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Keltin threw aside the blanket in the darkness as his hand searched frantically for the scrid knife by his side; the knife wasn’t there, of course, but it took him several seconds to remember that. The glow of Hirst’s eyes narrowed above what Keltin knew was a smile even if he couldn’t see it. “We’re ready to go, Keltin,” the Pathshaper said quietly as he stood and moved on to the mound of blankets that covered Aemetta.
Keltin stretched and was startled to find more than a dozen glowing pairs of eyes hovering in silence along the back wall of the storeroom. How long have they been here? he wondered uneasily as he stood, still secretly wishing he had the knife with him. It wasn’t that he planned to harm these bizarre people—this “Cult of the Guided,” as they called themselves—but more that he trusted none of them. He shook away his paranoid thoughts as Wyand rose from the floor and walked over to him in the gloom.
“We’re really doing this, aren’t we?” Keltin asked in a whisper.
Wyand rubbed his eyes, either from being awakened so early or from trying to grasp the reality of what was about to happen. “Just remember this was your idea,” he answered, his voice gravelly from sleep. Despite his look of exhaustion, a quick smile proved that Wyand was ready to begin the day with a short contest of wit just as he and Keltin had for so many turnings in Aldhagen. Keltin chuckled quietly as his constant feelings of distrust subsided briefly. The bond he shared with his oldest friend was Keltin’s only certainty, and he clung to it desperately in this time when all other truths were obscured by layers of lies and false memories.
“You remember this was my idea when all of the cofa is gone,” Keltin replied with a challenging grin.
Wyand shrugged. “With the credit comes the blame.” Keltin was shocked to hear such a cynical phrase spoken by someone like Wyand; then again, Keltin was shocked by his own thoughts lately more times than not. Raising his hands in defeat, Keltin ended their verbal contest before it could devolve any further.
Once Aemetta was on her feet, Hirst nodded towards the group of Guided and they surged into motion. Six of them lifted the boat and flipped it deftly onto their shoulders with scarcely a sound, while two other Guided opened a wide door on the side of the storeroom that Keltin hadn’t even noticed until that instant. The cold air of Crolun Raigh swirled past Keltin’s legs; even with the additional layer of field clothes Hirst had advised him to wear, Keltin still longed for the warm blankets that waited beside him on the floor. He realized with a pang of sadness that the previous night of sleep would likely be the last warmth he felt until their efforts in Dism Slyde were complete.
With Hirst leading the way, Keltin joined Aemetta and Wyand as they marched into the darkness beyond the storeroom. He had expected to depart for the northern waters sometime just before sunrise, but not even the first glimmer of light shone on the western horizon at this early hour. Keltin glanced back and watched the Guided walk silently in unison—six carrying the boat, six carrying supplies. He looked away when he realized that their movements bore an eerie resemblance to a procession of Venerates preparing to begin a Calling. Or a Casting, he added.
As the faint outlines of huts slid past in the light of Crolun Raigh’s sparse torches, glowing eyes emerged to watch the boat and its crew follow the river north. There were no shouts of praise, no celebrations, only looks of worry and expectation from faces that normally knew only confidence. Thankfully, at least Hirst appeared calm. Just as Keltin started trying to match the Pathshaper’s air of certainty, a towering figure suddenly emerged from the shadows whose eyes lacked the Guided’s swirls of color.
“Morning beckons, Carnan,” Hirst said from the front of the group without turning back. Strangely, there was a hint of confined laughter in his voice.
“That it does, Stormbrother,” Carnan grumbled as he fell in stride next to Keltin, clearly disappointed to be leaving wherever it was he had spent the night with Laersi. In the dim light, Carnan’s eyes found Keltin, who was staring at him with a curious frown. “What?” the Stonebrother snapped threateningly. Keltin looked away, not wanting an argument to mark the start of their journey to Dism Slyde.
