The Winds of Change

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  Kalan walked in front of Downer, leading the horse by the reins. The gentle snowfall had turned into a blizzard, lowering visibility to a foot in front of their faces. He walked slowly, placing each foot gingerly on the ground, testing the snow before putting his full weight on it. Snow this deep could hide a pitfall, and he could not risk a broken leg. Mari would be worried.

              Behind him, Delron led the donkey and watched the woods around them. Several hours into their journey, the old man had produced some jerked meat from a bag. Kalan ate it slowly, and it spread warmth throughout his body, filling him at the same time.

              The forest slowly gave way to the Plains of Sunari, and the blizzard seemed to get worse. Heavy, wet snow pelted them from all directions, and Kalan stopped more than once to brush ice off of the animals muzzles and give them a brisk rubdown. Several times he thought he spotted landmarks that he knew, but each time he was mistaken.

              It was close to midnight when they stopped for camp. Kalan led the horses into a small hollow where a large tree provided some protection from the elements, and began to build a lean-to for shelter. He tied Downer to a tree limb as Delron brushed snow off of his donkey.

              “I think we should stop for the night,” yelled Kalan. The blizzard raged all around them, causing his shout to be lost in the wind. He reached over and tapped Delron on the shoulder. The old man turned and looked at him, squinting through the blizzard.

              “I think we should stop here for the night!” Kalan shouted. “We will not make much progress in this!”

              Delron nodded his agreement and turned his attention back toward his donkey. As threadbare as the animal appeared, it did not seem to be the least bit tired. The donkey seemed to take Delron’s ministrations in stride.

              Kalan began to search the small hollow, trying to find any sort of dry branches to start a fire. He overturned broken branches and boughs, looking for any branches that may have been sheltered from the harsh storm.

              He had gathered a small assortment of branches when he turned to look back at the camp and found he could barely see the horses through the storm. He began to make his way back toward the camp, shielding the branches with his body.

              The branches provided little enough fuel for the fire, and Kalan tried to block the small fire from the elements. Delron had pulled a large book from somewhere and was perusing its contents, muttering to himself. Kalan slowly built up the fire to a manageable level, and tried to warm up some of Delron’s jerked meat.

              Slowly, the blizzard died down, and the wind stopped whistling through the trees enough for Kalan to check on their mounts. He was checking Downer’s hooves when Delron’s voice startled him.

              “When did you leave the Citadel?”

              Kalan turned and stared at the old man. Delron’s head was still hidden in his book. Kalan was beginning to doubt his ears when the old man lifted his head and looked straight at him.

              “When did you leave the Citadel?” Delron asked again, louder this time.

              The old man knew. Kalan had suspected, back in the cabin when Delron had called him by his title, but now he was certain.

              “About twelve years ago.” Kalan said.

              “Why did you leave?”

              “I . . . Mari and I left to be married.”

              The old man grunted and buried his head back in his book. Kalan turned back to Downer’s hooves and continued cleaning them.

              The Citadel was widely known as the home of the Paladins, sworn protectors of truth and justice. The massive fortress was where many young boys came to learn the skilled use of weapons, and where young men were trained in the ancient arts of war. The Magisters trained all who asked, withholding their knowledge from none. On rare occasions, this had been detrimental; thieves and mercenaries would come and learn the arts, then leave to sell their services to the highest bidder. Still, the Magisters held that the free rein of knowledge was worth this risk. The only circumstance in which a student would be put out of the school was if he or she had committed an act that would disgrace the Citadel or the Ancient Order of Paladins.

              The Citadel was also the home of the Magi, fabled healers and Oneiromancers, also the Holders of the Flames. The Magi were an ancient order, training Healers and Wise Women in the arts of healing. The Magi, unlike the Paladins, were secretive in their ways, training a select few that exhibited an ingrained talent for the healing arts.

              Kalan finished cleaning Downer’s hooves and lay his bedroll down next to the fire. The blizzard had almost completely dissipated by now, and the tree protected their campsites from the majority of the light snowfall. He removed his sword from its scabbard and lay it next to his bedroll. Delron looked over at the unsheathed sword, but said nothing and went back to his book.

              Kalan bunched up his cloak and placed it under his head for a pillow. He closed his eyes and slept, dreaming of Mari.