by Ellen Porath
“Barkanian softine, omalon tui.” Lida repeated the phrase three times, pausing after each utterance. With the first chant, the figures in the clearing lost their statuelike luster. With the second, the pink glow of life returned to the humans’ faces. And with the third chant, they burst into action, finishing the movements they’d begun hours before while dueling the wichtlin.
Tanis dove to the ground and rolled. He halted in bewilderment, then spotted Kitiara. “Kit! You’re all right?”
Kitiara scoffed. “I’m always all right.”
Caven, meanwhile, was struggling to control a rearing, bucking, biting Maleficent. Wode and his horse scampered to one side to avoid the hooves. The Kernish mercenary finally brought the animal to a stop before Kitiara, Lida, and Xanthar. “By the gods! A giant owl! I thought they were legends,” he exclaimed. “What a dream I had. My mother came to me with a fantastic story about the Val—” When he noticed Lida Tenaka, the words died on his lips. “You’re Dreena’s maid,” Caven said with surprise.
Tanis approached. “You dreamed about your mother, too?” Wode moaned, and the swordswoman turned to him. “And you?”
“All of you dreamed of a portent,” said Lida reassuringly. The spell-caster began to recite. With every word, the faces of the four travelers grew more sober and tense. By the end, Caven was reciting the lines with her.
“The lovers three, the spell-cast maid,
The winged one of loyal soul,
The foul undead of Darken Wood,
The vision seen in scrying bowl.
Evil loosed with diamond’s flight.
“Vengeance savored, ice-clenched heart
Seeks its image to enthrone
Matched by sword and fire’s heat,
Embers born of steel and stone.
Evil cast with jewel’s light.
“The lovers three, the spell-cast maid,
The tie of filial love abased,
Foul legions turned, the blood flows free,
Frozen deaths in snow-locked waste.
Evil vanquished, gemstone’s might.”
For a heartbeat, no one spoke. Then all began talking at once.
“It was my mother, I tell you.”
“But mine died when I was born.”
“As did mine.”
“But mine is alive.”
“What does this mean?”
Through it all, Wode whined, “I want to go back to Kern.” Vainly Kitiara tried to persuade the other three to stop worrying about the portent and resume the hunt for the ettin.
“To the Abyss with the ettin,” Caven yelled from atop Maleficent. “The beast must be long gone by now.”
“You were seeking an ettin?” Xanthar suddenly asked.
Kitiara nodded. “You saw it? Where? Tell me!”
The owl stepped back a pace, swaying its big head from side to side, the white patch gleaming over the bird’s left eye. “No, no. I merely wondered why you were seeking an ettin here in the woods. They’re not normally found in this part of the world.”
“No.” The voice was Lida’s. She stepped in front of the owl. “But there is an ettin here, and it’s not far ahead. I saw it from the air as we flew here. You could catch up with it if you made haste.”
Silence greeted her. Then Kitiara spoke deliberately to her friends. “Don’t trust her. I would remind you that we are in Darken Wood.”
“As if we could forget,” Caven murmured, glancing nervously at the surrounding darkness. Kitiara glared him into silence, then she went on. “This owl, who can do what no giant owl I’ve heard of can do, and this woman, who purports to be Lida Tenaka, could be evil manifestations of the woods or the illusions of the wichtlin. And I would remind you, Caven, that the mage Janusz may be capable of ensorcelling us all, even from the distance of Kern.”
“Janusz is in Kern no longer,” Lida interrupted.
The four faced her. “Who is this Janusz? What do you know about this, Kitiara?” Tanis demanded.
Briefly Kitiara sketched in the details about the end of the Kernish-Meiri campaign, omitting any mention of the ice jewels.
“The mage Janusz and the Valdane no doubt hold me responsible for the death of Dreena ten Valdane,” she concluded. “The Valdane refused to unleash the mage until he was certain his daughter was gone. The peasants had been in disarray, left unsure what to do in the face of the Meir’s death; the Valdane, I’m guessing, didn’t care whether his daughter lived or died.” Lida moaned softly, but Kitiara went on. “The Valdane did know that the Meir’s subjects had grown to love Dreena. He feared that slaying her would be enough to prompt the peasants to revolt against the Valdane rather than submit quietly to a new ruler.”
Kitiara looked from Tanis to Caven and back to Tanis, whose expression was growing increasingly dark. “It was on my word that they dared attack the castle,” Kitiara said. “I saw Dreena leave it, and I told the Valdane it was safe to attack.”
Tanis spoke slowly, his rage barely under control. “This mage Janusz has an ettin slave, and you failed to mention that when we set off after another ettin that just happened to show up in this vicinity? By the gods, Kitiara, have you no sense? You’ve no right to put us in that kind of danger! Mackid, didn’t you wonder about the ettin?”
“I did, yes,” came the stolid answer. “But all I was thinking about was my money.”
