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Against him, Melantha had gone still, her grip slack around his neck. Only the steady rise and fall of her chest against his assured him she was still alive. Though, in this cold, sleep could very well become deadly.
“Stay with me. I need you to hold on for just a little longer.” He was not sure she heard him. If he did not get her warm soon, he might lose her.
He forced himself to keep going. He waded through snow up to his knees even with the snowshoes helping so that he did not sink in farther than that. His legs were shaking. His shoulders throbbed under all the weight hanging from him.
He had to rest, but he did not dare stop. He would beg the first person he found for shelter, no matter the risk if they were still loyal or not.
Was that a light? He squinted at the spot where he thought he’d seen a glint.
Yes, that was a light. Either that or he was hallucinating.
Rharreth staggered forward, gaze fixed on the flickering, orange-yellow light. As he neared, a shape formed out of the tumult of white. A large, stone wall rose before him, set with towers rising into the sky. More lights showed where a village sprawled up the mountainside from the wall where he stood.
If he was right, then this was Gozat Stronghold, the fortress-village that Zavni’s warrior family oversaw. If he was wrong and this village was ruled by a family that supported Drurvas, then Rharreth and Melantha likely would die.
But Melantha was on the verge of dying now. For her, Rharreth was desperate enough to risk it.
He shuffled alongside the wall until he found a gate. Holding his ski poles in one hand, he pounded a fist on the gate.
Something scraped, then a small stone was pulled out, leaving an opening. The gray, ice-covered face of a guard peered through. “What is your business at Gozat Stronghold?”
Rharreth braced himself against the door. He had made it. “We are weary travelers seeking shelter. I am a shield brother of Zavni of the warrior family Rindrin.”
The guard studied him, then craned his neck as if trying to get a good look at Melantha. With her face and black hair hidden, the guard would not be able to tell she was an elf, though she was still smaller and slighter than a troll woman.
Hopefully the guard would assume she was a child rather than realize whom they were. While Zavni’s parents would be loyal, Rharreth could not say the same for the entire village.
The guard nodded, and the window closed. A moment later, the massive stone gate creaked open enough that Rharreth was able to slip inside.
Another guard was waiting with the first. This guard nodded to Rharreth. “Please follow me. I will take you to the stronghold.”
Still holding both poles in one hand, Rharreth wrapped the other over Melantha’s back. She had not even stirred at the sound of voices. That could not be a good sign.
The guard led the way down the main street of the village. No one else was strolling the streets due to the evening hour and the raging blizzard.
The Rindrin family stronghold was a large, three-tiered tower set into the mountainside near the center of the village. The gate guard spoke with the guards at the door, then they nodded and let Rharreth and Melantha enter while the gate guard spun to return to his duty at the gate.
Inside, warmth washed over Rharreth, and one of the guards had to lean his weight against the door to shut it against the gusting wind.
They stood in a stone entrance hall with mounted heads of caribou and elk filling the walls among paintings of various members of the warrior family fighting in famous battles in Kostaria’s history. A large, stuffed mount of a great white bear from the far north was stationed in the very center of the room.
A spiraling staircase curled up one wall, leading to an upper tunnel into the mountain while the openings to Rharreth’s left and directly ahead of him led to more passageways.
One of the guards waited with Rharreth while the other left, presumably in search of Zavni’s parents, Ezrec and Lerrasah.
While he waited, Rharreth kept his head down. He did not want anyone recognizing him before he had a chance to talk with the warrior family couple.
Footsteps scuffed in the passageway above, punctuated by the tap of wood on stone. A moment later, the guard reappeared with two more people behind him.
Zavni’s father, Ezrec, walked with a limp on his wooden leg, having lost his left leg below the knee during a battle against Tarenhiel. He refused to use a cane, but instead stalked along on his wooden leg with all the determination of a white bear intent on its prey.
His wife, Lerrasah, wore her long white hair in numerous tiny braids with colored yarn braided into it. She had tied back the upper half of her hair, holding it back with a leather band. A long scar ran across her face from the top of her forehead, over her right eye, and down onto her cheek, showing that she, too, had been a warrior for Kostaria.
“Welcome, traveler!” Ezrec’s voice boomed through the entry hall as he and Lerrasah strode down the stairs. “What is the word of the trouble in Osmana? Zavni managed to send us a brief ice message, but he did not give any details.”
Rharreth faced them and drew back the hood of his parka, giving them a good look at his face for the first time. “Zavni assured me that you would remain loyal, despite the trouble.”
“Your Majesty!” Ezrec stumped down the stairs faster, nearly falling as he reached the bottom and tried to hurry to Rharreth and bow at the same time. As he drew closer, his gaze fell on Melantha. “Pardon. Your Majesties. Of course. My stronghold is yours.”
