The snow crunched under the weight of the horses’ hooves, and the wind whistled through the branches of the leafless trees. It was the seventeenth day since they had entered the pass, and the third since they had run out of food. The knights had the strength to persevere, but the children grew weak with hunger. Each of them had thick cloaks to guard them from the cold winds, but as the hunger crept through their bones, so too did the cold.
“Are we any nearer, Ser Maryk?” The older boy asked, shielding his eyes from the icy gale that blew in from the north. The tall, lean knight in the front of the small column did not answer at first, and the boy meant to ask again, when the knight finally spoke.
“Aye, we are nearer,” Ser Maryk said stoically, not turning to face the boy. “Yet we will not leave the pass this night. Mayhap not tomorrow either.” The boy let out a cold sigh, trying hard not to shiver. He knew once he began to shiver, he would not be able to stop. The younger boys had already begun to shiver, and they all feared for them. The knights knew better than to say it aloud, but they knew the children were in danger now that they were out of food.
Ser Maryk never would have brought them into the pass without at least a month’s worth of food, but he hadn’t had a choice. He knew they were being chased, and they dare not slow down. The three knights were all skilled warriors, but they couldn’t fend off an army. Even if they could defend themselves, they wouldn’t be able to save the young ones. And so, they had gone into the snowy mountain pass without enough food, and now they all grew hungry.
The boy kicked at his filly’s sides, and rode the horse nearer the tall, stoic knight. He knew the knight did not wish to speak with him, but he wanted answers. The cold and hunger were bringing on a desperation that the boy had never felt before. The knights had sworn to protect them, but it was his siblings they rode with, and he felt responsible for them, despite the protection of the warriors they rode with.
“Do you think there will be any chance of food before we reach the end of the pass, Ser?” The boy asked, low enough so only the knight could hear. He knew they were all aware that there was no food. His young brother had cried himself to sleep the last two nights, while the others shivered from the cold as well as their hunger.
“Henrick and I will take a small hunt tonight,” Ser Maryk answered, still not turning to face the boy. He rode ever forward, into the cold, icy chill that tried to blow them back from whence they had come. “If we are lucky, we can find a small prize for the lads.”
“Thank you, Ser,” the boy said, nodding his head despite the knight not looking at him.
“There will be no food for the rest of us until we find the woods again,” Ser Maryk added. The Knight’s fierce, brown eyes stared off into the cold, northern wind under a stern brow furrowed in dark contemplation.
“I know,” the boy sighed, feeling his body jolt as the warm air left his lungs. His hands were gripped tight around the reins of his filly, trying hard not to shake. “The rest of us will survive. But I fear for my brother, Ser. He has grown weak these last days.”
“Aye, the boy needs food,” Ser Maryk nodded. He too knew that the young ones were dangerously close to death. He had sworn an oath to protect them all, but he could only do so much. He had tried pushing them faster through the mountains, but the children could not keep up. Even if they rode ahorse with the knights, the other horses would fall behind. They moved as fast as they could, and it wasn’t fast enough.
“What should I tell him, Ser?” The boy asked. He knew the man wouldn’t give him an answer, but he asked nonetheless. He was feeling helpless. It was an uncomfortable, foreign feeling to him. He was still too young to be a knight of his own, but he no longer felt like a child. He had become the head of his family without warning or preparation. His older brother should have come with them, but he had died, as had their parents. Now the boy was the last family his siblings had left. It was just the three of them now, with their three knights, and the young boy they had found along the way.
The seven of them rode slowly down the snowy path, shielding their faces from the frozen gale blowing in on them. The boy slowed his horse and let Ser Henrick pass him. When his sister rode up beside him, he gave his filly a light kick, and matched her pace. They rode side by side for a time, neither speaking. Their young brother was curled up in the girl’s lap, bundled against the cold, but still shivering violently.
“Can’t he be any warmer?” The boy asked, staring sadly at his young brother.
“He is as warm as he can be,” his sister replied, looking down at the shivering boy in her arms. She had already become the mother they had all lost. She was seventeen, the oldest of them, and she had learned all too quickly that it was her job to look after the young one now. The older boy could take care of himself, and the knights would protect them, but the young one needed a mother. And she was all the mother he was going to get.
“Ser Maryk says he will try to hunt tonight,” the boy said softly, not wanting to wake the sleeping child. “Whatever they might find will go to him.” He nodded his head down to the sleeping child, shaking violently in his heavy furs.
“Good,” the girl nodded, in content. “Gods willing, they will find something. He needs food, Will. He was already weak from the loss. Now the cold and hunger are taking him.”
“I know,” Will nodded, hating the thought. He couldn’t bear to lose another brother. He had always looked up to his older brother the way the young boy looked up to him. His brother had died to defend him, and now it was his turn to save his little brother, but he didn’t know how.
