Dark Heart

The only sound between them was the crunching of the snow beneath their boots as they forged onward. The sun was just dipping below the bare trees, when the wind picked up and pulled hair loose from her braid. It would be a cold winter, the coldest of the decade if that fortunetelling hag was correct in her predictions. If they had time, they would have made camp before the sun set completely and there was no light to gather firewood. Unfortunately, they didn't have time for campfires and freezing to death while snow piled on top of their sleeping bodies. Nothing would have felt better than to stop and rest their legs, but moving is what kept their blood flowing and their bodies warm. They had ventured far from the guidance of the Trader's Road that spiraled through these woods. Without the cover of spring leaves, it was too dangerous to be near the Trader's Road, a passerby would've seen them, and word would spread. But now, there would be no one to find their bodies when winter passed and the snow melted. Elowen shook the thought of dying in these woods from her head. She had to survive. For the smile she would see when she arrived. For the crinkle in his eyes. For the way his chest moved up and down as he laughed. He grounded her, kept her from jumping to swift actions that lead to sweet revenge. She hated him for that, for calming her when all she wanted was to strike against those that hurt her. But he wasn't here now, no one was stopping her from doing what she wanted, what she desired. She looked over at her travelling companion. Woodson's travel cloak was tightly wrapped around his body, trying to cling to the thought of body heat. His mouth was covered by the collar, allowing his breath to keep his face warm. His sword slapped against his outer thigh with every step as he trudged forward. A few trees separated them, but she was quick, and quiet. She could bound toward him, pull her dagger, and open his throat before he had even looked over his shoulder. It would be perfect. She could leave him here, she could tell everyone they got separated, that she didn't know what happened to him. She could say she assumed he was ahead of her in the storm, but when the sun came up and the wind died, he wasn't anywhere to be found. She could say she didn't have time to look for him. She smiled at the thought. Her hand twitched toward the knife at her hip. It would be perfect.  She would feel a wave of relief wash over her, knowing he got what he deserved.  It would be perfect. The wind picked up again, her hair whipped forward, breaking free of the pleat that was supposed to secure it back away from her face. At that moment the bastard turned. She took her hand off the hilt and tucked her runaway strands behind her ear. He barely looked at her, he wanted to die just as much as she wanted to kill him. It would be perfect for them both. She placed her grip back on the hilt of her dagger and waited for another moment when his guard was down and she could strike. It would be perfect. He stopped, his back was stiff and he held his breath, gripping the sword by his side, as if he was waiting to catch a hint of a sound before he moved again. She mirrored him, scanning left to right, looking for a hint of what startled him. The last light rays made everything look like shadows, the trees surrounding them appeared to move. Or was that her imagination? She took one step closer to him, careful not to let her boots crunch against the snow. He jutted his chin toward the left, but she swore she could see a puff of warm breath on their right. After a beat, they both took off toward the right, drawing their swords. Woodson's sword required both hands to hold, hers was smaller and allowed her to move swiftly, like water flowing from the river, while his strikes were more like water falling from a cliff, hard and powerful. They had trained together since childhood, they knew subtle signs of when the other would attack and when they were going to block. They knew each other's clever tricks to get out of sticky situations. She liked to switch hands and slice arteries, while he liked to feint and spin. They made the perfect pair, balancing each other's weaknesses with their own strengths. They won countless partner duels, even travelling to the farther kingdoms when competition was sparse. But that was a long time ago. That was before everything that happened. That was before he betrayed her. Now they both moved in the same direction, colliding with each other. He threw her a glance before grunting, and shoving her toward the man on the left. Just in time, she raised her sword to block his blow. Her attacker was strong, and she was out of practice. She barely held her block, traveling so far without a break had made her limbs fatigued. She managed to collapse, ducking beneath his blow while slicing at his right thigh. A thin crimson line trailed after her sword as his muscles gave way and he crumpled to the ground. Soon his pant leg was visibly soaked with blood. He swung his sword again, but he was slower now, and it was easy for her to step away, kick his sword out of his hand, then move back in for the kill. She had the point of her sword between the two ribs. "STOP". She threw an elbow toward the attacker's eye socket before