Spirits of the Earth

It'd been more than three years since he'd seen her.

Three years since Aryn awoke in an empty mansion to find that Kella Harmond had disappeared in the night, snowy horse tracks leading away from the estate's open door. That day he packed up some of the silk and velvet noblemen's clothing in the mansion closets and took off after her.

He searched for her for those three years across the war-torn country of Connlaoth. Most places he stopped at had no answers. Some had gossip for him, but never anything good. On more than one occasion the Ironhand had come close to giving up his search only to hear something new, something that sparked his fleeting hope of ever seeing Kella again. On the way he picked up a few more scars, killed a few more men, stained his hands with some more blood.

Then Thaedes burned to the ground. He'd been camped out with a group of ragtag mercenaries at the time when the news arrived, that Lady Kella Harmond had been spotted in the fiery city. By the time he arrived, nothing remained but a pile of charred rubble. Still, it sparked his hope.

He turned toward Turgall. He wasn't the only one. Apparently the Duke of Turgall, twin brother to the woman he sought, had sent his messengers across the land to muster up banners to his cause. At Turgall Aryn watched Blaith Harmond, marvelled in how similar he looked to Kella, studied his appearance and mannerisms as he gave a rousing speech to the gathered army – and stole one of the Duke's horses.

It was on this horse that he now sat, exhaling soft wisps of frosted breath in the cold air as he reined the stallion to a halt upon a high ridge, overlooking the great Fort Dhagh down below. A fluttering tickled his stomach from the inside, and it wasn't just from hunger. The plan in his head was, by all accounts, the most idiotic thing a person could do, but the Ironhand didn't really know any other way to go about it. Reaching into his pack, he withdrew a pair of stolen, ill-fitting doeskin gloves and slipped them over his flesh hand and his iron one. The highborn clothing fit snugly against his large frame and still had wrinkles and creases from the three-year journey. He honestly didn't look anything like the Duke of Turgall.

But who in that castle would know the truth?

'Blaith Harmond' had come for his sister. To pluck her out of that citadel and get her as far away as possible.

With another long exhale and then a spit off to the side, he dug his heels into the stallion and rode down the hill toward Fort Dhagh's gates.

@visualspice @Moonie

How long had it been since she'd become a prisoner here? Life wasn't as horrid as she'd expect it to be, but as the hours and days ticked by, it seemed not only was this winter endless, but the hours, too. Dismal and grey were the days, and quiet and discomforting were the nights. She was uncertain what fate truly had in store for her- for she knew well enough no real actions would be made come winter, but with food supplies waning, she had a feeling the 'unwanteds' would be the first to suffer under the losses. But so far, she had been offered the same sort of food as her keeper, and Lillian Coleridge and herself shared plenty quaint conversations- But Kella wasn't much into talking as of late, and grew thinner as she ate less and less as the days went on.

One could say perhaps she was bored, or depressed; and this might be true, but it was so much more complex than that. For her mind was on the one man her heart still pined for, and she just hoped he was well and as far away from this war as he could. She had seen enough of this hell to know she hoped he'd forget about her- but not completely.

If only, she could take comfort to know he thought of her at night as she did, perhaps it would make all of this long, cold waiting worth something. And as the evening rolled on and the sun set early, as usual, Kella retired. She slept for so many hours, fourteen hours of the day could easily be accounted for as her 'resting'. But she hardly slept, even when she tried. And the dark circles beneath her eyes proved that.

So this time, like all of the others was no different, as she told her keeper, Lily, she was going to rest. She had already brushed her hair and bathed that morning, whihc was a luxury she was surprised they could afford. And so when she returned to her bed, she smelled of sweet soaps and dried flowers, and when she closed her eyes- she thought of the days that had been-
and of the withering, dying flowers of the fall- who's scent now encaptured her and drifted her off to a listless slumber.

Kella wasn't the only one for which the days seemed to tick slowly by. Not that Lillian had really been here that long. It seemed like an age had come and past, though. There was little to do at her post. Her prisoner was hardly talkative, despite her initial efforts to become amicable with the woman. She supposed she couldn't really blame Kella for not wanting to be exceedingly friendly with the person assigned to guard her and make sure she did not escape.

The longer they were locked together in that tower, the more Lillian found that Kella slept, leaving the young woman alone with her thoughts. Few were good. The winter was harsh, food was coming up short, and her captive refused to eat enough. There were other thoughts, better thoughts, like dreaming of Orchy, of being home with her family. Or her mind drifting in a daze to imagine a pair of very intense blue eyes.

Sighing, realizing that the book in her lap has lost her attention yet again, Lillian set it aside to begin pacing the small space restlessly. How she would love to just get out for a long, fast ride through the hills and mountains surrounding this Ansgar forgotten pit of filth and depravity. Everytime she caught a glimpse of the mage camps it enraged her. Connlaothian citizens were being treated this way, mages or not, it was a disgrace.

The tireless gallop of his horse (well, not technically his horse) sent spirals of freshly fallen snow up and about him, a tiny little swirling blizzard around steed and rider as Aryn rode toward the distant gates of Fort Dhagh. Already the sun was beginning to set in the horizon, which meant that either he did this now, or hunkered down in the biting cold until the morning. Instantly that second option went out the window. He'd done enough of that for three years, and his ultimate prize was just so close.

Nearer the gate, a road materialized in front of him. He veered the horse down that path. The fortress had seemed small from a distance, but only now as he rode closer and closer did he realize just how immense the walls loomed, and just how high that central tower beyond shot into the sky. He didn't even want to think about what he found back there.

As he neared the gate, he heard shouts from above as half a dozen torches flared up. "HALT!" called the gate warden from atop his perch as he held up a firm palm to Aryn. Nearby, several arrows were nocked to their bows, pointing his direction.

Aryn took a deep breath. Time to see how convincing he was.

In his best impression of Blaith Harmond, Duke of Turgall, he puffed out his thick chest and called out, "OPEN THE GATE." When the gate warden made no move and made no reply, a look of incredulity on his face, Aryn swallowed down the lump in his throat and continued, "DON'T YOU KNOW WHO I AM? I'M DUKE BLAITH HARMOND. NOW OPEN THE BLOODY GATE!"

A small murmur went up from the men atop the wall. Was this man for real?

Seconds later, the portcullis were raised. It was but one man who stood before them, and one of noble blood. These meager soldiers were not trained to ignore the nobles, but neither did they know how to act before them. Most were simple soldiers, and definitely not from the upper class. For if they had been, most of them would have seen right through the man's lies, at least when they were close enough to get a good look at him. From what they did know about the duke, was that he was blonde, similar to the prisoner up in the tower, and it was enough to prove who he was by the color of his hair and fancy clothing that he whore.

One man even clumsily saluted him before apologizing.
"Sir," And then swiftly, correcting his word choice, "My Duke, what is it that calls you to our fort?"
Though he was not foolish, he knew well enough why. THe duke's sister was held captive here, and one of the men near him stole a glance towards the tower, as did a few others, before they all looked expectantly at the duke and awaited his response. After all, there was no call for alarm just yet-
and he was but one man, and there was an entire army of men inside this Fort. There was no way he could cause any sort of disturbance. And there were at least five men there at the gate alone.

So what could the duke want? To simply see his sister? Perhaps visit her in her prison? They could not deny him at least that.

"Don't be stupid," Aryn replied in the snarkiest I'm-better-than-you-I'm-a-Duke voice he could muster. "Kella Harmond is here, and I want you to take me to her immediately."

When nobody moved, he stood straighter, looming over nearly all of them and continued, "I SAID..."

One of the guards, the only one with the gall to interrupt a Duke, albeit a visiting Duke with no real power at this fort, hastily cleared his throat and replied, "I'm afraid that order can only come from the commander of this Fort. If you would be so kind as to wait for him to come down, I'm sure he will lead you to her himself."

Aryn's breath caught in his throat at being rebuffed. He knew coming in that this plan had so many holes in it that if it were a barrel of water it'd be empty by now. Besides, for all he knew, the commander had met Blaith Harmond before, and would easily call out his disguise. Still, he had to try.

With a scowl, he stepped forward and around the guard, much to the chagrin of the soldier. Upon protest, Aryn turned and replied, "Then go get him. He can meet me up there or not, but I'm going to see my sister now."

The guards all exchanged glances with one another before following after the 'Duke', while a handful of them rushed off to find the Fort commander. Aryn grimaced to himself. The time he had available to him significantly shortened.

***

Up the tower, outside of the barred wooden door of Kella's prison, came a knock. A hurried muffled voice drifted through the gap between door and door frame as the guard on the other side passed a warning to Lillian. "Psst! Look alive! Duke Harmond just showed up and is heading up now! Make sure everything looks perfect for him."

Lillian had still been pacing when there was a knock at the door, pausing she listened to the muffled message, eyes widening. Her heart skipped the moment she heard Blaith Harmond's name, and it began to hammer a wild rhythm in her chest. Duke Harmond was here? That...didn't seem right, and yet...

She seemed to stand there forever, frozen in shock and indecision, but really it was only a few moments. Quickly she darted for the side room where her armor lay in a neat pile. Curse it all where had the damn maid gotten to? It still enraged her that the woman had managed somehow to slip through her fingers like a ghost. There wasn't time to worry about that, though, as she quickly began suiting up.

Lillian Coleridge wasn't about to face Blaith Harmond in nothing but her soft breeches and quilted coat. No, she would stand before him as a Knight of the White Lily, especially considering he shouldn't be here. It didn't matter if she agreed with her post or not. That she thought Kella mostly harmless meant nothing. The woman was a prisoner by order of the crown and she, also by order, was here to see it stayed that way.

How had he even gotten past the gate? Bloody fools, all of them! Simple soldiers intimidated by a duke, no doubt. Well she was the daughter of a duke and Blaith bloody Harmond didn't intimidate her. She buckled her sword about her waist last, the only thing she did not wear was the helmet. Her long golden hair was braided into a bun, and she wished she had a mirror to check her appearance, but that thought only made her scoff. She was going to send him away, not have him for tea, it hardly mattered how she looked, save as a put together knight.

Stepping out of the side room she touched her breastplate subconsciously, the key to Kella's cell was secure on a chain about her neck. "Lady Harmond, you may wish to wake up. According to the guards outside your brother will be here any moment."

The fear in her eyes spoke volumes where words failed her, and the already pale colored woman paled even further and she felt all breath seem to evade her. Her vision teetered a moment as the crazy rush of what was to become of her once her brother set foot in this room had her heart nearly hammering, threaten to break outside of her chest. And it was only then she threw herself up from the bed and at the bars of her cell.

"Don't let him take me!" she pleased, blue eyes wide and wild with fear. "He'll kill me. Gods!" And tears shimmered across her gaze, a hand covering her trembling lips.

Lily could protect her? Right? The White Lily held laws here, the Fort held strength...
But a deep seeded fear tightened within her belly, chilling it to ice as she trembled all over.

"Please..." And a desperate hand reached out for hers.

Up and up the winding stairs Aryn went, followed by a gaggle of soldiers who, by now, had stopped protesting and were just pensively accompanying the 'Duke' on his journey. He kept that stern regal look about his features and kept his blazing green eyes staring forward, frowning slightly as he desperately thought of a way out of this rabbit hole. It had taken him all of five minutes to realize that his green eyes were a dead giveaway, and now tried to look past anybody who made eye contact, just in case.

It happened on several occasions, every time he arrived at a landing in the stairwell, or crossed a hall on his ascent. Each time he was stopped by a pair of perplexed guards, but quickly he circumvented them as if they were nothing to him. The trail of soldiers following him quietly grew larger and larger.

Finally, with a slight pant in his breath and a dampness in the silk shirt hugging his torso, he reached the top of the tower. The final guard was ready for him, and smartly saluted what he thought was Duke Blaith Harmond. After all, how was he to know better?

Before Aryn could throw open the double doors, a soldier's voice perked up from behind him. "Begging your pardon, your Dukeship," the soldier said hesitantly, "but it would be wise to wait for the Fort Commander here before going in. He's on his way now."

"I'm going in," Aryn replied hotly with the last of his patience. "The Commander can wait out here for me when I come back out, or he can piss off like the lot of you."

That language had the soldiers stunned into silence and before they could respond, the Ironhand strode forth around the corner and flung the doors open. The first sight that greeted him was a tiny little girl, hair golden as the sun. For a brief moment he had a perplexed look on his face, as though struggling to remember what Kella looked like. The shining armor draped over her quickly told him that she wasn't it though.

No, the one he was looking for stood behind her, behind a set of bars, trembling hands clutching the cold iron. She looked thinner and sadder than he remembered, but the flashing azure eyes and the softness of her features confirmed her identity even as his heart leaped into his throat and he froze, eyes staring.

"...Kella," he uttered softly.

Kella completely froze, those blue eyes widening like twin sapphires. And those they were glistening with tears of agony, the fresh tears that now blurred her vision and streaked her cheeks were of another kind as she felt herself gasping, lips moving but unable to speak.


Aryn.

How long had it been since she had last seen him? He looked so different, and in a flash of a moment, she had almost thought he could have been her brother. But it was obvious now who he was, and despite the clothing he now wore (which were more familiar than just the memories that they were owned by her brother...), and while she stared at him, she began to tremble, a hand cupping over her lips as she began to sob.

Lillian was taken aback by Kella's reaction to being told Blaith was coming. Why in Ansgar's name would she think that her twin brother would kill her? That was ridiculous. Obviously the poor woman was ill, something of the mind, perhaps. Being kept locked in a tower like this was enough to drive anyone crazy, she supposed. She opened her mouth to begin uttering soothing words, but the door slammed open and she turned her green eyes, burning with fury, to the doorway.

She again opened her mouth to speak, this time to berate Duke Harmond for just barging in like some common brute. The words faltered on her lips as her face settled into first confusion, then shock. Well now, this was not Blaith Harmond at all. For an instant, but only an instant, she felt disappointment, but shoved that away with a swelling indignation. Her hand flew to her sword, gripping the hilt but not drawing the blade.

