Steel Melody

Part 14

As the steed placed its hoove over the even earth Heartrik saw his home span before him, winding down the mountain across the land. Any sense of nostalgia had been wiped from him, and so his homeland was no different to any other flat plain he saw. At ground level the air turned warmer away from the snow. If Heartrik felt any comfort in the snow then that was now to his back. Sparse forests resting atop beds of gravel and sand was what awaited him now. Every sound could be heard from the crunch of gravel and the split of twigs. A cavern, without a single living thing inside, could hold more life then the empty land they walked on, so dry the mud cracked when they stepped. It was like a bog, with the heat making them both swelter under their clothes. The short touch of ice had melted in heat. It wasn't all lifeless however, as fields of simple crops and towns loyal to noble lords scattered themselves across the landscape, resting by nearby rivers. They stood eerily in the distance without a single frame of life presenting itself. Heartrik felt around his chest, his fingers peeking through his glove brushing against the leather of his coat and fabric of his shirt. He stopped suddenly when he felt his gun holster which was still attached to his chest above his left breast. There was no way his captor could have left him with his gun, he wondered as he only brushed the holster which would bear it.

A frightful wonder grasped him as he slowly pulled his fingers towards its edge, not knowing whether the smooth silver of his pistol may still be there to greet him. If this had been an encounter he had foresight of, he would have easily accepted the disappointment. But in the moment the sense of disbelief and woe was all too real when he found his gun to be missing, like the final embodiment of a way out had been stripped from him. He hated that gun and now it was gone, and now worst of all he missed it. The spare ammunition he had hoisted around his belt had also been taken. He sneered, thinking now all there was needed was to strip him naked and leave him for the wolves. A slow and bitter vitriol rallied in his mind against Lertz. It was petty, only being inspired by his shame of being robbed. He took a brief moment to remember that he had in fact been kidnapped and dragged across the world. However realising his own belongings had been taken felt far more personal, and far more offensive.

Only then did he really feel disdain for Lertz. Before he admired the dead man. He saw something alluring in their eyes, something which drew him near and made him feel like he was dreaming. Something that made his heart beat. Now he was just woefully following Lertz, who's every action was slowly changing his life, and now his heart breathed in anger. Lertz must have noticed this, how could he not? Or at least Heartrik wanted Lertz to realise. It was always easy to hate somebody and it was very easy to make it clear to the person without actually saying it. But to admit verbally to their face that you had the strongest contempt for them was a trial in itself, and Heartrik felt safer just assuming that Lertz already knew that he was hated. Lertz simply guided their steed towards his mission, his motives and thoughts unknown. But Heartrik liked to imagine that they both hated each other, wishing for each other's deaths in brutal fashion, like they had been lifelong rivals now on the verge of conquering one another. But soon that topic tired him. It was too hard to hate somebody for so long, and the journey was long, winding past small hills of silt and gravel and between barren groves of pines. His throat had squeezed ever since Lertz had revealed his scared neck. A hand had covered his throat since seeing Lertz, recognising his own flesh's mortality. If he ever made it back to camp with the Raiders he'd get Judas to smith him a brand new gorget and bevor to defend his throat from then on. Seeing Lertz scars, the real impacts of a soldier's career, had that effect.

The entire journey, the biting instinct of something stalking them tracked Heartrik. Always it felt like there was some small grey shadow behind them. Shapes would shift low between trees and rocks, likely rabbits. Maybe it was the edge, but Heartrik felt them judge him. There were trees, enough to be called a gathering, but far too little to be called a forest. Their sparseness only made the land feel more barren, as the stretching yellow hills were quiet and empty. It was peaceful, yet haunting without life to be seen in miles.