✦✧✦✧

Brittlerock, where commander Karyk sent Farren, Rendarr and Karles with the news of the attack, was a small mining settlement north west of Kinallen, the garrison there under the command of Commander Del.

Overhead, the star-studded sky had begun to fade as the riders led their weary horses up the Lakefront trader track, which would lead them to an old wooden bridge across the stream-- if it hadn't collapsed, that was. It was either that, or they would have to go south and skirt the lake, which would add yet more hours to the already tiresome journey.

For a good few minutes Farren considered summoning Atruer and perhaps making another deal to make their horses sprout wings, but dismissed it soon as a half-baked notion of her sleep deprived brain. Not that the ideas from her fully awake mind were considerably better, but still.

She unstrapped her helm and let the icy wind drifting from the lake rouse her properly. The wind whipped the rough strands of her copper hair.

They passed a gloomy abandoned cabin near the lake shore, its roof caved in and walls on the verge of collapsing. Farren wondered if the melancholy place had once been home to someone.

The other two travelled ahead in silence, Rendarr uneasily shifting the reins in his hands from time to time. Farren brought her gaze to the lake on their left. Hundred paces from the shore, the surface was frozen solid, and beyond that, thin sheets of ice drifted in the dark water.

Yet mere days ago the lake had thawed completely. Spring Fest was but a few weeks away.

Winter had returned.

"You know, Gran used to tell me this story about the Winter God Edis; about why he is so cruel to the land..." Farren trailed off, eyes on the lake.

Renadarr looked over his shoulder. "Hmm?"

She wanted something to break the stifling silence that hung heavy between them, and seized the opportunity.

"So this is how it went: Lord Edis had a little brother, right, and he loved him more than anything in the realms," Farren said, "but then one day the brother barged into Rhilio's castle to tell him how he didn't agree with Rhilio's way of ruling the Celestial Realm."

"The nerve," said Rendarr with a yawn.

Farren huffed. "At least I'm trying to break the silence, so you don't fall asleep; then slide off your saddles and break your necks."

"No, no, I'm brimming with excitement. Do continue your tale."

"So Rhilio got mad and was like--" Farren swung one gloved fist wildly before her, "'you're wrong and I'm gonna ship your arrogant arse off to the mortal realm as punishment!'"

"King of the Gods talks like that ?"

"Perhaps. How'd I know? Anyway, Edis is still to this day trying to find his exiled brother, whose name by Rhilio's curse has been forgotten by all his worshippers. Wherever Edis goes, winter follows his footsteps. And when he gets angry because he cannot find his brother, he raises blizzards. Know why it's so hard to cross the Drakhall mountains up north?"

"It's because he doesn't want anyone to leave this land until his search is finished. He suspects his brother is here in Stormvale. He prowls those mountains and makes sure none can flee," finished Karles from ahead. "The story you tell, I've heard at least four different versions of it. According to one, he is hidden in Kinallen, can you imagine?"

Farren groaned. "Come on! That was my favourite part!"

"I thought you dozed off," said Rendarr.

"Aye, that I did. But then I heard Rhilio's glorious vocabulary." He rubbed his eyes, then turned to gesture towards the lake. "Things ...don't look so good, eh?"

"Things," said Rendarr, "haven't looked good for a while now. Care to elaborate?"

"This cold, I mean. See how the wind howls and sinks talons into flesh, the lake freezes up once again?" Karles said. "It's an ill omen, I say-- two winters in a year. Because winter came twice the year the Great War started."

Farren snorted. "Oh, you should have been in the Dark Saints. The Foreseers would've loved you."

"I'd rather not try any of that hocus pocus stuff or worry myself bald predicting the weather, thank you very much."

A sudden wave of hopelessness swept abruptly through Farren, and seemed to radiate to the other two as well, which had little to do with the conversation they were having.

A strong sense of emptiness prevailed, rendering their words hollow, which trailed off into icy silence once again.

The feeling was too abrupt to be natural. Rather, it seemed to have radiated from a malevolent presence that must have emerged into existence nearby.

After a few confused moments, Farren understood what was going on.

She slowed her mount to a trot, then turned to look at the source of the disturbed emotions. A sour grin spread across her face at the sight only she could see because of her deal.

Behind the riders, walked a looming figure along the dirt track, swathed in trailing black robes, face half-hidden beneath a hood. Dark swirls of raw power surrounded it, ebbing and flowing.

