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For Craig

I, Andrew Givler do hereby declare that I am a real person, and that I am relevant to all moments of life. Literally. All of them.

Cassandra awoke with a start to the musical sound of steel being freed from a scabbard. Her blue eyes watered from the cold, and she shifted softly in her fur rug, trying not to disturb Alys, her personal bodyguard. She stuck her head out of the blue flannel tent’s flap, and shivered as the winter wind brushed her black hair. Trake and Riser, two of her bodyguards, stood at angles to each other, with their backs to Cassandra. Their snow wolf pelt cloaks fluttered lightly in the wind, and their heavy armor gleamed dangerously. The two men’s eyes scanned the sparse woods that surrounded their clearing. They held their swords loosely, almost casually, but Cassandra knew them well enough to know that their apparent ease with weapons was due to their experience, not their relaxed nature. The other blue tent’s flap opened as Bruce stuck his out. The Captain of her bodyguard’s gray eyes scanned the snowy clearing, he reminded Cassandra of an old he-wolf, wary, cautious, and completely untamable. The other flap peeled open as his wife, Celeste joined her husband. The sorceress’ eyes too scanned the woods with intensity. Cassandra saw the womans’ mouth move slightly as she mumbled something. Was it a warning to Bruce, or a spell? Nervousness spread to Cassandra, it seeped into her like the frigid cold.

She heard and sensed nothing, but she knew her senses were woefully lacking when compared to the men and women who kept her alive. She felt Alys stir too, and a moment later her closest bodyguard appeared alongside Cassandra, her hazel eyes peering intently about for the slightest movement. Cassandra forced herself to evaluate the scene before her. There was something wrong, but what was it? She chewed on her under lip as she pondered the problem. The clearing lay silent and quiet as the early morning sun suffused it with an eerie light. That’s it! She gasped. There was no sound at all, except for the faint nickering of their horses, and the heavy breathing of Trake and Riser. No birds sang, no animals moved. The clearing was as silent as death. The thought chilled her even more than the cold.

Bruce grunted softly, and crawled out from the low tent, He wore only skin tight leather breaches, and Cassandra averted her eyes out of respect. Not for a sense of decency, at least not in that he was not fully clothed, but in respect for the markings his body bore. The scars that crossed his chest and back were scars earned in defense of her life and wellbeing. On his right shoulder, he bore a black tattoo in the shape of a crown. Six stars sat above the crown, one for each of her bodyguards and the crown for her. The star all the way on the right had had a golden outline added to it, for now there were only five.  On his right hand, the hand that was wrapped firmly around his naked sword, he wore a thick silver ring inset with a large emerald. It marked him as bodyguard to the Princess – Heir, and executor of her will. All five of her bodyguards carried one.

She watched as Bruce walked towards the other two men, his skin puckering from the brutal cold. As painful as it must have been for him, the stoic Captain made no expression of discomfort.  He stopped near Trake, and continued to scan the forest with his men.

“Alys.” He said calmly.

“Captain?” She answered softly.

“You know your duty.”

“Yes sir.” She said tensely. She withdrew into the tent, and Cassandra could feel her moving about, presumably preparing for something. She knew better than to speak when her bodyguards were tensed, waiting for the tiniest sound. Then they all heard it. A horse neighed from deep within the trees. Immediately, the men set themselves into stances, their swords up and ready, their eyes more alert than ever.

Steam gathered at the ends of their faces as their breath misted in the cold. Cassandra’s head whipped around at movement from the corner of her eye. Her heart raced, could it be attackers? Perhaps a rebel Lord, or barbarians? A moment later she almost laughed at herself for her foolishness, as Celeste moved from her tent. She kept a buffalo hide wrapped around her, for warmth and modesty. Her golden hair fluttered behind her like a starry trail, and her restless, brown eyes moved just as warily as her husband’s. In her left hand she grasped a thin staff, more like a rod, which whipped to and fro as she moved her hand compulsively.

Then there was a thud, and another, and then many. A dozen horses and riders broke into the clearing, and men shouted. The men carried no standards, no coat of arms, but their well polished armor and well kept horses made them obviously professional. Lances lowered, and the men began to trot forward, seemingly almost smug in their superior numbers. Celeste snarled something in a language Cassandra could not comprehend, and the air stiffened as a sound to rival thunder for power, roared through the clearing. Cassandra closed her eyes against the sudden flurry of grit, and snow. When she dared to look again, she wished she hadn’t. Several men and horses lay in twisted poses of death, their flesh burned to a crisp. The wind sent the acrid scent of burning flesh towards Cassandra, and she recoiled in distaste.

The remaining men kicked their horses into a charge, heading right into their encampment. Cassandra watched as Bruce raised his sword towards the leading rider. The man lowered his lance to gut him, but the captain slipped under its reach, and to the other side of the horse, lashing out as he went. There was a horrendous scream as the horse collapsed, pinning its rider to the ground.

“Highness, you must come with me.” Alys’ voice whispered in her ear.

“Now?” Whispered Cassandra. “And leave them to die?”

Alys laughed softly. “It is their last gift to you. Would you shun it?”

Cassandra glanced back out of the tent again. More riders were down, as the three swordsmen hacked into the riders. Celeste watched impassively, then turned her steely gaze on the two of them.

“No.” She whispered.

“Get her out of here!” She snapped to Alys. Cassandra knew that command was more to her than to her bodyguard. Alys grabbed her hand, and dragged her back inside their cramped tent. With a quick slash of her knife, the bodyguard opened the back of the tent, and shoved Cassandra out. The two of them dashed out of the forest, Cassandra wept as she went, for her family lay dieing behind her.