KGWrites

Alyx

Hunter’s Haven Forest, Northern Realm of Aldiron

Winter had closed its icy talons around the northern regions of what had once been the kingdom of Aldiron. Frost coated the ground and branches, making it look as if the forest had been sent into a ghostly realm full of the spirits of what had once been the trees. A biting wind moaned through the canopy, another spectre haunting the woods.

The Hunter’s Haven, the forest was named. Named for one of the Gods of the Village, the Hunter, the God of archers, of the twisting, deadly beauty of the wilds and of hunting and providing for yourself and others through nature’s bounties.

Well, They’re certainly living up to one of those jobs and skimping on the others. Alyxandra Cobalt thought bitterly to herself as she blew into her shivering hands, rubbing them together to try and restore feeling to them. Gritting her teeth and ignoring the growing ache from her clumsy, frozen fingers and toes, Alyx pushed the pointed wooden peg for holding the ropes of her tent in place into the ground.

It sunk in a short way, pushing aside the dirt and frost easily, before it hit a thicker patch of the frozen ground and stuck, unwilling to go any further.

Alyx growled at it, staring at the end of the length of wood with a burning hatred. Every peg had been like this, for both tents, for the past week. Every one had been a stubborn bastard intent on making Alyx’s life cold and sore and more miserable than it already was. She wondered if the whole Village hated her, or if it was just The Builder cursing her with these useless little stakes.

Standing, she stamped down on the offending wood until it was little more than a tiny stump above the surface of the ground. It would be a nightmare to lift out again tomorrow, worse if the ground froze again overnight. She didn’t care.

That was tomorrow’s Alyx’s problem.

With the peg now sunk in, Alyx straightened and untied the strings that held the door flaps closed, opening the tent and tossing in the packs of the two women that would be sharing it. Then she crossed to the other tent, lifting first her brother’s pack and tossing it into the tent before lifting her own pack, causing the metal breastplate, shoulder pauldrons and thigh guards of her armour to clank off one another, breaking the silence of the clearing.

Alyx ignored the sound and strode into the tent, unpacking her bedroll and laying it out before turning and doing the same for her brother’s. She tried to ignore the gap between the two bedrolls just big enough for a child to fit between them.

Gods, she tried.

In the nearly two weeks since Aldiron fell and Alyx’s group had fled the burning city, not a day had gone by when she hadn’t thought of Lillian Cobalt, her ward and adopted… what exactly was she? My sister? My daughter? Alyx banished the question with a shake of her head. Lillian was family, that’s what mattered.

But in their haste to flee, Lillian had been left behind in the fallen city, carried away by the panicked crowd as the palace fell. Going back would have been a death sentence, and the mission they were tasked with was too important to risk, so they’d carried on without her.

However, knowing the importance of their task did nothing to assuage the pain in Alyx’s chest, nor stop her from waking in the night, plagued by terrors she dared not give further thought to.

Her only comfort was knowing that Lillian was a born survivor, that she’d made her way through the harsh slums of Aldiron’s Winter District since she had been eight years old, moving unnoticed while finding food and shelter to survive on. If there was anyone strong enough to find a way to survive the now occupied city, it was Lillian.

Swallowing the grief again, Alyx reached back into her pack and pulled out a thick brown woollen cloak, tossing it around her shoulders and pulling it close around herself. Then she stood and left the tent, emerging back into the cold.

Shivering against the breeze, she crossed the clearing quickly to the side of another woman, who was using a fallen log as a makeshift table. A leather sheet was open before her, with a paltry selection of root vegetables and potatoes laid atop it. Next to that, and seemingly taking much more of the woman’s focus, was a map of the region.

As Alyx approached and her boots crunched in the snow and frozen underbrush, the woman’s head turned to face her, revealing a thin, sharp featured face with warm brown skin and piercing dark eyes. Her long curled black hair, which usually hung loose around her head like a lion’s mane was pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head. Her usual beautiful ornamentation of copper jewellery paired with flowing violet robes and dresses had been traded for practical fur lined road leathers. And yet, Meghan Whiteoak still managed to make the rough clothing look like the most glamourous outfit worn by anyone.

At Alyx’s approach, the left side of Meghan’s mouth twitched upwards in a smile of greeting, and she nodded her thanks towards the tents. Alyx shrugged in response and settled down next to Meghan, taking a knee on the frosty ground and beginning to lay out the start of a firepit for cooking dinner.

“How are we doing for food?” Alyx asked simply and Meghan clicked her tongue, looking sceptically at the meagre offering of vegetables next to her.

