Heir of Obsidian (A Throne of Glass Fanfic)

5 - Into the Mountains

The three horses ambled up the steep, rocky slopes of the Staghorn Mountains. Although it was now spring, the air near the mountains still held the last inclement of winter, with layers of frost lingering on the sweet-smelling wildflowers. They were barely a half hour ride away from the castle, but it felt like they had entered a completely different world: the scene was showered in white and grey, like a burst feather cushion. A biting, chill breeze swooped up the mountain slope, rattling the jagged mountain edges and ruffling the hair of the travelers as they scaled upwards, leaving the city behind them. Orynth sprawled out like a painting, opal-clad buildings interspersed with winding streets of cobalt sparkling in the mid-morning sun.

Benji shielded his face with a hand, his eyes dry from the merciless breeze. The speckled horse beneath him lurched upwards, and Benji's stomach flipped. He gripped tighter around Luka's toned waist to stop himself slipping off the leather saddle. In front of them, Asterin and Quinn rode next to each other. Their long hair tangled and wound behind them, dancing in the wind's laughter as it whipped and wailed down from the high peaks in an excited frenzy. A hysterical laugh from Quinn was thrown back to him by the wind, its tone distorted almost unearthly, only to be followed by the slightly more restrained chuckle he knew to be Asterin's. Benji smiled into Luka's hair. This was the family he belonged in. Each person completely different yet at the same time inseparable.

His parents had not seen that. They had never lost a chance to shove him and his friends into the mould of the cadre. Insisting they were just like the mighty warriors, the next group of royal lapdogs. His chest tightened. He had tried to shake the label for years, seeing through the stories of their might. Power had forced them together and they had bonded over violence, cruelty and revenge. He had seen it in the steely looks of hatred in Lorcan's eyes, the long disappearance of Fenrys into the mountains and the haunted scars on his father. These were not things with which you could build any stable foundation. He looked ahead, letting his thoughts wander. Quinn and Asterin talked animatedly, he caught snatches of a conversation about stable hands as he looked up once again. Their conversation was lilted with half-sentences and seemed to be happening on an almost psychic level.

His chest loosened as he thought back. Before he was born they had become friends, not through royal diplomacy or power matches but through chance, or as Luka often commented, the twisted ways of Fate. They had always been inseparable; he could not remember a time when they weren't stealing pies from the kitchens, sparring on the dining table or exploring the castle's more hidden locations. All for the fun of it. He had time and time again thrown his parents approval down the drain to save their hides for no legend of 'The Cadre' has been as convincing as the power he saw in their friendship.

They had come across a deep grove in the mountainside were the crevices of slated rock were protected from the elements and some greenery and life had salvaged this desolate place. It was a subtle miracle and an enchanting beauty in all its simplicity.

Up ahead Quinn and Asterin turned a corner further into the mountainside, disappearing from view. Luka urged his horse to quickly follow.

The entrance to the cave they had entered was small - barely large enough for a horse to slip through - and overgrown with fungi. Slightly florescent moss covered the walls, and ferns reached down from the low tunnel ceiling, playfully catching in his hair as he ambled past. When he emerged into the main room the contrast was startling. While the entrance was reclaimed by nature, he was still amazed at how homely this room looked. Benji's eyes widened in awe, still. The entrance to the cave was as majestic as when they had first found it.

If he thought about it, it was actually very lucky they had found it at all. The cave was hidden in the crevice of a valley, contained by rock walls covered in - he wrinkled his nose - a rather sour smelling moss. A canopy of dead vines, ice and snow was strung across the top of the crevice, and grew throughout the antechamber in rugged clumps making it virtually impossible to notice from above. Well it should have been impossible. Which is to say if Quinn hadn't accidentally fallen through whilst exploring the peaks years before, they likely would have gone their entire lives without knowing of its existence. Carved into one side of the rock wall was a monumental stag. It was a monolith in the damp room, weathered with age but as majestic as it would have been in life. The Lord of the North.