"You sir, have two seconds to identify yourself and give good reason why I should not strike you down and throw your corpse from this tower." Bold words, he was rather large, wasn't he? There was not a flicker of fear in her green eyes, nor a waver in her voice as she spoke with authority.

Aryn stared his vibrant green eyes over Lillian and at Kella, frozen in place. He'd thought about this moment a thousand times in his head, but now that he finally was face to face with her he lost the ability to speak. Instead, he closed the door behind him.

Finally though, he did what he did best: talk loudly. "By Ansgar's fucking beard, you need to stop running away, Kella Harmond! You know how long I went around looking for you? Three years, three long miserable fucking years. I swear to Ansgar, next time I'm strapping you to my back with a rope!"

But his face could not hide his true emotions, and a wide smile spread across his face even as he exploded in his tirade. It didn't take a genius to see how happy he was to have finally found her. His heart pounded furiously in his chest as he stepped forward toward her.

It occurred to him that there was another body in front of him, blocking his way. The girl's angry demand registered a bit late in his head, resulting in him staring at Lillian for a second. When he finally understood it though, he frowned slightly and answered in a rough, "Don't worry your pretty little face about who I am, I'll explain it later."

He tried to slip around her, and was almost surprised when Lillian did not budge an inch, hand hovering dangerously over her sword. With another scowl he said, "Look, I'm getting over there one way or another, so... out of the way!"

"You seem to have mistaken me for someone else, Sir. I am Lillian Coleridge, daughter of Duke Micah Coleridge, and Knight of the White Lily. You are not allowed to be here, and I have given you more than fair warning. I'm sorry." Ansgar but she didn't want to hurt anyone. She hated this job, but it was her duty. The sword left the sheath with a metallic rasp as she brought it up before her defensively.

"Last chance, you're under arrest for impersonating a Duke and for attempting to aid in the escape of a mage. Surrender quietly and you won't be harmed until you've had a fair trial."

Aryn was just about to protest when she accused him of impersonating a Duke. Well, so much for that plan. Of course they'd station someone by Kella who knew what royalty looked like. Why would he even think that this plan would ever work?!

"Get out of the way girl," he finally replied to her with a scowl, though all he had on him was a little knife tucked into the back of his pants, which he did not reach for just yet. He had stashed his trusty axe under a fallen log before riding this way.  "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm just here for Kella. But if you keep fucking around you're going to regret it."

One look over Lillian and at the crying Kella had Aryn bristling. Of course she was crying - she was always crying - but it dawned on him then that she'd been locked away in this tower for Angsar knew how long. Just like the rest of the mages in this camp. He didn't particularly like or trust mages himself, but Kella was different. His scowl for Lillian deepened.

"Fair trial, eh? Like how all these mages are getting their 'fair trial' before being tossed into this shithole? That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. Your Duke father must've dropped you on your head when you were young. Now move it."

Kella finally was able to stutter through a breath, for she was too stunned to say much more than his name. But her sniveling soon returned as tears streamed down her face as she tried to move forward towards the bars, but with a soft gasp, she banged her leg off her own bed that was in the way.

Lillian bristled at the thread, but what really made her green eyes burn was when he mentioned her father. "Don't you dare talk about my father. He's the greatest man in Connlaoth, and if it weren't for some morons supporting Calent, he would be sitting in the Capitol now and none of this would have had to happen."

The words were bitten out bitterly. She didn't have a choice in who she served, Calent had been the one elected, and her oaths were taken to the crown. The mystery man in front of her was right about one thing, nobody in these camps got a fair trial, not a single one. He wouldn't either, as soon as he was subdued.

She tensed and began to move, her intention was to swing into a fighting stance her brothers had taught her, but the sound of Kella's leg banging against the bed made her flinch and turn her head to examine her prisoner.

By all accounts, it looked like he was in for a fight. Sure, this girl was small. But she was well-armored, and had that long sword of hers. All he had was a small knife and his fists.

Well, one of the fists was made of solid iron.

The loud bang emanating from Kella's cell had even Aryn wincing at it, for it sounded like that really hurt. The knight of the White Lily turned her head briefly to investigate though, and Aryn saw a small opening. Quickly taking a step forward he swung his heavy right arm, an iron prosthetic hidden under sleeve and glove, at the girl's pretty blonde locks.

Lillian wasn't stupid by any account, but turning her eyes away from Aryn for any reason had been pretty dumb. She realized her mistake a moment too late, because just as she was turning her head to face him again something heavy collided with her skull. The girl hadn't even seen what struck her before she collapsed to the floor heavily in a heap face-down, sword clattering as it fell from her hand.

Her hands were twitching slightly, but her eyes were rolled into the back of her head, and blood began matting her fair hair, some dripping onto the floor. Her breathing was steady, the injury not fatal, but certainly would be painful when she regained consciousness.

It all happened faster than she could find herself, and as soon as he swung at Lillian, she gasped seconds too late. And the words "Don't!" couldn't even make it out of her lips. And there she remained, half clutching onto her iron bed frame, peering at the crumpled form of Lillian Coleridge in wide eyed shock.

As Lillian crumpled down to the ground, Aryn stood over her, unsure of what to do for a split second. It'd been a while since he had struck a woman and he certainly didn't enjoy it. Especially not when they fell to the ground so unceremoniously like this one had done. Had he killed her? Slowly he looked up at Kella through the bars of her cage, also in a state of disbelief.

Soon he regained his sense of purpose though, and quickly dropped down to rummage around her armor for the key to her cell. It wasn't at her side, nor was there any sign of a ring of keys anywhere on her. With a frown he muttered, "Where are you, you stupid key?"

He flipped Lillian over then, but instead of spotting the tiny metal key on a chain around her neck the first thing he noticed were the shallow breaths coming out of her unconscious lips. She was still alive.

"Shit," Aryn said aloud as he reached for the sword that she had dropped. Better finish the job now and end her life than to have her wake up and try any funny business.

"Aryn!" she sputtered, clutching the bars breathlessly. "Don't! Please don't kill her!" And new tears formed upon her eyes, causing their blue color to shimmer.

Aryn looked up, sword stopped at the fallen knight's throat. "What? The moment she wakes up, she'll bring this whole camp down on us!"

He saw the pain in her eyes though, and grumbled slightly to himself. Ever since he met her, he had become soft. Not especially useful for a baseborn sellsword like him.

Luckily, upon looking back down, the gleam of a small metal key caught his eye. With a triumphant yell he let the sword clatter to the ground before roughly yanking the chain from around Lillian's neck. It took a few moments of fumbling for him to insert it into the keyhole, but finally he heard it click and threw the metal door wide open.

"Aryn..." those soft blue eyes pleaded. "Please, she is no enemy. She is simply doing her job."

And when he dropped the sword, she released her held breath,a nd when she saw what he had found, her eyes widened as she braced herself, and the moment the door was swung open, she was so stunned, she found herself simply staring at the opening dumbly. And she was so startled by everything that had come to be, she swore she could have fainted, but somehow, as she felt her legs go loose, she gripped onto Aryn, and it helped shake her out of her almost swoon.

"Gods, Aryn," she said, clinging to him tightly as she embraced his large form. "I never thought I'd see you again." And as she pressed herself to him, he'd be able to feel her tears slip down her face, before her flesh suddenly touched his neck...

Being this near to Kella almost felt surreal to Aryn as well. Three years... those three years had been long ones, full of disappointment, pain, blood. As she embraced him, he felt a lump in his throat and threw his own arms around her tiny frame, feeling the warmth of her body.

He'd almost forgotten about her deadly touch, and was almost surprised when her skin touched his neck and immediately sent an agonizing pain shooting down his body. His face screwed up at the feeling and unconsciously he let go of her, reflexively taking a step back -- and promptly tripped over Lillian's prone body, crashing to the ground beside her.

Kella gasped and watched in fear as her touch had it's usual affect upon her unsuspecting victim, and soon she dropped down beside him, apologizing as her eyes filled up with tears again.
"Aryn! I'm so sorry! I... I..."
Had she forgotten her own curse? Her face wrinkled in pain and shame. If only she hadn't been born a twin... born cursed...

Aryn groaned in pain as he lay on the floor where he fell, his face contorted in a grimace, his eyes closed. He could still feel the residual agony tingling his every being. Somewhere in that groan though, an awkward laugh bubbled up. This was the Kella he remembered, curse and tears and all. At the very least, that jolt confirmed that he'd found her.

"By Ansgar I missed you, Kella," he managed to gasp out, feet still basically heaped over Lillian's unconscious body.

Despite the awkwardness, and the evident pain he was in, and the guilt that clenched her gut, she too, found a rare smile tugging at her lips from where he lay.
"I'd say I don't believe you, but I know better." Her smile grew sheepish then before she daintily, and most hesitantly, stepped near him and offered him a gloved hand.
"Here, let me help you up." ANd as she tucked back some blonde curls,s he blushed, adding, "And no worries about the touch. I... the gloves will keep you safe."

Her hand invited a bit of hesitation on his part, but eventually he reached out and took it anyway. Once back on his feet, Aryn immediately peered down at her, maneuvered to an angle that afforded him a bit more safety, and tightly embraced Kella again. "You best believe it," he mumbled into her hair, which was longer than he remembered. They'd both changed so much.

After a moment he pulled back a bit and stared down at the unconscious girl at their feet. "What do we do about this?" he asked. "I'm still saying that letting her live is trouble."

Kella's breath caught in her throat.
"No," she said, placing a hand against his arm. "She doesn't deserve that."
And she frowned, biting her lip as she thought over what to do. "We could leave her... we'd be out of here before they could wake her."
The army didn't have magic after all, or so she believed.

"Fuck," Aryn suddenly exclaimed. In his excitement over finding Kella, he'd completely forgotten about the gaggle of guards waiting outside for him. Not to mention the commander of this prison fort.

"I, ah... didn't really think this plan through, to be honest," he said to her. "How do we get out? They're waiting out there for me. They think I'm your brother."

He glanced down to Lillian again with a frown. The blood would leave a stain on the stones that would be difficult to remove.

"What if you took her armor?"

Kella was taken aback.
"Take her armor? But I... I couldn't!"
It was shame her and humiliate her! And she knew Lillian Coleridge had never meant to harm her- it was only her job....

But what could they do? Peering over at the door she felt herself beginning to sweat. Was there really no other way?

Aryn knelt beside Lillian. With a firm finger he gave her a nice hard prod.

"I could take her sword and maybe fight our way out?" Of course, the moment he said it, he knew that plan was doomed for failure. No way he could outfight a handful of trained guards. After all, he was little more than a mongrel who learned his craft on the road.

"I... I don't know. Looks like you might fit it though," he said, as he started tugging at straps.

Kella visibly cringed.
"Even.. even if it did I... I don't know if I could pass as Lady Coleridge. I... I wouldn't even know what to do to pretend to be a knight of the white lily." To her, those sorts of soldiers always seemed to come from another world.

Aryn had to laugh at that. He'd managed to unstrap half of a bracer, but gave up on the rest of it when he realized doing it with one hand was next to impossible. Instead he sat back on his haunches and looked up at Kella.

"I don't even know what a Light Lily Knight is," he said with a shrug. Probably some secret sect of mage hating knights, not that he trusted mages much either. In fact, Kella might have been the one mage he could tolerate being near.

His face turned solemn for a moment. "We might have to fight our way out then, unless you have a better idea."

He bit his lip.

"And if we do, I... ah... might need you to touch a few people."

Kella's only response came as a fearful, open mouthed gape. Then when words and wit finally returned to her, she shook her head and down cast her eyes, which were now clouded with more fresh tears as she blinked them.

"N-no, we ... we couldn't possibly fight. There's an entire army here."
They'd be killed!
And as her frown deepened- she realized the only possibility of them ever hoping to get out was...

"Help me remove her armor."
At least she could say she died trying. And Aryn had come all the way out here to save her. They at least had to try.

Aryn cracked a wide smile at that, and went right to work. It took him a while but finally he was unable to unstrap the unconscious Lillian's left bracer.

His eyes remained on his work, not looking up. But some moments later he said, "Look, Kella. If we get into any trouble, I have a horse just up the hill from the main gate. You get there and ride off, and don't look back."

Kella went quiet after his words. Such a commanded made her halt whatever she was doing as she looked up at him.
"Aryn..."
How could she leave him behind after he went through all of this trouble to try to rescue her?

Aryn looked up to meet Kella's piercing blue gaze. It was as if he could read her thoughts, the way his face showed his firm resolve.

"I came all this way to get you out of this place, and I'll be damned if I fail at that. Now let's get this armor onto you eh?"

He gave another apologetic look to the unconscious Knight, but continued undoing the straps of her armor. Another bracer soon came loose.

Kella too, gave a sympathetic gaze down to Lilly's form before she, with the aid of Aryn, slipped her into the armor.
"If we get caught doing this, I'm going to be hung twice," she said, releasing a nervous laugh as she looked over at Aryn.
"How do I look?"

Aryn took a step back to assess Kella. The armor was a bit big and clumsy on her, but that was to be expected, seeing as she was so slender to begin with. Otherwise she might have passed for a knight, if not for those fearful doe eyes of hers. He'd forgotten just how blue they were.

He couldn't help but grin. "I liked you better when you had that pretty white dress on. But I guess this'll have to do."

One look down at Lillian brought a grimace to his face. The unconscious girl had been unceremoniously stripped down to her breeches and smallclothes. "Let's toss her into the cell. At least there's a bed for her to sleep it off."

