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[the7citadel]

Camborn

Camborn was irritated, he had spent most of the previous four days in the saddle, stopping only briefly while the sun was out to rest and water the horses. He hated riding, he hated all aspects of traveling for that matter, but riding by far the most. The wool shirt he wore inched from constant rubbing against his skin, his legs and his arse both ached relentlessly, and he was exhausted. He had never understood how sitting all day could tire a man out so much, he would spend from dawn to dusk training with his uncle, helping around the forts or toiling in fields and still not reach his bed as tired, nor as sore. Camborn rode at the center of the small band riding two by two along the old road he they had spent the last four days riding down, there had been just the four rangers when they had set out, his uncle Arrin who rode along beside him was was absently checking the leather straps on a large round shield. He was far less stocky than his brother, his blonde hair cut short, his face a mixture of scars and age lines, despite that the resemblance was quite remarkable, both had a strong jaw and dark blue eyes that radiated kindness or menace depending on what the situation called for. At the front of the group was Mentri, a young man, not much older than Cam. A tall thin man with a mess of long black hair that cascaded down past his shoulders, a pair of short handled axes hung across from belts that criss crossed his body. Bringing up the rear was Leith, a quiet man who seemed to prefer keeping himself to himself, his wild blonde hair was tied tight at the nape of his neck, dressed in a wool shirt and leather breastplate. From his saddle hung a shield on one side and a large quiver of arrows on the other, across his back he carried a ready strung bow. It seemed to Cam that the man was always on edge, twitching at every flicker of movement, every sound. When Cam had questioned Arrin about the curious ranger he had been told that it was just his way, that he spent most of his time out scouting and hunting and Cam could tell by his uncles stern tone of voice not to press the matter further. Scattered around the group of rangers now were a host different people, traders and their wagons, farmers that had joined them along the way a few Kriomari, including his uncles and his own all bound together in the law of the road. It had annoyed Cam when the traders had first started to join the group, just what he needed, a long journey made longer he had thought, however as more and more people had gradually joined his mind had changed and the additional company had become a blessing. In the wagon in front of him a group of children where huddled around playing a strange game involving stacking twigs that they had attempted to teach Cam the previous night, he smiled at the thought of them laughing at him when he couldn’t seem to figure out the silly made up rules, of which he was certain changed everytime he thought he had gotten to grips with. To his left lazily plodding along was Novor, his Kriomari, at four years old he was still not quite fully grown, not that you would of known it to gaze upon him. Novor stood nearly as tall as a horse, long curved fangs shot out of his mouth like huge white daggers against his pitch black fur, a shaggy black mane hung around his neck. Everything about him radiated ferocity, from the razor sharp claws that lined his paws to his piercing amber eys. Novor had never been as friendly as Perkion, mistrusting almost everybody he met, in fact the only human Cam could remember Novor being fond of was Cia. Yet another thing Cam once saw as a burden but was now utterly thankful for, it was like having a permanent shadow built of teeth and muscle.

[the7citadel]

Celicia

Celicia was bored, she had walked up the hill overlooking her parents farm in an attempt to hide away from her mothers constant nagging, but now with her cloak pulled tight around her shoulders to help stave off the bitter western wind she was regretting the decision. From her seat at the Base of the ancient oak tree that sat upon the top of the hill she could just make out the bulky figure of her father heading towards the cattle field in the eastern border of the small homestead. Plodding several paces behind him was the large dark silhouette of Prekion, her fathers Kriomari, she smiled and glaced down to her side, where her own Kriomari, Prima, was silently stalking a large tuft of yellow grass, her white fur brown in several places from playing in the dirt. At two years old she was still a far way from fully grown, barely waist high to your average man, and the great saber fangs of the Kriomari were only short stumps juttering from her top lip. Looking down at the great cat it was hard to picture her as anything other than the small bundle of bright white fur that had been presented to her during the festival of life nearly 2 years gone. She still remembered feeding her small bowls of milk and being able to carry her around under one arm to keep her out of mischief and away from the chickens while she went around her daily chores. A warm smile spread across her face as Prima pounced at the grass, flipping over onto her back and tearing it free from earth with her claws, with a lazy sigh Celicia pushed herself up from the tree and strode over to playful beast. Dropping to her knees she started to tenderly stroke the soft fur between the Kriomari’s ears, while Prima whom was still on her back continued to shred the grass between her paws, her large amber eyes flicking between the savaged foliage and Celicia. A distant noise drew the cats attention, her long ears pricking back as she tilted her head in the direction it came from, Celicia let out a quiet groan as gradually the sporadic sound began to draw nearer and the realisation of its origin became clear, she glanced lazily down the hill towards the farm, in the corner of her eye she saw her father heading back from the field, Perkion bounding playfully behind, his long tail wagging from side to side as he went. Another blast of the sound drifted up the hill, She could almost make out name now as her gaze drifted on to the bottom of the hill where her mother stood, hands on hips. 