“Not good, we have this and the last of the bread. Even before the siege interrupted them, Iona and the others were only packing for a trip to Blueholdt and a little further beyond. Which is normally around a week’s travel.” She said, drumming her fingers quietly on the leather mat.

“And we’ve been on the road nearly twice that.” Alyx concluded grimly and Meghan nodded. Alyx swore under her breath.

They’d been avoiding the main roads, with Aldiron under enemy control the risk of being spotted on the road was too great. The downside was that cutting across the countryside had been a much slower and more careful affair than originally planned for. Even with Alyx rationing like she was back in the Winter District, supplies were dangerously low, and hunger pangs were starting to ache at her chest alongside the cold.

“Hopefully James catches something bigger tonight. A deer or something. That’ll help keep us going.” Alyx said eventually, trying to bolster her companion’s spirits. Meghan looked unsure.

“Even if he does, I can’t make heads nor tails of where we are in the forest, and how far we have to go.” She gestured to the dark blob in the map that made up the Hunter’s Haven, Alyx sighed.

“We’ll figure it out.” We have to.

A grunt of frustration and exertion cut across whatever Meghan’s reply was going to be, drawing both women’s attention.

Across the clearing, the third woman in their party was circling around a small tree, cutting at it with her sword in a series of practiced moves that flowed well into one another. Every movement swirled her hair around her head like a wave of fire and her pale cheeks were flushed and rosy. Her square jaw was set in a clenched snarl as she glared at the tree, her emerald eyes seeming to be attempting to burrow right through the wood. Growling, she swung her sword again, cutting deep into the tree’s trunk.

Alyx grimaced, unwilling to imagine who the tree might be being pictured as. Probably me.

In the time since the city fell, Princess Iona Ravellan had barely spoken to Alyx, even though Alyx served as her personal royal guard. They’d shared only a few words here and there, and only ever out of necessity. But still, Alyx couldn’t bring herself to find blame or fault with the princess, given what Alyx had done when the city fell.

In the final moments of the siege, King Samuel Ravellan, Iona’s father, had sacrificed his life by sealing the doors of an Evellien vault to stop Lord Draconeus and his forces from pursuing the party as they’d fled. He’d also trusted Iona with one of the three pieces of the Brightblade, an ancient sword that legends said was the only weapon capable of killing Draconeus.

Iona would likely have stood by her father’s side however, had Alyx not held her back until the vault closed. It had been one of the hardest things Alyx had ever done, and she doubted she’d ever forgive herself for it. She’d taken away Iona’s last chance to say goodbye to her father. The princess had screamed and kicked and fought against Alyx until the stone doors finally closed.

It had been necessary, the only way to ensure Iona’s safety. And yet, it was unforgivable. Alyx would not be surprised if it had shattered any misplaced illusions of friendship between Iona and herself.

Which meant it hurt Alyx all the more that only a month before now, Iona’s lips had been on hers in a kiss that still haunted the dreams that Lillian didn’t.

“How is she?” Alyx asked, pushing down the memory as she watched Iona from the corner of her eye. Meghan sighed.

“Angry. Mourning her father. Mourning the city. She feels she’s failed somehow.” Alyx lowered her eyes again, that guilt pulling at her heart insistently. “But she’s focussed on the mission, now that she’s healed from the battle. She just wants to keep moving all the time.”

“You sound worried.” Alyx observed.

“I am. That drive. That type of… of obsession. It could be just as dangerous as apathy if she rushes into things.” Meghan replied grimly.

“Well, I hope you find something that could temper it before that happens.” Alyx said, returning her attention to the fire. She didn’t look at Meghan as she heard the woman shift next to her, knowing what was coming.

“You can temper her. You’ve always grounded her better than anyone else has.” Meghan pushed and Alyx paused. It was true, her appointment to the royal guards had come because she was able to understand and talk to Iona in a way no-one else had managed to. Had seen the woman and not the princess.

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.” Alyx said, her voice soft as she stacked twigs together for the fire.

Meghan seemed about to reply when a rustling sounded at the edge of the clearing, making all three women move for weapons before a tall, thin man walked into the space and they all relaxed.

James Cobalt had olive skin, though the cold had brought a light hue to his cheeks. His brown hair had grown long and messy, falling down to the back of his neck. His hazel eyes were sunken and tired beneath dark eyebrows that shaded his face and matched the short dark beard that had grown across his cheeks and chin. He wore a thick wool cloak similar to the one Alyx had pulled on and a quiver of blue feathered arrows across his back. His left hand held a longbow.