“We should stop soon,” the girl said to Will. “The days are growing shorter, and Peter will not survive the night atop a horse.” Will nodded, frowning down at the starving boy. He gave his filly another light kick, and rode back up to Ser Maryk’s side.
“My sister says we should make camp soon, Ser,” Will told the knight. “Peter has grown too weak. Sasha says he will not last long in the dark.”
“Very well,” Ser Maryk nodded. “Henrick,” he called loudly over the whistling of the wind. “Find us a place to make camp.” The younger knight rode up, nodded in silence, and then rode off ahead of the group.
“Do you think you will be able to find any food here, Ser?” Will asked. He knew it wasn’t likely. They hadn’t seen any animals since they had entered the pass over a fortnight ago. They had tried to make their stores last, though maybe not as well as they could have.
“We will try,” Ser Maryk grunted. He didn’t like how demanding Will had become. It was as if the boy thought he was in charge. Maryk had sworn to protect them, and deliver them to safety, not to follow the orders of a boy of fourteen. But now was not the time to argue. As much of a pest as he might be, Will was right. They needed to find the young ones food, and fast.
They rode in silence for a long while, listening to the crunching of the snow, and the high whistling of the icy wind. When Henrick came riding back to them, he gave Maryk a simple nod, and fell in beside him. Twenty minutes later they found an outcropping in the cliff, where countless others had made camp before them. Ser Maryk helped Sasha tie her horse to the branches of a dead tree, and then mounted his horse again, and rode off with Henrick in search of food.
If you come across this story on Amazon, it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
“The lads are growing too weak,” Ser Gilbert said as he dismounted his great, black warhorse. He carried the other frail, hungry child over to Sasha, and placed him beside Peter. The young boys huddled together without waking, wrapping their arms around each other instinctively. Sasha lay with them, stroking Peter’s hair. Will could see the worry on her face, and again he felt helpless. He wanted to take care of them both, but he was unable. It was up to the knights to find them food, and Will could do nothing but wait.
Ser Maryk and Ser Henrick spent an hour hunting. Maryk had been through this pass before, but Henrick was the one with the bow. Henrick was the best archer the older, taller, more experienced knight had ever seen, and he knew that if they came across anything living, Henrick could put an arrow in it.
It wasn’t until the sky was nearly black that they saw a hawk flying above them. Henrick nocked an arrow and waited, tracing his bow along the darkening sky with the hawk’s movements. When he let the arrow fly, the wind threw it sideways. Maryk thought the shot would go astray, but the arrow pierced the hawk, bringing it tumbling down to the snowy rocks below. The young knight never failed to impress with his skill.
Maryk climbed the rocks, taking care not to slip on the ice clinging to the surface. When he reached the downed bird, he scooped it up, and made his way back. He handed Henrick his kill, and mounted his horse again. They rode back much faster than they had left. They didn’t need to speak it aloud to know that the young boy was close to death. He had barely been eating since his parents died. And now the cold was taking him.
When they returned to the small camp, they found Sasha cradling the young one, while the boy slept and Will and Ser Gilbert maintained a small fire that the wind was trying to smother. Henrick had plucked the hawk’s feathers as they rode, and now he pulled out a dagger, and began to butcher the bird. The hawk wasn’t well fed either, and had little meat on it, but Henrick cut off what there was, and handed it to Gilbert. The big, somber knight skewered the meat, and cooked it over the small fire, with Will stoking the flames.
As the meat blackened and charred, Ser Gilbert added what little salt he had left. He knew the young lads didn’t like gamey meat, and he had learned to salt it to their taste. When the tired, old knight was satisfied with his cooking, he handed the charred strips of meat to Will, who quickly brought it to his sister. Will sat beside her, giving her a small smile of hope as he held out the thin strip of meat.
“Peter,” Sasha said in a soft, tender voice. “Wake up, dear. You have to eat.”
“Mother?” Peter’s weak voice asked as he came slowly out of his frozen slumber. It was how he always awoke lately, asking for their dead mother.
“It’s me Peter,” Sasha said, gently brushing the cold, wet hair out of his face. “Ser Henrick found some food for you.” She held the piece of charred meat in front of the boy’s face, hoping it might help him to wake. Peter’s heavy-lidded eyes peaked open, and saw the blackened strip of meat. He simply opened his mouth, not taking his arms from around his sleeping companion. Sasha brought the meat down to Peter’s pale, blue lips, and he bit into it, weakly. She watched as his thin jaw chewed the meat with difficulty. She had to struggle not to weep. At year’s beginning, Peter had had fat, pudgy little cheeks, and always a happy smile. Now his face was gaunt, and his lips pursed with cold. She bent down and kissed his forehead as he ate, and his lips curled into a smile.
