Kuan Yang was a thin ferret faced man with long lanky black hair, tied back with a simple strip of brown rawhide. Only a meter and a half tall, his eyes were dark, intelligent, and darted about, taking everything in. His nose was long and rather pointed, with an inclination to twitch constantly, adding to his rodent-like appearance. Oddly enough and despite his Asian name and physical characteristics, he spoke with diphthongs, and a very “musical” Irish brogue. Shaw had arranged for him to be their local guide, at least as far as The Yeugate. He was a resident expert on the subject, having been there once before… and survived. Gareth was sure that Shaw had paid the man a sizeable sum for his services, or possibly she made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. Gareth knew what it felt like. Now Kuan rode at the head of the small column, eyes alert for danger. Strung out behind him the four companions rode in silence. For a small space of time it had almost felt like they were all part of a big hectic family, rushing about making preparations for the wedding. Now that they were all back on the trail, Gareth was sad to say, in a small way, it felt more normal than sleeping under a roof in a house.
Behind them the bustling city of Molva sprawled, evergreen lined gardens just beginning to show the first signs of spring flowers. The air was fresh and chill, and the scent of hemlock and cedar was strong. Ahead of them, still indistinct in the frozen distance lay Strelyrc Heights. Beyond that Diakx Mountain towered and further still lay the vale of The Yeugate. Kuan cheerfully pointed out in his thick accent, that given the nice weather, it was only a handful of degrees below freezing, they should make The Yeugate in two weeks or perhaps a little less. Gareth had groaned, and Lyndra simply rolled her eyes. Slightly less vigilant, Wokeg leaned back in his saddle, snoring gently while behind him Chiu hummed a small tune under her breath and stared raptly at her wedding ring.
Since the trail was fairly straight and open, Kuan drifted back in the small column until he was riding beside Gareth. “Have ye ever seen a Qual, on yer trips?”
All Gareth could see was the tip of Kuan’s nose sticking out of his hood. “I’ve met one.”
The small guide nodded. “That must be the reason, then.”
Gareth sighed. It was shaping up to be a very long journey. “The reason for what, Kuan?”
“The reason fer one of them Qual devils te be circling us, like. Seen him fer the last day.”
Gareth glanced up, and sure enough in the distance he saw something flying, with great wings and a long tail. From a homeworld named Nahar, the Qual was one of several alien species on Eldenworld; a race of deeply religious avians who produced silk from glands in their abdomens. Gareth found it interesting that their tails continued growing throughout their entire lives, and the length of an individual’s tail could be a good indicator of age. Their government routinely assassinated members of any group that they deemed to be dangerous to the safety of society. It was seen as their responsibility to do so. “I guess I’ll have to see what he wants.” Gareth slumped as he pulled his reins, directing his horse away from the others and out toward a large open meadow. From the distance he could see patches of snow under the trees. What now? He thought to himself. “Just keep the rest together. I’ll catch up soon enough.”
“But Mister Gareth.” Kuan called out. “Senator Shaw said fer me to keep ye all safe.”
“I appreciate the sentiment, Kuan, but we’ve been on the trail for two years now, from here to Buclite to Zuebrihn.”
“Never heared of Zuebrihn.” He called back.
“It’s past the Lake of Shadows.”
“I have heard of that.” He replied, paling. “I’ll be stayin’ with the others, sir.”
Gareth grinned. “Good idea.”
The creature waiting in the field equaled Gareth’s height, but was skeletally thin. As a flying creature, Gareth guessed its bones were hollow. Now that he was closer he noticed that the creature did resemble a parrot more than a bat, with bright colored plumage starting at the crown of the head, slightly behind the heavy orange beak, continuing on back down the spine to the long colorful tail feathers. The feathers on the wings looked soft, which meant silent night flying. The golden eyes of the being were wide and intelligent. Having dealt with the same species, if not the same creature before, Gareth gave it a short bow, holding his open hands palm forward to show no weapons or hostile intent. Reasonably human laughter came out of a circular silver disk, the size of Gareth’s fist that the creature wore around its neck.
Gareth grinned. “I’m glad to see that you got your translator fixed. It was sounding a little tinny the last time we met.”
