The Lord of Castle Cent

Snowy winds blew over the tired brown rushes of the marsh. What had once been proud tufted weeds were now battered and hunched from the powerful winds. As Andruth shivered in his leather armor, he shared their sentiment. His chainmail armor felt deadened and frozen. The small links stung like icicles each time they touched his face. Frost puffed out from his now-marching company. Gone were the songs and jovial prose, frozen over like the weeds. 

“HALT!” The captain bellowed above the wind. The small party of fifteen came to a stop in the frozen swamp. Captain Bennick waddled out among his soldiers. He smiled from the protection of his thick, layered fur coat. It was hard to see his features under all the clothing he was wearing, aside from his permanently crimson nose. “This will do, boys.” The wind whipped past, freezing the mucus draining out of Andruth’s nose. He dared not rub his nose against his arm guard again. He still couldn’t feel his upper lip after trying it once. “Spread out and take formation!” The party looked at each other with apprehension. Bennick’s bright red nose began to match his rapidly reddening forehead. “Skirmish line!” 

Andruth wandered a few yards out into the frozen gray. The boy was placed on the very edge of the skirmish line. The five others who had held the honor of being at the edge of the formation were now half buried in the frozen ground some twenty miles back. The marsh was mostly flat. A few hummocks blocked the icy ground but beyond that, it was only the snow limiting their line of sight. The blizzard had struck suddenly, obscuring their view and slowing their progress. Golon, an older man and Andurth’s nearest companion, nodded solemnly to him. Golon was once a farmer, as he had mentioned. Never took a wife and complained about it constantly. Still, he could cook well. Of all of his company, Andruth would miss him the most. None survived the edge. Golon would be joining him shortly anyway. 

Andruth pulled the halberd off his back. The lovingly-crafted weapon was now chipped and cut. It was pure steel, about a full head taller than the already tall Andruth himself. Holding it close, Andruth tried to get the shaking in his arms to stop. It wasn’t nerves anymore; Andruth knew he was going to die—just the freezing cold seeping into every fiber of his being. 

Across the marsh, armored figures began to emerge from the gray blizzard. It was a defensive line. Andruth tried to count the shapes but the snow kept blowing them out of his sight. He could glean from the gray light that there were about twenty soldiers forming a line about two-hundred yards away. They were lightly armed as well. Likely shaking in the cold. With all the wood from their weapons and war wagons, they could likely make a large bonfire and keep both parties warm easily. Though, Andruth doubted the captain would take him up on the suggestion. The beat of flimsy war drums did little to prepare Andruth for the coming charge. Still, as the final note resounded, a weak cry rose from his company. The Atlions company would make one final charge even if the snow would freeze their toes to their shoes. 

Andruth couldn’t bring himself to roar as he ran with leaden feet into the swamp. Ice cracked beneath his boots and the wind tried to throw his halberd off center. A line of blue-crested soldiers were running at them now. Andruth braced his arms and the spike of his halberd crashed into the steel armor of the soldier in front of him. Andruth’s numb hands dropped the weapon on impact. The armored soldier stumbled back on the ice unable to keep himself upright. Using the chance, Andruth tried to shove him over. The soldier grabbed onto Andruth’s arm guard pulling them both onto the ground. The snow blinded Andruth momentarily and as he recovered, he felt the slap of a sword against his armored back. He twisted his head, trying to get a view of his attacker. The knight he’d knocked over was trying to hack his armor off. The sword rose and fell in weak arcs, cracking against the iron-plate armor. Andruth wriggled forward on his hands and knees to his polearm. The sword continued to slap his back, slowing his progress on the ice. A horse whinied and stamped not far from them. Andruth scooped up his halberd and rushed for high ground atop the hummock. Arrows thudded into the frozen ground, not far from him. Holding his long polearm made climbing difficult, but Andruth crested the edge and leapt onto the circular mound. The center of the dirt mound was depressed, creating a small edge around it. Andruth quickly glanced back, making the mistake of adjusting his helmet. His freezing metal arm guard touched his nose again, smarting and chilling it even further. The sword wielding foe had gotten lost in the tussle below. Someone had brought a horse. It was stamping around, cracking the thick ice and bowling over anyone caught in its path. For the life of him, Andruth couldn’t discern if the horse was on their side or the others. A frozen crunch behind him caused Andruth to whirl around with his halberd. Another soldier. A poorly painted blue crest adorned the warrior’s half-plate armor. He wore a pointed helmet with metal covering half his face. Andruth braced for another fight. The soldier held up his hands despite the shivering cold. A long mace was lying at his feet. The blue-crested warrior slowly took off his helmet with quite a bit of difficulty. Long, unwashed blonde hair spilled out around his rosy cheeks. 