“She sounds angry.” Celicia said to the Cat, who was still playing with the grass on her back “we had best get moving, else she will skin us both.” wearily she pushed herself from her knees, brushing the lose grass and twigs from her dress so as not to incur a harsher scolding from her already unimpressed mother. Checking one more time for any remaining debris she quickly started her decent down the hill, looking back after the first few steps to see Prima still on the ground staring up at her, unable to stop herself smiling at the playful Kriomari she shook her head, patting the side of her own leg “Come on you, you wont be able to hunt grass if Ma turns you into a rug.” Prima slowly rolled over, lazily raising to her feet and plodding up alongside her mistress, nuzzling her with her broad head as she reached Celicia’s side, then together they quickly set off down the gentle slope of the hill. The decent down the hill didn’t take the pair of them long, the short yellow grass that covered the hill made for easy terrain and any holes or bumps were easily spotted, not that there was much chance of Celicia falling prey to any tripping hazards even when the grass grew knee high in the summer months. Years of running and playing on the hill during her sixteen years had grown her accustom to every inch of the farm on which she had grown up on, from the small woodlamd that marked the eastern border to the ancient oak atop the hill. She and her brother Camborn had spent all of their time as children causing mischief or playing make believe, and had continued to do so all the way until he had left with uncle Arrin after the Festival of life 2 years gone. Her thoughts drifted to Camborn as she reached the bottom of the hill, she missed him. It had always been his dream to join the rangers that patrolled the wide plains of blahblahland, to help people and forge his own story as a protector of the people, but it was a lonesome life on the farm, he had been her best friend forever and she missed him. A glance at her mothers stern expression had quickly shaken her thoughts away from her brother, Ellara’s kind eyes and rosy cheeks awash with an infinitely more sour look, a thin dusting of flour seemed to cover her entire body, turning her pale skin almost white, the pale green dress she wore, along with the darker green apron were both speckled all over with a mixture of white and various other stains. Even her long blond hair, tied back in a ribbon seemed to be covered in the aftermath of whatever it was she had been doing. Celicia slowly shuffled towards her mother, her eyes cast down, trying her best to look apologetic. Prima however, had no interest in attempting to look sorry, and bounded giddily over to see Ellara brushing up against her and making all manner of happy grunts, utterly unaware of any tension that existed between mother and daughter. Too Celicia’s surprise, her mothers angry expression had started to fade a little as her attention was drawn to Prima, Ellara started to stroke the soft white fur of the Kriomari’s shoulder as she settled leaning into her side, diverting her attention to Celicia, with one hand still upon her hip she started to speak. “So, baking?” Ellara’s face an unreadable mask Celicia opened her mouth to speak but before words could pass her lips she was closed it again, silenced by a her mother raising her palm. “I dont want to hear another excuse Cia, for the love of the gods girl you’re sixteen years old, you can’t just keep hiding away from the world like that” she sighed, shaking her head. “I know you hate baking, and I know you hate being stuck here on the farm, but for now this is your life and you have to live it” her mother smiled at her “Now go and feed the chickens, the light will fade soon.” Ellara gave Prima one last pat and turned to walk away, causing the giant cat to topple sidways as her leaning post moved away from her. Celicia watch a moment as her mother walked towards the house, then turned on her heels and began to walk briskly towards the barn. The sun had begun to set as Celicia reached the doorway to the small