But each time, the cold dug further, and he climbed shakily to his feet and pressed on.

            The trees parted, and the earth opened up to a shimmering lake surrounded by large rolling hills. The clouds were hidden behind the dance of the multitudinous flakes of snow. The wind whistled gentle across the scattered stones creating long snaking snowdrifts that wiggled across the frozen lake’s surface.

            It was elegant and peaceful. There sort of place young couples came to be alone and older couples returned to reminisce. It had strength in its pure beauty and natural tranquility. It was a fine place to rest. A fine place to sleep.

            But, of course, she was here.

            She sat upon the edge of the lake, watching his broken shuffle ambled towards her. Unlike the others, she didn’t wear her normal cloths. Instead, she wore a simple white gown that seemed to wash over her, blend with the very snow gathered around. She was not some ghost juxtaposed against the winter landscape, but a piece of the very environment, like another icicle or frosty tree.

            She looked upon him with eyes rimmed with tears. Like tiny diamonds, they dotted her cheeks, the cold and wind having frozen them to her face. She watched him till he was but a few feet away, the uttered a single word.

            “Why?”

            Nothing else could have been so powerful. He didn’t know how to answer it. He had plenty of excuses; he had used many when they had parted ways. The rest he had saved for himself as he wandered alone and abandoned but all of them sounded hollow now. He just stared back.

            A single tear appeared at the corner of her eye. It trembled there, perched at the edge. When it finally jumped, it streaked down her round face, freezing before it reached the bottom of her chin. There it crystallized, catching what little light broke through the squall and holding the sunlight within like a frozen flame.

            “Why did you do it?”

            “I…”

            He was going to tell her all the reasons. If there was anyone who he would tell it would be her. He had plucked up the courage and strength to tell her all his fears. He was so tired of hiding it that he just wanted to share everything with her.

            Instead, his knees buckled and the ground embraced him.

*~*

*~*

            “I think he’s coming to.”

            He felt strange all over. It was like a thousand needles had been heated in a fire then stabbed into his body. Then, to top it off, he had been bathed in lime juice.

            He felt them standing over him before he even saw them. Lazily he opened his right eye, then the left. They were crowded by his bedside, all of them bleary eyed and tired. Kait was still wiping tears from her cheeks. Jeremiah looked indignant and Derrek, oddly, appeared genuinely concerned.

            “Move back, move back! Give him some room!” Jeremiah ordered. The other’s shuffled away, though only by a foot.

            “That was a close one.”

            “You wouldn’t believe the cuts you got!”

            “You scared us half to death!”

            “What were you thinking anyway?”

            The questions came at him in a barrage. Feebly, he scratched for his pillow in an attempt to block them out. However, his arms merely flopped like beached fish.

            “Well, what do you have to say for yourself!” Kait demanded.

            “…wa…ter…”

            “Move aside, move aside, oh the poor soul.”

            An elderly, grey haired woman brushed his friends aside, carrying a small cup in her hands. It seemed rather clichéd for them to be gathered in some old hag’s home. However, those thoughts were immediately banished when the cup was lifted to his lips and he felt the cool water running down his throat.

            “What… are… you… do…ing…here…”

            “I’ll explain that,” Jeremiah said. He proudly stepped to the bedside, pulling a thin pendant out from around his neck. “I believe you’ll recognize this.”

            Keirn frowned at the piece of jewellery.

            “Not really… did your boyfriend give that to you?”

            “Funny. It’s actually yours, I forgot I was holding on to it.”

            Jeremiah handed the thing to him. Keirn took it, looking the object over. He shook his head.

            “I’ve never seen this before in my life.”

            Jeremiah turned to Kait who had a weird smile on her face.

            “You’re not really good at this, are you?” she accused. She walked over, taking the large center of the pendant in her hands and applied some pressure to its side. There was a small click and the thing opened. Keirn turned it around in his fingers.

            It was a picture of the four of them, though the picture wasn’t great quality. Clearly, it had been painted by some amateur that had waylaid the others in the streets. Hopefully they didn’t pay too much for it, but he had a feeling that his friends had once again been swindled by a welcoming smile and useless trinkets. Keirn looked back at his friends, who were all smiling.