Eventually, there were no more huts with torches or Guided onlookers to witness the procession pass by, there was only the river and the darkness of an overcast sky. The relative warmth in the air began to fade as they continued north, then the ever-present wind from far above Crolun Raigh suddenly descended against Keltin’s back. Even with the added layer of field clothes, he lifted his veil and folded his arms tight to his chest to fight the biting chill; he saw that Aemetta did the same and Wyand was visibly shivering, too. Hirst and the other Guided appeared unaffected by the frigid wind—“disinterested” was the description that came to Keltin’s mind—and Carnan was either too frustrated or too embarrassed to worry about something as trivial as being cold.
For hours, the river’s winding course led Keltin and the others north through the rows of hills and wind-swept mountains that separated Crolun Raigh from the ocean. His boots splashed through a handful of narrow streams that merged with the river as it gradually expanded into a rushing torrent more than ten strides across. With grey light in the western sky, Keltin rounded a bend and finally received his first glimpse of the enormous body of water that waited at the end of this river. To his relief, it was much closer than expected.
The dark ocean undulated in fascinating patterns that made Keltin forget about the fears in his mind and the chill on his skin. Every few seconds, a line of water rushed towards the narrow strip of barren shoreline that he could see between the hills in front of him, then the ocean would grow calm once more. Beneath the roar of the river to his right, Keltin heard a low thunder that followed each wave as it crashed against the shore. Far beyond the waves, enormous chunks of ice and snow clustered together until they formed an indistinguishable white line along the northern horizon.
Keltin learned quickly that the view of the ocean from Dism Slyde had been very constricted due to the looming cliffs and the constant fog. Mesmerized, he kept his eyes on the ocean as he walked, and with each stride its size surpassed anything he could have imagined. When the group was finally past the last of the frozen hills, Keltin’s head swayed left and right as he searched for an end to the shoreline but found none in sight. Other than the stars in the night sky, nothing he had ever experienced felt so infinite as the ocean that lay before him now. And we’re going to travel it using that, Keltin thought, casting a skeptical glance at the tiny boat behind him.
Where before there had been snow and patches of mud, now a layer of smooth pebbles crunched beneath Keltin’s feet as he walked. As the ocean drew nearer, he could hear the water from each receding wave trickling between the rounded rocks and causing them to clatter against one another. Just before walking past the edge of the waves’ reach, Hirst stopped and pointed to an area of calm water on the right. Where the river met the ocean, the waves crested far offshore as though they were held in place by the river’s current. “This is where we will begin,” the Pathshaper declared.
At his direction, the six Guided quickly flipped the boat upright and set it down halfway into the water. Though the waves were much smaller here, it was still reassuring for Keltin to see the front of the boat bobbing in the water. Once the first group stepped aside, the other six Guided loaded their bags of supplies into the boat before they, too, moved out of the way. Hirst unwrapped the first bundle and revealed a long, spiked oar. “I believe this is yours, Stonebrother,” the Pathshaper said with a smile.
For the first time that morning, Carnan’s expression shifted away from irritation. “That it is!” he exclaimed happily, seizing the oar and inspecting it in the dim light for any damage that hadn’t been there before. As Carnan studied the weapon, Hirst unwrapped another bundle and passed Wyand, Keltin, and Aemetta much simpler wooden oars that served no purpose beyond moving a boat. To Keltin, it was a stark reminder of the incredible amount of work that lay ahead, but his spirits lif
ted a moment later when Hirst revealed the next bundle. Three isen waited within the cloth, and beneath them Keltin spotted the handle of a familiar knife in a grey leather sheath.
With his scrid knife and an isen back on his waist, Keltin sighed with sudden relief; he hadn’t realized how much comfort came from possessing a weapon until being without one for nearly a week. He saw the same look in Aemetta’s eyes as she hooked both of her isen onto her sash. Even Hirst appeared relieved as he tied on a small pouch that contained the barbed throwing ropes. Although the Cult of the Guided celebrated the absence of weapons within Crolun Raigh, at least they were willing to admit the need for such implements in the world beyond.
Once all of the other supplies were secured in the boat, Hirst climbed aboard and sat facing aft, followed by Wyand, Aemetta, and Keltin. Wyand and Keltin sat on the aftmost bench and passed their oars through slits near the top of the hull. Keltin marveled at Carnan’s clever design: the slits were wide enough to let the oars reach the water but narrow enough to keep the ends of the handles from accidentally sliding out and thus losing the oars to the ocean.