The creature nodded, more laughter coming from the translator. “As you say. It is much better. How goes your quest?”
“Good and bad, I’m afraid. I reached my destination, as you probably know.” There was a brief nod. “Your people are star travelers. Are you familiar with a super nova?”
The Qual’s golden eyes widened. “Yes.” It said slowly.
“A sun two hundred light years from here went supernova. In less than one hundred years the radiation front will reach this world and kill everything on it.” The Qual sagged visibly. “Before they left, the brighter humans realized what was going to happen, rigged explosives on the moon, and moved it into the path of the oncoming radiation. The idea was to blow the moon into a cloud of dust and fine particles that would block the radiation. By the time the cloud dissipates the danger will have passed. That’s the theory, anyway. Unfortunately, all the brains had to evacuate before they had a chance to set things in motion. It’s up to me to find the control center, and blow up the moon. I have a very small window of opportunity, you might say.”
The Qual looked at Gareth a long time, and then blinked its large yellow eyes. “And I thought I had problems.” The wry tone came out of the translator perfectly.
“It gets better.” Gareth continued. “I don’t know where the control center is. Ahead of us is The Yeugate. It was one of five interconnected cities. Another of those cities is called Jafelon, or The City that Time Forgot. That’s where I’m headed, and my only hint might lie in The Yeugate.”
The Qual stood in silence for some time. “The passes ahead,” he finally began, “are treacherous. It has been a long snowy winter. We have sleeping bags of spun silk that will keep you warm and comfortable in the coldest night. We will leave you five bags on the trail ahead.” The Qual tilted its head, giving Gareth a strange look. “What you do, you do for us as well. We will help when we can.”
Gareth gave him a small bow. “Thank you.” He said, and then smiled. “I never thanked you for the gun you gave me at our last meeting. It was—a lifesaver.” He gave the Qual a small bow. “May you have fair winds, my friend.”
The Qual leapt into the air. “And following seas to you also.” In three flaps it was gone.
Gareth sat there for several minutes under the bloated red sun before he spoke. “You can come out now, Chiu.”
A tawny bobcat moved out of the winter-brown grass morphing as it moved into the slender woman. “How did you know I was here?” She asked, raising a single arched eyebrow.
His smile was warm. “I can feel your presence when you’re close enough, like you can feel mine.”
“Do you know that Qual silk sleeping bags are one of the rarest items on Eldenworld, and are worth a fortune?”
He leaned down, offering her his hand, and swung her up on the saddle behind him. Flicking the reins, he turned the horse toward the distant riders. “I didn’t know that, but if they keep us warm, they will be worth every penny.”
“Mmmmmm.” Chiu replied in a soft purr. He could feel her head against his back and her warm arms about his waist.
Kuan raised more than a single eyebrow as he saw them approach. “Is everything all right?” He asked, eying the relaxed Chiu.
Chiu shot Gareth a reproachful moue as he lowered her from his saddle, turning to the guide. “The Qual said that the passes ahead are treacherous this year. He also said that he would leav
e five silk sleeping bags for us on the trail ahead.”
Kuan’s eyes opened very wide at the mention of the bags. “Yer serious then?”
“Very.” Gareth confirmed. “When the trek is over the bag is yours to keep.”
The small guide sighed. “Ye know, I could sell that one bag fer enough money to buy a bloody big house in Puasheehchester, staff it with servants and live a life of luxury until I grow old and fat and die.” Kuan sounded wistful.
With a flick of the reins, Gareth urged his horse to a quick canter. “Money is overrated, Kuan.” He said over his shoulder as he passed. The guide stared at Gareth’s back for several long moments before he pressed more speed out of his own plodding mount.
The leagues flowed by and the snow-covered summits of the Strelyrc Heights grew closer day by day. Just as Gareth was sure that they were about to cross into the permanent snow, they crested the top of a low hill; arriving at the final outpost of civilization. Below them the town of Manticore appeared tucked into the last warmer valley before the eternal ice. Three dozen small low wooden buildings sat clustered on four dirt streets, huddling together as if to stay warm. As Shaw had predicted, the small two story inn, the tallest building in town, sat beside the stable, and Gareth was reluctant to admit that he would miss riding, especially when compared to traveling the rest of the way by shanks’ mare. That night he and Chiu slept close and despite her reassurances, he could feel her trembling with fear.