The warrior was young—about Andruth’s age, not quite twenty. His face had boyish, thin-cheeks and green eyes. His face was flushed from the cold, but his skin seemed pale and smooth. He shivered in the cold. 

“Wait! Let’s not fight out in this blizzard! We’ll die of cold before we could kill each other!” Andruth raised an inquisitive eyebrow. 

“Who are you?” 

“Kalen. Of Velou.” 

“Where is Velou?” Andruth kept the polearm pointed at Kalen. The winds whipped across his face like a sanding stone. 

“To the south. Its warm and plentiful this time of year. We gather up the harvest and dance in the moonlight.” Kalen looked around at the blizzard. The battle seemed to be lost in the haze of the snow. 

“We won’t survive here!” Andruth admitted, “The ice will freeze our lungs. Better to fight than die as icicles.” 

“It’s a shame. With all the wood from our wagons and shields, we could have had a great bonfire.” Andruth blinked at the soldier. 

“We could have!” He repeated his thoughts aloud. Kalen kicked his mace away. 

“What if we had somewhere to go?” 

“Like where?” Andruth tried to shout over the blizzard. The winds pushed him back and Kalen stumbled forward. 

“My father was a knight for Castle Cent. It’s an old fortress on the eastern coast of Aluo. Maybe we could enlist there? Worst thing he ever fought was a shoe-thief!” Andruth tried to clear the ice from his eyes by blinking. 

“Aluo is a three week march from here.” Andruth's words caused Kalen to hunch, crestfallen. With a smile, Andruth finished his sentence, “We’ll need that horse then.” 

The two boys peered out from the edge of the hummock. The skirmish was falling apart. Soldiers were chasing each other around on the icy ground, unable to gain a convincing lead for either side. The horse’s rider had fallen and was now being dragged about unconscious or possibly dead over the reeds. Not a great start. Andruth watched the worried beast charge around, looking for shelter. If they waited too long now, the horse would be gone. 

“One of us will need to get that man free,” Andruth said, pointing to the horse’s saddle. 

“We need to steer it over this way. I’ll run out in front. You hop on its back.” Andruth shivered in his armor. 

“I can’t.” The horse plowed through more snow banks. It’s head jerked around in a panic. 

“Why?” 

“I don’t know how to ride.” 

“Then we switch. You spook it, I’ll climb up.” Andruth nodded. 

“Do you know how to ride?” 

“I’ll figure it out,” With that, Kalen ran down the hill, his armor clanking and chipping in the cold. Andruth rushed down after him towards the chestnut colored horse. Andruth charged out before the mare with his halberd held horizontal. The terrified horse rose up to its hind legs, kicking dangerously close to the young knight’s head. From the gray blizzard, Kalen leapt a good two feet off the ground and managed to cling to the side of the beast’s saddle. Luckily, the weight of the body on the other side meant the saddle didn’t slide off from the sudden change of weight. The horse began to buck and kick, leaping around in a circle. Kalen must have been quite the climber because he stuck to the side of the mare like a cub to its mother. 

Kalen was on the horse but it wasn’t slowing whatsoever. The horse’s hooves thundered on the ice, sending bits into the air. Andruth scooped up three broken pike-shaft littered on the ground. With a bit of work, he chipped out three holes with the halberd. Shouts of a battle reaching its end put a frenzy into Andruth’s hands. He jammed the shafts down and pulled the last of his water lung from under his armor. Thankfully, it hadn’t frozen. He poured the water down into the holes, freezing the pikes in place. Hopefully, it would hold. Tossing his water lung, he ran past the circling horse. Kalen wasn’t making any progress getting onto the mare’s back, but Andruth might have found a solution. With a shout, Andruth charged at the mare. It realized the threat and began to charge across the ice, dragging the poor once-rider with it. 

The horse easily jumped over the pikes, but the iron-clad soldier underneath? Not so well. The body was violently jerked back, pulling Kalen, on the other side, up onto the horse’s back. The saddle was horribly lopsided, but Kalen now had the horse’s reigns. He began to yank back, shouting, “Woah, woah!” The horse wasn’t excited to have another rider but the icy bit began to force it to stop. Andruth ran up on the old rider, using his halberd to swiftly chop the leather strap holding him to the horse. The soldier began to rub his head and stand as Kalen helped Andruth onto the animal’s back. 

“What are you?” Came the gruff but groggy voice of the rider. 

“Borrowing it!” Kalen shouted. He smacked his heels into the horse's side and it began to trot away. He snapped his heels again with more force and the horse charged off into the gray blizzard with two new riders. 