Kella shuffled around in the armor to get a feel for it, but each clunky sound it made had her wincing.
"This is so heavy. I'm afraid I won't get too far in this if we'd have to run," she admitted, and bit her lip as she too, peered down to Lillian's form. It was then tears welled up in her eyes as she found herself whispering, "By God, Aryn, you have no idea how good it is to see you. This feels so strange, so surreal... like a dream." Considering she'd never considered in all of her life that she'd be hauling the unconscious form of Lillian Coleridge into her cell! But there she was, clumsily helping Aryn,a nd trying ot be careful not to touch her. Though the armor did cover much of her skin- she was very thankful of that.

"If this is a dream, then I hope we never wake up," the Ironhand grunted slightly, with a crooked smile to Kella. He could hardly believe it himself. Three years.

It felt strange to be lifting the unconscious and barely clothed knight off of the ground, but Aryn did so anyway. With rushed carelessness, he practically dumped Lillian onto the bed. Looking down at her now, he frowned slightly.

"Why would they have her guarding you? Shouldn't they have some gigantic brute, someone who could really hurt an intruder, y'know? Not a little delicate flower."

Kella felt her cheeks heat and her heart flutter.
But after they managed to get Lilly into the cell, she apologized in a whisper to the woman before peering up at Aryn.

"We are both of nobility. They thought it was only fitting, and she- an adhara. They wanted as much anti-magic protection as they could get." Frowning even more, she then added, with some thought, "Perhaps they thought this tower was enough to keep heroes and men, out."

Aryn blinked. He knew (sort of) what adhara were supposed to do. "She's no adhara. I still felt your touch. If she was adhara, wouldn't it take your magic away?"
Or at least that's what he thought...

"Well... it's.. something like that," Kella went on. "The mordecai should be able to do that too, but it seems such powers really never affected me." Then again, she had never been physically touched by one, but the soldiers and knights weren't taking any chances.
"It was why... why harboring such a power was kept secret. It.... it's a fluke really, a curse. Whatever it is that I and my twin brother have.... It's worse than magic."

"So, if you touched her, nothing would happen?"

Perhaps it was the wrong thing to suggest at the time, given the need for them to escape and all. But he was curious. "You should touch her. See what happens."

Kella blinked and then flinched back in fear at such a suggestion.
"A-aryn.. I, I couldn't!" And she stole a shameful look towards Lilly. "She's been so kind to me here.... I.. I wouldn't want to hurt her any more."

"Would you hurt her though?"

It was a serious question, though it occurred to Aryn that Kella had already lived a lifetime of fear. He knew firsthand the ramifications of feeling the touch of her skin. Perhaps it was the wrong thing to suggest.

"Look, I was just kidding," he said, biting his lip. "I just thought, y'know... maybe if you two made contact it would take your problem away. I know, it was a stupid thing to suggest."

He felt as if he was digging a deeper hole for himself, so instead he glanced to the door. "Or I guess we can just get out of here and figure it out later."

Kella felt a fluttering in her pounding heart before she peered over at Lilly's strewn form. It was only then that she realized there might be some form of hope to repress her powers by just one little touch....
But even as she was tempted to oblige their curiosity, a knock came to the door.

"Duke Harmond? May we come in? We have brought refreshments for you and your sister."

Kella held her breath and turned wide eyed to Aryn. Oh no! What should they do?

Aryn also nearly choked on his own words. He met Kella's frightened gaze with his own unsure one before looking over to the door. At least now they knew the guards were waiting outside for them.

"Leave it!" he shouted, perhaps louder than he should have. "Kella's asleep, and I'm trying to talk to her guard!"

It occurred to him then that he didn't know the Knight's name. He shot Kella an awkward grin before glancing to the unconscious Lillian. Was he supposed to know who she was?

There was a moment of silence before the man behind the door spoke again.
"Very well, it is also our duty to inform you that once the General has been notified of your presence, he will be here to see you. He shouldn't be long. I'm sure he'll be more than happy to answer any questions, should you have any, my duke."

"Shit," Aryn muttered to himself, though likely he muttered it loud enough for Kella to hear.

Looking at her, he said "Does this general know who your brother is? If not, we might still be able to make it."

If so, we're fucked, he thought.

Kella opened her mouth, then closed her lips and gave a defeated nod.
"Yes.. yes he does."

"Of course he would," Aryn complained as he stepped away from Lillian and toward the open door of the cell. "Why would I even THINK that I was lucky?"

He was dying to see the effects of Kella touch the adhara, but there were more pressing matters. Quickly, he retrieved Lillian's dropped sword. Just one more thing they were stealing from her.

"Let's go now. If he shows up in the hallway, at least I can fight him there, maybe give you time to slip away."

Kella's heart fluttered with fear, and in an instant,s he got an idea and turned to Aryn.
"What if you requested to meet with the General? Lead the guards back down and I could sneak out just after you? Although... I'm not sure how we could lose the guards." She bit her lip. This was crazy, all of it was crazy, and she had no idea how they'd even make it out of here alive.

Aryn instantly knew that was a better idea than anything they were doing. He also knew that it significantly diminished his chance of getting out of this place alive. But his choice had been made the moment he went through with this plan. Besides, all things considered he'd led a full life.

"You stay here, pretend like you're a... Knight of whatever. Act like her. I'll go draw them away."

With that, he walked over to the chamber door, banged on it a couple times, and shouted, "Tell the General I'm coming down to meet him. Have him in the courtyard in five minutes!"

Kella's heart was in her throat as she heard the guards behind the door oblige. She peered up at Aryn, fear in her eyes as she took his hand into her now gloved one and squeezed it as she leaned in close.
"I love you, Aryn,"s he found herself whispering as tears threatened to spill down her face. "We'll find a way to get out of here."
But even as she said it, she could see herself being cut down as they tried to run.
What were they doing? They were both going to die.

Aryn felt a pain in his chest at the sight of her, and the thought that this might be the end. Drawing her near, he pressed a rough kiss down atop her head and held her close, muttering, "I want to be hearing that again once we get out of this mess, y'hear? Don't give up hope yet. Don't you dare."

He clutched her tightly to his chest for one long moment before finally looking down at her and grunting out a pained, "I love you."

And with that, the door was thrown open and he was out the door. "YOU," he said in an irritated voice. "Show me to the General."

As he held her tight, she clung back, finding hot tears rolling down her cheeks.
"Aryn..."
And then he confessed his feelings and she felt her heart flutter. She gave a nod and turned to where he approached the door, then once he was outside of it, only then did she expel a breath.

Outside the men began to lead Aryn down the long stone staircase that spiraled up through the tower's middle. At the bottom, things were growing pretty active, and it seemed more guards were on duty. And it was after she waited for twenty minutes or so did she allow the door to creak out- and upon seeing no one outside in the stairwell, she turned back to peer into the room and over at Lilly's strewn form. There was a lump sealed inside her throat as she whispered back to her form, "I'm sorry." Before making her way down the steps."

Aryn dared not turn around and look at Kella, despite the fact that he possibly may have seen her for the last time. He had a role to play though, and he played it perfectly as he glowered at the guards escorting him down the spiral staircase. None of them actually noticed that the 'Duke' had acquired a new sword at his side, one that looked suspiciously like the sort to have been forged in a castle armory and commissioned for a highborn girl.

Reaching the ground level, the guards quickly ushered him forward and out the tower entrance into the courtyard. The fort itself stretched for some distance, and so it took more than a few minutes for them to cross the expansive yard to where an older man stood, back to him, with a small retinue in tow.

"General, I present Duke Blaith Harmond of Turgall," one of Aryn's watchful guards announced.

General Serenus was a well known man, and every Duke would have known him- considering he had worked for the Grand Duke well before he was elevated in his status. So when the man turned around and studied Aryn over critically, he gave a nod to his soldiers and said, "Let me speak to the Duke alone."

Once the soldiers obliged, the General's gaze when to Aryn, and for the longest time, he said not a word.
"So... who are you really? Clearly you are not the Duke of Turgall, but none of this men would know it. What is your real name and your purpose here? And be careful of your choice of words, sir, for they could seal your fate."

Aryn had known the General would recognize him for the imposter that he was. That part didn't bother him much anymore.

He hadn't been prepared for a man taller than he. It took the Ironhand a moment to regain his senses, before a frown creased his brow. His fate had been sealed the moment he left Kella to come down here and face the General. He could only hope that she got out, and escaped.

With as much arrogance as he could muster, Aryn sneered at the General and said, "Look at my fancy clothing and my fancy sword. Obviously I came here to have tea with you and then dance in your ballroom. What, is that too much believe? Do your worst."

Hopefully he occupied enough of this General's time for her to slip away unnoticed.

The general kept an even, but amused gaze on Aryn.
"You're lucky there aren't any nobles here among my ranks. You'd have been sniffed out at the gates." And here he chuckled as he went on, "There are no ball rooms in a fort, by the way. But nice try."

With a sigh, he leaned back into his chair.
"Now I've only got a few options for you, you either give me your name and we can proceed with having you judged, which..." He sighed, "In your case,w ill probably lead to a hanging, and a flogging before that. Now...t he other option is to simply toss you into the camps with the rest of the mages here, since you seem so eager to get into this Fort. Might as well put you to work. Oh... and by the way, I don't take kindly to those who mock their betters. You should rethink your plans next time you ever want to pose as a noble."

And then he paused and looked the man over.
"What are you really here for? Gun powder? The duke's sister? My own head? Perhaps that of another?"

However, he noticed something stirring in Aryn's eyes when he had mentioned Kella. And he gave an even chuckle as he kept his gaze locked to the iron hand's.

"So you're here for Lady Kella. I'm afraid your trip was in vein. She is protected here, you can see that. Her power is dangerous, and I will refuse to let her fall into the wrong hands."

Aryn's eye twitched the moment Kella's name was brought up, and he scowled deeply at the General. A knot twisted in his stomach briefly, knowing that the man before him essentially held the key to his future. He'd faced death before, but this was something different.

"Protected?" he spat in retort. No use pretending like he was a noble now. This General clearly saw through his disguise to what Aryn really was -- a baseborn rat. All pretenses flew off of the Ironhand as he pointed an accusing finger at the seated man.

"Locking her in a tower, all miserable and alone with a little girl guard parading around with a big sword like she's a Duchess? You call that fucking protection? Call it what it really is, a prison. Call this whole fort a fucking prison, and yourself warden. Why don't you pin a badge to your chest while you're at it?"

His scowl deepened. Every word that came out of his mouth brought him closer and closer to a hanging. "You ain't protecting her. You're probably keeping her for your own use, or for whoever the fuck pulls your strings."

General Serenus gave a cool laugh, his eyes never once leaving Aryn.
"You can voice your opinions as much as you want, but at the end of the day you'll be outside these gates and very far away from here. Now I'm giving you a chance to walk away without making a mockery of yourself. But well.. perhaps you already have." And that cool chuckle came again.
"But I digress, I'm a busy man and for what treason you've committed I could see you hang. In fact, I don't know why I'm even wasting my time here. Perhaps it's the weather getting to me in my old age, or the length of this war, but be out of my fort now, or there will be consequences."

Aryn had an insult all prepared, but instead his jaw dropped.

"Are you serious? You're just going to let me walk out of here."

Not that he was complaining. But he had never seen this sort of governance before. Frankly, he was surprised they hadn't thrown him in a cell yet.

"Look, you're just one man, and this winter is to be tough. For whatever reason, you've traveled all the way here. If it was to see Lady Kella..... I suppose I could let you see her one more time before you go. But after that, if I see you inside my Fort again..." and he gave Aryn a warning glare before rising from his chair.

Aryn's mouth gaped for a good moment before he consciously slammed it shut. Maybe Ansgar really was smiling down on him today.

The offer to see her one last time was tricky though. If he went back up there... well, they'd find out his treachery. And then he really would never see Kella again. But if that extra little diversion meant that she had more time to escape, then he had to take it.

Resolutely, he nodded his head with a scowl. "Fine, I'll play by your terms. You leave me be while I go talk to her. In private. Otherwise maybe you will see me again."

"Are you trying to barter with me?" The General asked, and laughed. Though it was hard to tell if it was out of amusement or irritation.

Aryn bristled slightly, though he didn't have any reason to. His life was already in this man's hands.

"I guess I'm not," he answered begrudgingly. "I'm going to do what I came here to do, is all."

And with that, he turned and started heading back toward the tower.

The General sat in his chair for a moment before sighing and rising to his feet. He couldn't just let the man cause a ruckus. What he had done...
It could already cost him his job- if not his life.

Though as he moved to step outside of the door, he halted dead in his tracks as he watched the White Lily guard come rushing up to Aryn's side.



Tears filled her blue eyes as she looked up at him. But she knew what he'd be thinking, and before he could yell at her, she took his hand and whispered, "Run."

Snow had begun to fall again when Aryn stepped out into the cold bleak courtyard of the Fort. How was he supposed to get out of this mess now? There looming across the way was the tower, up those stairs an unconscious (and soon to be irate) Knight of the White Lily laying in the bed meant for a prisoner. If he went up those stairs, he likely wouldn't come down them again.

It was to his surprise, then, when the tiny armored figure rushed up to him and snatched up his gloved with her gauntlet. Why was she still here?

Aryn was stunned for just a brief moment, and glanced over his shoulder at the old General standing in his doorway.

"SHIT," he said, and then made a dash for the gates, practically dragging Kella along with him. Already, shouts emanated from the tower.

To say the General was shocked was an understatement, but as he stood in the door way, watching the pair rush off in the fluttering snow, he found himself mute, and glued to the ground.

Kella wasn't about to question it as she continued to run, breath trailing behind her in a long stream of white breath. She could have cried, perhaps she was, but as they neared the gate, the men all shouted, demanding what was wrong.

"Open the Gates!" Kella shouted, finding a voice within her stronger than she could contain. "The Duke he... he can not remain here!"
And quickly she thought of the reason, and bellowed out, "If he remains, the dangerous curse on his sister will awaken!" And she paused, furrowing her brow before shouting, "Open the gates... NOW!"


And it all moved like a dream, the echoing fade of her voice, the silence that followed, then the slow heavy clicking as the gate lifted. And when she saw it, the world on the other side, she didn't think about anything else but run.

