“Straight on to Sagna?” Cassendir raised his brow. “No looking for help or sending messages or anything?”
Loren shook her head. “No, we continue on to Sagna.” The princess took a breath and forged on. Her step grew a fraction stronger. “We’re going to find an antidote and confront the queen. Haedria.”
The border of the Plaguelands and the north was the same as the clear line between the Plaguelands and the Garruchian Plains. The cracked, barren land of Yureun stopped abruptly as if a line was carved into the earth. Past the dry land was a sharp mark of snow peppered with tufts of a hardy grass. Loren and her friends stood curiously at the border, the air of their side of the land didn’t change. Glancing at her friends, Loren stretched out a hand towards the other side of the line. As soon as her fingers crossed the border, she felt a bitter, biting cold, and sharp whipping wind. Loren pulled her hand back in shock.
“It’s cold.” She said, turning her hand this way and that. Her skin was turning red, as if she had plunged her hand into a bucket of iced water. “We’ll have to bundle up before crossing.”
“I think I have enough furs in my pack.” Kae offered immediately. She dropped to a crouch and started hastily removing things from her travel pack. The huntress never went anywhere without spare furs. “Its not enough to make a full cloak, though.”
“It will have to do. Cassendir, your spare silks. We’re going to need every bit we can get.”
The three bundled on as much as they could, even wearing their spare clothes on layers in any attempt to keep warm. Ma’trii kept as close to Kae as he could. One Loren’s signal, they stepped across the border together, pushing against the invisible wall of magic that was the curse of the queen of Yureun.
The wind whipped their faces and any exposed skin relentlessly. Their ears were filled with the howl of wind, and the cold chilled them to the bone. Loren squinted against the northern wind and raised a shaking hand. The outposts’s stone walls were close. It stood atop a hill, a gray and ruined stone structure that stood as a beacon above the mounds of snow and sparse grasses of the north. The princess waved to her friends and slowly they began to walk.
Shivering with every step and pulling their cloaks, furs, and clothes as close to their bodies as possible, they reached the outpost’s entrance. The gate had long fallen and lay covered with snow and rubble across a disused path. The blue and gold flag of Aldoran flapped in the biting wind alongside the green and yellow banner of Rhodia, high atop a crumbling tower that jutted out of the outpost. They climbed into the outpost, hauling their heavily bundled selves over rocks and debris, slipping on snow and ice.
Inside the outpost was a wide-open space that would have been used to receive travelers and mobilize a small unit of soldiers, in case the outpost was under attack. The roof had fallen in, but farther inside the main room, Loren saw the red-orange glow of firelight. She glanced at her friends who, shivering intensely, wordlessly urged her to inspect the source of the fire. Loren led the way, picking through brambles that had grown through the stone, and found herself in a cozy space clear of rubble. Large copper braziers were lit all around the space with roaring flames that shot through to the ceiling. The air was almost uncomfortably warm, compared to the bone-chilling air just outside.
Sitting in wooden chairs around a table were a young lion Beastman with a patchy mane, and a woman with short, bright red hair. She sat coolly back in her chair and motioned with her stein to the newcomers.
Loren wrestled the silks and furs off her face. “Kaiten?” she called in disbelief.
The lion Beastman spit out his mouthful of ale onto the stones and slammed his stein onto the table. “Loren?” he called back.
“You’re alive!” Loren rushed over to the Beastman and tackled him with a hug as he was rising from his chair. The force of her crashing into him staggered him a step back, but they laughed and hugged each other tight. Kaiten buried Loren in his patchy mane and fur cloak as he did. “I was so worried about you! Gods above, I’m so glad you’re alright.”
“And you’re here! How did you get here?” Kaiten said with a choppy laugh. He bore his sharp teeth in a smile.
“We crossed the Plaguelands!” Loren replied. Kaiten held her at arm’s length to get a good look at her, but the princess hugged him tightly around the chest again. “After what happened, I just had to find you.”
“Loren? Loren!” Kae called out. She had her bow at the ready, and beside her, a sword of blue light coalesced into Cassendir’s hand. Ma’trii’s growls made Kaiten look.
At the other end of the table, the woman with red hair stood. She had the build of a fighter and wore travelling leathers that exposed a flat, toned midriff. Her arms were muscled and well used to wielding the twin swords that were slung through a belt and rested on her hip. Around her wrists were the dark swirls of mage markings. Loren saw the flash of red hair, cut short and braided on one side, and stepped back.
“Who are you?” Loren asked.
The woman smiled back and bowed low to the princess. “I am Seraphis Dagan, Warmaster and Princess of Sagna.”
Loren’s sword was in her hand faster than she could think. Her pendant shivered in the hollow of her throat, and her eyes took on a golden sheen. “Seraphis of Sagna? You killed Gaturr!” she spat.
Seraphis only nodded. “I did. I cut his throat, removed his pelt, and had