turning to glance at Woodson. His great sword was covered in blood. His attacker was staining the snow beneath him. She looked back at the man straining to rise up, and threw and other elbow at his eye socket, that time she heard a crunch, giving the indication of the broken skull beneath. He fell backward in the snow. Woodson was there then, holding him down with a boot. "We do not have time for this, Bastard." She wiped her blade on her cloak, she wasn't able to say his name. She had sworn his name would never leave her lips again. Instead she reduced him down to his lineage, his murky blood line, the thing he was most ashamed of and would never be able to change. That one word was all the pain she could cause him, for now. "Who sent you?" Woodson put more force on the man's chest. He coughed, but didn't reply. "How did you find us?" She rolled her eyes before stalking off, they were going to have to hurry in order to make up the time they had lost fighting those assholes. Woodson called after her, "Where are you going?" She didn't look over her shoulder, she didn't speak, she just raised her hand and counted down from 5... 4... 3... 2... 1. He looked back down toward the man, the snow had melted and mixed with the blood from his leg. His eyes were glossy and his chest had stopped moving. Woodson felt for a pulse that no longer existed. He sighed before wiping his own sword clean on the man's chest. "We could have questioned him for more information." She wanted to ask What for? They knew the enemy. They knew the risk. They knew what was chasing them through these woods and why and who sent them. She just pushed forward, choosing to ignore him and dream of fire, hoping the image would somehow keep her warm. He didn't press her to speak, he just silently trailed after her. The sun started to rise again. That was the only way to know how long they had been travelling. All night. Elowen closed her eyes, trying to summon some strength left to keep moving. Hopefully, they would be approaching Rivergard soon. Travelling off the Trader's Road was safer, but it took longer. They were travelling by Woodson's star directions, which she didn't entirely trust. She leaned against a tree and looked back. He had been travelling behind her since the ambush. She hated that. Hated him. Hated this. She tried to stop and allow him to take lead, but every time, he would stop too. He knew what she was trying to do. She was mad those men ruined her opportunity. But, she resolved that her revenge would be sweeter the longer she waited. They might be old and grey and he might think that she had forgotten or forgiven, but she will never forget what he did. She will never forgive what he did. She took a swig of water. She was almost empty. Hopefully, they would be approaching Rivergard soon. Woodson stopped next to her, he placed a hand over his eyes, shielding them as he looked in the direction of the rising son. "There it is." Elowen shoved off the trunk of the tree and gazed in the direction he pointed. There in the distance, the outline of Rivergard was just barely visible. "What is that, 3 leagues?" Woodson shrugged, "At least. From this height, could be further." She heaved a big sigh. "For f***s sake." That made Woodson chuckle. She did not join him. Instead, she started walking. They would be at Rivergard soon. They would deliver their message soon. She would be with him soon. He would give her the strength to not kill the bastard. She kept her eye on the outline of the castle, and kept her thoughts positive. She would be in a hot bath soon. She would be in a nice feather bed soon. Her stomach growled. Woodson handed her a piece of jerky, "Last one." She would be eating real food soon. They moved through the dead woods in silence. The only sound between them was the crunching of the snow beneath their boots as they forged onward. Her lungs were cold, her chest ached for warm air. She ate the jerky slowly, savoring the feeling of eating something, hoping it would satisfy her hunger. It did not.  The sun was high in the sky, and yet, it still provided no warmth to the travelers. The snow didn't even melt in the patches where the sun touched. Elowen was thankful that at least the wind stopped, at least the snow stopped falling, at least she didn't die last night of hypothermia. Elowen and Woodson could see other travelers through the dormant trees, they were connecting back with the Trader's Road in order to pass through Water's Edge. Her heart started to flutter at the thought of seeing Garreth. She tucked away her smile. It was for him, not for these strangers, not for the bastard. They kept their heads down, and swam in the sea of people, letting their flow drag them toward the center of Water's Edge. The people hardly took notice to two new strangers traveling among them. Elowen kept her eyes on Rivergard up ahead, sweeping her gaze across the other strangers every now and again, looking for signs of danger. The cobble stoned streets of Water's Edge were paved clear and flanked with snow banks on either side. Getting out of the snow made her realize how cold and wet her feet felt. Now that they had made it to their destination, Elowen did not care if she lost the bastard in the bustling crowd of the marketplace. Vendors were selling their wares, approaching those that surrounded her, claiming their stall sold the best produce, the finest meats, or the softest breads. They seemed to know to steer clear of Elowen, maybe it was her travel worn face, maybe her hair looked wild from being blown from the wind, but more likely it was the blood that caked her clothes. She moved quickly through the crowd, squeezing herself through the gaps of people, never taking her eyes off the grey Castle of Rivergard.  