"Three expeditions were mounted to pursue the raiders, each led by a war wizard. Since the murderers had my son-and since my family has contacts in Nathoud-I volunteered to lead one team. Two of us caught up with them about fifty miles east of the Sunrise Mountains. We caught them late in the day. By surprise. But still they fought like cornered dogs-except for the cloaked one, who cowered and hid and left the fighting to his men and other hired blades. They fled before us.
"But when the sun went down, the… dark thing, he… uh, seemed to 'wake up' and fill with terrible strength. He killed over half our force." Amira shivered at the memory and pulled her cloak around her. Full night had fallen, and their campfire did little to penetrate the thick darkness. "It was as if he called down the heart of winter itself. Strong men died in their tracks. All but a few of us were killed, but we took many enemy lives as well. A few of us managed to get away with Jalan and flee. We ran through the night. More died.
In the end, it was only the sunrise that saved us. Exhausted as we were, we pushed on."
"You said three teams were sent out," said Lendri. "Your team met with one. What of the other?"
"What few of us survived met them in Almorel. We'd hoped to find a portal thereabouts and make it as far west as we could. We watched for the pale barbarians and the dark thing, but we were foolish." Amira stared into the fire, and her voice hardened. "We underestimated our foe. Whoever is leading them put the word out to every thug and bandit in the Wastes. That loud-mouthed bastard Walloch and a bunch of his men hit us leaving Almorel. Killed the other war wizard, took my staff and book, and when I'd used my last spell… well, you figure out the rest. That's where you three enter the story."
"Will more of your war wizards come to help?" asked the belkagen.
Amira looked around and saw a waterskin lying on the ground. She reached for it and took a long swallow before replying. "I wouldn't hope for it."
"Why? Does your order forsake its own so easily?"
"They may not know what happened yet." She avoided the belkagen's gaze. "May not know for days. Tendays even. And even if they do, they have no idea where I am. Our last known location was Almorel. They'll start searching there, but it could take them days to find me. And if I'm on the move every day, it could take tendays before they catch up."
"On the move?"
Amira held the belkagen's gaze. "I'm going for my son. You said that if I waited, you could help. Give me some hope, some chance of success. But that raises another question I haven't been able to answer: Why did you help me in the first place? Outside Almorel, when Walloch's force hit us, there were others on the road. Lots of others.
Travelers, merchants, Tuigan warriors… those who didn't flee just watched that slaver and his men slaughter us. What makes you three so different?"
Lendri ignored the question. He simply sat drinking from the wooden bowl and staring off into the distance. The belkagen held her gaze for a long moment, then looked to Gyaidun.
The big man shooed the raven off his lap-the bird gave an angry caw until it saw the remains of the belkagen's dinner lying not far from the fire and went after it-then shrugged and said, "I was born a slave. Never much cared for slavers since. I've made it a point to make their lives difficult whenever I can."
"That's it?"
"We helped," said Gyaidun. "Why suspect our reasons?"
"I'm a stranger to these lands. Trusting doesn't come easy for me."
"If we wanted you dead, we could've killed you or left you to die.
If we have not earned your trust by now… why chase the wind?"
"Maybe it isn't me dead you want."
Gyaidun snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, woman."
Amira blushed. "That wasn't what I meant. How do I know you aren't slavers yourself? Maybe you just saved me to collect the price instead of Walloch."
"I… we never asked for your trust," said Gyaidun. "Not asking now. No one's keeping you here."
Amira's eyes widened, and she looked to the belkagen. "You convinced me to stay. I wanted to leave long ago. It was you who said I should stay, that you'd help-"
"Lendri and I are going after your son," said Gyaidun. "But no one invited you. Best that you stay here with the belkagen."
"Curse my House if I will, you-"
"I care nothing for you or your House."
Amira stood, her face a mask of fury. "You stupid, arrogant-"
"Peace!" said the belkagen, and he stepped between them. "Lady, please sit."
"I've sat enough. Damn you, you convinced me to lie about all day.
Jalan's getting farther each moment!"