The power with which her voice carried through the wind surprised even Aryn, and he had to stop for a moment to stare at her. The armor. It had to be the armor empowering her. Yeah, that was it.

The gates slowly crawled open before them, revealing the muddy path leading away from the Fort and into the distant hilly woods. His stolen horse was still up there, and surely it was sturdy enough to carry the two of them to safety. If only the portcullis would open faster.

"Hurry up with the damn gate!" he shouted up at the guards, trying to echo Kella's voice. Somehow, he was still surprised by how authoritative she had been. "I'm fucking freezing here!"

From behind them a faint shout echoed across the courtyard as the first of the guards burst out of the tower.

The portcullis was only halfway up, but that was good enough. Snatching up Kella's hand again, he yanked her toward the gate and literally tossed her to the other side before ducking his way past.

Kella, surprised by the actions, found herself nearly eating snow. She managed to catch herself, however, and peered over at Aryn and couldn't help herself but break out a smile, as tears began to glitter within her eyes.

And as she heard the voices from behind them, all she could do was whisper the words, "Run."

He didn't need her to say it twice. As soon as she said it, Aryn nodded and sprinted with her down the muddy path, the clanking of her armor barely audible above his heavy breaths.

From behind he faintly heard someone's voice shout, "THE PRISONER'S ESCAPING! THAT'S NO DUKE!" He couldn't tell if it was that old geezer of a general, or someone else.

The first arrow whizzed past him and buried itself in the snow.

Kella shrieked when an arrow sunk too close to.their heels, and it was only fear that kept her tears at bay. All she could do was run. All she could.do, was pray.

Arrows continued to rain down around them, but eventually they came less frequently and farther back. They'd ran out of range. The shouts still echoed in the distance.

They slogged up the hill through muddy snow, until they crested it to find his horse, still tied up against the tree and snorting out little wisps of smoke. "I stole your brother's horse," Aryn admitted breathlessly as he helped Kella up into the saddle. "Quick."

He could see several figures in the distance, and they were rapidly approaching. From this far, they looked like horsemen, but he couldn't be sure.

Kella looked at him with wide eyes. More than fear and shock had shown. But what could she say? He risked so much just to save her, and all she could manage to mutter through puffs of white breath was, "Thank you."

"Thank me when we fucking get out of here," Aryn mumbled through the cold air as he tried to hoist himself up behind her, onto the horse. It was surprisingly difficult how having only one arm hindered his ability to mount the beast, and it wasn't really giving him much help by shuffling restlessly.

It took a third try, and an angry, "Stay still, you stupid animal!" before he finally managed to get into the saddle. The plates of her stolen armor dug into his torso, but he ignored the pain as he wrapped a metal arm firmly around her and snatched up the reins.

Down the road they galloped, through trees and snow, in an indeterminate direction. It was hard to tell which way they were going, but he knew two things.

They were riding away from the fort. And the clacking of hooves behind them had grown louder. The soldiers were gaining on them.

"We might have to stop and fight them," he said grimly into Kella's ear.

Kella grit her teeth, eyes teary from the wind.
"Just keep on riding," she told him. "Just keep riding."

Aryn nodded and ducked his head down over her shoulder, digging his heels into the horse to urge it ahead.

Two riders weighed heavily on the beast, and though it valiantly slogged through the snow, it wasn't long before the other riders caught up. Three of them.

"STOP!" came the shout of one. "IN THE NAME OF GENERAL SERENUS, I COMMAND YOU TO STOP!"

Kella found herself sobbing, a reaction only added by the winds.
"By Angsar... Aryn..."
What should they do? It seemed as if they hadn't a choice now. But if they were to just be caught, to surrender....

She couldn't risk it. If anything, she knew Aryn would at least lose his life. Her own was of little consequence now. Not when she owed this man so much.

Aryn continued riding, eyes focused ahead even as one of the riders pulled up beside them. The man kept his distance though, probably so as not to hurt the valued prisoner.

The Ironhand gave the man a sidelong glance and shouted, "Piss off!" before turning forward again. They rode a bit longer, before finally he let out a growl and gave the reins a hard tug. Their horse whinnied loudly and skidded to a stop, amidst the other three.

The men surrounded them, and with blades raised, they demanded, "Dismount from your steed and surrender!"

And it was then Kella knew it was the end. They were between a rock and a hard place, or rather, between three armed, horsemen and one steep mountain side to their back. And she knew then that at this moment, it was the end.

A warm tear bubbled within her eyes. And as the pair had a great stare off of aggression, she did the only foolish thing she could think of in hopes of saving them-
As she slipped off her glove and touched the horse's side.

"Don't fucking come any closer, or I'll knock your heads in!" Aryn shouted even as he wrapped a protective arm around Kella. Not that it would do much good -- there were three of them, and only one of him. They began closing in.

The first thing Aryn noticed was the look of shock on each one of the men's faces. For a brief moment he wondered what might have caused them such alarm, but that was quickly answered when their horse bucked violently beneath them. His head snapped backwards and stared up into the grey sky, momentarily confused as to what was up and what was down.

Somewhere in his backward fall he lost his grip around Kella. A moment of panic set in, followed by a further sensation of his gut rushing up into his mouth. And then the horse and its two riders both disappeared off the side of the cliff, crashing into the snowy slope far below as they tumbled down into the mist-filled ravine.

The pain was unimaginable, but it was not that which hit her first. For despite the pain of the fall, the ache of the winter had captured her and she felt frozen. Blood had stained her, frozen into place, and it took just about every ounce of her energy to push herself to her knees.

By then, she was shaking, her entire form trembling from the exertion. Fear, pain, the cold....
For a moment, she felt lost... alone, and tried to piece together what had happened. And when she recalled it, she released a soft gasp and began to look around. Pain aside, she had to find Aryn. And quickly, her blue eyes searched for him.

Aryn slowly awoke to a biting cold, a blurry fog, and a pounding head. He tried sitting up but found that his body refused to move at all. Everything spun around him. There was an odd metallic taste in his mouth. Blood.

When he finally found the strength to sit up, he immediately found the world spinning again. With a groan he placed a hand to his head. It came away tinged in red, from the nice long gash somewhere in his scalp, bloodying his blonde hair. Little icicles of snow clung to his beard.

"Kella?" he called into the mist. Far up above he could hear the faint echo of shouting, but those voices seemed miles away. it felt as if they'd fallen miles into this snowy ravine, with only the good grace of Ansgar keeping him from dying. Their horse had not fared as well: its body lay some paces away from him, unmoving.

He tried to push himself up to his feet, but found surprisingly that his right arm simply wasn't there anymore. In the fall, his prosthetic had torn away at its straps, and was probably lost in the snow somewhere.

He heard her footsteps before he spotted her through the mist.

"KELLA!"

She felt her heart leap into her throat. And though her limbs felt brittle, she still managed to scramble over to him, eyes shining with the threat of tears.

"Thank the heavens you're alright," she said through a partial sob. "Oh, Aryn...." And she found herself hugging onto him tight. And though it hurt her, and she was sure it might hurt him (due to the fall, not because of her 'touch'), she did it anyways. She had to. She just had to.

To feel that this moment was real.

Her desperate hug elicited a slight groan from him, as the press of her body shot pain up his ribs. Certainly something was cracked in there, along with the dozen other injuries he probably sustained in the fall, most concerning being the incredible dizziness he felt, likely a concussion.

But none of that mattered as he fumbled to wrap his own arms around her armored form, the stump of his right arm desperately grasping at nothing. Small quick wisps of breath escaped his lips as he pressed her head against his chest and pressed a soft kiss atop her head. "That was such a stupid thing to do," he chided her, but only half-heartedly. To finally be reunited with her... he couldn't believe it.

"Let's get out of here before they come down for us," he suggested. It took him several tries to climb to his feet, and then promptly the dizziness took him over and he fell back down to his hands and knees.

Kella's blue eyes filled with concern.
It was only then she realized how lucky they were. Was it foolish for her to risk their own necks for this freedom? But she knew the truth...
Had they been taken in- they'd both be sentenced to death.


Aches and pains aside, she searched his form as he stumbled back into the snow. She too, was in too much pain to do much of anything and she grit her teeth as a sharp wind tore by.
"I'm sorry."

Aryn's teeth were chattering from the cold by the time he stumbled back to his feet. "Let's go," he mumbled, taking her gauntleted hand and pulling her slowly through the snow drift. They passed the dead horse, and he paused only briefly to pull his meager belongings from its saddlebags, before off they went.

The ravine went for Ansgar knew how far, and it snaked left and right more than once. The mist hung heavy above them, obscuring the cliffs above. The only way they knew they were still above ground was the snow that sprinkled down upon them.

By the time they finally reached an opening in the ravine, which opened up into a valley, the sky was beginning to darken. One good thing came from it all though, not a single other voice could be heard. Maybe they'd escaped.

"It's getting so dark," Kella went on, teeth chattering. "Perhaps we should rest.. make a camp? Or do you... do you think they'd be so dogged as to chase us through the night?"
She felt fear grip her colder than the weather, and her frown deepened, perhaps giving her the first pairs of wrinkles ever in her life. But after such an ordeal, who wouldn't age? Even with her own magic working against it, to preserve her youth.

"We've been running for hours," Aryn replied numbly, his teeth also chattering. He could barely feel his toes inside his boots, nor his fingertips. It was almost like he had no arms. "We can't get caught out in this snow. They won't come after us at night."

Of course Aryn didn't know if that was true or not, but he didn't really want to think about it too much. It'd been one heck of a day, and what he said was true: they had to find shelter before the temperatures dropped anymore.

There was a small cave against the mountainside (more hole than cave, really). "There," he said, urging Kella forward. "We can bunker down for the night."

Kella's teeth were chattering as she nodded. They did need to rest. Their bodies had been through so much.
"Shall I... keep the armor on?" She wasn't sure how wise it was, to be wearing the metal in such freezing cold conditions. And it was uncomfortable. But it would, after all, protect Aryn from her touch.

"Keep it on until I get a fire going," he said through his own chatters as they ducked into the dark cave. It wasn't much, but at least it kept them out of the wind and snow. And as luck would have it, someone had been here before: a long-dead campfire lay at the end of the cave, perhaps several months old. There was still some wood left, but not enough.

"I'll be back real soon," he promised, and then out he stumbled. It was hard to tell how long he was gone, but by the time he returned it had fallen very dark. Aryn had a pile of twigs stacked under his one arm, and snow clung desperately to his beard and clothing.

By the time he had return, she could have thrown herself at him.
"Here! Let me help you. Oh.... look at you!" He was starting to look like a human icicle! Moving to collect the wood, she ushered him aside and as she peered around,s he breathed a sigh of relief that- for the moment, it was still snowing but the winds had died down.

For once, Aryn did not argue with her taking over. He stumbled dizzily to the side of the cave wall and sat down, shivering. Occasionally he touched his head, where the bloody gash had dried over, and frosted. More than a few times his hand found its way to the stump of his right arm, numbly touching it as he let Kella get the fire going.

The fire was growing hotter now and the place was beginning to get cozy, but the howling winds outside reminded her of their plight- and with the snow constantly falling, she just hoped it wouldn't bury them in. Turning to Aryn, it was only then she realized something was wrong.

"Your arm..." she looked from the vacant spot to his face. "Did you lose it in the fall?"

Aryn nodded numbly, his eyes trying to focus on her even as his head spun. At least the fire was taking some of the chill out of his bones, and he wasn't shivering as much as before. They really were lucky to have found this little cave.

"I was getting sick of it anyway," he said half-jokingly, trying to shoot her a small reassuring smile.

Kella looked up at him with a frown. She wasn't buying it.
"We can... get you a new one... can't we?" she asked softly.

Aryn nodded again. "Yes."

Of course, the how was a bit more difficult to answer, considering they were in the middle of nowhere, and hadn't any money on them. He knew one thing though, he felt half a man without it.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, trying to deflect the attention off himself. Not was it a superficial question; there was a genuine twinkle of concern in his eye as he noticed the blood staining her stolen armor.

At the question, she released a sigh and told him through a weak, tired and almost pained laugh, "Like I just fell off a cliff."
She shook her head before adding, "But you know what...?" And she moved to sit nearer to him, her smile growing. "I think that we shall both only come out stronger for it. It is not like every day you can tell someone you fell from such a high place and lived."

"If it's all the same to you, Kella," he said with a small grin, patting the spot beside him, "I'd like to not fall off anymore cliffs."

Her smile grew crooked as she looked up into his eyes, and moved in even closer to him, still being careful they did not touch- but she decided she liked winter. With all of their layers on....
It made things less awkward and more safe. And she truly enjoyed nestling in beside him.

Yes... it was worth the risk just for this- even if in the morning, perhaps they ought to die. But their survival was in Angsar's hands, but for now...
Her gloved hand found his. She gave it a squeeze.

For now, their fates were with each other.

"I knew I'd find you again," was the last thing he said that night.

The wind and snow picked up in the night, howling just outside their little makeshift shelter. The fire did not waver though. It stayed strong and vigilant throughout the night, only dying out moments before the first signs of light pierced the darkness.

Aryn awoke with a shiver and a pounding headache, and did not recognize his surroundings for a moment. It took a few seconds for him to come to his senses, feel the soft breathing of the figure nestled against his side. He went to move his arm forward and found that half of it wasn't there.

That really woke him up back to reality. Blinking twice, he peered over to the mouth of their little cave. Apparently it'd snowed heavily during the night: at at least a foot of the stuff piled up at the entrance.

Kella smiled warmly at that and nestled in even closer. Though she said something in return, she did not repeat it for she knew he was already asleep. And though it took her longer to do so, she was soon sleeping and awake around the same time he did. It was disorienting, that was for sure, but to see the fresh snow outside their little hide away made her smile.
"When I was little, I loved waking up in the morning to the fresh fallen snow." And it seemed the snow itself had let up. Only delicate flakes that fell from trees made their way to the ground.