farmhouse, a huge shadow cast by the ancient oak spread across the pale white walls and all the way up the thatched roof. As she pushed the door open her nostrils where assaulted by the smell of fresh sweetbuns and fresh bread, growing with strength with every step she took into the dimly lit kitchen, Ellara was stooped over by the low oven, carefully pulling out the last of her large metal cooking trays, a fresh wave barrage of scent washed over her, honey cakes Celicia thought to herself. On a stool close to the fire was the hulking figure of Gerin, his thick blonde hair and beard both tied back with thin strips of leather, carefully he ran his whetstone along the blade of a finely crafted throwing axe. Gerin gently tested the edge with his thumb, smiling with pride as he carefully placed the axe in the leather case along side it’s 3 identical brothers, a gift he had been presented with for being the first man to win the axe throw for five years running. “Do you think you’ll win again Da.” Celicia said as she lowered herself on another stool by the fire “Well that depends.” The big man said as he finished rolling the case. “Rumor has it your uncle Arrin will be showing his ugly face, and he’s a far better shot than I am” Celicia’s eyes widened and she caught a smile before it blossomed into a foolish grin “Dose that mean Cam is going to be there? Why didn’t you tell me!” “He wanted to surprise you, or sneak up.on you, one of the two. You know Cam, always upto mischief in some way or another.” Gerin said with half a smile on his lips. Celicia looked around the kitchen. “So that’s why Ma has made enough honey cakes to feed everyone from here to Lionsport” she shook her head, I should of known she thought. At that moment Ellara walked past over with a large platter of fresh bread, a wheel of cheese and some dried meat. “Not much of a supper I’m afraid, I’ve been to busy cooking all by myself to worry about anything else” she gave her daughter a look that bordered on sarcasm. Gerin couldn’t help but smile at his family as he cut a slice of cheese from the wheel and handed it to Celicia. The family talked and laughed together for a while as they ate their meal, Gerin and Ellara spoke about the farm and preparations for the oncoming months, Celicia drifted in and out of the conversation until she couldn’t take it any longer and took a pair of large goat legs out to the two Kriomari, who where in their small wooden stable built off the side of the house. Prima nearly took Celicia off her feet as she opened the stable door, eager to get to her supper, she threw the first of the legs across the stable and the Cat sped after it. She then carried the other over towards Perkion, who was laying patiently on the straw the covered the ground. Gently Celicia ran her fingers through his long brown mane “You’re such a good boy, why can’t you behave yourself like Perki here?” She said as she turned to Prima, who’s attention was completely focused on her meal and didn’t even seem to notice her mistress was still close by, she shook her head and walked out of the stable, being careful to lock the door securely behind herself. The conversation had stopped when she got back to the kitchen, her mother was busy careful loading her days work into creates and her father had returned to his axes, testing the weight in his hand and probing for any dull spots on the blade. Celicia walked over to him, kissing him on the cheek. “I’m to bed Pa” Gerin slowly looked up, reluctant to divide his attention, he grunted in acknowledgement and returned to his work. Celicia shook her head and walked over to her mother, kissing her cheek as well. “Night ma” “G'night sweet, I want you up before first light, we should reach the fair by midday if we leave shortly after dawn” “Yes ma” Came the reply, a hint of disgust at having to be up before the sun was. She turned and climbed the ladder to get bed high in the rafters, collapsing into her small bed. She lay there for what seemed like hours, excitement for the coming day buzzing through her mind like a fly, but eventually her eyes fell shut and sleep took her.