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Andruth awoke to snow falling on his helmet. The horse’s hooves were silent in the deep snow. He squinted his eyes against the light. Kalen was slumped over in the saddle, held up only by his frozen armor. There was no sound, only the dark light barely piercing the heavy clouds. Snow continued to fall in silent drifts. Frost poured from the horse’s mouth as suddenly its hooves began to make sound. The click against cobblestone was heavily muted by the snow but resonated all the same. Andurth sat up fully. He looked around. In the heavy snowfall, he could make out the shapes of houses. Yellow light gleamed from within. No guard had stopped them, but somehow they had reached a town. Andruth reached past his sleeping friend to take the reigns. He tried to direct the exhausted horse to slow, but it trudged on through the snow in protest. The horse cleared the small town, heading back out into the deep banks. Andruth continued to yank and pull the mare’s bit but it chortled in protest. They crested a small bridge with a frozen creek underneath before arriving at the great front of some stone palisades. Snow rose up in yard high drifts all around the giant building. Andruth tried to slide gracefully off the mare’s back but instead found himself collapsed in the deep snow after pushing off the horse’s back. He fought with the deep white powder before returning to his feet. The cold permeated his entire being as he waded to the large cedar door to his left. The door was ancient. Cracks and splinters along its face told of many decades out in the sun. The outside of the door was simply left to the elements but at the center, where the crossblock would be kept, it was chopped open. 

Using what was left of his strength, Andruth managed to push the door open. It led to a snowfilled courtyard overshadowed by wooden rampart along the walls. As Andruth entered, the winds subsided. Inside, it was silent. Holy like a church. The air felt heavy and patient. Each booted footstop made a quiet crunch but that was all. No other noise dared to disturb the noiseless grounds. Andruth left a straight trail of steps in the snow to the entrance hall. The doors were left open and a curtain of snow extended a few feet into the wide room. Two tables were set out, cutting the room vertically. At the end of the room, furthest from Andruth, was a grand firepit. It stretched almost three yards long, with pots and grills still adorning it. Andruth walked betwix the tables to the old soot-rotting pit. He ran a gloved hand through the ashes, trying to discern their age. The soot was muddy and soil-like. It must have been at least a decade since someone last ignited their grand pit. Remember his comrade, Andruth hoisted some of the chairs left dormate at the table into the pit. He unhooked the halberd from his back and, with a mighty swing, broke the first chair into smaller pieces. The leather covering on it wouldn’t burn well, but the long dried wood underneath certainly would. 

After about fifteen minutes, Andruth had started a steady blaze with five of the chairs around the hearth. He tossed the cracked and warped wood into the pit after clearing the soot to the sides. Under about five inches of the stuff, there was actually a metal base. The iron was finely crafted, a testament of great work by a master craftsman. The fire crackled and sputtered, bringing warmth back to the boy’s hands. Once he was confident in the blaze’s vitality, Andruth marched back across the silent courtyard to retrieve his friend. 

Kalen was still slumped in the saddle as the mare worked tirelessly to find some greenery under the blankets of snow. It’s heavy breath sent frost into the air. Andruth felt sorry for the tired beast. He reached gently for its reigns and the tired horse conceded. Andruth led the pair into the castle gate. Kalen jostled in the saddle but miraculously stayed put. Perhaps too well put. Andruth began to examine the saddle. Kalen’s legs were lashed to the saddle tightly. It would be nearly impossible to get him off the mare without help. So Andruth led the mare to the center of the courtyard. The falling snow was highest there. It had fallen in a serene mound at the center of the courtyard, like a monument. Andruth slipped his dirk out and began to slice the lashings. It only took two cuts before both Kalen and the saddle capsized off the side of the mare. Now free, the horse began to bolt. It charged around the snowy courtyard, throwing powder into the air. Despite the horse’s vindictive rampage, the courtyard remained quiet and peaceful as the thrown powder mixed with the already gently falling snow. 

Kalen emerged from the pile of snow in a daze. 

“What happened?” He started. 

“We’ve arrived!” Andruth declared. He led by example into the grand hall. Kalen ambled in behind him, in a sleepy stupor. His sleep dissipated in an instant as he saw the fire. The boy rushed into its light, rubbing his hands in a fever. 

“You’re a magician!” 

“I think we should thank the horse,” Andruth admitted. “We must have both drifted off many miles ago.” 

“How’d you negotiate our way in?” Kalen looked around the abandoned halls. 

“I didn’t. No one was at the gate. It had been carved open long ago.” 