The next morning it was with some reluctance that Gareth took up his iron shod walking staff, one that each member of the company carried. He knew that too soon he would be trading staff for ice ax. At least they didn’t have to carry much, not right now. That task was given to two thick haired mules who came from the stable with custom built wicker panniers on their backs. Sitting around the campfire two days later, Gareth was surprised and a little dismayed to discover that he hardly remembered any details of the small inn they had stayed in for two days. In his mind one inn seemed to blend into another and into another.
The next morning, after a cold meager breakfast they discovered a large but very light weight bundle resting in the middle of the snow-covered trail.
“This be spun Qual silk.” Kuan said reverently. Gareth undid the simple fastenings, and pulled five silk bags out of their silken pouch. Each half meter long bag was tubular, and glowed with its own silvery sheen. One end was sealed with an intricate catch, which when opened allowed the sleeping bag to expand and fluff out into a two-and-a-half meter long silvery cocoon. A seam along one side of the bag peeled open at Gareth’s touch.
“What can you tell me about these bags?” Gareth asked, rolling the bag back up and tossing it to Wokeg.
“Well now.” Kuan began. “They be nearly indestructible, so ye cain’t burn nor cut em. They’re long enough so ye can put yer boots in the bottom, and warm enough so’s ye don’t even need no tent. That silvery material just sheds snow and rain. Ye jest zip the bag right up over yer head. Yer breath passes in and out, but the heat stays in.” Kuan paused just long enough to catch his own thrown sleeping bag, and fit it into his pack.
Gareth let out a grunt of surprise as he pulled two smaller packages from the bottom of the pouch. Shaking one out revealed it to be a Qual silk blanket, exquisitely woven with strategic ties. Gareth began to laugh. “They thought of everything. These are blankets for the mules.”
Kuan stared, open mouthed. “A bloody king’s fortune in blankets fer a bloody mule.” Realizing where he was, Kuan’s face went red. “Sorry.” He muttered.
Gareth stuffed the last bag into the bulging pannier. “We should go now.” He glanced at the mountains before them. “Let’s get as far into the foothills as we can go tonight. Tomorrow we’ll get the climbing gear out.” He looked at the frozen peaks ahead, and turned to Kuan. “Will we have to worry about snow snakes?”
Kuan let out a derisive little laugh. “It be too bloody cold where we’re going fer the snow snakes. Later, in the summer they might be a problem.”
Gareth picked up his walking stick. “How about big cats, the size of our mules?”
Kuan’s weather tanned face paled. “Never heard o them.” He said too quickly as he took hold of a mule’s rope and headed down the trail.
Gareth caught him in six steps to walk beside him. “On our last trip we ran into a pack of dire wolves.” He began, and saw Kuan shudder. “I killed two, and then three of the biggest cats I’ve ever seen busted up the little party. The cats were eating the dead dire wolves as we left.”
“The cats didn’t bother ye?” Kuan asked in disbelief.
Gareth looked thoughtful. “I think these sabertooths are a lot more intelligent than we give them credit for. I made it clear to the cats that I wasn’t in the mood for a confrontation and they accepted my terms.” He shrugged. “Live and let live, I always say.” Kuan just stared at him.
By the time the group made camp they had traveled another ten leagues in distance and increased a thousand meters in elevation. Looking at where they’d come from and where they were going to, Gareth guessed they were less than half way to the pass of Strelyrc Heights. From what he could see of the terrain ahead, he was reluctantly forced to admit that this was as far as the mules could go. Kuan had explained that the pannier carriers could be broken down and converted to human powered sleds, so in the morning and after they released the mules, that’s what they would do. With his breath puffing out in thick white clouds, Gareth guessed the rest of the journey was going to be moderately unpleasant.