"Enough!" said the belkagen. The predator's gaze had returned to his eyes, and his nostrils flared in anger. His jaw clenched, and he stood with all the poised authority of a king, his staff held high.
"You will sit and hear me or I will tie you down-for your sake and the sake of your son."
Amira sat, her mouth pressed in a flat line. Gyaidun was staring at her, not smiling but watching her.
"And you-" The belkagen turned to Gyaidun. "You will sit silent and ponder the courtesy due an honored guest. Disrespect the lady again, and I'll thump you into the lake."
The big man returned the belkagen's glare. "The… 'lady' speaks much of what I'm thinking, Belkagen. The trail goes cold. I could've put leagues behind me before sunset."
The belkagen's staff thumped to the ground, and he leaned heavily on it a moment before sitting. "You would leave your rathla behind?" he asked, but Amira could hear the weakness in the elf's argument.
"Once Lendri was healed, he could have caught me. Easily." Gyaidun spoke carefully, with respect, but Amira could hear that it was silk over a blade. Something was going on here. "But you persuaded me to stay," he continued. "Just as you did the lady. Why?"
The belkagen shot them each another look. "Think. Both of you.
Lendri says that this dark one is traveling with the ones who have Amira's son. He seems to weaken during the day. Most likely Jalan's captors rest during the day and travel at night. Even if this dark thing does not need sleep, the Siksin Neneweth do. Most likely they have slept all day today. We-and I do mean we-will certainly do all we can to save the boy. But we cannot rush after them like a pack on a bloodscent." He looked at Amira. "You said that the first time you caught them, that… thing killed most of your force by himself. What can four expect to do?"
"We didn't know what we were facing the first time. I do now."
"Do you? What is this 'dark one,' then?"
Amira locked eyes with the belkagen, but it was she who dropped her gaze first.
"I thought as much," said the belkagen. "Then hear me. My people have walked these lands for many hundreds of years, and I myself walked here long before your grandfather was born. Not all lore is kept in books inside your stone forts, and the tales of these lands reach far back to the days of Raumathar and farther back still. You have heard of Iket Sotha? 'Winter's Fort' in your tongue, I think."
"You mean Winterkeep?" said Amira.
"Ah, Winterkeep, then."
"It's a ruin on the Great Ice Sea, said to have once been the capital of the Raumathari Empire."
The belkagen smiled, seeming genuinely pleased. "Very good! I see you were a good student."
"My family has had trading contacts in Nathoud for years. Most in House Hiloar study the lore of the East. Knowing your customers and competitors makes for good business."
"You've heard of the legends surrounding the place, then?"
"What ruin isn't surrounded in legends?"
The smile on the belkagen's face fell to a frown. "You study history but disdain legend?"
"Disdain? No. But history is fact. Legend is… not. Scholars-"
"Scholars? Pfah! I have met some of these 'scholars.' Half-mad, most of them. Legends… well, they are known by the people, who are … what is your word? Sane."
Amira chuckled, but it was an empty laugh with no humor in it. She buried her face in
her palms and rubbed her eyes. Her head hurt. And getting a straight answer out of the belkagen… he was worse than any master or teacher among the war wizards. Gods, I hate the Wastes, she thought.
"What do your legends of Winterkeep have to do with me and my son?"
"And you still haven't answered our question," said Gyaidun. "Why have you kept us here? The trail goes colder as we sit by the fire, and this is the best lead we've had in over ten years. Ten years, Kwarun! If we lose-"
"Peace," said the belkagen. "I know your need, Yastehanye. I share your need. But rushing to our deaths-"
"Rushing?" Gyaidun's shout roused the wolf sleeping by Lendri's side, and it sat up, its ears stiff. "Would that we were, Belkagen.
Instead we sit by the fire and talk!"
The belkagen opened his mouth to respond, but Lendri spoke first.
"Peace, rathla. I feel your hunger. But you did not face this… thing. Our oaths, both blood and milk, bind us. But we cannot keep them by rushing to our deaths. If making amrulugek will give us a chance to bring this thing down, then it is worth a small delay."