            “Turn it over,” Kait prompted.

            Keirn obeyed. On the back, a message had been etched.

            Keirn and Company. Together Forever.

            He looked back at them, his face trying its hardest to appear unimpressed.

            “You wasted our hard earned coin on this… this… thing?”

            “Oh, I think he likes it,” Derrek laughed.

            “Remember when you were saying how one day you wanted to look back on these days fondly?” Kait smiled. “Well, now you have something to remember with. And look, it’s been enchanted so that the paint will never fade!”

            “I told you that when I had stones digging into my back and I was trying to fall asleep. Don’t you understand sarcasm?”

            “Yeah, he definitely likes it,” Jeremiah laughed. “Think of it as an early Birth gift.”

            “Gee… thanks…”

            “See, I told you he would thank us!” Kait laughed.

            “My, you foreign folk certainly have such strange customs,” the elderly woman muttered, taking the empty cup and shuffling from the room.

            Keirn slapped the clasp of the locket shut before shoving the thing under his pillow and rolling over. He felt so tired and so sore that all he wanted to do was sleep. Also, he didn’t want them to see him smiling so goofily. And, somewhere deep down, he felt… was this happiness?
“By the way, Keirn,” Derrek piped up, “where are your clothes?”

            His foot stumbled in the thick snow. Hands splayed out, he tumbled into the white powder, his aching body colliding with the frozen earth and scattered rocks hidden beneath winter’s white shroud.

            His skin was bare and bruised. Blood had long drained from the epidermis, seeking protection deeper within his core. It made him look pale; a ghastly apparition that, had anyone come across him, they would likely have mistaken him for winter’s spirit or some frightful fey instead of a human being.

            His feet finally found ground beneath him and using the coarse bark of a nearby sapling, he wretched himself from the ground. Small trickles of blood, like thin snaking ribbons, ran down from fresh cuts. The heat provided little, futile warmth to the blue skin.

            Naked and cold, this was how he was going to die.

            The world around him offered little comfort. Colv, known for its rugged and harsh land, was in the middle of a terrible winter. Temperatures had plummeted rapidly, choking the last of the crops with frosty fingers. As farmers were trying to salvage what they could, the snow swooped in. A sizeable amount of food store had been lost to the inclement weather. With the promise of kingdom wide shortages, it was really no surprise that the Colvians looked upon each new visitor with suspicion and half concealed hostility.

            Furthermore, excessive hunting had forced many of the native animals into retreat from the anxious hunters overly concerned about famine. Many plants and trees were withering from the early snowfall, unprepared for the sudden change in climate. It was the type of season that left the land barren and empty and wherever Keirn turned, he saw death.

            And all the while, the skies continued with their steady downfall. The snow drifting in thick curtains like flaking ash.

            He didn’t even know where he was headed anymore. His feet moved and his body followed. Had he once had a direction or destination in mind? He couldn’t tell. All that seemed to press on his mind was the overbearing cold, the chill in his body which he couldn’t even shiver out. His teeth had once clattered, his muscles had once twitched and his arms had at a time rubbed for heat. All that had stopped now. Only the shaky steps continued.

            Perhaps he was looking for a place to die.

            Had he one word of advice to pass on, it was this: if someone ever offers you a Colvian Nap quickly refuse and run away. Apparently, the tradition entailed being brought into the middle of some gods’ forsaken wood and stripped of all your belongings. Keirn wasn’t positive, but he suspecting that the beating was optional. Perhaps it was an additional ‘thank you’ for visiting Colv during these hospitable times. If Colvians are known for something, it’s their hospitality.

            This wasn’t how he had planned to go. Though most people usually don’t plan how they die, no one expects to perish in some strange foreign country, stripped of all their things and left to freeze to death in the wilderness. He was only twenty four years old and had looked forward to living at least triple that. He didn’t know what he was going to do with all that time; a predicament that had ultimately led him to his current state.

            As it was, it started many moons ago when Keirn had gotten the bright idea. Since he was at that important stage in life where one finally chooses their career and settles down, he was instead going to scrounge up what belongings he had and pursue a childhood dream of his.

            He was going to be an adventurer.

