelt, the King managed to find Cahir’s eyes. “Now go and find the prophet quickly.” The King’s hand wrapped around the delicate bones of his wife; they grinded together filling the chilled hall with an audible crunch. The King never lost sight of Cahir’s stoned face. “And do not fail me this time.”
The men bowed in unison with one fist over Vega's seal on their chest plate. Although he gave the order to all of the men, Cahir knew that his final order was meant for him alone.
“I’m not crazy…” she whispered to herself. Althea’s clothes were stiffening in the below freezing temperatures. The only thing keeping her from doubting that she had fallen into the sea were her frostbitten clothes and the tacky blood that hugged her forehead and cheek. She awoke gasping for air in this frigid wasteland, confused and terrified.
She knew that she had to remove her clothes, but was more than a little self-conscious even under these conditions. She adopted to wait until she found shelter along the mountainside. Barren trees lined one after another, her eyes could see no escape from the snow. She left little time for her thoughts to start wandering about her whereabouts. Her first concern was surviving.
Althea trudged through layers of knee high snow, the flurries falling from an overcast sky. It made the landscape look haunting. The snow illuminated the ground as if lanterns were buried beneath it, leaving a bleak, snow-filled path.
Althea felt a strange sense of nostalgia walking along the deserted land. This feeling was nettling in the depths of her stomach. Perhaps it was the hypothermia beginning to set in, or the pain emanating from her shoulder that caused her to fantasize about a place like this—a trick of the mind to quiet the thoughts of insanity.
She carried her arm delicately at her side, tracing the mountainside with her good arm, allowing it to lead her. She was breathing harder climbing the steepening hill; her body trembling. Ravens squawked in the distance, and predatory howls echoed amongst the dreary scenery.
As if the God's sensed her struggle, a small sized den caught her eye. She picked up her pace, lifting her knees high enough to jog towards it. She peeked in cautiously, looking for potential wildlife, but it was vacated, except for the loose rocks and branches that littered haphazardly along the stone floor.
The depth of the cavern did not go nearly as far as Althea would have liked, but she could not be picky under the circumstances. She felt her way into the cavern with the sparse moonlight leading her in. She gathered some of the loose rocks creating a fire pit on the floor and throwing some of the dried sticks and bark into the center.
Carefully, she sat down and began to peel back her clothing from her skin. She winced at the pain from both her shoulder and skin and mechanically pulled up her shirt over her head. Her skin was bright red underneath her clothes, the color becoming terrifyingly closer to purple each second without heat. She pulled her skirt off, and then her boots. It was hard for Althea to imagine shivering any more than she was, but her body seemed to quake more aggressively now that her bare skin was in contact with the earth.
She squatted down close to the fire pit and removed her keys from the pocket of her skirt. Althea began cutting a notch into one of the collection of sticks she found. She was accustomed to making fires with few accessories. Her father had taught her many times before as a project, but she never thought she would need to use it in her lifetime. With her arm the way it was and her body unsteady with chill, it would be difficult to do.
Althea picked up a flat stone and began digging a hole through the other side with a pointed rock. She made enough room for her spindling stick to fit snugly through the stone. She unlaced her boot and stuck the lace through the notch wrapping the cord around the stick. Althea hunched over, her bare foot holding the kindling steady. Althea began using the shoe strings to make the spindling rotate. It spun quickly, squeaking loudly under the force.
It took her several minutes to kindle a fire, her shoulder making it excruciating during those several attempts. She was nearly in tears when it finally lit, and she let out a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob. She blew gently against the growing flames, taking care to make sure her life source remained lit. She laid her clothes out next to the fire to thaw them from the cold and collapsed next to the fire, shivering.
She lay there for a long time, the heat never quite enough for her frigid body. She knew eventually she would need to go out and get more food to feed the fire, but she had little energy to do so. Her stomach was cramping painfully in hunger and dehydration when she heard the subtle sounds of snow crunching against light footfall. She sat up quickly, breathing shallowly.
Althea eyed the entrance and, without looking, searched the floor for her ring of keys. She could hear the footsteps quietly approaching. If it were an animal, they were scavenging, and depending on what it was out there would either make her a meal, or she would become one. She crouched down at the farthest part of the cavern on all fours. She stuck the three keys on her key ring between each knuckle ready to fight if she could.
