It wasn’t a smell she was accustomed to. The hint of burning wood was hidden beneath the rotting scent filling her nose. It was overbearing and repugnant. The smell of burnt hair practically clung onto her skin. The smell was so distinct; it would be difficult to forget.
Althea crawled out from beneath the blankets. She clamped a single hand over her mouth holding down what she could until she crossed the length of the tiny cabin. The noise stirred Cahir from his sleep in the corner of the room, the orange firelight glistening against his cheeks. Althea shoved the single door open, the winter air pricking her cheeks. She collapsed on all fours against the muddied ground. Her stomach twisted, attempting to empty what it could of its contents.
Beads of sweat formed across her forehead while the loose strands of hair clung to her cheeks. She leaned back, allowing the cool temperatures to hit her damp face. Taking the cuff of her sleeve, she hid her nose beneath the fleece cuff. Although her stomach settled, it was still unpleasant for her.
Althea scanned the scenery searching for the source of the foul odor. The small town had lit lanterns at every door, the sky still dark with sleep. A large fire with several people surrounding it sat in the center of the small rows of cabins. A mangled body hung limply from a tree's gnarled limbs. It swayed, unmoving against the butchers' brutal hands.
The creak of the door behind Althea startled her. She remained frozen in place. “What is that?” Her voice had become nothing but a squeak in her moment of horror. The footfall behind her circled around and settled in front of her, the Knight shielding her view of the disfigured form. He crouched down, his long hair in disarray from her hasty exit.
“There are many things you don’t understand about this land—things that should be discussed at length.”
“Then amuse me,” she cried. “It’s true that I could have never made it here on my own, but I am not stupid. There are other things that you’ve been hiding from me based on the events of last night.” Althea finally lifted her head to look Cahir in the eyes. A fire was being lit and she had no intention of putting out the wild flames that wrapped toxically around her heart. Althea wanted to command as much respect as the Knight had often exuded, but she could feel her expression faltering under the intensity of his own. He finally relented, bowing his head to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Come inside first. We don't need you to come down with another fever.” His unexpected request dulled her. She followed inside, wondering if she was prepared for the answers he would give.
Althea sat crouched in the corner of the room. The cabin was damp against her back while she waited for the Knight to join her. He paced uneasily, showing no interest in settling during their conversation.
She frowned, impatient at his silence. “Answer my first question.”
Cahir looked up from the floor, his pacing ceasing at the sound of her uneven voice. “You saw it, right? In Spica, people eat the sick and the old. It’s how they survive. Animals are rare here, and cannibalism among smaller cities and villages are not an uncommon practice.” The harrowing confirmation made her sick, she grew pale pressing the back of her hand against her lips. “The place you come from, what is it called?”
Althea swallowed hard against the growing lump in her throat. “Altair,” she whispered. Cahir nodded his head knowingly and began pacing around the length of the room again.
“There is no such place in Mechty’s kingdoms.”
“Then how—”
“Like I said there’s a lot you don’t know...Althea.” He could see her shift uncomfortably at the sound of her name. Cahir had intended it to console her, but even he could hear the lack of empathy in his words. “In the simplest way I can explain it, you are from a world that our people call Aquila. You arrived here in Mechty, from what, I cannot say. This is common knowledge here in this land and its people.”
Silence ensued between them both. Althea rose to her feet slowly, taking care to hold onto the wall for support. “I was educated in Altair, so don’t take me as a fool! At least have the decency to lie to me in a believable way.”
He ran a hand through his black hair, frustration seeping through the serious lines in his face. The air between them was electrical. “It isn’t a lie.” He spoke through pursed lips, his voice tight with rage.
“It is a lie!” Althea’s voice hitched in hysterics. “How can you expect me to believe something so absurd?”
Cahir’s teeth grit as he watched her at a distance. He had never encountered such a restive individual. People of Mechty knew better than to disrespect any of their King’s guard. Even under distress, people hid and cowered away from Knights. He outnumbered Althea in more ways than one, and yet she still stood to yell at him. He strode across the room forcing Althea against the wall.
With intent he leaned in close to her face, and Althea defensively pressed her palms against his leather chest plate in an attempt to move him back. Her breath was escaping in rapid, opaque huffs. “Choose to believe me or not. But don’t go asking questions if you can’t handle the answers for them.” He backed up slowly and grabbed the jacket he had given to her. He threw the coat in her direction, Althea’s shaking hands clumsily taking hold. “Put it on. I will prove my words if your doubt is still there.”