"It gets in my beard," Aryn complained half-heartedly before climbing to his feet. His head still spun, but at least the blood had caked and dried enough for him to scratch at the side of his temple to get rid of it.

He trudged to the cave entrance and glanced out. Everything was completely white: the sky, the landscape, the ground. It was almost blinding. "Well, shall we head out into this wonderland?"

Kella smiled and quietly rose behind him. She felt stiff- for she had remained in the armor for the night, but she supposed it was that, plus her companion, that kept her warm through the night Everything hurt wen she went to move, and she found herself limping slightly as she stepped beside him.

"I think you look dashing wtih snow in your beard," she told him with a small smile.

Aryn shot her a small grin. "I don't hear that often, y'know. So... thanks, you're very sweet."

The snow seemed to have stopped for now, and the wind had died down. The landscape was serene and untouched, which meant nobody had come this far yet in search of them.

"I don't know which way we're going, but any way is better than here." Taking up her gloved hand, he squinted his eyes and stepped out into the light.

Kella flinched too, as she stepped out into the light. Her armor reflected like a mirror, making it even more difficult to see and she found herself releasing a breathy laugh.
"I can't see... the sun on the snow.. it's so bright!"

Aryn took one look at her and let out a loud cry, squinting. The light from the sun reflected directly off her armor and into his eyes!

"You're so bright," he complained as they trudged through the snow, leaving fresh tracks. "I might as well look directly into the sun."

She was shielding her own eyes as well and gave him a playful nudge.
"Stop it! I can't help it!" Her smile grew sheepish. "But even if it blinds us... at least it keeps us safe." And she squeezed his hand with her armored one, and felt a warm fluttering within her chest.

"Aye, that it does," he said in agreement, finally chancing a peek up into the sky. At least the sun was out -- it gave them a bearing. Pressing his stump of a right arm tight against his body, he returned the squeeze and led her across the snowy field and toward the trees.

"I'm just taking us north and east," he explained to her with a slight shrug. "I don't know where it leads though."

"North? East?" She gasped and stopped suddenly. "But that would have us trekking through the Kilanthros..." And those mountains,s he knew, were deadly. And with this winter...
she wasn't sure she wanted to risk it- even if she felt no soldier would, either.

Aryn was only aware she stopped when he hand pulled his back. He turned.

"Is that bad?" he asked, though the look on her face basically told him it was. "Should be try another way?"

She bit her lip, uncertainty shining in her eyes.
"I... I don't know." She dropped her gaze. "No where is safe."

Aryn shook his head resolutely. "Fuck that. I'm making it my job to find us a safe place. And if northeast doesn't do it... we'll go south."

He gave her arm a gentle tug and started off in a new direction. Surely there would be a village somewhere nearby. And who would dare harm an armored knight? Especially a White Lily?

Kella stumbled along after him. She still wasn't used to walking in this armor, and her body was still sore from the fall. But she knew they had to keep moving. This road would be the most difficult, and the most long. But to hear the determination in his voice gave her enough strength to move onward. They'd survive this. They had to. If the fall did not kill them, surely this road could not either.

It was hard to tell how long they trudged through the snow in silence, but by the time Aryn finally stopped for a moment, the sun (or what little of it peeked out from behind grey clouds) was in the opposite end of the sky. It must've been late afternoon.

"Kella, I don't actually know where I'm going, or if anything is even in this direction," he admitted, giving her an apologetic look. But that look quickly transitioned into a wide-eyed one as he peered over her head and off toward the treeline.

"Look, a path! That means people come through this way."

Kella perked up at the thought there was finally a hint of humanity out here in this snow filled land. They hadn't seen any shred of civilization since their escape- which, for a time, was a blessing, not a curse. But as the cold crept in and her limbs continued to feel sore and the armor was rubbing some of her skin raw, she was so thankful to see that path,s he felt some renewed energy as she moved forward much faster now.

"Perhaps... perhaps there shall be a town nearby!" she said, almost giddy in her desperation that she slipped a little in the slick snow, but seemed undeterred and kept moving forward with a new sense of urgency.

Aryn nodded his head numbly as he turned to her. The cold was starting to get to him, and missing his arm was taking a psychological toll on him. He felt so incomplete.

"Aye. We can't stay long but maybe we can warm up a bit, get some supplies, some food..."

Just the thought of it brought him some much needed energy. "Maybe they have bacon and eggs. I would kill for some right now!"

With a squeeze of her hand, down the path they went, just as the snow started to fall again.

The path seemed to go on for forever through the snow, and though no town had come into sight as they wove their way along the beaten snow path among hte trees, a caravan of travelers and the smell and glow of their campfire- did.

Halting in her tracks, she gave Aryn's sleeve a light tug.
"Look.... a fire. They look like travelers. I don't think they're soldiers," she whispered, shivering close to him as a cold wind cut through.

Aryn stopped with her, cold ragged breaths coming out in wisps. He was shivering too, and the fire looked very enticing. They didn't look like soldiers, that was true, but they couldn't get careless now.

"Keep your guard up, and pretend like you're helping me," he whispered into her ear, wrapping his one arm across her shoulders and leaning on her slightly before stepping out into view of the travelers.

Every single pair of eyes turned to the mismatched pair: what appeared to be a one-armed nobleman, and his Knight of the White Lily.

Kella didn't know the first thing about 'keeping her guard up'; but it didn't take a fool to realize what Aryn was suggesting. HOwever, before she could properly protest or ask for any sort of advice, all eyes were upon them and well- Kella simply froze.

Aryn felt Kella's body seize up the moment the eyes turned toward them. Guess he'd have to do the talking.

"It's been a while since we've seen friendly faces," he began, his voice coming out more hoarse than he'd intended. Guess he really was more tired and ragged than he thought. "We've been lost in the snow for days now, and we need food and shelter."

It took him a moment realize that he wasn't even lying. With snow everywhere, it was hard to keep track.

The eyes never left them as they continued to approach- but then one man returned from the wagon with a gun in his hands.

"Don't come any closer, understand? You're not the only one's trying to make it in this god forsaken wasteland."

The moment the gun showed itself, Aryn's heart leaped into his throat -- and he leaped in front of Kella.

"Are you fucking mad?" he growled angrily. "You'd actually shoot a woman?"

The man snarled at the two.
"As far as I've seen, White Lilies ain't no ladies. And would do a service for me if she were dead!"

"Like hell a White Lily ain't no lady," Aryn retorted hotly, more so than he had any right doing. AFter all, they were cold, starving -- and had a gun pointed at them. "She's as fine a lady as there could be! Well, maybe not as ladylike as you, but she's sure as hell more pretty."

There really was no arguing with the man with the gun, though. He remained in front of Kella, glaring at the group of weary travelers. "Fine, then tell us which way to town at least. We're lookin' for civilized folk."

"Ain't no town around here that would be happy to see either of you. You gotta give me a better reason than that not to pull the trigger!"

And by then, Kella had enough. She almost died after having believed she'd never see Aryn again. She wouldn't lose him again, couldn't lose him again as she pushed her way past him to stand infront.

"Please... I'm begging you, not as a knight of the white lily, for I am not, but as a victim of this war. We've traveled so far ... Escaped so much blood... Please....please..." Her blue eyes implored. "We're in the run... Fort Dhagh..It has fallen."

The man's fierce gaze hardly softened at her confession.
"Why should we believe you?"

"Because..." She went on, eyes full of tears and her lips, trembling. " Because I am a mage on the run, and I have nothing else to lose but him."

That second revelation seemed to enthrall the men into a trance, for they all stared at her blankly, trying to process what she'd just said. Even the man with the gun lowered it slightly, though it was still pointed directly at the two of them.

Sensing the tremble in her voice, Aryn stepped up behind her and slipped his one arm protectively around her waist, eyes glaring at the travelers.

The gunman asked again, "Why should we believe you?" but his voice held a little less conviction now. It was almost like he was trying to convince himself that they were lying to him. The man's eyes searched for some sign of untruth, and finally he asked hesitantly, "If you're not a White Lily, then why are you protecting a nobleman?"

To that, Aryn scoffed and said, "Man, does it fucking look like I'm a nobleman?!"

A small murmur rose up from the other men. Aryn had the clothing of nobleman, but he certainly would have fit in with this crew of travelers more than he would at a fancy ball.

"Please... we've come dressed like this in hopes to escape the fighting. We barely made it out alive... and if we're kept up here, they might find us and kill us." And in a sense, it wouldn't matter who was the one's dealing out the death. And at Kella's tears, that now streamed down her face, the man lowered his gun and swore.

"Shit. Well... if the army is coming this way..." ANd he turned to look at the others. "We all need to haul ass. To get movin'." And he paused, looking the pair over. "You can travel with us, have one meal, but your weapons.. hand them over. We'll give them back to you once we reach the other camp."

Kella only nodded, shivering, trembling as she murmured, "Thank you." And readily handed over whatever weapons she had and it was more than obvious she was no knight, for she had no idea how to remove the arms strapped across her body, and was just about to cry before turning to Aryn and asking for help.

It took Aryn some time to help Kella relieve herself of her weapons, since he only had the use of one arm. Still, he had more experience in that field, and soon the men had his axe, her sword, and everything else even remotely dangerous on their persons.

As the caravan men scrambled to gather up their belongings and untie their horses, Aryn looked down to his right arm, or the stump hidden underneath a long sleeve. "Can you tie this up for me?" he asked Kella finally, looking down. No sense in having fabric dangle from it, at least until he could find a replacement -- if he ever did.

It didn't take the men very long to pack up, and while they gave the two strangers wide berths and suspicious glances, soon they were off in a direction Aryn could only tell.

Kella had all but felt frozen in time during the moment. But Aryn's words sobered her, bringing her back as she moved forward to silently tie his limp sleeve closed.

Once she was done, she stared at it for a long time before lifting those blue eyes to him and looked deeply and questionably into his eyes. THose eyes spoke volumes more than words could, as it was evident she was thankful, apologetic, and grateful that the pair had survived, even to have a small moment like this.

No words needed to be said between them, and as she looked up at him, Aryn gently slid forward and embraced her tightly. Three crazy despair-filled years dropped away at this very moment. For the first time in a long time, maybe the two of them might have found some respite, fleeting as it might be. He still couldn't believe that he'd found her.

Their moment together shattered when the caravan leader (the same one who'd brandished the gun) shouted down to them from his horse, "We're getting out of here. Try to keep up!"

As they moved along, Kella kept close. These people were strangers, and though they surrendered over their weapons and they bought their story, (even as true as it were) again- they were strangers. And who could she trust but the man beside her?

Glancing down to where he was missing his limb, she pressed her lips together before lifting her gaze to him.
"I'll find a way to help you get a new one."

He shot her a small grin as they trudged through the snow, the tied sleeve pressed firmly against his torso both to keep it from dangling, and to conserve his body heat.

"Make sure it's not a wooden one. Those ones give splinters."

At that, she smiled and stole a kiss to his cheek, but immediately retracted, fearing the worse but hoping his skin was saved by the thick beard on his face.

Aryn froze uncertainly in place when she leaned in for a kiss, but thankfully his thick scruffy beard caught all of her lips, leaving his skin unharmed. A part of him wished she would've just kissed his face anyway. The pain would have been worth it, and he showed it by peering down longingly at her.

"And I'll get you some real clothing. Something nice, like that dress you had on. It was real pretty."

A thought came to him, and he couldn't help but grin. "Oh, we could turn this armor into a new arm! Boy, would that piss off the White Lily girl!"

Kella simply hugged on more tightly to his only limb and leaned into him.
"You don't have to get me anything. You've already given me the world."
And at the idea to use the armor to create him a new arm, she couldn't help but smile.
"SO I guess we won't be returning this?"

Aryn pressed his lips together and shook his head. "I don't think she'll be very happy to see me, honestly. I dinged her up pretty bad."

At that, she frowned.
"I hope she is alright."
And not too angry with them....
Oh, she prayed to Angsar Lily was alright!

Aryn gave Kella a wry grin.

"She'll be fine, she didn't become a knight because she was too delicate to be a flower. All I did was give her a gentle tap."

Gentle tap? She knew it was more than that to render the poor woman unconscious, but she said nothing further, just leaned in even closer to Aryn and said, "I'm just glad you came for me. I don't know where I'd be without you."

"Me too," Aryn replied, and pulled her closer to him as they trudged through the snow. It was still cold and the wind still bit at their skin, but at least it was easier to walk behind the horses as they created a path for them.

From the cart, one of the men looked over his shoulder and called out to them, "How far is the army behind us?"

Kella shivered as she thought over the posed question, still keeping close to Aryn.
"I.. I don't know!" she called over softly. "We managed to escape... barely. But there was at least a mountain between us."
All the reassurance that gave them made the man frown. He went on to talk to the others and Kella went back to pressing herself up against Aryn. She could only hope they'd find a place to rest up soon. And to eat. She still felt weak after that whole falling over the cliff ordeal.

And stop the caravan did, when the sun was just about to dip below the horizon. It was hard to tell how far they'd come, but they must have put at least some miles between them and whatever lay behind them.

"We're eatin' standing up, and movin' again once the sun drops," one of the caravan men told the two of them as he passed them some cold bread and salted meat, not enough to satisfy a person by any means but enough on which to subsist. Others in the group were doing the same, either readjusting the saddles of their mounts, or eating quickly in the saddle.

Aryn took the food and looked down at it before passing it over to Kella. "Eat up," he said quietly, taking the opportunity to stretch out his aching legs.

Kella did not hesitate to share the bread. And though it was dry and scratched on the way down, she cared little for her body craved it so. Once the bread was gone, she too, took the time to stretch and check over her own injuries. The bruises and cuts were bad, but she'd live. They both would live.


The caravan seemed to keep much to itself, but as they rested, the leader looked their way.
"So... you're from the camps? But i guess that much is obvious... and from your story..." he looked them over. "Who and where were you before they branded you as a dog?"