Elowen used to think Rivergard was bleak, but now after this journey, after what happened, it was a beacon of hope. It was a physical representation of relief. The stone walls seemed to stand tall and impregnable, as if they were saying this was a safe place, the walls will protect you. Nothing can breach these walls. But of course, that was what she used to think when she saw Summer's Heart. She felt a pain in her chest as she thought of her home. She approached the guards at the front gate, one eyed her warily, while the other looked past her, presumable at the bastard that followed.  "The castle is closed today for holiday feast preparation." The one on the left spoke over her at the bastard. His hand was on the hilt of the blade. Elowen couldn't blame him, with the way they looked. The other guard was studying her face closely. "Lady Elowen Hartfell?" She recognized him too just then, his voice was deep, but warm and welcoming. He was often assigned to her protection detail when she was at Rivergard. "Yes, Lt. Corday, I need to speak with the King immediately, it is urgent, please." There was a scramble to call another guard over to take up Lt. Corday's place as he quickly ushered Elowen and Woodson inside Rivergard's gates. A page boy was standing near the castle entrance, and as they past, Lt. Corday spoke quickly and quietly to him, telling him to run fast and gather the Royals. They raced through the stone hallways, Elowen knew they were heading towards the great hall. As they moved, other servants passed by, rushing to their destination with Winter Solstice decorations of red and gold. They did not know the state of emergency their country was in, but they moved as if they did, as if the world was crumbling around them. That's what it felt like to Elowen anyways. As if every step she took, the ground was breaking away, as if she couldn't keep up with all the events that took place in the last two days. While travelling, it was easy to distract herself with survival and just making it here. Now, she had to face what had happened to Summer's Heart, to her home, to what remained of her family. She could feel the bastard's presence as he trailed behind her. At least she still had revenge. Revenge and Garreth. She cleared away the thoughts weighing her down and focused on the next step. There was always a next step. This was not the next step she had planned, but she was course correcting, planning a new next step. She had to make it to the great hall. She had to inform the King and his advisers. She had to tell them about the enemy, how many there were, where they were headed next, their war tactics. She also had to tell them her father was dead. She was the rightful heir of Summer's Heart, or she would be if there was anything left. "Elowen!" Garreth's voice echoed off the stone walls, he rushed toward her, pulled her in close. "What are you doing here? Why are you soaked, and, Elowen, you are shivering. What happened?" He looked over to the page by the door. "Please tell the handmaids to draw Lady Elowen a hot bath, immediately." That's when he noticed the bastard. "Ean Woodson?" Garreth reached over, arm outstretched, "What the hell is going on? " They clasped arms for a moment in friendly greeting. "What are you two doing here? Together?" He looked between them for half a beat before guiding Elowen to the next room, Woodson followed. "There is a fire going in the dining hall." Elowen swallowed. The heat from the fire was nice. It was almost intoxicating after nearly freezing to her core. "We have urgent news." Garreth examined her face and clothes a little closer, "Is that your blood?" She shook her head, "Not all of it." Woodson spoke before she could offer up anymore information, "Is the King here?" Garreth stitched together his eyebrows in confusion, "Father left this morning for Winter's Solstice at the Pier. I can offer an eagle to send instead? What is going on?" Elowen looked into the flames when she answered, "Summer's Heart has fallen." "Your father?" Elowen leaned into Garreth's chest in answer. Speaking it out loud was not possible. They had last seen him at the top of the keep with a bow and arrow, urging Woodson to get Elowen to safety. Garreth wrapped his arms around her damp shoulders. "El, I... I am sorry." There was only a brief moment of silence between the three of them with only the fire crackling and popping, and voices drifted into the room from the hall, indicating the world had not gone silent for Walter Hartfell. Woodson was the next to speak, "We need to send a message to your father. The war is pressing forward, there is no telling how much time before they march North towards Rivergard." Elowen could feel Garreth nod his head. She hadn't moved, she hadn't opened her eyes. She was too afraid that this was real.