Spirit Warrior - The Keeper Of The Northern Gate

The Keeper of the Dying Lands - IIIII

I'm standing on the edge of the riding ground. The horses and riders are wavering in and out between each other as they maneuver around on the track. In the middle of the riding ground stands my betrothed tall, his muscled arms crossed over his chest.

He's watching a white long-legged mare trotting around the track with a stable boy running beside it. The boy is having a hard time controlling the elegant animal, it's snorting fiercely shaking its head while trying to outpace the boy running beside her. He's watching her with his head slightly tilted like he's pondering on what to do with the beast.

He lifts one hand to stop the stable boy from running further and slows the horse into a walk. As the horse slows down he seems to stop his pondering and look around.

Not long after he starts scouting he sees me standing there uneasily, at the edge of the track. He unhooks his arms and starts walking towards me. His paces are long but not hurried. The huge riding ground now doesn't seem so big when I see his board figure walking towards me.

When he finally reaches me he reaches out for my hand and kisses it gently. I once again veil my gaze at the floor. I hear him clear his throat and when I lift my gaze just a little, I see him presenting his arm to me. I hesitantly slide my hand into the crock of his arm. He gently leads me onto the riding track. The sand quickly finds its way into my shoes and I discreetly try to shake it out of them but I end up giving up.

When we reach the middle he waves the young stable boy over. The young boy pulls the temperamental mare with him. I look up slightly, to study the creature; I've never been allowed so close to an animal before. I study it with slightly widen eyes.

"She was supposed to be a gift," His deep husky tone makes me look up at him from beneath my lashes. His eyes are soft as he looks down at me, but I quickly vile my gaze from his and back to the animal.

"But she's very temperamental,"

He continues in his low voice and looks at the animal with regarding eyes. He calmly walks over and gently pets the beast on the neck. The animal I before saw as huge doesn't look so huge anymore while standing beside my betrothed. He can easily look over the back of the horse and I realize that this horse is nothing like the horses I've seen my father trade and buy. They would have been much bigger, much stronger and much more balanced.

This is not a warhorse, nor is it a breeding mare.

I find myself wondering what it might be used. He surely wouldn't have it in his stables if it weren't any good.

So why would waste grain on such a horse? He did say it was a gift, but for whom? My father already received the entire bride price.

Maybe it's for a horse of the King's mistresses. My father has always had plenty of those so why shouldn't a young strong king like him have one or maybe a few.

Still, I can help take a small step forward, not quite knowing if I'm allowed to. I look over at my betrothed; he's not even looking at me he's just looking at the horse as if he's assessing it.

I quietly walk over beside him, with my head down I ask him; "Can I touch her?" my voice is quiet, I'm afraid to anger him by asking but the desire to touch the animal is bigger. My betrothed looks at me clearly surprised at my request but nod quietly.

I move forward slowly and in a few short steps, I come to stand beside my betrothed. For once I'm not focused on what he might think of me or my behavior.

I lift my hand slowly and reach out to pet the animal's white fur. When my fingers touch the fur I'm surprised by how soft it is, nothing like any of the furs the snake, or should I say; my dear father, has brought home to me from some of the eastern countries.

I gently caress the horse's neck, the strong muscles rippling underneath the skin and fur.

"She's not made porcelain, you can give her a real pat," to emphasize what he just said he gives her pat on the neck. The animal shies back, shaking its head anxiously. She starts stepping around nervously; her nostrils' flared and snorts fearfully.

I step closer to her slowly taking my time and treading softly in the white sand of the riding track. The stable boy tries to hold her but he just ends up getting pulled around. The long-legged horse has an advantage and the poor boy just gets towed behind her.

My betrothed sighs deeply and looks after the horse.

"I fear I will have to find a more suitable horse for you," I look at the horse with my head lowered. I stare into its deep black eyes and I only see nothingness in them, just as what's awaiting her. Then I realize what he just said. She was a gift for me? I look over at the giant of a man standing beside me, and I wonder who he really is.

"What will become of her?" I ask in a small voice as I see the nervous creature walk off to the stables. At every sudden sound, she jumps in fright. What has happened to her?

"If she doesn't improve I'll sell her off to the highest bidder," as he says that his voice is indifferent like it's nothing.

As the mare is nearing the stable her head lowers and her pace slows down to a dragging pace. Her muzzle grazing the gravel as she walks into the dark barn, and her ears are pointing to each side uncaringly.

I'm pulled out of my trance when I hear my betrothed speak again.

"I had hoped we could have gone for a ride this afternoon, so you could have seen woods and hills that surround the Enyadell," He says evenly.

I have a hard time reading him, but he's doing that on purpose of course. He's protecting himself, shielding away his emotions. If he even has any. I've heard countless of stories about the northerners, and not once did the stories have a hint of the romance like in the stories from Kaupa. I need to stop wishing for love in this arrangement.

I look up to the horizon where three tall mountains are standing proud, one taller than the other. In Kaupa there're mountains, but they're nothing like these. These mountains are taller, stronger like they've been built by the gods to keep something out. Or maybe, to keep someone in? all I know is; no one wants a northerner knocking on his door.

"What about the mountains?" I ask innocently as I look at the snow covered peaks. Snow, how I would like to see that. Is it like sand when it lies on the ground? Is it like leaves when it falls from the sky?

"Listen to me," At the harsh tone in his voice I immediately veil my eyes. I start picking at a loose thread in the seam of the edge of my cloak. The dark thread suddenly seems like the most interesting thing in the world.

"Those mountains are just as evil as they are enchanting and regal. You are not yet a Northerner, but you'll soon feel them call to you. That's why only the strongest survive here, we have harsh winters, unforgivable nature and vicious wildlife, and we have those," He says looking up at the mountain.

"An ever singing siren, howling with the wind, coaxing us to follow the unused trails leading to them. Many travelers fall for the mountains slyness, and they never return," His words burn into my mind, but still, the mountains seem ever beautiful.