“Is the boy eating it?” Ser Henrick asked as he walked over to them, and crouched down beside Sasha. She looked up at him, and nodded, a single tear rolling out of one of her piercing, sapphire eyes. Will didn’t fail to notice how his sister looked at the young knight. He never did. Ser Henrick was a good man, and sworn to protect them, but Will knew his sister was meant for a greater purpose than their young protector.
“There is a small bit more,” Henrick said softly. “I’ll save it for tomorrow. It may yet be another few days before we are done with these cursed mountains.”
“Thank you, Ser,” Sasha said gratefully.
“Can’t Jon have some?” Peter’s frail voice asked, surprising them all.
“There isn’t enough,” Sasha said sadly. She knew the other boy was as hungry as Peter. But she would let a stranger die before her own brother. It was a terrible thing, to choose between children, but it was an easy choice.
“I don’t want anymore,” Peter said, bringing his hand up to push the meat away from his face. “Give Jon a bite.” Sasha looked to Will, who nodded solemnly. Sasha gently woke the other sleeping boy, who woke easily, and ate the food as soon as it touched his lips. Jon ate the meat without complaint, and was asleep again within seconds. Peter lay hazily in Sasha’s arms for a time, before also drifting back to sleep.
“These boys need food, and warmth,” Sasha said seriously. Maryk and Gilbert had joined them as well, and they all sat in a small circle, huddled together to block out some of the wind. “And shelter,” she added.
“When we leave the pass there will be food,” Maryk said. “And it will be warmer as well. I fear we won’t have any shelter for a long time though, my lady.”
“We must, Ser,” Sasha reiterated. “My brother will not live long in the wilderness. He is small, and frail, and not fit for this travel.”
“He may not be meant for it, but it is what must needs be done,” Maryk said. “The king’s men are after us. I don’t know how many, and I don’t know how far behind they are. But I know they are after us.”
“You can’t know for sure, Ser,” Will said, wishing it weren’t true.
“I can,” Maryk said flatly. “What we carry, they cannot let go. I've no doubt they are after us at this very moment. They will be after us until we are dead, or our prize is stolen.”
“That won’t happen,” Will said. “We’ll die before they take it back.”
“And we may at that, lad,” Maryk said. “If we slow, or stop to rest for shelter, we may yet all die. That is why we must keep going.”
“At the cost of our brother’s life, Ser?” Sasha said. Her sapphire eyes shined with cold fury as she looked at the knight.
“It may be the boy’s life, or all of ours, my lady,” Maryk told her grimly. “I am sworn to protect you all, but I am sworn also to deliver that message. The king himself made me swear the oath.”
“Then you can go on without us, Ser,” Sasha said defiantly. “I will not let my brother die for your pride.”
“It is not pride, my lady,” Maryk said somberly. “It is duty. The boy is a good lad, I know it. And my heart aches for your loss. But we must not stray from our path.”
“We won’t,” Will spoke up, before his sister could protest. “We will continue on, but we must stop sometime, Ser. We cannot live on the road all the way to the north. We will all die.”
“Only the young ones,” Maryk corrected, and then turned his face away from the look Sasha gave him. Even the seasoned knight could not stand in the face of her wrath. The girl had too much of her mother in her, as well as her father. Maryk knew that she was stronger than Will, stronger perhaps than any of them. But he also knew they couldn’t treat their situation lightly.
“I do not intend to let another of my brothers die, Ser,” Sasha said, and Maryk could only nod his head while Sasha glared icy daggers at him. As beautiful as her sapphire eyes were, they could also be terrifying.
“Nor do I,” Will agreed. “Whatever fate holds for us, it holds for all of us.”
“Very well then,” Maryk sighed, getting back to his feet. “When we leave the pass, there is a castle a few days’ ride out of our way.”
“We will go to this castle,” Sasha said, seeming to take charge. Will quickly nodded his agreement.
“I believe this to be a foolish venture,” Maryk protested, without much real fervor. “But if you both agree, then I will take you there, and let us pray that Lord Bellard be a gracious host.”
“Thank you, Ser,” Sasha said, nodding to Maryk. He nodded back, gravely, and then sauntered off to his horse, and began unpacking his cot for the night. The rest of them sat by the fire a while longer, enjoying the faint heat it gave them, and then went to sleep one by one. Sasha lay with the boys, huddling close to Peter, while Will slept close by. Ser Gilbert stayed up, taking the night watch. He was a veteran of more long journeys than the rest of them combined, and he was no stranger to staying up a night, and riding through the next day. The old knight sat in the icy cold and thought of times long past, while the others slowly fell asleep one by one.