It felt as if someone was sitting on his chest. Gareth took a deep breath and pushed. He was rewarded by a microscopic lessening of the weight on him. Pushing again, the stifling weight shifted, and then suddenly slid aside. Opening his sleeping bag, he was rewarded by a face full of freezing snow that immediately started melting upon contact with his once warm and comfortable body. Wriggling around in a circle, Gareth dove for the bottom of his bag, where he struggled into his clothes amidst a steady stream of curses, in both English and German.
Reaching the top of the snowy hole he’d found himself entombed in, he turned and dragged his bag out, finally stopping at that point to look around. Treetops poked out of deep snow drifts, but of the other members of his company, or even the mules, there was no sign. He shut his eyes, unable to think of a single word in Latin that would help him. I could use some help. He finally admitted to Athena.
The word you were looking for was rutrum, meaning spade. Athena’s voice said in his mind as a heavy flat bladed coal shovel appeared in snow before him.
Gareth stared at the shovel for a moment. Do you think that you could…
No. The voice cut him off. This is your task.
Thank you so very fucking much.
Gareth struggled to his feet in knee deep snow, picturing Chiu’s bag where it had been next to his. He started digging—very carefully. After a few minutes a voice floated up to him from the snow beneath his feet. “You took your own sweet time.”
He began digging with his hands and soon had the top of Chiu’s bag exposed. He zipped it open. “Oh, you know, I had to stop for breakfast first. I don’t do ANYTHING without my first cup of coffee.” He pulled her out of the hole, and she stood, clinging to him.
“I thought I was dead.” She whispered, shaking.
“Not likely.” He murmured into her ear. “I’m around.” A noise made him turn just as a volcano of snow appeared off to his left, Wokeg in his ogre form crawling out of the top. The ogre gave them a quick nod, sniffed the air, and then began digging furiously two meters from his own spot. “Here!” Gareth called, tossing the ogre the shovel. Wokeg caught it deftly, and continued digging.
Gareth was looking around, trying to remember where the small guide had placed his bag when Wokeg called out. “Gareth! Help!”
Stretched out on her bag in the wan sunlight Lyndra was slightly blue, and not breathing. “Damn!” Gareth dropped to his knees beside the woman, and felt for her nonexistent pul
se. “Scheiße!” He cursed again. Athena, help!
The ground is too soft for CPR. The voice in his mind said in a no-nonsense tone. Open her shirt and place your right hand below her left breast, over her heart. Place your other hand underneath her directly below the other hand. I’ll do the rest.
Gareth ripped open Lyndra’s shirt and placed his hands as Athena had directed. Her skin was already beginning to cool. A paralyzing bolt of energy shot through his hands and into the still woman, who arched back on her head and heels. Removing his hands, Gareth tilted her head and gave her what he’d learned as Rescue Breathing. After three or four breaths she coughed and rolled on her side. Gareth gestured for Wokeg to take his place as he silently left Lyndra’s side. Beneath Lyndra’s left breast was the red imprint of Gareth’s hand. He turned to Chiu. “Where was Kuan sleeping?”
The dark haired woman frowned, and then pointed to a cluster of trees. “Over there.”
Gareth picked up the shovel. Like Lyndra, Kuan’s skin was blue, but unlike the blond haired woman, he was still breathing. Gareth had just helped the small guide out of the snow when the crunch of a snowy step made him turn. Standing nearly nose-to-nose with him, Lyndra’s green eyes were blazing.
“You’ve saved my life too many times, Gareth, especially when you didn’t have to. You’ve been my friend when I needed one, you put up with my moods, and you’ve included me, a nobody, into your family. I thought I should let you know that I love you.” Standing on her tiptoes in the snow, Lyndra reached out and pulled Gareth’s head down to her level and kissed him, long and passionately. “Wolves don’t give their love lightly.”
After catching his breath, he frowned. “I thought that you and Wokeg were, ahh…” He raised an inquiring eyebrow.
Her returning look was level. “I’m interested in Wokeg in a number of ways.” Her cheeks flushed slightly. “He’s a good friend, but I’m not in love with him.” She finished pointedly, and gave him a shy smile. “Wolves don’t often give their love, but when they do give it, they give it forever.” She was still smiling as she turned away. Gareth groaned.
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