But it was his right that drew the attention of the others. It only had three fingers, with the ring and little fingers little more than stumps above the knuckle. Though that didn’t faze the trio watching him, they were more than used to seeing James’ injury, dealt to him as a child by a criminal named Aaron Trident and long since adjusted to by both him and his friends.

No, it was the pair of grey furred squirrels clutched in that hand by their tails that drew attention from them all.

It was a meagre catch, barely any meat on the creatures. And yet, Alyx’s stomach growled insistently.

Her brother approached them and laid the squirrels down on the leather mat before unslinging his quiver and bow from his back and crouching down by the two of them. He offered Alyx a quick smirk that widened into a full smile as he turned his gaze to Meghan. Alyx pretended not to notice her smiling back at him, or the way her left hand clutched at her side, out of James’ view. But she still couldn’t help but smile slightly at the sight.

Instead, she opted for teasing her brother, gesturing to the squirrels. “That’s all? They’re thinner than you, and a good wind will knock you over.”

James sighed and Alyx sensed she’d hit upon some nerve she hadn’t realised existed.

“I’m not exactly blessed by The Hunter, I grew up scrounging scraps in Winter, not prowling the forests. Even if there was anything nearby, I certainly didn’t spot any trails.” He replied, his voice tense, like the frustration had gotten to him badly.

“That’s alright,” Meghan began, her voice calm and soothing. Like she’d relaxed somewhat now that James was back. “We can use these and the vegetables to make a stew tonight and have bread tomorrow for breakfast. But after that…”

After that we’re pretty much fucked. Alyx concluded in her head and looking at James’ face, she could see that he’d reached the same conclusion. Still though, he picked up a small knife from next to the food.

“I’ll cut stuff up for the food. Meghan, see if you can get the fire going and Alyx, you go get some water for the stew.” He directed and Alyx nodded, standing slowly and walking over to the tent Meghan and Iona shared, unstrapping the pot from the outside of Meghan’s pack.

There was a little stream just a short ways outside the clearing that ran over some rocks, providing a small waterfall that Alyx could easily position the pot beneath to fill it with water.

She sat next to the stream as it filled, taking in the sounds of the woods around her and the peaceful trickle of the water over the rocks. Were it not for the gnawing in her stomach and the painful cold biting at her feet, Alyx could almost find herself enjoying the feel of being out in the wilds. It was a new feeling, after a life spent in the city. The closest she’d gotten was the green parkland that held The Village in the Spring District, the closest thing to a temple in Aldiron. But even there, she’d still been surrounded by the city. Here, things felt different.

It felt both more and less open than before. Like the woods around her were simultaneously entirely her own and nobody’s. She was alone and not. It was comforting in a way.

The sound of running water pulled Alyx back to the present and she turned to find the water had filled the pot and was now running down the sides. Shifting from her position she lifted the pot, pouring out some of the excess water before looking down into it.

The reflection that stared back at her had the same tawny brown skin and hazel eyes as her brother. Her wavy brown hair had twisted and tangled in itself over the last few days and Alyx knew that it would take a long time with a brush to work itself back out. A pale pink scar crossed the bridge of her nose from a bad break, one of the few leftover marks of her and James’ struggles in the Winter District. She bore other scars too, beneath her clothing, a stab wound in her chest and a crossbow bolt puncture scar on her shoulder. The worst though was the latticework of pale lines that criss-crossed her back, leftover reminders of her own close call with Aaron Trident before she and James had severed his arm and dragged him to the palace dungeons.

A glint of metal from beneath her cloak had her looking down, seeing that she still wore the wrist bracers and shin greaves of her metal suit of armour, a suit that had once belonged to her and James’ mother before Trident had kept it as a trophy after murdering her and their father the day she and James had fled into the Winter District. She’d reclaimed it after taking down Trident and James had reclaimed their mother’s sword, which he now wore with as much pride as she wore her armour.

As she began to walk back towards the camp, Alyx felt a light thump on her sternum and looked down to see a silver ring with a carved feather design on a chain around her neck. A gift from Iona from their first meeting, the ring had saved her life more than once, being passed around as a message. It was Alyx’s very own lucky charm, and it would never be far from her.

Emerging back into the camp Alyx crossed to where Meghan had just sat back from a fire that was just beginning to really catch, breathing heavily.

“Damp bloody wood.” She cursed the fire making Alyx chuckle as she laid the pot down next to it.

“If only we knew anyone who could magic the wood dry.” She joked, earning a warning look from James. But Meghan simply made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh.

“Even if that were possible, which I’ve never seen or attempted, I’m so hungry and tired I’d probably knock myself out before enough magic happened. And unless you want to carry me to Blueholdt.” She gestured to the fire she’d made. “That’ll have to do.”