Carnan stood behind the boat waiting for everyone else to be seated. “You say there are no haugaeldr here, Stormbrother?” Carnan asked with a worried glance at the water. Hirst nodded and Carnan relaxed slightly. “Good. I’ll launch us, then. As soon as we’re free of the rocks, start paddling,” he instructed. Keltin readied his oar above the surface of the water and felt a jolt of fear and exhilaration when he heard the last of the pebbles scrape against the wooden hull.
Carnan leapt aboard and stood at the back of the boat as Keltin and the others rowed. The Stonebrother dipped his oar into the water and angled it from time to time, correcting the boat’s path either to the left or the right. As the sound of the waves grew louder, Keltin wished he was facing forward so he could see what lay before them. Instead, he was forced to look aft and constantly question his decision to leave Crolun Raigh as he watched the safety of the shore slip farther and farther away.
After a few minutes of steady progress, Keltin felt the front of the boat slam against the first sizeable wave they had encountered. A spray of cold, salty water washed over the deck, its sharp chill nearly causing him to shout from the sudden discomfort. Just as he regained his breath, the next wave arrived and Keltin braced for another cold shock. To his relief, the wave didn’t crest before reaching them, but instead it lifted the front of the boat alarmingly high into the air. Keltin leaned back as far as he could, but he still felt himself sliding off of the narrow wooden bench. He stared worriedly at the dark ocean behind Carnan, certain they were all about to tumble into it, then the front of the boat dipped sharply.
Carnan laughed. “This is far more entertaining than the rivers and lakes I’ve traveled,” the Stonebrother declared. Keltin exhaled and glanced at Wyand in disbelief, but found that Wyand, too, was grinning after the experience.
“Are you both mad?” Keltin demanded, his arms shaking as he resumed rowing.
Wyand shrugged. “The events that led up to this point would’ve seemed like madness to us just a few weeks ago. Now that we’re here, we might as well enjoy it. The Visions will guide us—I have faith in that.”
Carnan nodded firmly in approval, but Keltin felt uneasy as he watched the massive wave crest far behind the boat. Another wave arrived before he had any more time to worry, and the entire process repeated itself. Up and down the boat tilted, up and down Keltin’s stomach bounced for what felt like an eternity until the ocean finally calmed. “Keltin. Look,” Wyand said softly, his breath forming a small cloud as he spoke. Keltin followed his friend’s gaze to a mound of ice floating less than twenty strides to the north of the boat.
“Hold all!” Carnan called suddenly, and every oar pointed to the horizon. With the roar of the crashing waves far in the distance, at first there was only the sound of the water as it lapped against the hull. Then a soft creaking noise made its way to Keltin’s ears, but he couldn’t identify its source. He looked to the enormous ice block, but it passed by the right side of the boat in eerie silence. Carnan frowned as he, too, searched for whatever was causing the sound. The creaking grew louder until it gave way to a sharp thump that seemed to emanate from somewhere deep within the waters below. Everyone gasped except for Hirst.
“The ice speaks,” the Guided said in wonder from his seat near the front of the boat. “I witnessed these sounds within my Vision of the storm that cleansed Dism Slyde, but I had no idea then what they were. It’s connected to the ice somehow, I know that.”
“Should we be concerned?” Carnan asked worriedly, still moving his eyes along the white northern horizon.
“No, I don’t think so,” Hirst replied quickly. “Still, we could move closer to shore without the waves being a problem.” Carnan nodded and wasted no time turning his oar to push the boat back to the south. Keltin watched the ice in the distance with a sense of both curiosity and apprehension as he waited for more of the strange sounds.
“Ready all,” Carnan instructed a moment later, and the oars splashed into the water. After the next command of “way all” was issued, the sound of rowing overpowered the faint crackling and creaking noises of the ice. Only the loudest thumps were audible as the boat slid south, and those noises were felt more than heard.
