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Sons of Winter chapter 12: Brannen (novel commission written for Teufel: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/dragonteufel/ )

Chapter description: As they set up camp to rest for the night, Aleks discovers more about his mysterious traveling companion, as well as am unorthodox way to grant Nyrisa the best chance of recovering.

Aleks belongs to Teufel: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/dragonteufel/

The other characters featured in this novel are my creation

*

Aleks stumbled to the side the moment he dismounted Garrun, his rump sorer than ever after riding Garrun for more than an hour. Although he had carried two, the direwolf panted lightly, as if running for an extensive period of time was normal routine for him.

"You're not the first to marvel at what these haunches can achieve," Brannen said, jovially slapping Garrun lean but strong flank. "Truth be told, he impresses me still. Been a while since we had such a ride, but our circumstances wouldn't have it otherwise."

Brannen tossed one of his enchanted pebbles in front of Garrun to summon a small barrel of water from which the direwolf eagerly lapped the revitalizing liquid. "You hungry? Can have you share a meal with Garrun if so. You're both wolves, after all."

Aleks shook his head, causing the direwolf's excitement to dwindle, his ears pinning back as he returned to drinking his fill. "Not hungry. Perhaps later."

Blessedly, Brannen didn't press him about the issue, fond as he seemed to pry into the habits of his people. "Into the cave, then. Garrun knows how to shift that barrel into its more compact form, and if one of your people stumbles upon him, they'll be more preoccupied running for their life than checking what they will assume to be his den. Wish I could say the same about my folks, though..."

His ominous words enflamed the churning sensation in Aleks' stomach, the sharp claws of anxiety tearing deeper rakes into his insides. Nyrisa lied on the bottom of his knapsack, limp and unconscious, a stark contrast from the excited hatchling that only remained idle for a minute before poking her snout into the world. And Brannen....Brannen remained his ominous self, constantly mentioning his people yet never disclosing more information about them, and pushing Garrun to his limits for reasons only they understood.

Nevertheless, the human held complete dominion over Aleks, for only he--or better said, his sister--had the necessary abilities to return Nyrisa back to her lively self. Brannen fished for another of his pebbles, summoning a crude crystal lamp that he used to guide them into the deeper reaches of the cave.

"I'm not one of the fancy westerners that you've read about," he mentioned once he noticed Aleks' bemused expression. "Trying to get there. That's the whole point of...well, we'll get there in a moment."

He settled into the first chamber that had a more favorable slant and enough space for the both of them. As if to further dilute Aleks' expectations of the magic human possessed, the fire that he summoned was nothing more than the collection of rocks encircling an assortment of relatively thin twigs that wouldn't even burn for long.

"You store what's available," Brannen said, rolling his eyes upon spotting Aleks' long look. "It's a saying of my people. We make due with what we have. Surely it's not the first time you hear a similar philosophy. Regardless, a fire is a fire, and warmth is warmth."

Aleks simply removed his knapsack from his back, placing it on his lap so that he could gently lift the dragon that made up its only contents aside from the blanket on the bottom. He carefully spread the blanket first before settling Nyrisa on it, his jaw hanging as he spotted the increasingly naked form of Brannen.

"Dry your clothes," he said, sprawling his cloak, surcoat, vest and undershirt around the fire, so that they basked in its warmth. "Otherwise you'll be a gloomy, morose wretch for the entirety of the journey."

He removed his boots and even pants, remaining only in that triangular undercloth specific to the humans, giving Aleks a quizzical glare when he refused to follow his advice.

"Suit yourself. If your lungs become heavy with water and then choke on your own blood, then I can only promise you that Nyrisa will be well taken care of."

That never failed to mobilize Aleks into following Brannen's instructions. In the little time they had spent together, the human learned exactly at which weaknesses to prod, and how hard. At first, Aleks simply removed his tunic and shirt, his leggings shorter and thinner than Brannen's, with paws unburdened by boots.

"Leggings too," Brannen suggested, rolling his eyes at Aleks' reluctance to do so. "Garrun has a mighty visible sheath, so don't assume for one moment that its likeness isn't well engraved into my mind by now."