"Look," Amira broke in, "you three obviously have much to discuss, but I don't understand half of what you're talking about. All I want is to get my son back. If you can help, I will be in your debt. If not, then speed me on my way. I beg you."
The belkagen muttered a long string of words in his own tongue.
The speech was completely foreign to Amira, but she could sense the frustration in his words. He took a deep breath, then stared into the flames and spoke.
"Lady Amira, Lendri and Gyaidun and I have walked many horizons together, few of them pleasant. Forgive us our heated words."
Amira glanced over at Gyaidun, who didn't look at all apologetic.
"You were speaking of Winterkeep…" she said.
"Yes, Winterkeep. Iket Sotha. It is a place shunned by the people of these lands. In ancient days it was a place of beauty, but foul things happened there, and this cold earth has a long memory. One of the great weaknesses of your 'histories,' Lady Amira"-the belkagen gave her a weary smile-"is that if the tome and scholar are both lost, your 'history' is lost. The people of these lands have a better way of preserving truth. We remember the tales, sing the songs, and dance the fires. Your history is a book. Ours lives in us and our children."
Amira took a deep breath and forced civility into her tone.
"Honored Belkagen, my child-my only child-is getting farther away as we sit here. I would be most grateful if you came to your point soon."
The belkagen's smile fell to a frown. "As you say. Even a young, upstart people like the Tuigan know of the evil of Iket Sotha. They tell tales of how the angry ice gods rose from Yal Tengri and sealed the Raumathari kings and their sorcerers in ice. The Tuigan, who fear very few things in this land, will not go near Iket Sotha. But the Tuigan are a young people, and their tales only touch the leaves of a tree whose roots go deep, to a time when the Tuigan still dwelt in the East.
"In the dying days of the wars between Raumathar and the demon-haunted empire of Narfell, the Nars summoned great ice devils to fight for them. Every army sent against them was beaten or pushed back-until the rise of Arantar and Khasoreth. You have heard of them?"
Amira shook her head. "No."
"Many songs are sung of their adventures in these lands. Arantar was a great sorcerer, the greatest of his age. Some have even said that his father was a god or some great being from beyond. Fire was the soul and song of Arantar, and he was its unquestioned master.
Khasoreth was his apprentice, but his great love was for ice and cold.
Arantar's mother was Raumathari, and together, he and Khasoreth were able to stand against the armies of Nar and their demons. For the first time in many months, the Nar fled the battlefield, and for a time there was peace in these lands."
"I take it the peace didn't last," said Amira.
"No," said the belkagen. "One particularly bleak winter… something happened to Iket Sotha."
"Something?"
"Here is where even the tales of my people fade to legend. It is not known what destroyed Iket Sotha, but one thing is certain: Great powers fell upon Iket Sotha. The Tuigan say they came from Yal Tengri.
Raumathari legends say they came from the heart of Iket Sotha herself.
But the one thing that all tales tell the same is that it was in the death of Iket Sotha that the Fist of Winter was born."
"The Fist of Winter?"
"A name given to them among the people of the Endless Wastes."
"I don't understand," said Amira. "What are they?"
The belkagen thought a long time before answering. "None know for sure. But they are… terrible. Their corrupted flesh cannot abide warmth, and so they dwell in the farthest reaches of the north. But in winter when Yal Tengri freezes, they often roam Iket Sotha and the surrounding lands, preying upon the unwary. Over the years, renegade bands of Sossrim have sworn allegiance to them. These are the Siksin Neneweth, the Frost Folk, and they worship the Fist of Winter as gods and offer blood sacrifices to them."
"And you believe one of these… things has my son?"
Amira had been staring into the fire during the belkagen's tale, but she looked at him now and was shocked at what she saw. The weariness still pulled on him, his shoulders slumping and his eyes seeming empty. But his face was now breaking into what seemed to her a mixture of sadness and fear. The belkagen cast a glance at Gyaidun, then quickly looked away. Amira looked to the big man. Fury seemed to come off Gyaidun in waves, like heat. His eyes were unblinking and fixed on the belkagen, and Amira could see the muscles of his neck standing up taut.
"Belkagen…?" said Amira.