Aryn frowned a bit at Kella when she didn't eat all the bread he'd given her, but inwardly he was thankful for a bite. It took all of a second for him to cram it all in his mouth. The very taste of it would've made his mouth water if it wasn't already so cold and parched. But man, did that hit the spot.

When the caravan leader approached them, Aryn instinctively stepped closer to Kella. "She was in Vanille. Made a mean cake. But that was before the war, it don't matter what she is now. All that matters is she's alive."

The man turned to regard Aryn, looking him up and down. His noble's clothing was soiled from the journey, and he certainly had a vocabulary more vulgar than any nobleman would have dared use. "And you-"

"Her best customer," Aryn instantly blurted out.

The man snorted and challenged, "You mean her lover." He looked them both over before chuckling. "Now that's a truth I can smell half a mile away." And he glanced over at Kella.
"And you were no baker from Vanille." And at that, he looked back to Aryn. "I used to work next to the baker."

Aryn could only gawk.

"You worked next to a baker and you left? What kind of fucking idiot are you?"

He didn't deny the man's first guess though, which only made the caravan leader glance to Kella. "Interesting," was all he said.

"May I ask what you used to do?" Kella inquired, hoping to break the ice a little more with conversation.

"A little of this and that, missy, but those days are gone and over. But I do miss the moonshine I used to make. Used to make it with the owner of that bakery." And at that, he flashed hte bare of them a toothy grin.

"You think that baker's still there?" Aryn suggested. "Or is that too much to hope for?"

After all, there weren't many other places they could run to...

"Last I heard Vanille was unaffected by the war. THough who knows how long that'll last, or if that's changed since I've been there."

And Kella couldn't help but be warmed and smiled at the news.

Aryn shared Kella's sentiment with a gentle squeeze of her hand.

"Maybe we can find our way there? It might be safe..."

The man gave a snort, but shook his head.
"It would be something. But we're not heading that far south ever again," the man stated.

But even with that piece of hope dashed, Kella couldn't help but think.
"It would be nice if it were untouched by the war.... It would be a shame, such a nice, small town to come to ruins over this foolish fighting."

"Save your breath, darling," the man said with a slight scowl. "This fightin's affected everything. Best bet is to do like we do and run."

And with that he climbed back up into his saddle.

Aryn looked to Kella though and asked quietly, "What do you think about that idea? Should we try for that direction?"

Kella thought it over as she chewed on her lip.
"I don't know," she answered quietly. "I've been trying to run south to Serendipity all of this time.. Perhaps... perhaps it would be wiser to go North?"

With them being so close to the boarder, it seemed to make the most sense. But was it any safer?

Aryn turned to glance northward. Or at least what he thought was north; the sky was too overcast to get a bearing.

"Over the mountains? I don't know what's on the other side..."

He turned back to Kella, and a resolute expression took over his face.

"We'll find a village and get you out of that armor and into something thick and warm. Then we can go north."

"That armor.." One of the women chimed in as she studied the pair. "It will catch a fine price. But you'd best be careful. There would be many questions asked when you present them with something such as that. Suspicions are at every corner, remember this. No where you're safe. No one is your friend, and the army protects no one."

Aryn was about to say something in retort, when the caravan leader gruffly called out to them.

"Alright, enough talk, let's get movin'! Maicon's Rest is close enough that we might get there by nightfall, then we'll be goin' our separate ways."

The woman looked back at Kella, inspecting her armor. "There's a blacksmith there, but best be wary of him. He's never been a savory sorta fellow."

Kella gave a nod and thanks, but remained quiet until they arrived. She was surprised to find the village was.so small, probably the smallest she had ever seen, and despite that, she still couldn't quite spot the black smith as her eyes took in the town.

Aryn had no such problem though, for he'd seen a hundred tiny towns like this. Maicon's Rest was essentially one dirt road surrounded by a handful of scattered buildings. This town couldn't have had more than two dozen families.

The blacksmith, as he guessed, lay at the other end of town, buried in a small mound of snow. Despite that, an orange glow still emanated from the window.

Taking Kella's hand, he pulled her away from the caravan of people and toward the smithy. He didn't notice the way several of the caravan travelers suspiciously eyed the two of them as they went down the road.

Kella was exhausted, both physically and mentally after all they had gone through. So she had a hard time keeping pace with Aryn, and found herself trying to keep as close to him as possible, and was too shy to even consider peering back at those that gave them suspicious stares.

Though it was evening, the light from the forge shone brightly in the snow-covered landscape. A yellow-orange warmth emanated from the doorway and blast the chill out of Aryn's face as he entered the smithy.

The blacksmith, a thick knot of muscle with wispy white hair and a thin beard, turned to regard them. His eyes immediately widened and his body tensed as he spotted Kella's unmistakeable armor.

"...What can I do ye fer, Lady Knight?" he asked, clearly uncomfortable.

The man wasn't the only one uncomfortable. Kella was so nervous, she wasn't even sure what to say, for her lips dropped open, but not a sound came out! But after a moment of realizing she must have looked quite foolish, she feigned a cough and asked, "To.. to make a trade. We're in need of some money. The winter has been bad... real bad..."

But even as she was saying it, she was wondering if this story would even be believable if she kept it secret she was not really a White Lily-
for that would raise more questions than necessary...

And the less people that knew about Kella, her identity and her escape...

It was all the better.

The blacksmith's brow furrowed deeply at the talk of a trade, along with his expression of confusion. He slowly stood but refused to approach, as if just seeing her ornate armor caused him trepidation.

"Begging yer pardon, Lady Knight, but I don't understand" he said in a careful voice. And it was clear from that voice that he didn't trust a Knight of the White Lily. The tint in his voice almost spoke of defiance. "What do ye mean trade? Yer sacred armor..."

HIs voice trailed off and then his eyes widened again, so much so that Aryn, unsure of the man's motives, stepped protectively in front of Kella.

The blacksmith finally took a step forward with an awed, knowing look on his face.

"Yer no Adhara at all," he said.

Kella cringed at how painfully obvious this all seemed. Her gaze immediately dropped. But when Aryn stepped in, she felt only a little better, protected, as he was always there, to be her shield. But that didn't stop her from feeling guilty, terrible, and her blue eyes reached out imploringly,
"Please... we really need the money." And her lips trembled and those blue eyes threatened with tears.

The blacksmith stepped forward, and Aryn braced himself for something violent. But the man swept past both he and Kella. He closed the heavy doors to the smithy and slammed shut the open windows. The room grew a little smokier and hotter.

"Where'd ye get the armor from? Did ye steal it? Ye kill a Adhara fer it?" the man rattled off to them, not giving them a moment to answer before asking the next. His white mustache danced on his upper lip with every word.

"We-" Aryn began, but the blacksmith cut him off. He leaned in close and peered at Kella before saying in a quiet voice.

"Yer with the mage rebels? If so, ye came to the right man. I'll always help a friend o' the cause."

Kella was taken back, her mind reeling over so many questions. And instinctively, when the man moved in close, she backed away. Her eyes danced with uncertainty, of fear, and as usual, the cat got her tongue, as she remained silent, shaking inwardly, and perhaps out.

The blacksmith seemed to also recoil slightly when Kella fearfully pulled away. He raised his calloused hands in the air and said, "I mean no harm, folks."

Turning to Aryn, he continued.

"Look, I support the cause. Me own kin were taken to the camps, and I've been tryin' to fight the powers since. I'll give ye a fair price on whatever ye want to trade."

Aryn looked to Kella, then back to the man. "We'll give you the armor. It's fine stuff, castle-forged I'm guessing. Took it off a dead Knight."

Well, that wasn't too far a stretch. If the little blonde-haired flower knight let such a prized possession as Kella Harmond get away, no doubt that crotchety old general at the fort already had her in the dungeons, rotting away.

"We need weapons, clothing, food, and money. And, err..."

His eyes trailed down to his right sleeve, tied off at the elbow.

At the idea of Aryn's lie about how they received the armor, a cold sensation gripped her belly. Dead..
For all she knew Lily was dead, or worse after all that happened. And the guilt made her feel ill and dizzy all over again. But she couldn't let that get her down. Now when she had come so far...

But she couldn't help it, and when the man went on with own story, she remained quiet and let Aryn remain in charge. But when Aryn went quiet, only then did she look up and those blue eyes of hers wondered to where Aryn was looking and she stared at the empty space for his hand.

At that, she sobered some, before turning to the blacksmith.

"And if it's possible, he lost his arm saving me."
Perhaps she did not have to go into details about it, for a real arm and fake one, in this context, were just about the same, but as the idea sunk in, she took a small step forward.
"Is there a way for him to get a mechanical arm? Something made of iron?"
Or stronger, but that she knew not if it were even possible.

"Iron? Why would he want an iron hand? Iron is brittle, heavy, and rusts easily. Nah, that's a terrible idea," said the blacksmith with a shake of his head.

Aryn turned slightly red in the face and started to protest, but the blacksmith continued.

"Nah, steel is better. It's stronger and lighter, and it don't get rusty as easily. Tis some fine armor ye got there, that castle-forged steel is worth a lot. I can melt down some of it and maybe fashion somethin' useful. And I'll give ye a fair price for the rest of it."

With that, the blacksmith approached again to inspect the armor, but was stopped by the frowning Ironhand.

"She'll need clothes and money first, before we turn anything over."

Kella couldn't believe their change of luck. And here, it was even better luck than before! Not only would Aryn get a new prosthetic, but it'd be an upgrade to what he was used to before. However, when Aryn rejected it, placing Kella first, she placed her small hand on his arm and gave a light squeeze.

"Only if it's simple clothing. I would never forgive myself to miss an opportunity for this man to have something better."

"I'm already getting better," he said back to her with a slight grin. After all, it wasn't often he got to replace his arm at no cost. Plus, he had her.

"I ain't got nothin' fancy fer ye, but my daughter's about your size," the blacksmith replied, "How 'bout I give you those for now, then in the morning when the shops are open, you can go get something more suitable?"

Aryn looked at the man with a frown and said, "That'll do for now, but we don't plan on being here too long. How long will it take?"

The blacksmith looked back to Kella's armor.

"Such fine steel takes a delicate touch, son. It'll be a week at least."

Kella froze at what he said.
A week? A hand clutched close to her breast as she tried to think over how dangerous lingering here would be for an entire weeks worth of time. But she also had to consider... would it be more dangerous here or elsewhere? In these lands, the snow dominated the land, and even if someone were to track them, they had come so far and there was so much fallen, fresh snow even she knew it would prove difficult.

But chewing on her lip, she could not help but worry, and waited quietly to see what Aryn was to say. She'd leave this decision up to him. After all, she trusted him above all else. And she loved him, Gods she did. If only she could show him truly how much she did...

But her body was forbidden, and they would never get the chance to become one.

Aryn returned Kella's look, and clearly he too was uncomfortable with the prospect of remaining here for that long. He didn't know how far they'd come since escaping the Fort, but it still felt like they had hounds right on their very heels. And yet there likely wouldn't be another town anywhere nearby.

"We ain't got a week," he finally said to the blacksmith, who nodded briefly.

"It's dangerous everywhere, 'specially fer the cause," the grizzled old man said under his breath. "But if ye can wait that long, I'll have what ye need and you can be on yer way. I have a small barn out back with a loft with hay. It ain't much but you can hole up there until I'm done."

Once again, that critical eye analyzed Aryn.

"I might have some old clothing fer ye too. Can't have ye walkin' around looking like that. They'll know you killed a nobleman."

Kella's grip on Aryn's arm tightened as she she looked to the old man and spoke barely over a whisper, as if she spoke any louder she and her words, might break.
"Thank you. We... things are complicated and I'm sorry we can't explain it all."

The man smiled, laughing for the first time only then as he eyed the pair.

"Just go find the barn and hay. I'll be there before dark." And he winked to Aryn. "And get yourselves a good lay in. You might not ever have the chance again."

Aryn exchanged glances with the man, then looked down to Kella clinging onto his arm. There was a slightly pained look upon his features as he took her in. By Ansgar, he wanted her so badly, and to be forbidden from doing so drove him mad. How'd he fall in love with someone he could not touch?

That was the choice he'd made though, and in the end it was the right choice. There was something about her that he couldn't put into words, but every time he looked at her he felt knots in his gut. He wrapped his good arm around her.

"We'll be there. The armor is yours once you bring us clothes and the money," he said, still putting forth his bargaining face. But he knew the man had just done more for them than they could ever have asked for.

After a moment, he added gruffly, "Thank you."

The barn was easy enough to find, and a small ladder led up to a hay-covered loft. After the two had climbed their way up, Aryn proceeded to pull the ladder up to them. Better safe than sorry.

Kella was more than relieved when they were alone. Even the added benefit of the ladder being removed eased her some-
Though not completely. Thoughts of her brother's army coming their way flooded her mind, and that of the army in Ahjfeld.

Was it really wise for them to rest like this? But as she realized her hands were shaking, she clasped them together and rested them against her knees. Yes... yes of course. Her body was too strung out to do much more. And after a moment to collecting herself, she peered up at Aryn and whispered softly, "I love you."

Aryn didn't realize just how exhausted he was until they were safely up in the loft with the ladder beside them. Looking down wearily at Kella, he gave her a small grin and said, "I dunno if I'm the right person to love, but I'm glad you picked me."

Taking her shaking hands in his own, he placed a gentle kiss against the back of her glove before pulling her in for a soft embrace. "I love you too," he murmured into her hair.

She let him take her into his arms, and with less apprehension than before. She was too exhausted to feel stiff and be worried about her 'curse'. But at his comment about their love, she let it sink in, growing quiet before she replied, "I could say the same to you." And she peered up at him through her messy blonde hair.

Even in the darkness his wide cheerful smile could be seen, juxtaposed against the heavy bags under his own green eyes. "That obviously means we're perfect for each other."