In a past life, Aleks would have challenged that petty argument, but now, he slid out of his leggings without a second thought, stretching them by the fire, casually thrusting his feet in front of the flames, toes wiggling at how pleasant it felt to have his frozen pads by the nourishing warmth.

"That's more like it," Brannen said, adopting a similarly relaxed stance, with one leg stretched and the other pulled to his chest to wrap his arms around. His gaze skipped to his fuzzy sheath and plump orbs, but it only stayed there for a moment, as if unimpressed by what he saw. "The first thing you learn in a squad is how to properly maintain your equipment. Us humans don't have the luxury of sporting a furred coat, or have those enduring feet," he said, pointing a toe at Aleks' coal black pads. "While Garrun may carry me around, frostbite is more dangerous than three armed soldiers for me."

Aleks barely listened to what Brannen said. His attention dwelled solely on Nyrisa, splayed on her side, her breath even, toes and tail tip twitching now and then, yet her eyelids remaining still and unmoving.

"She's no longer fighting that drunken bear," Brannen added on a softer, more respectful tone. "Now, she is braving the wilds while coiled around your neck, trying to find her way back to this realm, just like we're trying to make our way to my sister."

"I only managed to kill him because he allowed me to," Aleks mumbled without taking his eyes off Nyrisa. "It took Nyrisa's added magic to plunge the dagger into his heart, and even with his chest pierced, Leobard's grip around my throat still had the necessary strength to squeeze the life out of me. But he didn't. He..." Aleks paused as he remembered that surreally serene expression, resigned--perhaps even pleased--with the outcome. "He embraced the end. Accepted it, as if he looked forward to it, to be reunited with his beloved Ariuvor."

Aleks didn't realize that tears flooded his glazed, unfocused eyes until he blinked. "I should've known," he said, wiping them away with the back of his hand, sniffling. "Haven't seen them parted in the weeks I spent in Lothering. Not once."

"He was a noble warrior, loyal to his principles, torn by grief. We didn't kill him, Nyrisa and I. Instead, we gave him release. If there's one thing I'm better at than swinging my sword, then that is my ability to smooth talk anguish-stricken soldiers into choosing hope over pain. Spent most of my life around them, after all. Used to be one meself."

"Who are you, Brannen?" Aleks said under his breath while staring at Nyrisa's paws, smooth and dry, untouched by that nefarious sweat induced by her arcane fever. "Humans don't venture into our lands unless they seek war."

"That is where you're wrong," Brannen interjected. "The people I currently find myself affiliated with--a particularly despicable sort, if I might add--earn their living by claiming that which most of the tribes find inconsequential, yet which gains value the further west you go. They are so discrete in their task that only a few handful of scouts spot them, and given that their disappearance is blamed on the feud between the clans, this sort of venture attracts more and more interest."

"So that's why they do? Collect stragglers such as me and pluck hatchlings from the trees they try to climb while their mother is out hunting?"

"Among other things, yes," Brannen said, letting out a tense sigh. "Yet my affiliation is with their leader, and whatever hatchlings they happen upon mysteriously vanish in the night. In fact, it's better that I start from earlier. Far earlier."

Aleks nodded as he shifted his attention to Brannen. Hard as it was to dislodge his eyes from Nyrisa, the hatchling's condition remained static, while the human posed a far more variable threat. He might have earned the benefit of the doubt by proving himself to Aleks through deeds, not words, yet his honesty was as appreciated as it was dangerous.

Brannen removed a wineskin from a saddlebag he summoned from one of his pebbles, flaunting a sly grin. "Bet you didn't expect me to store an item into a storage item that I stored into a storage item."

The blue wolf tilted his head at that peculiar word. "Bet?"

"Ah, human construct, related to our decadent gambling habits." He shrugged with his free hand, pulling the cork out with his teeth and spitting it into his lap to take a good, hearty swig of the potent drink. Its aromatic reek immediately stung Aleks' nose, forcing a hand over it.