“Eerie, but we shouldn’t let one bad sign stop us,” Kalen said with a youthful smile. The two boys stood, warming their hands for quite some time. Slowly but surely, sensation was returning, and so was Andruth’s hunger. As blood flow began to return to his nearly frostbitten fingers, Andruth's glossy eyes began to search the old hall for any sign of food. The tables were bare, and one had begun to collapse in its middle. The wooden ceiling sagged a little, meaning there was something upstairs. Something heavy, no doubt. Likely not food, but it could give the boys a better understanding of what happened to this old fort. 

Kalen began to remove his metal armor and place it haphazardly by the fire. The uncleaned iron reflected the flames dully as the snow on them began to melt. His skin was ghostly pale, with small blue spots along his palm and wrist. Hopefully bruising and not frostbite. Kalen looked only a bit older than Andruth but he couldn’t have been more than fifteen years of age. His face was pointed, with very thin golden eyebrows. His eyes were a green-hazel, almost like an unripened chestnut. He had two patches of very light freckles on either side of his nose. However, they were so light that it was almost impossible to see them with his reddened cheeks and nose.

 Andruth elected to keep his armor on. Despite the cold, they hadn’t exhausted the possibility that this fort wasn’t completely abandoned. 

“Should we check inside?” Andruth looked at the two exits from the hall. Kalen did a quick sweep of the area with his eyes. He nodded resolutely and placed his helmet back on. He took his broadsword and Andruth followed as they searched the room to the right of the hall first. 

Gently easing the old door open, Kalen stepped out into a dimly-lit kitchen. Old wood stoves were about knee high and made from stone. A large half-circle grill and a chimney leading up from behind it. At the back of the kitchen was a long-abandoned ice celler. Only clumps of sawdust remained. 

“How long do you think this place has been abandoned?” Kalen ran his boot over the packed clumps. 

“I’m not sure, must have been more than a few years, perhaps a decade?” 

“Any food we find will be too rotten to eat then…” Kalen mused darkly. 

“Unless they kept it in honey, I heard it never get spoiled then!” Andruth perked up. Kalen raised a quizzical, blond eyebrow. 

“I’m sure it couldn’t make it a full decade.” Andruth sighed disappointedly at Kalen’s comment. Realizing the kitchen was likely empty, the boys decided on the second best choice of action; water. Andruth went back to the central hall. The fire was creating smoke that spread around the room. It seemed the stone chimney was blocked. That would be a problem for another time; after all, the smoke was being whisked away by the open door. As he neared the flames, Andruth felt warmth returning to his fingers. He took one of the pans left hanging above the pit. It took a second for his ice-addled mind to process but slowly he spoke. 

“This pan doesn’t look a day uncleaned!” Andruth inspected the iron pot closer. He could find no ridges or scuffs across the metal surface. 

“Why it looks cleaner than my armor!” Kalen picked up another piece of kettleware. 

“Do you think someone has been cleaning them?” Andruth pondered aloud. His question caused both boys to look around the room vacantly. The snow had begun to pile up at the door and the floor and ceiling creaked with age. Kalen’s brow furrowed.

“Somehow, I doubt it.” 

Andruth journeyed to the edge of the room, scooping up some of the fallen snow and placing it in the pot. The snow was still drifting down endlessly in the courtyard. The mare had contented herself with eating the vegetation under an old wagon. The stinging cold felt a little softer on his face. The white powder looked like a blanket over the fort, erasing the footsteps they’d left coming in. There was a crack and Andruth turned to find Kalen snapping another chair and tossing it into the flames.

“This won’t do!” Kalen shouted as water began to drip down from the long chimney. It seems the fluke was covered in snow. 

“I’m not climbing up to scoop it off,” Andruth began to protest. The blond-haired boy smiled. 

"Nonsense, we just need more flames!” Kalen began to scoop up the chairs from the table and toss them whole into the fire pit. The wide pit began to glow and crackle as the flames spread over the soot remnants. As more of the old wood began to burn, the water dripping into the fire increased. Smoke and steam began to create a bathhouse effect. Then, the snow began to fall in, chunk by chunk. It wasn’t long before the smoke and steam began to rise from the now cleared chimney. The air cleared but the heavy smell of fire lingered on the moistened walls. Kalen laid down on the table. 

“In the morrow, I say we go back to that township. Perhaps someone knows what happened here.” 

“Perhaps they have food." Andruth offered, more hopefully. The soldier-boy watched the fire dance and play in the old pit. It seemed like a bath of burning wood, baptizing them both. At least now they weren’t fighting on a frozen lake. For the first time in a long while, Andruth felt at peace with his choices. He laid down on the other table since there was nowhere else to go. The wood was sturdy and rough, but it felt easier to sleep now than ever before.