Alyx shrugged. It wasn’t as if she knew how magic worked. All she understood was that Meghan and Iona could do it, that Meghan was more experienced than Iona and was training her and that both of them preferred it kept secret as more than a few people would sooner burn them as witches than accept them.

“Fair enough. Guess we’ll have to do stew the boring way then.” She said as she held out a knife to Meghan. “Get cutting.”

Half an hour later, the sun had set, plunging the forest into darkness and leaving the four of them bathed in the fire’s bright orange glow. Alyx sat with her bowl of stew in her hands, warming them as she listened to James and Meghan talk.

“We can’t keep going like this. We’re out of food and low on other supplies as well, we need to get back to civilisation and restock.” Meghan was saying but James shook his head.

“We need to endure this a little longer, until we emerge from the northern side of the forest, then we’re close enough to Blueholdt that we can rejoin the roads with less chances of being found.” He insisted through a mouthful of squirrel stew.

“That’s fine, if we knew how far to the northern side of the forest we have. And we have to hope that we haven’t strayed too far east just getting through the forest along the way.” Meghan objected. James sighed in exasperation.

“We turn west now and hit the road again and there’s a high chance we’re spotted. And if we’re spotted then suddenly, we’ve got Draconeus and his army coming for us too.”

“Good.” Iona’s voice was hoarse and dull as she spoke, making everyone turn their heads to her. She’d set aside her bowl, already empty, like she’d eaten it in a single gulp, and was now staring across the fire at James, her jaw clenched and her eyes steely and unblinking. “Let him come.” She continued.

“Sorry princess.” James emphasised her title sarcastically, folding his arms. “But we’re not in your palace anymore. And I’m not dying so you can get a swing at revenge against a man you might not even be able to kill.”

Iona looked like she might be about to kill James at that moment. Alyx knew this side of her brother well, hunger made him quick to anger if he felt someone was being unreasonable. And sometimes it also meant he didn’t recognise that same unreasonable approach in himself. But if Iona was the same…

“We’ll be careful, move near the road and stay far from anyone we see. But we’re exhausted, cold and behind where we should be on top of being hungry. We can’t afford to take the risk of being stuck too far from Blueholdt without supplies.” Alyx said sternly, fixing James with a hard stare. His jaw feathered, looking ready to argue before Alyx quickly turned her head to Iona.

“And we can’t take risks with the enemy finding us. We’re four exhausted and hungry people and they’ve got the fucking Accursed on their side. So, we’re not going to walk down the road waving a damn banner pointing to you to invite Draconeus in.” Now it was Iona’s turn to look like she was about to argue. But Alyx quickly turned her gaze to Meghan who nodded her thanks and leaned forwards.

“Very well then. Tomorrow morning, we put the sunrise to our backs and head out of the woods. Then we hit the road fast and don’t stop moving until we’re behind the walls of Blueholdt. Clear?” Meghan looked to each of them in turn, with Alyx giving a firm nod of agreement, followed by Iona and a reluctant one from James, knowing he was outvoted. Then he lowered his head, returning to his meal.

“Thank you, Alyx.” Meghan said softly and Alyx smiled at her.

A sound caught Alyx’s ear, and she turned her head as she heard the telltale sound of a stomach rumbling. Iona was sat staring at her empty bowl as if she could will more food into it. Alyx sighed, looking at her own half eaten bowl.

Pretty faces really make you too damned soft Cobalt.

She stood and approached Iona, deliberately not looking at James, already hearing the telling off she would receive for this once they were in their tent. Upon reaching the princess, she extended her bowl to her.

“Here, take what’s left of mine.” She said with a soft smile. Iona’s green eyes met hers, searching her.

“Don’t you need it?” She asked carefully, her gaze shifting back to the bowl and then up to Alyx once more. Alyx shook her head with a smirk.

“Nah, I’m Winter District remember, we’ve got smaller stomachs.” She lied, shutting out the growl of protest her belly made.

Iona still looked unsure, so Alyx pushed the bowl forwards again. After a moment, the princess’ eyes met hers again, softening as she smiled. A smile that sent a different kind of feeling in Alyx’s stomach.

“Thank you.” She said softly, reaching up and taking the bowl from Alyx.

Alyx said nothing, just nodded and turned away, walking back towards her seat next to her brother, who was staring at her incredulously. As she sat back down next to him, Alyx looked off into the ghostly white forest she’d found so much peace in earlier.

Gods I hope the edge of the forest isn’t far. Otherwise Draconeus won’t have much killing to do when he does catch us.