"It's rough, just like my story. Good match, don't you think?" he corked the wineskin back, setting it aside for the moment so that he could tuck his knees to his chest and lean closer to Aleks. "It's not a happy tale that paints me as a paragon of my kind, Aleks. We're not born into what we are; we are made, just like the swords and tools that you craft. Are they evil by nature, meant to take the lives of others? Or can they be destined for better, more peaceful things?"

He leaned back when Aleks remained indifferent to what he said, resting his head against the palms he crossed just above his neck. "In Jorlindnar, every sword comes in two types: One with a sharp edge, and one with a dull edge. They are a symbol of status more than they are a weapon, swapped with the other only when the war council calls for it. To the east, nails can be driven through the hands of thieves and rapists to bind them to a post, while in the more civilized society, they simply connect things. You can hang a painting off a nail, or you can stab somebody in the eye with it. So, it all depends on the will of the one who wields it."

"You're from the east," Aleks said, instinctively reaching with a hand to his back, only to lower it on his lap when its conspicuous absence became noticeable.

Brannen, light-hearted as always, reached for Oathbreaker, proffering it to Aleks. "Claim it if it helps give you peace. Try to strike me down, should you feel the need. Whatever helps make you comfortable enough to share this space with me."

Aleks shook his head, much to Brannen's relief, so he leaned the sword back against the wall. "Us humans have a saying. We're only human, we say to each other, to constantly remind ourselves of both our lacks and ambitions. Take Jorlindnar, for example. What makes it so strong, that every civilized creature either fears it or wishes to become part of it?"

"Its magic?" Aleks attempted the obvious.

Brannen shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Introspection, Aleks. Knowledge, power, wealth--everybody can acquire them, but few can hold them long enough to make a difference during their fleeting life. Jorlindnar has been the strongest kingdom in this world since before your clans existed. They could have easily settled into this valley, or spread into the plains to the east, or stretch so far south they would reach the jungles. They didn't do that, however, for they had always known they are only human. Look at them now," Brannen said, spreading his arms to the side in awe.

"Dragons, gryphons, wyverns, and every sapient species, biped or quadruped, shares a land they call home. The only ones they don't openly welcome are the humans and anthros, for the very founders of Jorlindnar know of the ambition that lurks into the hearts of men, and as such, are wary of my kind and yours. But definitely more of mine."

Aleks noticed the muffled spite coating Brannen's words, as well as the darkening scowl under the raven-black strands flowing down his brow. "They wouldn't let you in?"

Brannen slowly rolled his head from one side to the other, a long scoff whistling between his teeth. "My people nail outlaws to wooden posts. They slay and chop dragons into pieces with great care, every bit of them put to purpose, with alchemy being the most notable trade. My town may not have indulged into that particular type of hunt, yet the lack of one sin doesn't miraculously wipe away the rest. We're savages, Aleks. Or at least, that's what I appear to be in their eyes. Can't blame them one bit, though. In fact, I admire them."

He swiped the wineskin off the ground, pulling a long, hearty gulp from it, corking it so that he could swing and throw it from one hand to the other.

"Eye color, hair color, skin color--these are labels that everyone wears, but few understand as well as the Jorlindnarians. They don't mind that you're different, but they are wary of how that which makes you different can disrupt their harmony, their balance. Receive too many pale easterners, and they'll form their own communities to incite rebellions. Bring in enough dark eyed folks from the south, and their bone, blood and sinew rituals may become the new religion in Jorlindnar. You won't be shunned for your looks in Jorlindnar, but you may be regarded with suspicion due to the beliefs you've been raised with, and that's why my sister and I are here, and not there," he emphasized by pointing down at the fire, and then at the cave's exit.

A foreign sense of excitement and relief struck Aleks, the goals of a past life rushing forth to the surface like a tidal wave, unbridled, uncontained. "May I come with you? I--we are looking for a place to settle as well," he added as his gaze skipped to Nyrisa's slumbering form. "That is, after Nyrisa is well again."

Brannen offered him a shrug, which was as good an answer as any. "Can be arranged. In fact, we'll all be seen with better eyes if we enter Jorlindnar as a group. We'll decide who rescued who from who later on, as well as the other details that shall embellish our dramatic tale."

Lies never bothered Aleks, and Brannen practically thrived on them. Why, then, did he seek the companionship of his wineskin yet again?

