Descendants of the Kings (Book 2)

Ch 36: Stuck with you

"Fucking hell, it's colder than a brass pecker," Cedric hissed under his breath, rubbing his gloved hands to fight off the chill.

"That... is an apt description," Gidden agreed, grimacing as a particularly violent gust of icy breeze slapped against them.

The storm had raged through the night, well into dawn. Fortunately, it had broken a while after sunrise. When they'd all popped out of their tents, they were surrounded by evidence of the storm's brutality. The raging winds had managed to rip branches from trees, their leaves strewn about, and even a few saplings were uprooted. It was a miracle their tents had stayed seated, though it likely had to do with the foot of snow surrounding them.

Though the storm had calmed, they still faced the aftermath, with intervals of snow and frigid winds keeping them company as they made their way to Codshire.

"I don't think it's ever been this cold," Ella bellowed, straining for her voice to be heard over the harrowing wind and the thick scarf covering half her face.

It was a pervasive sort of cold, wet and bone-aching, making her want to curl into herself to protect her body. Her hands ached, even through the leather gloves, her bones too frozen to flex. She dipped her head and nuzzled into Fiend's soft, fuzzy neck, protected by all his thick hair.

"I thought we were being attacked last night," Cedric called back, squinting in the slight flurry. "I almost shot out of the tent, thinking we were being pelted. It was just that odd ball-like snow. Never seen that once in my life."

"Graupel," Gidden answered, and they turned to him. "It's hard snow. Not a very common occurrence, but it happens sometimes," he explained sheepishly. "We're taught all sorts of weather phenomena in Cereas. It's part of taking care of an agricultural kingdom."

"Part of knowing useless things," Aedion scoffed, earning a glare from Gidden. "It is colder though," he agreed, a frown pulling at his lips. Even he seemed to be suffering from the cold to a certain extent. "I don't recall it ever being so cold in the forest, or even seeing that type of snow. We're too far from the mountains for it to snow this hard."

It didn't seem natural. Not the snow nor the storm, or the weakening sort of cold that seemed to leech the warmth from their bodies. It was as if there was something almost sinister at bay. They all knew it, as they exchanged pensive looks and hastened their step, heads hunched low to avoid the assault of the snow.

It seemed like it was a lifetime later that the white finally gave way to the clearing of the forest. The trees began to thin, the path began to show signs of civilisation. The trees and craggy lands were replaced by snowy moors and desolate dirt roads.

Ella had never once been happier to see the dreary landscape of Codshire.

"We'll go to my house, yeah?" Cedric called, trotting ahead and turning to face them. "It'll be much better than walking around in this cold."

They didn't have to be told twice. Wordlessly, they agreed and followed behind, Cedric leading the way to his farmhouse, on the outskirts of the duchy.

Between groves of fruit trees and pens of pigs and goats—now tucked away due to the weather—the large red barn on the outskirts of the property greeted them first.

Spotting the old barn between the fringe of the woods, frosted with snow like cake, was like greeting an old friend. Instantly, Ella's mouth lifted into a smile. It had been ages since she'd seen the clapboard building.

The horses, as if knowing reprieve was close, trotted quicker, eager to rest. In no time, they were unsaddled and given copious amounts of hay to eat, the barn warm and dry for them to rest after a gruelling journey.