The wind must have had sadistic agency.
The Queen and her Strategist braved the blizzard with squinting eyes. Marschula and Apalla had great difficulty maintaining their footing in the snow. Galian could very faintly see Galtee Keep at the top of the hill. It seemed to move farther away with each step forward.
"We should turn back, Your Grace! Wait this out!"
"It's not ending anytime soon, Archymides! Press on!"
They kept moving under the white sky. In the distance there was a yeti, skulking as yetis skulked, they could not see it, it was flanking them. The horses were close to collapse and Galian knew it, yet she needed them because she felt eyes on her, she heard unnatural breathing in the wind, it was the wind that sent Galian and Marschula tumbling backwards and it threw her off and she landed on her back with a groan. Marschula panicked or went mad finally and took off on her own into the wall of white in a direction that was impossible to say for certain.
From out of the veil the yeti emerged and it snarled and showed them its massive claws. Its white fur was already stained red, it had eaten recently but still wasn't satisfied. It approached the reposed Queen causing Archymides to dismount and he drew his sword from the saddle scabbard and charged slowly.
"Stay down!" He urged his Queen. She did not protest but was concerned for the old man.
Archymides was very agile for his age, he strafed away from several attempts to slash his innards out. It slammed its fists down, roaring in frustration. The Strategist swung once more and the yeti dropped to one knee and headbutted him, launching him into mid-air for a moment and before he fell into the snow it slashed his chest ripping his gambeson open in two clear gashes already bleeding. Archymides landed and coughed. The yeti rose and stood fully erect and raised a fist, the killing blow would come with brute force. Before it could be delivered, Archymides heard the unmistakable sound of a blade piercing flesh. Galian had the sword buried in its back, the yeti groaned and wailed and flailed, it tried to swipe Galian away but she held on to the hilt with all her might. The beast stumbled as its body failed and then it fell face first when it ceased to be in the only sense it knew. Galian kept the sword inside and ran to Archymides with a spring in her step. The old man was trying to stand on his own but was having a very difficult time. She helped him as he fell to his knees, holding his chest.
"I'm fine, just give me a minute." Blood wasn't gushing out out of the wounds but they didn't look promising. Apalla was still there, scared but he hadn't fled. She left Archymides for a moment to fetch the horse and she struggled to help him mount but their combined strength got him up. She took the reins in front of him and kicked Apalla's sides, he ran as fast as he could because he didn't want to feel the sting in his ribs again. Only a moment into the ride, Archymides became lightheaded and slouched to the side, she noticed, but remained focused on the road ahead, he wasn't dead, she could hear him breathing, as long as he wasn't dead all that mattered was getting to the keep as quickly as possible.
The higher they got, the thicker the snow, and Apalla's hooves were going deep into the ground, he constantly had to pry himself loose to continue on. Galian wanted to kick him again but knew it wouldn't help anything, she couldn't change nature, and nature was winning. Very near the gate, riders emerged, she saw them as phantoms, though they wore very thick, furry jackets. They rode on smaller trained yetis, seeing domesticated yetis always made Galian look twice, and in her state of exhaustion she was sure they were figments of her tired mind. The Queen fell off Apalla and his cry helped the riders find him. There were four of them, two dismounted and helped the wounded riders onto their own mounts while the third rider led the yetis with the new riders back to the keep. The two riders on foot calmed Apalla and steered him after the other riders with ease.
Inside the keep, everyone seemed to wear the same jacket, and all of them were seeking shelter from the worsening storm in their sturdy homes, or any home that was close. The yetis from outside kept running until they were in the Jarl's longhouse and the doors closed behind them.
The yetis knelt down in the main hall of Damos' Longhouse, Galian, still conscious dismounted the one she was riding while the others helped Archymides down. He was fading in and out, the wound seemed to be expanding. Galian found a chair, she felt lightheaded and off balance, she brought her face into her knees and tried to normalize her breathing.
"We'll get him to our healer right away," she heard one say but she didn't move.