"There's one detail that I haven't shared with you," he raised a finger, adding a second one, then a third, fourth, and fifth, chuckling to himself. "Well, make that several details."

"I don't have much of a choice. In fact, I don't have any," Aleks said, watching Nyrisa's belly slowly rise and fall. Without Brannen's help, she would remain like this for several days, until her belly no longer moved, her tail no longer twitched, and her paws turned cold forever.

"Mmm, true that," Brannen rasped, wincing from the sting of the last gulp, pointing at the fire. "Well then, we have enough wood left there for a lengthier story or two shorter ones. You don't seem much of an orator, so I shall delight you with my tale, so that you don't constantly grumble about how distrustful I am under your breath."

And so, Brannen recited the tale of his upbringing with as much flair as he could muster, oblivious to the ugly, cheerful in the face of tragedy, and utterly indifferent to the mistakes he had made and repented for, at least according to him. His attention divided between Brannen and Nyrisa, Aleks only gathered that he had been raised by a Jorlindnarian, a benevolent anthro mountain goat who traveled east to perfect his tailoring craft.

He didn't find his species as amusing as Brannen's squeaks and muffled chuckles suggested. In fact, the more he talked about Carelldrann, the brighter Aleks' anger burned at how Brannen and his sister, two orphaned urchins, took their real father for granted. He pointed that out to him, and Brannen's eyes immediately smoldered, a finger thrust in Aleks' direction.

"Do not mistake my humor for a lack of compassion, Aleks. I loved Carelldrann more than you ever did your cruel bastard of a father, and it is for this very reason that I remember him so fondly. He was the one who made me into who I am, and if I laugh at how quirky his hooves are, or how he accidentally knocked things over with his horns, it's because he would want me to. He never took life serious, not even when they nailed him to a post. Horned bastard kept calling for his guard to scratch him, for his hands were a bit preoccupied at the moment."

Brannen snorted sardonically, fortifying himself with a mouthful of wine. "He denied his association with us, of course. Lord Whatever had a qualm with anthros, not humans, and he came to our village to track down spies and heathens, not instigate a riot. His shop burned and our house torn inside out by Lord Whatever's thugs, there was nothing left for us there, so we left, and we traveled, and we grew into a Frostguard and a sorceress. Don't bother me with that. It's too tedious a story," he flicked his hand dismissively at Aleks.

Not like he was going to do that. Appreciative as he was for Brannen's honesty, Aleks couldn't stop tapping his toes or clawing anxiously at the cave's floor, anxious to get moving.

"Perhaps we should--"

Brannen lifted the hand holding his wineskin to stop his eager advance. "No chance of that happening until the fire dies. A sore rump doesn't compare to Garrun's exertion, and I'm not going to push him to his limits unless the situation asks for it."

"It does ask for it!" Aleks gathered his legs under him to push himself up, his tail swishing nervously from side to side. "You told me yourself that the sooner we get her to your sister, the higher the chances for a full recovery!"

"And I stand by my word," Brannen spoke calmly, guiding Aleks to sit down with both hands. "Yet there is more to my tale, so instead of taking a rushed decision, I urge that you try and understand who my entourage is, why I travel with them, and what needs to happen in case one of them stumbles upon us, for if they do, none of us gets to see my sister anymore, least of all Nyrisa."

Aleks' lips twitched with barely restrained frustrations stemming from Brannen's aloof attitude in the face of such critical task, yet he settled down all the same, kneading at one of his paws anxiously as Brannen coughed to clear his voice.

"The human I work under is a despicable wretch going by the name of Lord Lysander, the Lord Collector of Golnadrad, a town that had grown into a city at the fringe of the Frostlands. As his lofty title suggests, he collects things, a pretty name for looting, enslaving, kidnapping, you name it. This means knowledge, beasts, artifacts, and anthros included make their way into his caravan. Before you jump to conclusion, know that, as his hired Frostguard, my official task is to protect his interests, but my unofficial mission is to make this creature and that item disappear. Better to fight evil--even a little--than be ignorant to it, eh?"

The snarl died down on Aleks' muzzle, yet some of the wrinkles remained, his whiskers still tense.