[the7citadel]

A start.

The soft early spring sun had begun to break over the vast Urvine Forest, the last of the winter winds tugged gently at the trees lining the fringes in which Balthazar and his small company had made camp the night before. The young prince mindlessly stoked the dying embers of the previous nights fire, eleven of the twelve men that had followed him down from High Soramir lay scattered about in their beds in the forest litter, all still asleep, dressed in there thick black cloaks and breastplates of dark steel, with weapons clutched close for fear of being caught off guard by any of the Bullari Tribes that lived scattered across the lowlands of the western province of Krenzalor. Balthazar slowly rose to his feet, tossing aside the long stick of ash he had been using to stoke the fire he walked wearily the ten paces to his makeshift bed at bed centre of the small encampment, not that his his wolf pelt cloak made much of a bed he had thought to himself, to many years sleeping in the soft feather beds in the high towers of his fathers fortress had made him unaccustomed to bitter cold and uncomfortable conditions of his journey down the banks of the Enothul river and through the thick untamable wilds of the Urvine. For the first half a moon of his journey he had been both irritated and demoralised by the slow and, seemingly never ending walk across the treacherous and inhospitable terrain of the highland forest. That all seemed so long ago now, his mind scurried back to day in his fathers chamber he had been tasked with his grand, but overwhelming mission to Bullari. A brief grin crossed his face as he thought back to the words he had spoken then, most of them in disgust.

“Please father see reason, surly there are men far more suited to perform this task than I.” 

His father, King Granek had spoken to him with a compassion that had surprised Balthazar, for his father was a cruel man, and would never suffer his commands to be argued against.

“If i thought there was a man better fit for this I would send him my son, alas there is no man with a keener mind, nor a man with a better sword arm amongst the Seven Citadels than you.”

“But why must we walk.” he had pleaded “If only you would allow us to ride we could be in the lowlands within a moon.”

“ENOUGH!” Shouted the fearsome King, clenching his large fists he took a deep breath and began to speak slowly “Our need for secrecy is to great for you to risk being spotted on the plains, and I will not risk years of planning for your comfort.” His powerful tone casting aside any desire the young prince to persue the matter any longer, and so, he had drummed his fist into his chest in salute and made ready to leave. 

Suddenly a glimmer of swift moment from the edge of the three line dragged him from his thoughts, instinct had his hand hand grasped around the long handle of his bastard sword and the blade half way from the steel bound black leather scabbard before his sleep deprived mind had even processed the thought. A moment of fear spiked through his gut as his eyes scanned the shadow riddled trees that made up the fringe of the forest. He swore quietly and with a shallow thud the dark steel hilt of weapon set itself back in its sheath. Balthazar, rose swiftly his gazed fixed on the tall dark haired man striding from between the dimly illuminated trees, he was dressed in a jerkin and knee length leather kilt, both made from dark stained leather and studded in various places with steel. In his hand he carried a long curved bow, with leather bound around the centre, at his hip was a long curved knife and across his back a heavy quiver, made in the same fashion as his attire, filled with long shafted arrows, fletched with black crows feathers, all identical save for one which had been fletched with the white feathers of a dove. 

“Damn it Lorcan, you were moments from having your head separated from that spindly twig you call a neck” Balthazar had exclaimed with a stern tone of voice that matched the expression upon his face.

“That would provide you could raise your sword before I put an arrow through your skull you hulking oaf.” Replied the young bowman.

“ IS THAT HOW YOU TALK TO YOUR FUTURE KING YOU INSUFFERABLE CRETIN.” Roared the prince as he strode towards the Lorcan, who had already begun to smile as Balthazar offered his hand in the warriors grip. 

“How looks the path ahead? is there any sign of movement from the Bullari?” Balthazar asked as he peered out onto the open plains of the land outside the Urvine. 

Lorcan shook his head “I doubt we will see anything of them until we want to, they rarely venture this far north, let alone during the cold months.” He looked out on to the plain then back to his prince. “But best to keep to the edges of this stinking wood until we need to leave its safety, I don’t want to be run down by a horde of savages.” 

Balthazar nodded. “Go wake the others, I want to this forest behind us before the days end.”

“Whats the matter, scared of the wolves my liege.” The bowman jested. “Never would I have though the great Balthazar would be scared of the d-” Before he could finish his jest Lorcan found himself face down with a mouthful of dead leaves and dirt, the Princes large boot print on the back of his kilt. 

Balthazar walked over his comrade, a smile on his lips, but a deep concern fogging his mind like a storm cloud. His thoughts returning to when his father had first told him of his ambitious plan, and his sons near suicidal part to play in it.