            Course, what the minstrels and bards don’t tell you in their stories is that adventuring is perhaps the worst possible career in existence. This likely explains why there are so few people in the field. However, Keirn hadn’t stopped to think about that. Instead, he had convinced his sister and two friends to join him on ‘discovering the world’. It sounded a lot better than ‘vigilantism’ and ‘grave robbing’. Apparently his friends agreed, as they had joined him on his mad quest.

            They had heard all the tales while growing up and knew what had to be done. At least they thought they did. They quickly discovered that you can’t just call yourself an adventurer and be done with it. Though they had initially decided each other’s role in the group, apparently the business worked quite differently. While Keirn had insisted on being the warrior of the group, somehow he had ended up as their token sorcerer.

            Which was all well and good, except he couldn’t cast any magic.

            Even the most basic cantrip escaped his mortal understanding. Almost as embarrassing, his childhood friend, Jeremiah, had ended up as their priest. His only problem was that he was an adamant atheist. Keirn suspected this radical stance arose from a rather disastrous relationship he once had with the village priest’s daughter. However, through either his austere moral compass or some secret religious devotion, Jeremiah had an uncanny ability to heal grievous injuries. He called it ‘holistic medicine’ and insisted it was a friendly nondenominational alternative form of healing that involves the understanding of both the functioning and interaction between the body and the mind and then utilizing that knowledge with the basic herbal curative properties to speed an individual’s natural recuperative abilities. He says holistic, everyone else says divine.

            Jeremiah.

            He could see him, just below in the forest’s gulley. He knew it was a hallucination, there was no way he would be here now. His stocky frame looked oddly out of place in the snow covered Colvian woods. He always claimed he was descended from half giants, but Keirn suspected that he said this in defence of all the teasing from the village’s kids. But, for a half giant, he was pretty short. Though Keirn had never met one, he was sure they would be taller than him, and he was only a few inches over six feet himself.

            But in his mind’s eye, Jeremiah stood there, all noble and self righteous. He wasn’t in the battered chain mail. He didn’t carry the great two handed sword. No, he stood in his familiar worn shirt, tunic and ragged pants. The knees were still stained with dirt from poking around in his herb garden. And in his hands he held a steaming plate of meat and vegetables. What Keirn wouldn’t give for a hunk of meat cooked by his hands. Or even some vegetables covered with his famed gravy.

            He couldn’t even remember what they had fought over. Likely, it was something trivial. Recently they had been arguing over just about everything. Things like, whether they should spend the extra gold, of which they were running low on, to get a room at the inn with a bath or to save their coin and sleep in the stables. Whether they should head south for warmer territories or press on into the north to see some of the winter all of them had been missing. Or even whether they should untie that kidnapped civilian or if they should just loot their pockets and pretend they hadn’t seen him.

            In the end, Keirn suspected it was his choice words about Jeremiah’s ex that may have finally torn the rift between them.

            “You’re just jealous,” Jeremiah’s spectre accused as he took a large bite from the succulent roast in his hands.

            Keirn paused, gasping for breath. The cold air ripped at his throat and, even though he knew the young man standing in front of him wasn’t his friend, he couldn’t help but lower his hands to cover himself.

            “As delightful… as it would be… to banter with… my delusions…” Keirn gasped, “if you don’t… mind, I’d really like… to find… someplace warm…”

            Keirn had wondered if his life would flash before his eyes as he approached death’s door. Apparently his past would rather haunt him as he made his way up the front walk.

            “Admit it. You always wanted what me and Autumn had. You want an intimate relationship where you could share yourself with someone else, make yourself vulnerable and not be afraid of being hurt.”

            “No… That’s what… you’ve always thought… I wanted…” Keirn replied. “Remember… Calandria…?”

            Calandria had been the one moment when Jeremiah had interfered with Keirn’s personal life. Jeremiah often commented on how the ladies seemed to flock to Keirn’s side, fighting with themselves for the young man’s affections. He had spurned them all. Jeremiah felt he had found the perfect one, Baroness Calandria Del Morden. After a whirlwind courtship, Keirn had managed to accidentally get himself engaged to the Baroness just as Jeremiah and the others were discovering that Calandria had murdered her father, imprisoned her suitors and was hell bent on the complete domination of her kingdom. Tragically, she had thrown herself off the balcony during the very revolt she had staged herself, right before Keirn’s very eyes. Or, at least that is what Keirn maintained.