Spica was greatly underwhelming. A small ravine cut through the center of the small town with what little water it had left, frozen over. It was difficult for Althea to imagine the town without the chilling snow that lay muddied beneath her boots. The snow ran as far as the eye could see, making the city a dull canvas of whites and browns.
Small carriages passed with horses in tow. She could see that the domesticated wildlife was suffering as much as the people were. Althea watched the sunken faces of the men that passed by in their creaking carriages. Even the seemingly healthy ones could not be deemed healthy at all. She couldn’t imagine a city sinking to such a despicable practice, but the living conditions bred an environment for it.
“What happened to that girl from last night?”
Cahir raised an eyebrow, “Why do you want to know?” Althea shrugged, her hand lifting to push back knotted curls from the chilly wind. “We will be seeing her soon. My only condition is you remain quiet, do you understand?”
“That’s a little controlling, don’t you think?” Althea scoffed.
He stopped to turn on his heels. “I brought you out here out of a favor to you, not so you can throw a fit. Spica isn’t a place you speak your will at. You're risking having your head in the King’s throne room, granted the people don’t get to you first.”
Biting her bottom lip, Althea did not open her mouth again. She was embarrassed being talked to as if she were a child. She should have known better, but her temperament was stemming from this place where outlandish laws existed.
A cabin door swung open and several men drunkenly exited out of the lodge. Althea eyed them suspiciously while trailing on the heels of Cahir. Their clothing was similar to the Knight guiding her, but a small crest on their armor was of a bright yellow silhouette of a woman with wings. Cahir’s didn’t have any markings that she had recognized from their close encounter earlier. Compared to Cahir they were smaller in stature and durability. The two entered the cottage, Cahir giving her a single glance of warning before commotion erupted inside.
“What are you doing back here? Didn’t ya get what ya wanted?” Althea peeked around Cahir where an older man cupped his mouth frantically.
Cahir laughed, startling her. It was robust and uncharacteristic for the man who had threatened her only moments before. “Brother Finn,” he grinned, “Glad the cat no longer has your tongue.” He pulled up a chair in front of the barkeep, and Althea stood anxiously beside him. She was concerned at the change in his attitude; someone like that could not be good company to keep.
“You’re a bastard, Knight.” Finn eyed Althea beside Cahir, “So this is what you needed the clothes for. Where’d ya find this gal at? Too healthy to be found in Spica, and doesn’t seem like ya’d just bring her along on your King’s directive.”
Cahir knocked on the wood of the table in front of him, attracting Finn’s gaze back to his own. “I need to speak with your barmaid, Katla. She caused me a bit of trouble last night.” A somber smile tugged at the edge of Cahir’s lips. Finn immediately straightened up, his balding head reddening in embarrassment.
“Oh, that lass!” He barked, “What on earth did she do this time?”
Cahir’s head turned towards Althea. Gently brushing the hair from her shoulder, he pawed at the pieces of hair that were hardened with blood. The gesture was so affable she made no attempt to swat his hand away. Finn eyed the cut on her temple and blanched in realization. Althea did not know what Cahir was up to, but lying to the barkeep certainly did not make her trust him anymore than she did.
“Truly something awful. I’d imagine if you would not like to pay for damages to allow me to talk to her so that way she can make amends on her own behalf.”
Finn nodded fervently under Cahir’s gaze, “Certainly. You can do with her as ya please, that girl is more trouble than what she’s worth.” He muttered to himself entering into another room.
Althea had many questions, and stared hard at Cahir. He deliberately avoided her gaze unwilling to answer questions he knew were relentlessly tugging at her to speak. Moments later, Finn returned, yanking Katla by her arm. She struggled to keep up with him, up until being pushed towards Cahir. Katla looked up at him ferociously; he crossed his arms and stood up.
“Before I speak with her, I have a question for you Finn.”
Finn wrung his fingers in nervousness, “Yes, brother?”
“Ever heard of the word Altair— a place, perhaps?”
Althea’s heart leapt into her throat. She inched closer to watch Finn thinking carefully. “Definitely not in Mechty. Though I think a ways back Arcturus had a Prophet that claimed he was from Altair. Maybe a place in the Aquila?”
Cahir smirked, “Yes, perhaps you are right.” Althea could barely breathe. The grief that welled inside her felt as if she was mourning the loss of a loved one. She gingerly took hold of Cahir’s furs, her knees quaking underneath her. She pressed her face into his pelt to block the tears. He looked back, surprised at the unsolicited touch. Cahir could only see the face of a terrified woman whose world was collapsing around her all at once.
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