Behind the veil of cloud, the sun slid to midday, then into afternoon as Keltin and the others rowed west. There were food breaks throughout the day, but never for long enough to provide any actual rest from the weariness that ached within their muscles. It was during one such break in the afternoon that Keltin noticed small spheres of ice appearing each time a droplet of water landed on his sleeve. He looked across the bench and found a thin layer of ice slowly creeping up the back of Wyand’s armor.
“Carnan, there’s something—” Keltin began, then he stopped when the Stonebrother turned his face towards him. Both of Carnan’s eyebrows had become clusters of frozen spikes and his lips were thin lines of blue. He shivered as he stared at Keltin, then frowned and brushed the ice from above his eyes.
“We need to prepare for nightfall,” Carnan said through chattering teeth, and everyone on the boat agreed.
“Are we going to stay in the boat?” Aemetta asked incredulously as the frigid wind swept across them again.
Carnan shook his head and frowned as he surveyed the shoreline to the south. “If there was a break in the cliffs, we could land the boat and relaunch in the morning. All I see are sharp rocks, though, so that won’t work.” Keltin scanned the water’s edge and quickly arrived at the same conclusion as Carnan.
“That leaves the ice,” Wyand said quietly, drawing everyone’s attention reluctantly back to the bleak landscape to the north. The creaking and sudden thumps were becoming more frequent as the sun sank lower, but the surface of the ice slabs appeared calm. “Hirst, what do you think?” Wyand asked.
Keltin turned to look over his shoulder at the Pathshaper, hopeful that the man’s strange Visions would offer an answer. After lifting the cloth, Hirst’s eyes shimmered with color, then he smiled confidently. “Of course we go to the ice,” he declared. “Through fire, I came to know the Cynmeren. Through ice, I will come to know the Penitent Faithful.” It was enough for Carnan, who issued the commands to resume rowing and immediately steered the boat north towards the nearest sizeable chunk of ice.
The wooden hull scraped angrily against ice hidden just below the surface when the boat was a stride from their destination. Carnan brought the group to a stop and leapt fearlessly onto the floating block of ice. It didn’t sink instantly—that had been Keltin’s fear—and instead seemed quite solid. With Carnan’s help, soon everyone was out of the boat and onto dry, albeit frigid, ground.
After unloading the supplies, they flipped the boat and positioned it against a small mound of ice as a makeshift shelter. Beneath it, Keltin was surprised by how much of the wind was blocked, but it was still bitterly cold on top of this frozen slab. Among the supplies was enough
tinder and wood to keep a small fire going for a few hours at least, and Keltin reached for them as soon as everyone was settled.
Carnan grabbed Keltin’s wrist before he had a chance to set down the first sticks. “Not yet,” the Stonebrother said regretfully. “I have a feeling the night will grow much colder than this. That’s when we’ll need the fire.” Keltin’s shoulders slumped, but he knew the man was right; besides, he wasn’t exactly sure what would happen if they tried to build a fire on top of a floating chunk of ice. Tired and cold, he grabbed one of the blankets as well as a pouch of food and huddled between Wyand and Aemetta. Even with several layers of blankets on top of the ice, the slab below still sapped the warmth from Keltin’s body as soon as he sat down.
As he ate several pieces of whiteroot in shivering silence, Keltin stared out into the dim light of evening at Hirst’s back. The Pathshaper wasn’t under the boat shelter with the rest of them, instead having opted to stand motionless near the water’s edge as the wind buffeted him with freezing ocean spray. Hirst faced west, fixated on the shoreline in the distance and completely unaffected by the cold as he did whatever it was the Guided were able to do to see the future. “How does he do that?” Keltin wondered aloud.
“The Visions?” Wyand asked from his right.
“No, ignoring the cold,” Keltin replied. “That would be a very useful skill right now.” Wyand shook his head and pulled the edge of the blanket tight under his chin. Keltin watched the Pathshaper in disbelief for several minutes more, but once the whiteroot was gone, a long yawn made him quickly lose interest in anything but rest. To his left, Aemetta was already asleep, and Carnan’s eyelids drooped as he sat wrapped in blankets beside her. With thoughts of fire and sunlight, Keltin shut out the frozen world around him and escaped into the comfort of his dreams.
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