She was hunched over like a wild animal: doe eyed, starving, nearly naked, and blood caked onto her face as she coward in the corner. The first signs of movement hovered at the edge of the cave. Althea squinted, looking for details of the animal. The cavern itself was small compared to Althea’s height. The height of the cavern only hovered about five inches from her head and the animal that stalked her at the corner of it was nearly a foot taller than the size of the cavern’s opening. The fur of the animal was thick and black with pieces of ice clinging to the ends. Her heart rose to her throat, and her stomach clenched up into another painful fit of cramps.
She swallowed back a wave a nausea, gripping the keys between her fingers so tightly she was sure she broke through skin. The animal ducked into the cavern and stopped midway. Underneath the fur, a pair of eyes reflected the dim light of the fire within the cave.
Althea did not know if she should be more relieved at the fact that the man standing in front of her was not a bear, or if she should be terrified that there was a man and she was nearly bare in her undergarments. She hugged herself with one arm, huddling closer into the corner.
“Go away,” she croaked. The weather had left a raspy whisper in its place. The man removed his animal pelt, revealing shoulder length black hair. His arm was laced with ritualistic tattoos that crept beneath his guard. Althea noticed the outdated relic at his side, a sword that seemed to be worn at its handle.
“Use this,” he said gruffly, raising the animal pelt up. He kept his eyes on her, but he seemed uninterested.
Her lips pressed together tightly in embarrassment, “Look away! You have poor manners!” She quipped, her cheeks reddening, although he couldn’t tell with the cold nipping at her cheeks. He turned his head, leaving his body facing her.
“I’ll assume you have no weapons that you’ll use on me?”
Althea crept forward, weary of the stranger. “As long as you don’t make me use them.” He was not a dull man. Her lack of property ensured him that she owned nothing that poised him much threat.
She reached out quickly taking the pelt and backing up. She wrapped herself among the hide, the body heat and fur warmed her up quickly compared to the small fire she had built. He turned back towards her, and entered inwards into the cave, taking a seat close to the fire. Althea couldn’t say anything. She had unknowingly made a deal with the man. In exchange for clothing, she had offered him her shelter and her fire.
They sat quietly together, an uncomfortable silence ensuing. She glanced at him as he placed a metal tin in the embers of the fire, heating it up and removing it. He took a large gulp and extended it out towards her. She slipped her arm out taking the warmth in her hands.
“What is this?”
He gave her a sideways glance, but did not answer her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to know what was inside of the canister. She took a sip, a bitter liquid hitting her tongue. She cringed at the taste, but took another. Althea was sure that it was some kind of mead, the one’s back home were much gentler tasting than the one he was carrying around.
“You’re not from here.” It was a statement that offered no further elaboration. To this man she looked and acted like a foreigner.
Althea swallowed hard, hugging herself tighter. “Where is here?”
He shot her a glance, his hollow eyes reflecting a look she was unfamiliar with. It made her uneasy. It was her first time feeling as if this stranger had something to hide from her. “Currently, in the borderlands between Spica and Arcturus.”
Althea’s mind went reeling. She had never heard of those places before. There were only four territories surrounding Altair. No names had been given to the lands outside of those territories that had been ventured by ships, and snow made absolutely no sense in the middle of July. She knew for certain this was not home, but could hardly comprehend how she had managed to just appear here. Her hand shook with the tin in it. She took a bigger drink this time, burning on its way down. Surely he would think her crazy if she revealed this information.
She nodded her head slowly, “I see...well, thank you for the help.” She watched him carefully as he stuck another piece a wood into the fire, bowing his head in acknowledgement. Raised white scars blotted his skin like translucent tattoos. The biggest one hidden through the armor on his chest. It peeked over his collarbone and ran up to his ear like a trail on a map. With as many scars that littered him, she couldn’t believe he looked no older than his late twenties. Perchance it was the mead driving her thoughts, but even with all his scars, it was difficult to deny just how handsome he was.
“You look like you’ve gotten into a lot of fights.” She laughed lightly, but it was more for her poor attempt at conversation.
He raised a single eyebrow, and smirked. “That would be one of the jobs a Knight has from their King.”
She smiled, amused at first. Althea had thought he was joking until she saw the solidarity in his face. She waited a couple of breaths, hoping he would laugh, but he remained aloof amid the firelight.
“A Knight, huh?” She mumbled with her lips pressing against the side of the tin. “And what’s this Knight’s name?”
He looked up at her again, the deep shadows from the cavern making his eyes reflect a color similar to bleached forget-me-nots. He unlaced the sword by his hip, setting it down behind him before he answered. “I am the Knight known as Cahir," he frowned, "and I am under the service of the First Kingdom’s Crown of Vega.”
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