《Blackwood Company (A novel of grimdark sword and sorcery)》TWENTY-EIGHTR—Pressing On

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Will he be able to wipe our path clean? Sorela wondered. Did lord Birtran not have trackers that could see through that?

She followed Brassen and Gorkis as they plowed through the crusted snow coming up to their thighs, Leisa tucking her hands underneath her arms. The girl had lost her traveling cloak after they were taken captive. “Come, child,” she said, taking Leisa’s arm to help her through the snow.

The girl was moving slowly, obviously dejected. “Ride one of the horses.”

The two Serafes caught up after nearly an hour had passed—at least it had felt like an hour, trudging through the snow as cold chills gusted into Sorela’s cowl.

“Our trail is clear,” Falan said. “They will think we are making our way north, so we should be out of their way.”

“What do you mean?” she asked him. “We are making our way north.” Serin stopped, eyed her incredulously, or what passed for incredulousness with these northerners. They were headed east at the moment. Did they think they would turn back and head for Nalandor? “We continue north, Serafe.”

Their company stopped. “My lady,” Falan said, bemused. “We have no shelter, and only two swords. How can we go on? Chances are, we freeze to death either way.”

She glanced toward the stable boy. He looked somewhat downcast as he patted one of the horses on the neck. “Let me take care of that, Serafe. You want your gold, do you not?”

The two Serafes moved off, speaking amongst themselves in heated whispers, though Sorela was uncertain what they were arguing about. Probably weather or not to abandon them here.

Finally they stepped forward. “We push on east until dark,” Falan said, much to Serin’s clear disappointment. “Then we head north in the morning.”

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It was not a suggestion. If they were going to continue with the help of the Serafes, they would have to do things their way. For now, Sorela thought.

One of the guardsmen groaned, nursing an ache. Evidentially they had been beaten during their time in captivity.

“My lady,” Leisa said, “Why are we continuing on? You heard what Lord Birtran said. Lord Jalen is dead.”

“We do not know that,” Sorela snapped. Then in a softer tone so that the others could not hear she added, “I cannot return to lord and lady Warfink without at least having gone to the place where their son was last seen. I cannot tell them their son is dead unless I know for certain. If you wish to be a mage, child, you must be diligent.”

Leisa lowered her eyes. The girl’s fervor to study at the Hall did not seem so aredent now. Perhaps she was not worthy.

The girl was in shock. Yes. She had narrowly escaped hanging after all. Sorela decided to postpone making any decisions for now. Besides, she would only be unworthy if she chose to give up.

The time for that decision was coming near. Sorela could feel it....

The sun was below the mountains when Falan stopped the group to announce that they needed food or else they would freeze during the night. “Spread out,” he said. “Find anything you can.”

The Serafes unslung their crossbows and headed into the forest with the other men, leaving her and Leisa with the stable boy.

“Find some wood,” she said, pointing below an evergreen covered with snow. Foraging for wood was no work for the noble born. Everyone had a part and Sorela was about to play one of hers.

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