"The fact that I sit with you here and not in his camp should be proof enough of my intentions. Besides, it's not like you have a choice," he said, washing away the sourness of his reply with some wine. "Much as I hate to say it, Nyrisa's fate is tied to me and my sister, so we're like two freshly mated wolves, bound to each other. No matter how hard each of us pulls, we both end up looking ridiculous by resisting the flow of things."

His chocked laughter did little to alleviate Aleks' distress, yet the human's cacophonous sounds still managed to put a wry smile on Aleks' face.

"Bawdy jokes aside, there are two main reasons I work for Lysander. First of all, my sister needs some of the loot he collects from these lands for her magic rituals. Thanks to my efforts, she has a nifty collection already, which will go a long way in facilitating Nyrisa's recovery. Strong as dragon magic might be, it can still use a catalyst, a channeler, and..." he paused to scratch his head and grumble under his breath, "well, whatever else important stuff is there. Not to mention that most of the young dragons he catches unexpectedly find their way to freedom. As for the older ones...I can't save everyone, so I settle for the young ones, who can't withstand the magic used to fetter them, so they're bound using the more traditional means."

"And the second reason?" Aleks cut to the chase, his mind already torn by enough grief to consider a life spent under human heel.

Brannen drained the rest of his wine, turning it back into its pebble form to pocket it away. "His influence as a Lord Collector, of course. You see, pale skin and green eyes aren't a sight the humans of the Frostlands suffer easily. We could try to go around them on our way to Jorlindnar, but killing our way through whatever scouts and innocent but biased fellows we encounter is not going to make a good impression in Jorlindnar. Much as the two kingdoms despise each other, they are bound by mutual terms to keep the peace. So, my best plan is to make myself at home in Golnadrad, get on the mayor's good side, and receive a recommendation from him. But for that, I first need a permit to buy property in the city, which Lord Lysander can grant."

He took a deep breath at the end, resting his head back, staring absently at the ceiling. "It's not quite the life in the west I envisioned, but it's a start for somebody who hails from the most despised kingdom in this world."

Even from the little information Brannen had revealed on that topic, Aleks already loathed the east and what it represented. The clans might have been bloodthirsty in their feud, but they respected the land and its creatures, whereas Brannen's people butchered everything on sight, sapient or not, obedient or cruel.

All so that they could stand up to Jorlindnar, their ancient enemy.

"He will find us," the human mouthed absently while staring at the blizzard howling outside. "It's not a matter of how, but when."

His gaze returned to Aleks, sharp and focused despite his ruddy cheeks and strong, alcohol-ridden breath. "The secrecy of my sister is what matters the most here, so Lysander's party must never suspect her existence. If they find us before our journey ends, then I'll do what I must. But if Nyrisa is already under my sister's care and we are on our way, then you'll have to be my...ward," Brannen swapped a foul word for a slightly better one, as if splaying winter rose petals over a turd could ever conceal its stench.

"You mean slave," Aleks hissed.

"Well," Brannen shrugged, the corners of his mouth angling downward in indifference. "Essentially, yes, but you'll be the slave that I brought into the caravan, which means you shall be awarded certain privileges. Lysander won't risk my spite over a few sensible requests. That I guarantee."

Aleks once again looked to Nyrisa for guidance. She was such a small and frail thing, a stark contrast from the hatchling who braved the elements ahead of him yesterday. While she remained in this state, Aleks would never be free of guilt, remorse and sorrow, so whatever physical imprisonment awaited him in Lysander's caravan paled in comparison to the fetters of the mind.

"I'll do it." His stern voice and hard, determined features surprised Brannen as well, whose lips twitched and shifted while he searched for the proper words to react to the good news.

"Umm...fine," he nodded gravely, wrapping his arms about his torso as if struck by a sudden chill. "It'll be a temporary situation, in any case. Our loved ones matter more than our comfort, or so I constantly say to myself."

That was a thought Aleks could sympathize with. His sacrifice couldn't match that of Nyrisa, but so long as her safety and wellbeing was assured, the details mattered little to Aleks.

END OF CHAPTER 12

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