The Lone Rider

Chapter 3

"Are we near?" Waylon asked from the back of the horse.

Kell sighed. That was the fourth time he had asked since they set out in the morning. Only a few hours had passed. "No," he replied, "but we're closer than before."

"I'd hope we would be. It's been ages," Waylon groaned. Kell could hear the impatience on his breath.

"Just be patient," Adaline said, holding tightly to Kell's back.

"I'm doing my best," Waylon said, "but there's only so much waiting I can handle. I feel it's gotten colder somehow."

Kell couldn't disagree with the boy. They were nearly out of the winter months, but the chill remained stubborn. He'd always heard how cold it got in the north of the kingdoms, but this was ridiculous. He had regretted giving Waylon his cloak, the boy still wore it tightly around himself without even the slightest notion of returning it.. Even with his warm body, he wasn't sure how much more he could take. He felt shivers poke at his sides and his appendages. That, he was definitely not used to. "Won't be much longer, I think," Kell said. He watched as his breath coalesced into fog and disappeared above him.

"You think?" Waylon asked. "You think..."

Kell thought about how feeling the sun on his face once again would be a great relief. He glanced up and noted the thin, jagged strip of the light that made up the ceiling of the chasm they traveled shine like a golden road. The top had to be nearly a hundred feet overhead in spots, maybe more. And the constant wind that howled through the cracks only made things sound more ominous then they needed to be. He thought of Dresden again, his home. A forest valley secluded from the rest of the world where the sun always shined, and the people smiled bright and honest smiles, and not even during the coldest months would he be worried about a chill. Thinking about it only made him miss it more. Dresden wasn't where he was born and the people weren't his people, but he felt at home there all the same.

That old man better have a fire ready when we arrive, Kell thought. And something to warm our bellies.

It was the old man's fault for all of this by the way Kell figured. Calling on him after so long, leading him to the girl, getting him involved with the Order of the Lost Prince and their Risen Ones. He thought his hatred was at its peak but given some of the ways this ordeal could get ugly, he might just find a whole new level of loathing a man. It had been nearly a decade since he'd seen the bastard and still that feeling swelled deep within him.

He wondered how he would react when he saw him. Wondered if he still looked the same; mean and stumpy. Mostly, he wondered if he could take the old man one on one. How good that would feel. Kell cringed. Beating him was probably the old man's plan anyways. Would it feel as good knowing that? Would there be satisfaction knowing the old man had raised him and trained him to best him one day? He shook his head and did well not to think about it, better to let the moment tell him how to react.

The path had started to ascend some time ago and there were less crags and passages growing from the sides. It even seemed to be widening once again, which felt good after hours of slouching cramped and trying to avoid the thick mountain bush that grew so frequently along the path. Several small cuts from the thorns dotted his face, but he didn't notice. The only bad part about climbing higher was now the snow had begun to pile once again along the path, creating high ditches and drifts that he had to either avoid or carefully travel across.

As they ascended over the next hour, the air grew more dry and less dense. Kell was familiar with the sensation and swallowed to break the pockets in his ears. The three of them shared very few words. Most of Waylon's breath was now saved for huffing and chattering his teeth. Adaline, on the other hand, hardly seemed bothered at all. She still gripped tightly around his torso though, and he could still feel the warmth he had felt the day before. An intense heat, almost like fire.