"And here my friend was saying two winters mean ill omen, not knowing the Lord of Despair himself walks our trail," she said softly.

"Good day to you too, dear mortal," Atruer rasped.

✦✧✦✧

"What brings you to the mortal realm today, my Lord?" she said, eyes on her two companions who rode a few dozen paces ahead.

Atruer made an extravagant gesture of breathing in lungfuls of cold air, his arms outstretched. "Can you not smell the sweet scent of bloodshed in the air? It is time for me to walk mortal lands again, and seek out unfortunates, of which I am sure there would be plenty."

The God kept pace with her horse for a while.

"Ah, I'm in a good mood, so I shall grant you one wish today. Ask me anything, no need to be shy," he said, "shall I give these horses of yours flying abilities, mortal? To save you the trouble of this arduous journey? The price would be a limb, yours or one of your friends. Do not bargain, lass-- I'm feeling rather generous today."

Farren knew better than to give in to his whimsical moods. "Just spare us the distress your presence is causing," she said.

"Silly mortal..." He let out a raspy laugh. "Who am I to spare you? Who am I to spare anyone? The despair that befalls you all in my presence-- it is your own doing. From the beginning of time, you wage wars among yourselves, take lives and rejoice in blood. I am simply its embodiment. I am what you create. But let us not go into such dreary details, shall we?"

Farren turned away. Rendarr twisted in his saddle to give her a confused look. It must have looked strange, with her seemingly talking to herself.

"Fair enough. Just tell me this: is another Great War under way? Or something as horrible?" asked Farren quietly.

"No God should bestow upon a mortal the knowledge of future happenings," said Atruer with an impish grin, "as protocol dictates. Nay, I must not disobey King Rhilio."

"As unhelpful as ever." She scoffed.

"I would not help you if I could. Your behaviour has been absolutely obnoxious lately," said the God. "You willingly injured your own leg that day."

Farren gave him a satisfied smile. "And? What about it, Lord?"

"And you did not so much as shed a tear." His annoyance was almost tangible. "How dare you, mortal?"

"Why wouldn't I?" said Farren. "Our deal grants me heightened tolerance for pain, after all. It's a blessing you bestowed upon me yourself. For a price, of course."

"That is exactly the problem with our deal. Do you have any idea how frustrating that must be? To see an act that should have inflicted pain upon you, but it does not?" he said. "I feed on the pain and suffering of those who make deals with me. What you are doing is like holding a platter of the finest cuisine before a hungry soul, but not letting them touch a morsel."

Farren grinned. "Then starve."

"You insufferable brat!" snarled Atruer, "you shall pay with your blood one day!" And with that, he stormed away.

His visage faded and he vanished into the murky air as the first rays of sunlight peeked through the clouds. With his departure, the strong presence of negative emotions faded as well.

Farren sighed. Atruer, the God with an excessive liking for meddling with mortal affairs, was ever so unpredictable; offering to grant her wishes one moment, then cursing at her the next. Through his deals, he would help one mortal rise to the peak of glory, then drown another in misfortune, and Farren had walked right into his trap.

Their deal was not working well, either. Ah well, a bit too late to regret my choices.

But the good thing was, they found as they approached the stream, the old rickety bridge was still intact.

✦✧✦✧

Brittlerock slept beneath a thick blanket of fog the weak sun could not shine through. A watchtower marked the entrance of the mining settlement, made up of humble thatched houses arrayed in rugged rows around what must be the mining pit in the distance, for the headframes jutted out through the fog like skeletal hands, thick ropes coiled around the hoists.

To one side lay the garrison post, where vampire patrollers could be seen on their rounds; the duty was yet to be switched to the daytime guards. A bleary eyed night-archer regarded them from the watchtower as they approached. The woman lowered her crossbow as she noticed their uniforms.

"Commander Del, eh? I'll see to it that he gets informed," said the night-archer after Karles told her about the attack. "But first, go talk to Sarge. He'll want to hear this. In fact, whatever orders ol' commander gives, it'll eventually fall on him anyway, so you're better off talking to him. Quickly now."

"Sarge?" asked Farren. The vampire watched them lazily, picking on her teeth in a manner as though Farren had asked something very stupid; as though everyone was supposed to know who this Sarge is.

"Sergeant Valerius Linder," clarified the night-archer, freeing her finger from her teeth and flicking it toward a wooden two-storey building among the garrison where the lamps were still on. "There. Must be still awake. Rhilio's mercy, hardly ever sleeps, that fella."