He gestured to the nook between his arm and shoulder, where his muscles pushed against his ill-fitting clothing. If nothing else, it would provide a comfort pillow for a resting head. "You're exhausted, Kella. Rest your eyes, and if the blacksmith comes with what he promised us, I'll wake you."

Kella smiled warmly.
"But are you not tired as well?"

Aryn let his eyes close even as he let out a low bear-like laugh.

"You know the moment you fall asleep, I'll probably fall asleep too!"

At that, Kella gave a warm smile and leaned into him.
"Just be careful," she whispered. "I don't want to accidentally touch you." And she adjusted her clothing and the way she lay in hopes to keep his skin protected of her, but she was so exhausted, it was hard for her to open her eyes. But when she did, it was to a raspy voice, warning, "Hey! Hey you two! Wake up! There are some scouts or somethin'- looking for a woman who meets your description."

It was the black smith, and soon Kella was sitting up.

"Do they bare the flag from Ahjfeld?"

The man nodded and Kella bit her lip.

"Running would be unwise, as they have horses. But we have some place we can hide you, assuming you can keep quiet while they move through town."

The noise startled Aryn awake and he sat up with a jolt. Dammit, he'd fallen asleep! So much for staying away and standing guard.

It was just the blacksmith though, and he peeked over the edge of the loft down at the man. "Fuck, they found us then. Guess we didn't run far enough."

The blacksmith waved them down with a terse "Get down here and let's get moving!"

With a fierce scowl on his face he slid the ladder back down where it landed with a gentle thump. Looking apologetically to Kella, he gestured down.

Kella wished she could move faster, and once she was down the ladder she looked to the blacksmith.

"Where can we go?" she asked, in barely a whisper.

"Just follow me... it might be a tight fit for a while, but its better than being dead."

He lead the pair swiftly to his home, ensuring no one was looking and gesturing for them to get down low. He moved over beside his kitchen table, and was quick to move it aside and lifted up a floor board, then a second.

"Down here... I'm sure you bth can fit but it might be tight. Just stay down there and don't say a peep, no matter what happens, you got it?" he said, looking to both of them and Kella simply nodded numbly in response as the man removed another floor board.

"Quickly now, in you go." And he gestured to Kella, "Ladies first."

Kella cast one look to Aryn before making haste to step inside. The place was dark and dank, chilly and cobwebbed. But she didn't have time to think about the spiders that crawled past her as she wriggled in deep enough to give Aryn some space.

"Okay, now you. In you go," the man whispered.

Aryn hesitated at the lip of the crawl space, gesturing down to where Kella already burrowed deep. "For Ansgar's sake," he hissed, "there's barely enough room for her. If I get in there, I'll end up crushing her!"

And that's when the pounding back at the door.

Without another word Aryn hopped down into the dirty hole and squeezed up beside Kella, so close that their bodies were all but pressed up against each other. Laying on his back, he caught just a glimpse of the blacksmith's apologetic look before the floorboard slats slid back over them.

And not a moment too soon, for the banging came at the door again. Little light filtered down from between the floorboards, but enough shone through to allow them a very limited view of what was happening.

The blacksmith went to open the door, and immediately a handful of armed soldiers strolled in, including two mordecai -- and a raven-haired woman with a sharp face and a scowl, wearing what was unmistakeably the armor of a Knight of the White Lily.

"We have word of a Knightslayer and a thief hiding in this village," the woman intoned sharply, and Aryn gave a little curse under his breath. It had to be one of those damn caravan bastards, the ones giving Kella the evil eye.

Kella trembled. Not only was it dank and stifling beneath the wood floor, but the fact their pursuers were barely a foot or so over their head did nothing to help quell her nerves. A hand over her lips was all she could do to keep herself from sobbing, and as the footfalls stopped directly over them, a few hot tears slipped down from her cheeks.

"We heard those rumors too," the man replied. "But we've been hearing a lot of rumors lately, it's hard to tell which are true. Though a man and woman had come by this way. In fact, they were here last night. Can't say I know where they are now, but they were definitely seeming to want to be off swiftly. It could be the ones you're referring to. If so, they might have made off in the night. Would make sense, if they were criminals running from the army. But again, we get a lot of that here."

"Then you won't mind us searching the premises," the White Lily said coldly and with an air of finality, so much so that the blacksmith's small gulp was audible.

"I assure you, I'm not hiding--"

He was silenced by a gauntleted finger, as the Knight gestured for her subordinates to look around. The next few moments, at least from Aryn's perspective, were nothing but loud banging noises as the soldiers proceeded to ransack the little home, opening every door and cabinet, overturning tables and beds.

"There's a hollow spot here in the floorboards," one soldier said, tapping his foot on the floor just to the left of the little hole in which Aryn and Kella nestled.

Kella froze. After nearly twenty minutes of holding her breath as the soldiers up there nearly tore the farmer's home apart, she could see them looking at her. She felt a soft whimper escape her lips as she tried to move as far and discretely from the floor board, but the little home offered barely any other place to go. And her movement caught the eye of another soldier.

"I see movement."

The mordecai heard that and stepped forward, seeing it for herself.

"Lift up these floor boards at once!"

And at that command, Kella's stomach sank to her knees.

Aryn could only curse inside his head as the soldiers began prying up the floorboards. Their luck had lasted for so long, it was inevitable that something terrible would befall them.

As soon as the wooden plank above him was peeled back and two of the guards peered down at him, he gave a little sheepish grin.

"Evening, fellows. How's your day been?"

The quip was instantly met with a fist to his face, as they punched him to shut him up and proceeded to haul him out of the hole.

Kella gasped, and froze in place, utterly terrified as Aryn was dragged away. It took a lot of effort for the men to get him up and out of there, all the while she continued to crouch back into the shadows, shaking and fearing for her life.

Soon they were back into the hole to retrieve Kella was well, grabbing roughly at her bundled-up clothing. When they had retrieved her they threw her down before the Knight of the White Lily, who stared down at her with unrelenting eyes.

"Lady Kella Harmond," the woman intoned coldly, "you are charged with treason against the crown, escape from lawful custody of the crown, and murder of a sworn Knight of the White Lily. If guilty, the penalty for these crimes can be death. By Ansgar's mercy, how do you answer?"

Aryn lay nearby groaning and clutching at his bleeding head and struggling to crawl back toward her, while the two mordecai stood over him with swords drawn.

In the heat of the moment though, they seemed to have forgotten about the old blacksmith -- whose head appeared around the open door behind everyone, a heavy poker in his hand. When his eyes met Kella's, he held a finger to his lips as he crept forward.

Kella was too afraid to even react to the black smith. Her mind was in jumbles, her heart racing, and all she could do was cry out, "Please.. spare us!" as she sobbed and tears gushed down her face.

"Ansgar's mercy is for those who confess and repent!" the female knight intoned menacingly, not flinching the least bit at Kella's sobs. Her face might as well have been carved out of granite. "Justice cuts through even your tears, my Lady. I ask again, how do you plead?"

She didn't have time to recite any more of her rhetoric though, as the next sound was the heavy thump of a cast-iron pan against the helmeted head of one of the men standing over Aryn. He crumpled over Aryn as the blacksmith charged toward the Lily Knight.

The room descended into chaos.

It was a nightmare. She saw men flying at one another, Aryn scrambling, the blacksmith charging...
Weapons real and make shift were locked and flailed, and somewhere int he middle of it, someone caught Kella by the wrist, touching enough of her skin that- a moment later, all of the fighting stopped as the man yowled and screamed.

Kella was suddenly shoved aside, her small body slamming into a nearby table before she fell limply beside it. But that was only instincts that made the man react, for he stood there, hollering and not sure what was going on as blood began to trickle from his nose.

A thin trickle of blood was dripping out of the corner of Aryn's lip and into his beard, making him scowl and grimace at the copperish taste. All around him was pandemonium, with tables and chairs being flipped over and pottery smashing to the ground. Somehow he found himself face to face with one of the soldiers.

He had just a long enough moment of inaction to watch the man fling Kella into a table. Instantly the Ironhand was roaring and bowling forward to the man, who was too busy wiping blood from his nose to notice. With a loud crash he tackled the man to the floor and began adding to that blood with his one fist.

From behind he felt the cool metallic fingers of a gauntlet tug at the collar of his shirt. With a choked cry he turned only to be met with the hilt of the Lily Knight's sword as it collided with his chin. He too tumbled backwards right beside Kella.

"Ansgar will have his justice this night," she intoned almost mechanically.

"Yeah, I prayed to Ansgar earlier, he told me to tell you to go fuck yourself," Aryn snarled back, his head still spinning from the blow.

The Knight frowned deeply and raised her sword -- until the back of her head also met the underside of the blacksmith's cast-iron pan. The sword flew from her steel grip as she tumbled into a pile on top of Aryn and Kella.

Kella released a squeaking gasp when both the bloodied Aryn fell beside her- then the Lily on top. Too afraid to touch her, or anyone, Kella flinched back, cringing as she squirmed in attempts to get away without touching or upsetting the precarious balancing act amongst this chaotic 'victory'. But she didn't have to wait long. The lily's unconscious body was shoved aside and a hand offered down to Aryn and Kella both.

"Come on," the black smith ordered, gruffly. "We need to get you two the hell out of here."

It took even the stout blacksmith several tries to get Aryn on his feet, and he was still a bit wobbly then.  But he complied with barely a complaint.  Although he did take a moment to give the unconscious Lily an angry kick to the ribs.  The unconscious woman let out a low moan in reply.

The interior of the blacksmith's house had been dim, but outside was absolutely pitch black. And cold. Luckily the blacksmith seemed to know the way, leaving Aryn to grope blindly for Kella as they followed along.

Though Aryn caught her hand, she tensed, fearing he might touch her flesh- but the worry only mingled with what had just happened as the pair ran off into the night. Her heart was drumming as they rushed through the swirling, snow filled world. And silently she prayed to Ansgar for any sort of forgiveness, any sort of grace- so that they might get through this, and have at least one more day to pray for another.

The blacksmith led them away from the glow of the smithy and into the snowy hills beyond. The further they strayed from the village, the more difficult it became to see, except for the sliver of moonlight that lit the white path ahead.

And soon the three of them were joined by another cloaked and shrouded figure, then another.  By the time they stumbled their way to the top of a snowbank, the blacksmith had four ragged villagers with him -- and a handful of horses tied to trees just down the embankment.

"Down there, quickly," the blacksmith uttered breathlessly, wisps of white trailing from his mouth. 

"We're abandoning this village and taking you west and south with us.  We've taken what we can.  Food, money, weapons, armor."  He looked at them.  "We have your armor too, if you need it back."


Aryn was still trying to catch his breath when a suspicious look came over his face. "Wha-"

The blacksmith shushed him and looked straight at Kella. "We've been sheltering mages for years, it was only a matter of time before we were discovered.  And if we're to flee, we must take the most sought after mage in all of the duchies."

The old man's eyes almost lit up as he bowed his head slightly to the little woman huddled beside the one-armed man.  "Lady Kella Harmond."

She couldn't believe the moment her true identity had been revealed, and though remaining stock still in the freezing cold,s he eventually mustered up the courage to reply. She nodded her head, before dipping it deeply towards him.

"And I will do all in my power to see these rights are wronged. To see you are given a proper thanks for all you've done to help. All you've done,.." and she looked towards the others. "And to the others before and after us."

Aryn started to speak. "Wait, the last time we trusted strangers, they led a fucking band of Mordecai right to us."

He was quickly silenced by the deep frown of the blacksmith who also emphatically shook his head to Kella.  "No, milady, you have us mistaken for the rabble.  The group you came with were merchants and vagabonds with nothing to lose.  We, on the other hand... we have been fighting the cause for years."

He bowed his head low to Kella again as they reached the horses.  "Your thanks will keep us warm for years, milady.  Now please, we have little time before more soldiers descend upon us.  There are patrols all around this area.  We have to get you out, you and Lord-"

The blacksmith turned expectantly back to Aryn, waiting for a response.  Aryn stared back at him, face covered in dirt and grime, eye half swollen shut.  The Ironhand's mouth hung open for a moment and frosted breath hung still in the air. "Lord..." Aryn repeated.

He turned to Kella then and, despite his best effort, doubled over and erupted in laughter.

"You hear that? A LORD, he says!"

Kella was jolted out of the graveness of the situation, staring at Aryn and not knowing (and being embarrassed for) his reason to laugh. She turned an apologetic look towards the blacksmith.

"Please, he is no Lord, but a close friend of mine.... and protector." Dare she say lover? But she wouldn't deny it if asked. She was not one to lie, nor to boast. She peered over at Aryn, and only then did a small, sheepish smile creep across her lips.

"Though I suppose he looks dashing enough to deceive most that he could be a Lord. A Duke even." And at such an idea, even her eyes sparkled a little.

"Damn right," Aryn replied, thumping his chest with a closed fist. "Everybody around these parts knows the Ironhand, and know him well!  Why, they used to think I was highborn up north. I could walk up to a castle and they'd let me right in!"

At the shy little smile on Kella's face, his grin turned crooked and he puckered a kiss her way.  "The Lady's looked after well, you can be sure about that."

The blacksmith frowned slightly and disbelievingly, peering between the two of them.  "Protector?  My Lady, surely you could do better than a one armed man?  Ours is a band of seasoned veterans and loyal guardians."

"Surely I could," she went on, a bit more confidence in her teasing tone. "But even nobility desire to be more frugal, and he's the best no money's got to offer."

Aryn turned a deep shade of red in the moonlight, and nearly choked looking between the two of them.  He waved the stump of an arm at the blacksmith with a glower.  "I've got more balls and know-how than the whole lot o' you, with just this one stump!  And I'll have you know I have TWO good arms... we just sort of lost one on the way here."

He looked over at Kella again, and despite himself he could not help grinning widely again.  Gods, it pleased him immensely to know she was finally finding her self-assurance again.  "You see that?  Only time I ever work free!  Normally they'd be payin' me buckets."