Two of the riders helped Archymides down a staircase to a door at the bottom that led somewhere she couldn't see. The Jarl finally arrived, Damos looked happy to see her. He looked innocent, young, and trustworthy, a smile that made you feel good.
"What happened?" He asked, drawing Galian's gaze upwards to meet his eyes. She felt dazed and thought she may have been falling asleep.
"A yeti," she said plainly, she was too tired for anything but very basic speech, luckily Damos was of a soft spoken, and calm disposition.
"I'm sure he'll be fine. We have some of the best healers in the world here."
"Do you know why I'm here?" She asked, her mind felt like it was melting in her head, she couldn't focus, was frightened by the fact she couldn't remember simple words.
Damos nodded back into the room he had emerged from, "tea?"
The Jarl's sitting room was nicer than some homes. A fire was burning in the fireplace, an orchestra played soothing music on stringed instruments and pipes, a servant brought them both tea. Galian was seated, the Jarl was standing with his hands in his pockets, looking at something on the wall. He seemed unperturbed by the madness raging outside.
"I hope the music doesn't bother you," he said without turning around.
On any other day, Galian would've ignored it, maybe even enjoyed it, but with her head already splitting, she had to take a little more strength to tell him it was fine.
Damos pointed at the painting he was looking at, Galian couldn't really see it.
"This is Elven," her host said, believing for some reason that would interest her. She had been studying art a bit more intently but she wasn't in the mood to discuss such things.
"Really?" She just wanted to get to business, she had limited strength and wanted to use it properly.
"My mother spent time on the Crystal Islands, she always brought back something. Their culture fascinated her."
Galian knew Damos, even considered him a man worthy of trust. They weren't friends though, he wasn't like Petrice. He knew very little of his past, only that like most, he'd inherited rule from a dead parent that Erimon knew in the Dragon War. Damos picked up a spoon off the mantle next and rubbed it with his fingers like it was a fine thing, though it looked like a regular spoon to the Queen.
"And this, this was used by Silus Mandrum during his last meal. First king of the Crystal Islands, he built the castle that still stands in ol'Yen."
Galian wanted badly to tell him to shut up, she wanted to steer the conversation another way but her windows were only open momentarily.
"He had an allergy to shellfish. Curious way to kill a tyrant, but brilliant nonetheless, are you familiar with elven culture?"
It almost felt like an insult to her, she forced an indulgent smile.
"No, I'm sorry to say."
"Shortly after the elves arrived in ol'Yen, great advances in alchemy were made. Silus was, unskilled in magic compared to most of his kin. He was so jealous of the masters that he decried the practice. Called it the work of demons.
Damos paced around, like he wanted Galian nervous.
"He rounded up all the mages, healers, teachers, had them executed, hanged, beheaded, fed some to sharks in the sea. He declared himself ruler of all the isles, he knew such a move would not come with consequence though."
The same servant that had brought the tea offered Damos something to eat but he waved him off. Galian realized she hadn't had any tea yet and sipped some as a courtesy, she really wanted water, but tea was water with herbs and spices in it so it would do.
"Those Silus didn't kill were put to work building the castle, and a protective wall. The wall was the true marvel, it was a big wall, a wall the likes of which you've never seen. He was an, interesting man. He thought the best way to avoid war was to shut himself off from the rest of the world."
Damos set the spoon down and took a pipe out of his coat pocket and felt and looked around for a tobacco pouch.
"The thing with Silus was he thought his people loved him, the ones alive anyway, because he was protecting them. The thought that they could rebel, even dislike him, went away."
Galian felt sick, her first thought was fatigue, of course she felt ill. But her eyes narrowed on their own. She knew something was wrong, it was becoming harder to think, soon she didn't think at all. Damos finally found a tobacco pouch and lit his pipe while he eyes the Queen with curiosity.
"Will you be staying for a while, Your Grace?" He asked through a puff of smoke.
Galian fell forward on her knees, retching, she vomited on the expensive carpet and then passed out. The music stopped and Damos took another puff.
"You'll be nice and warm here."