The Legend of Lost Aulta

19. Everyone Knows

FELIKS

The group left in the first light of morning, armed with thick black cloaks and extra large packs fitted on their backs. The group now carried tents and bedrolls, new weapons and food supplies.

Tsar Kirill seemed to be endorsing in their endeavour. As Feliks stepped out of the stone castle, looking towards the huge expanse of rocky terrain that awaited them- huge mountains which covered their path, and their way to the Black Sea- he took Feliks' arm.

"Do you need a wheelchair?" He asked, "a new pair of crutches? We only want you to be comfortable."

Feliks declined. And then, they left.

The landscape opened up around them like a fist unfurling. All there was to see was black, dead stone- reaching as far as they could see, sprawling up towards the mountaintops.

Feliks did not feel his mother pulling him to another being. He could only be pulled towards Olos. He knew that his brother was there. He knew that on his own, the whisperings of Gods put aside.

Another thing that Feliks knew on his own was that their new companion was getting on his nerves. He tried to push the feeling aside, but the boy refused to wear peasant's rough-spun, or even remove his crown. Before they left, his servants decorated his fingers with golden rings, and in turn, decorated Yulia with necklaces and jewels alike. She had smiled, rather uncomfortably. The ten days spent at the stone castle had proved one thing- the Tsarevich was not a love match for anyone.

But, Feliks tried to stay neutral. Tsarevich Eadric was helping them, after all. He was betraying his alliance with Olos, all to help a sickly Tsarevich and his strange group of friends.

Yes. It was all going to be fine.

"So, we'll cut through the mountains," the voice of the Chort Tsarevich was loud, deep, almost otherworldly. He turned to the others as they walked further through the large expanse of hot stone, their feet warming with every step. They had long since left the city of Devola behind them, the houses carved into mountainsides a distant memory.

"The mountains?" Repeated Feliks. He looked up to the distant peaks, and swallowed. He couldn't imagine how his crutches would bear on the rocky steepness of those huge, monstrous rocks.

"Why, yes," said Tsarevich Eadric.

Eadric was handsome. It was something that deeply annoyed Feliks. He had a crooked, hooked nose that somehow perfectly fitted his sun-brown face. His eyes were dark, and his hair was darker. His smile was crooked. And somehow, he made all of those stupid jewels and broaches look good.

"Why, are you afraid your disability may slow us down?" Smiled Eadric, "we could perfectly well go on without you. Isn't that right, Yulia?"

Yulia startled, "no, Eadric! Feliks is the only one who can find the Lost Tsarevich."

"Seconded," Ronnie was at the back of the group, keeping pace with Feliks, who was struggling. Strangely, the ten days of rest seemed to have hindered his progress, making him used to keeping his legs unoccupied, "is there another way around the mountains?"

Tsarevich Eadric looked thoughtful for a moment, looking towards the sky. There was a moment of suspense as everyone looked to him- or, in Halima's case, glared at him.

"No," he smiled.

Only Halima outwardly sighed. Ronnie hummed, screwing up his mouth, "well, I suppose mountains it is. You know your way, moi Tsarevich?"

"As well as I know the women around here," he grinned, before looking hastily to Yulia, "though, not anymore."

Ronnie looked back at the ground, busying himself with his hands. Halima slowed down to walk next to Feliks, sighing.