Iron and Wood #Wattys2017

Chapter Twenty

In Asbrandheim, the sky was  dark grey, threatening rain.  There was a chill in the air, but the first winter snowfall was weeks late.  Peasants moved in the cobblestone courtyard below with cloaks wrapped tightly around themselves, hurrying inside out of the wind.

Asbrandr was a very old man, his pale face contrasting against the black of heavy mink cloak, but he looked robust compared to his daughter, who was so frail she seemed to sink into the furs she was wearing.  Her hair was so blond it was almost white, and her eyebrows and eyelashes were invisible on her pale skin.

"You were thinking about her again." Asbrandr said as they walked on the battlements.  "Ella."

Skod's blue eyes were bloodshot.  She forced a smile as she nodded.

"Next week would have been her eighteenth birthday," she wiped her eyes.  "Soon I'd be altering the dress for her wedding, and there'd be a feast, and her father would-"

Skod covered her face in her gloved hands.

"And Avaldr?"

"No word,"  Skod stopped.  "I fear he's dead too."

"Why would he be dead?" her father asked, stopping. 

Skod looked at him hopelessly, shrugging. 

"Letters get lost all the time." Asbrandr began to walk again, patting her shoulder reassuringly.  "He is probably on his way back.  Travelling must be hard, with the grief--"

"I feel like I see her everywhere." Skod's voice was strained.  "At the window, at her spot at the table..."

They passed over the front gates to the lower courtyard of the castle.  A heated argument was happening below.

"You are not our lady Ella," a guard was saying.  "She has been dead a month."

"No, you don't understand, I escaped because of--"

"It is impossible to escape the Immortals.  Leave, or I will have you arrested."

"For what? This is my home!"

Asbrandr looked over the edge.  The guard was arguing with a slight, pale girl, filthy in a torn cloak and peasant's dress, being supported in standing by taller woman clad in black from head to toe.

Skod screamed.  All below looked up quickly.

"Mother!" Ella shouted.  

It took five minutes for Asbrandr and Skod to find the stairs back down to the courtyard.  The peasants darted out of the way as their lady ran, holding up her multitude of heavy skirts, to the front gate that was being slowly hauled open.  

Ella did not run to meet her, only opened her arms.  Skod collided with her outside the gates, and Ella collapsed into her arms.  They sank to the ground, sobbing.

"How?" Skod crushed her daughter to her.  Her fair hair was greasy, and she smelled like weeks without a bath.  "How did you get away?"

"I- I had help." Ella clung to her mother, shaking.

Skod looked up through a blur of tears.  Ella's companion hung back like a dark cloud.  Black tunic, black cloak, black leggings, boots, hair and eyes, with an expression like a brick wall.  Asbrandr touched her shoulder, and she looked at him wordlessly.

"You are an Imperial Templar?" he gestured to her uniform.

The young woman pressed her lips together.

"I defected."

Asbrandr stared at her for a long moment.

"What is your name?"