Her smile swelled broader. She couldn't tuck it away, though she tried.
But then she turned back to the others.
"Your offer is most kind. And what you have done so far for your country... I hope you know your efforts are not in vain. There's still hope." And she turned, smiling at Aryn. "And I'm glad I've seemed to have found mine again."

Aryn couldn't help himself.  He took two long strides over to where Kella stood in the frozen snow and, despite looking haggard and worn out, he draped his thick arm around her waist.  "Where she goes, I go."

The blacksmith pressed his mouth together as though trying to understand the two of them.  After a while though, he decided it wasn't worth the effort, and bowed low to Kella.  "I thank ye fer yer kind words, my Lady. We will guard ye - and your protector - with all we have. I swear it on the lives of my children."

He brought over two horses, and soon the entire group was mounted up, down in that little shallow snow-filled gully, ready to go.

"'Kella's Cohort,'" Aryn said to her. "I'm makin' the decision right now.  That's what I'm calling this group."

She looked up at him questionably, but said nothing. She'd let him have his little quip. She had been tired after hers. Once seated on her animal, she settled in for the long journey ahead. She wasn't sure how far they had to go, but an hour into the uneven riding had her half falling asleep.

The small group traveled quite rapidly despite the heavy snows that still blanketed much of the landscape.  The blacksmith -- Micah, as he finally introduced himself on the second day -- said that there would be much more by the spring thaw, and that the portents promised Connlaoth's worst winter in a hundred years.

Little was said among the group, or at least little that Aryn was privy to.  Every question he asked of the ragged band was quickly rebuffed, to the point where he'd complained to Kella about them not knowing just who the hell he was.

Finally, on the fifth day of seemingly directionless travel, Micah approached the two of them as they sat huddled around a sparse midday fire.  Of course, he ignored Aryn and went straight to Kella.

"Milady, I fear the Mordecai are still on our trail, no more than a day or two behind.  We are comin' up at a crossroads of sorts soon, and ye must make a decision.  West, and we may eventually reach the coast where we could hire a ship... if we can find the coin.  We could turn south, but tis a long way and I fear we will not make the Serendipity border before the winter snows us in."

He coughed a bit.  "And north is the Army of Turgall.  Perhaps it would be safest if we returned ye to yer brother's camp?"

Kella froze at such a proposition. Mordecai on their tails, her brother breathing down their backs, and a war in every which way they turned. She blurted out suddenly, "No! I will not be taken prisoner by my brother."

And those who didn't understand what precisely she meant, all looked at her. And she found herself at a loss of words.

"I.... it..... it wouldn't be safe," she mumbled, trying to back track a little after her sudden out burst. "I... I think the coast.. to the ocean.. is the safest.. wisest choice."
And her best option, at the moment, to get the hell out of Connlaoth.

"Prisoner? I do not understand," the blacksmith finally replied.  After all, why would the lady's own brother take her prisoner? No man would sack the great Fort Dhagh if he were not a friend to mages.

"Damn right it wouldn't be safe," Aryn interjected hotly.  "Did you not see those fuckin' mordecai back in town? They were ready to split us in two!" And split him apart from his Kella, which really got Aryn seething.

"Begging yer pardon, my lord," the blacksmith replied, the words 'my lord' almost forced out of his mouth.  After all, it was beginning to be clear that the one-armed man was no lord, but just an imposter.  "But the mordecai who threatened ye... the White Lily who ransacked me home... they flew the banner of the Grand Duke."

Kella grew silent, letting all of this information settle into her belly like a cold stone before she raised her blue eyes to the man and said, "In war, these are uncertain times. Anyone can fly a flag and claim fealty. In the future, look past the banners to what men say and do. As for my own path.... to the West. I will make my way West."

The Blacksmith gave the Lady one more look, digesting the information, before slowly bowing his head.  "As the Lady wishes." And that was the end of that.

They traveled quick and light, stopping only briefly to water the horses and take a quick meal.  They never stopped until well past sunset, and oftentimes were on the move again when the sky was still dark. 

And for good reason.  The landscape in this part of the country was beginning to look more like a ruined battlefield than civilized habitation.  They passed more than one farmstead that had been put to the torch.  Sometimes they would find the dead.  Other times, those refugees that had no homes left, no food, and likely no chance of surviving the winter, for the air was already starting to become bitterly cold.

Not to mention the roving bands of vagabonds and patrolling soldiers.  They could never tell whose banner the soldiers flew, nor did they care to get close enough to find out.  Instead, they always took the long way, skirting around any large gatherings of armed men if they could do so. 

Until one grey day, when the Blacksmith stopped the group just before a low ridge ahead.  His face was grim as he whispered furiously with the other strangers in the group.  Finally, he stepped over to where Kella was horsed and broke the news.  "There's some sort of battle goin' on ahead, but we can't get around it.  We'll have to sneak our way through."

The road had been long and tiresome. More than once Kella wished she was more 'human' when she and Aryn shared a tent in the night. But things were far to grim for her to pursue desires, not when there was an army at your back, and now, as a knot formed in her throat- an army,  a war infront of her.

"Can we not wait it out?" she asked, not liking the 'only' option one bit.

"Aye, and risk the Mordecai catchin' up with us, milady," the Blacksmith warned.  "The thick of the fightin' is around the outskirts of the town ahead, we may be able to sneak through."

Though in the distance, wisps of smoke from burning buildings were already visible.

"And you think these mordecai would still come... still follow us?" she asked, turning to him for counsel. But no matter where they went, she knew there would always be a rock and a hard place. She turned her blue eyes to Aryn.

"You've traveled with me the longest, and know my plight well." Her eyes sought more deeply into his before asking, "What do you think we should do?"

Aryn peered back down at her with hard green eyes full of worry, even as he tried to lighten the mood.  "I think we should go back to Vanille and have some cake."

But when nobody took the joke, he frowned and gestured toward the town  "They say that way leads to the shore. The shore leads to a ship. And a ship brings you to safety. I vote we go that way."

She had been holding a breath through his joke, through his choices and nodded, turning from him and releasing a long stream of white breath.
"Then forward we go."
And she found the need to draw in a very deep breath as the smoke continued to curl and rise.

"As milady wishes," the Blacksmith said, and said no more.

They pressed forward slowly in the thick snow, though as they neared the village it began to churn with mud from dozens of boots.  Weapons were pressed into the hands of both Aryn and Kella. 

The town seemed almost abandoned, but the faint sounds of shouting could be heard beyond the treeline to the south.  Several of the buildings were fully ablaze, sending plumes of choking ash and smoke high into the darkened sky.

As they sneaked down the main dirt road splitting the town in two, a harried-looking family turned the corner trying to flee the battle, but bumped right into the group.  The young daughter, no more than six, let out a loud-pitched scream.

Kella's nerves were on edge, and the moment the child screamed, she gasped and dropped down from her horse. Her legs felt like jelly from the ride, but some unseen, numbing strength pressed her onward. With gloved hands, she moved towards the family, towards the child, and said, "Do not be frightened, little one. We mean you no harm." She peered back towards her rag tag band of men before returning her eyes to the family.

"Keep heading down the path we have tread. You'll find no battle that way," she assured them, hoping that, if the mordecai were on their tails, they'd leave the family alone.

The family flinched away from Kella as she approached, though the child stood frozen in place, shaking.  From the looks on their faces, it was hard to tell whether any of her words reached their ears or if they were simply too shocked and frightened to care.  But a glimmer in the mother's eyes flared up in the dying light and she quickly gathered up her child.  With a despairing look at Kella, they disappeared down the path Lady Harmond had pointed out.

"Shit!" shouted the Blacksmith, and the sounds of a half-dozen swords being drawn rang clear.  "They heard the kid... look sharp, 'ere they come!"

And from the far end of town, a group of armed men wearing muddied and ripped soldier tabards caught sight of them through the hazy smoke and charged toward them with a collective shout.

At the sounds of the men's charge, Kella froze. It was all happening so fast...
Her worst fears escalating into a real life nightmare. Cringing, she took a step back, too stunned to think or do anything when the blacksmith called out,

"Arm yourselves and protect the Lady!"

Aryn was torn between holding onto Kella, and releasing her and making use of the axe that had been pressed into his hands.  But when the other men formed a protective circle around her, he found himself at the very front of the formation.

"Finally, a little head-knockin' action!" he said, loud enough for the rest of the anxious men to hear.  That was the Ironhand talking, not Aryn.  As his own words rang in his mind, he wondered why he'd said it. 

There was no time to answer that, for as the soldiers closed in on them, the ragtag group charged forward to meet them in a swirling melee in the middle of the streets.  As the battle began, the buildings around them, previously seemingly devoid of any life, suddenly erupted with movement as the few townsfolk who'd hidden inside began streaming out, in an effort to flee while the soldiers were distracted.

At each clash of swords, Kella felt her heart jump to her throat, a hand clutched to her chest and gripping her cloak so tight her knuckles went white. Frozen as she was, the battle still thrived, and when a man near to her was cut down suddenly, she gasped and stumbled backwards, tripping onto her knees in the snow.

After the second man he cut down with a heavy swing from his now-bloody axe - and after about the hundredth time he nearly slipped in the mud and snow, Aryn had to retreat from the melee to catch his breath.  By Ansgar, he'd ever felt so tired in a scrap, though it was true that he'd just been through the most hellish of journeys.

He didn't have long to catch his breath, as a third soldier lunged toward him.  Luckily this one had already been wounded by an errant sword slash from one side or the other.  Once he'd gotten over the surprise of it, he was able to parry the soldier's swing and drive his thick leg into the man's gut.  As the soldier doubled over, he drove the axe right into the man's back, sending him crashing to the ground near Kella - and sending her tripping over her own feet.

Aryn wanted to laugh at the absurdity of what was happening, but instead he slid to his own knees beside her, breathing ragged wisps of white air.  "C'mon, back up on your feet, little princess, and let's get the fuck out of here!" he said with more than a little urgency, letting go of the axe and offering a hand to her.

She didn't remember taking his hand, but as she was pulled to her feet she felt her heart go up her throat. She nearly retched. Were it not for the rush of survival pushing her along, she just might have collapsed right then and there. But she was holding strong to Aryn's hand and moved as swiftly as she could at his side, seeing how the group of men had been conquered. It was time to keep pushing through.

They'd run to the edge of town by the time Aryn stopped to catch his breath.  The rest of the party was still some lengths behind them, only having just dispersed the remaining soldiers.  Many of them were bloodied, and some had been left behind to die.  That was the way of war.

Behind them, a surprised shout echoed through the air as the Blacksmith and his party were suddenly beset upon by another group of soldiers.  Aryn nearly turned to rush back but, from beyond the pines, a distant horn sounded. Gritting his teeth, Aryn muttered anxiously, "We have to keep moving."

Kella cringed at the sound too. Infact, ever since that man was cut down dead before her she'd been clutching her hands into tight, painful fists. Now at the edge of the town, as exhausted as she was, she didn't want to stop here. They weren't out of the clear yet.

She was catching her breath as she looked over her shoulder.
"What about the others?"

A pang of guilt twinged in Aryn's gut, though it might also have been the combination of tiredness and the fighting he'd just been through.  Sure the Blacksmith and his crew didn't trust him.  But they had saved the pair's lives.

"They'll be fine," he lied to Kella through his teeth, not even bothering looking back as he pulled her along.  The shouts from the fighting grew more distant the farther they got -- but the horns on the other side of the trees seemed to grow louder.

Her breath caught in her throat. She stopped dead in her tracks.
"Aryn..."
She pressed into his side, hearing the rumbling approach of an army. Her blue eyes went wide as she looked up at him, and soon an entire screaming army was breaking through the trees.

Aryn skidded to a halt, his boots kicking up a slush of snow and mud.  There was an army charging to them from the front, and a village in flames to their backs.  A rock and a hard place. 

With a loud curse he pointed to their left, at the mountains looming in the distance.  They'd just come from the mountains, but there was no where left to go.  "That way!  We'll get to the hills and follow them east!"  Or west.  Or wherever the hell it was safe anymore.

Where could they go that it would be safe? Every step brought them towards danger. The army seemed to be everywhere, and they weren't even running away from one army- but two. Kella stepped closer to Aryn's side and released a white puffed breath. Then nodded.

It really didn't matter the direction they took, but this mountain path seemed more treacherous than the last. And with the pair getting separated from the others so quick and fast....
No, that was not something she needed to worry about. There were so many lives at stake here- including her own.

It was cold, bitter cold and the winds were biting. Even through it, part of her wished it'd storm. A storm could easily hide their footing, hide their tracks, as they scrambled along and were barely able to hide their own. They hadn't really the time. They needed to stay ahead, and no matter which way they climbed, the echoes of the approaching army loomed closer.

It wasn't until Kella's boots caught a patch of ice that she felt herself free fall, if not briefly, before she caught herself against Aryn's side. Though her screamed caught to the winds and carried downward, something hard and pressing made her realize at least she was alive- and hadn't fallen down to her death. Trembling, she peeled herself away to realize she had been saved by Aryn- but she hadn't the chance to thank him when an arrow sunk between their head, shaking as it stuck into the mountain side- inches away from their certain death.

The heavy gusts of wind and the searing cold made the uphill trek that much more treacherous, and Aryn found himself struggling to find balance with his missing arm as they pressed through the mountain path.  When Kella let out a bloodcurdling scream and clutched onto him for dear life, he nearly lost his footing as well.  Thankfully the ice underneath did not send the both of them tumbling back down the mountainside, and he could only turn and stare at Kella, teeth chattering -- until the arrow plunged into the hill right between their heads.

Taken aback, it was Aryn's turn to let out a scream.  "That almost hit us, you fuckers!"

Almost immediately he regretted it as the archer shouted something indistinguishable back at them.  And then more arrows began falling all around them as other soldiers joined in the chase.