"There…" The belkagen avoided everyone's gaze and looked up where the smoke from the fire was curling into the mists. "There is more to the tale. The Fist of Winter and their servants prey upon any who come too close, and I've heard of many fortune-seekers going into the ruins of Iket Sotha and never coming out again. But in some years, during the winter months when days are cold and nights dark, the Fist of Winter roams throughout the east, hunting."
"Hunting for what?"
"Boys," said the belkagen. "Some very young and some just shy of manhood, like your Jalan. I've heard of boys being taken from tents, from the heart of cities, boys who are sent to watch the herds and are never-"
Gyaidun lunged over the fire, screaming and reaching for the belkagen. Amira saw murder in his eyes. She grabbed her staff and scrambled away as the belkagen jumped to his feet and ducked. Gyaidun and the belkagen were screaming at each other in their own tongue, and Lendri, weak as he was, had dropped his drink and was trying to pry the two of them apart. Wide-eyed, Amira held her staff ready to strike should the argument come her way.
Lendri managed to push himself between the two combatants. Gyaidun tried to shove him away, but the elf latched onto the man's shoulders and held on. Lendri shouted something, just one quick word in his language, and Gyaidun stopped as if slapped. But he still held his fists before him, and his gaze was burning, looking over Lendri's shoulder to the belkagen, who stood a few paces away, guilt in his eyes.
Gyaidun said something, his voice harsh and angry. The belkagen replied. Amira couldn't tell if his voice was trembling from indignation or fear. Both, she decided. Had Lendri not intervened, she was quite sure the big man would have hurt the belkagen. Gyaidun's whole body was trembling, his face was twisted in a rictus of fury, and tears were running down his cheeks.
"What's going on here?" she asked, her staff still held ready, her mind searching for an appropriate spell should any one of them come at her. "Have you all gone mad?"
No one said anything. Gyaidun was still staring daggers at the belkagen, who was returning the gaze, though he seemed pained and saddened. Lendri watched Gyaidun long enough to be sure the big man was under control, then turned to the belkagen. Amira saw mistrust and anger in his eyes as well.
"What is going on here?" she asked.
Lendri watched him go, then turned to the belkagen. "I apologize for my rathla's rude words, Belkagen. But you do owe us an explanation. Now."
Defiance and anger flickered in the belkagen's countenance, but neither caught. His shoulders slumped. "My apologies, Lady. You found yourself in the middle of a family quarrel."
"It's more than that," said Lendri. "And you know it. Talk or I may not try to restrain him next time. You've known this-who was responsible for Erun-all these years, after all we've lost, but you said nothing. Why?"
The belkagen looked off into the mists where Gyaidun had disappeared. "Because there is nothing you could have done. Either of you. Or all the Vil Adanrath. You would have only been rushing to your deaths."
"Listen," Amira broke in. "I don't understand any of this. Who is this Erun? I just-"
"Be silent, woman," said Lendri.
Amira opened her mouth to give the insolent elf the tongue-lashing of his life, but she shut it again when he looked at her. The fire caught in his eyes, and again she was reminded of the wolves in the darkness, circling her fire. The tongue-lashing could wait.
"Please, Lendri," said the belkagen. "Sit down before you fall.
And there is no need to be rude to our guest. None of this is her fault."
"No," said Lendri. He didn't sit, though Amira could see his arms and legs trembling from the effort of standing. "It is yours. Do not hide behind her. Explain yourself."
The belkagen sighed, then sat by the fire. He placed his staff across his lap, closed his eyes, and said, "I spoke truly. By the time I'd heard of Erun, many days had passed. Although I suspected the Fist of Winter was involved, it was only suspicions. I have become certain in my own mind only in the years since. I know you and your rathla.
Had I told you, both of you would have rushed off to Iket Sotha like a pack on bloodscent. And both of you would have died. What happens to the children taken, I do not know. But whether they are alive or dead, you and Gyaidun could do nothing for Erun if you were dead." "So you did nothing? All these years, you simply sat?" "No!" The belkagen looked up at Lendri, and a bit of the heat had returned to his eyes.
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