            Jeremiah, however, maintained a different opinion on the matter.

            “Clearly she doesn’t count. People don’t kill the ones they truly love.”

            “For… the last… time…. I didn’t kill… her… She threw herself…”

            “Off the balcony. Yes, the woman who at the very moment she had everything decided prematurely plunge eight stories to her death. Most people do that when they’re losing.”

            Jeremiah’s spectre took an unconvinced stance. Keirn couldn’t help but notice that the food had vanished from his hands as he crossed his arms across his chest.

            “You know… what your… problem… is?… You’re to damn… moral…”

            “Only for you would that be considered a problem…”

            “It is when you… hate yourself because… you can’t even live… up to your own… standards… No one’s… perfect…”

            “You always have to be right, don’t you!”

            “I don’t have… to be… I just… always am…”

            And with that, Keirn pushed past his friend, intent on finding some miserable place to curl up and die away from Jeremiah’s judgemental eye. His friend didn’t make an effort to follow. He never did. He never knew when to give up on something and when to pursue it. Maybe that’s why his relationship ended so badly.

            Or, it could have been because Autumn was utterly insane. Sometimes it was hard to tell.

            But as Keirn pressed on through the snow, he wasn’t entirely sure that there wasn’t any truth to Jeremiah’s words. Was he possibly running away from something, even now? Could there be something which he would rather take Death’s frigid embrace over instead of facing?

            As he stumbled through the sloped ridges of the small ravine, he didn’t have much time to ponder this disturbing line of thinking. Instead, he found Derrek. He was sitting upon an ice sheathed boulder, carefully tuning his lute and appearing rather oblivious to the cold that Keirn was trying desperately to forget.

            “Am I to be… haunted by all… the incompetent… people I know…” Keirn sighed.

            “Hey, don’t blame me,” Derrek replied, still examining his lute carefully, “I’m your delusion, you’re not mine.”

            “Then… as my delusion… I banish… thee…”

            He had meant to sound more forceful, but his voice was starting to crack. His throat was hoarse and seemed to scream out for some water. Or, more tantalizing, tea.

            Instead of obeying, which was actually rather a testament to how accurate Keirn hallucinated, Derrek instead leapt from his perch and strolled to Keirn’s side. He strummed absently at the instrument in his hands, his eyes still mirthfully twinkling. Out of all of them, Derrek was the most likely to benefit from their harrowing travels. He had the makings of a fine minstrel and was heart set on heading to the city once their journey was all over to join a wandering troupe as a bona fide playwright.

            Unfortunately, Derrek also felt himself somewhat of an inventor, specifically of a new type of music that would revolutionize the entertainment business. He dubbed it ‘noise’. Uncreative, but accurate. Keirn knew little about music but Derrek assured him that every song he produced had absolutely no harmony amongst its notes. And Keirn was apt to believe him as it was as bad as it sounded.

            “If…  you’re going to… bother me… could you at least… not play anything…” Keirn sighed.

            “But I wrote this for you,” Derrek replied. “I call it, The Ballad of Broken Wings.”

            The only thing that sounded nice was the title. Keirn could feel his teeth clenching as his ears were assaulted by the dreadful cacophony.

            “Is there… any purpose… to this visit… or are you here… to make this more painful… than it really is…”

            “I’m no more than I have ever been,” Derrek replied, fingers still twisting and snapping at the lute’s strings.

            “An… irritant?”

            “A friend, who’ll stick by your side no matter what.”

            There was something undeniably odd about Derrek that Keirn couldn’t quite put his finger on. He doubted that now, in the grip of pre-mortem madness, he was likely to unlock whatever secrets troubled that carefree smile. It was just another unnerving reminder of how you can know someone for a long time and still not understand them.

            “I thought… I told you… to go… away…” Keirn grunted, raising his sore and tired limbs in an attempt to cover his ears.

            “Well, it’s not my fault that you chased away all your good friends.”

            “I’m… quickly… remembering why…” Keirn hissed. He took a pointless swipe at Derrek. As his arm passed through his head, the image of the loud minstrel faded. The noise, however, lingered.