Tanis fell back, disgusted. The half-elf swept the clearing with his gaze. Finally he gave a bark of laughter. “My guess is that we have ridden straight into a trap set by Janusz.”
Lida broke in. “You could stop Janusz, the four of you. You could stop the Valdane. At first it was enough for him to capture the Meir’s fiefdom, but now he wants to lay claim to all of Ansalon. Kitiara, you know him well; you were his mercenary, and you are used to leading troops. I can see that you, half-elf, are a wise man and an honorable one. And you, Caven, are an accomplished soldier and a brave man.” Caven smiled tightly. Lida said nothing about Wode, but she included him in her next sweeping gesture. “You four could stop the Valdane. You could be heroes. No one else is in a position to stop him. Even now the Valdane is amassing an army to ride north out of the Icereach.”
“The Icereach?” Kitiara and Caven demanded together. They gave each other unintentionally comical looks of disbelief, then Kitiara went on. “We left him in Kern, five hundred miles northeast of Darken Wood, and now you tell us he’s three hundred miles south of here? And you say we’re in a position to stop him? How gullible do you think we are, mage? What do you really want?”
“How do you know this?” Caven demanded.
Lida looked flustered. “My dream,” she finally said.
Caven slapped his saddle, startling Maleficent. When he had calmed the stallion, the soldier said, “The dream could be a trick as well. Sent by Janusz.”
“Can you help us get out of Darken Wood?” Tanis asked Lida, who shook her head. “Xanthar can carry me, but no more.”
Kitiara spoke next. “Why do you care what Janusz and the Valdane do, mage? Surely you are safe this far away.”
The maid paused and seemed to be gathering her thoughts. “Dreena was my friend, and they are responsible for her death.”
“You’re lying,” Kitiara snapped. “You and the owl are both lying. You want something from us. I say that if you want us to do something, offer us something. Wealth.”
“I have no money.”
“Power, then. After all, you are a mage.”
“I follow the course of good. I do not barter power.”
Tanis’s voice interrupted. “You would accompany us to the Icereach, of course.”
Kitiara turned on him. “Half-elf! You’re not thinking of going to the Icereach, are you? She may not even be who she says she is!”
“I haven’t decided whether I’m going or not.” Tanis eyed Lida thoughtfully. “I’ve seen the effects of magic, too, Kit. And I would say that this mage, while she may not be telling us everything she knows, has an honorable inten
t. I believe she really does wish to avenge the death of her friend.”
Kitiara spat in disgust and turned her back on the half-elf. With the movement, she caught the wide smile on Caven’s face. “And what’s your problem, soldier?” she demanded.
“Ah, Captain, it’s so refreshing to see you lose an argument now and then,” the Kernan said.
“Lose?” Kitiara was nearly apoplectic with rage. She waved her hands. “I have no intention of taking a jaunt down to the frigid depths of Ansalon so that this servant can avenge the death of someone who was the enemy of the man I served. Capturing an ettin for the bounty was one thing. Gadding off—unpaid, to boot—to save the great unwashed populace of Krynn … well, forget it!” She began to stomp off, continuing to rail over her shoulder. “Although you two men are welcome to try. I’ve no use for either of you anymore. Idiots. Gullible sots!” She kicked a tree trunk, then, gripped by nausea, grabbed the bark with steadying hands. In a moment, the spell passed and she shoved herself away from the tree.
Tanis took a step after her. “Kit …” The swordswoman ignored him.
Caven stopped the half-elf with a hand on his forearm. “Let her work it off, Tanis. Kit’ll rave for a bit, but she’ll calm down. Talking to her when she’s in this state will do nothing but goad her on.” Tanis paused, then nodded. Kitiara glared back at them, still spitting threats and curses.
Tanis and Caven continued speaking in low voices, and Lida and Xanthar withdrew to one side.
A dispel ensorcellment incantation indeed, Xanthar.
It is not I who held back the beings in the woods, Kai-lid. They don’t fear giant owls. Someone has cast a protection spell about Kitiara—the same person, I would guess, who released the spell on the three travelers while you went through that splendid bit of mummery. We are within the protective circle; I can feel it. We are being watched, Kai-lid.
Kai-lid thought for a moment, her heart pounding. It must be Janusz, Xanthar. It has to be. He has seen them, and he has seen me. Now we are trapped.
Don’t forget that the mage sees Lida, not Dreena.
He could see with his magic who I really am if he chose. Kai-lid’s lips were trembling.
He has no reason to try, my dear. He believes Dreena to be dead.
Why did he dispel the ensorcellment of the half-elf and the others?
Xanthar was silent for a time. I don’t know. It must fit his plan. Surely he sent the ettin to fetch them.
And they, in turn, followed it into a trap. Do you believe the dream now, Xanthar?
I do.
At that moment, Tanis broke away from the group and approached the owl and the mage. He spoke without preamble. “I want to know why you want to help us.”
Lida exchanged a glance with Xanthar, but the owl offered no assistance. “We have no choice,” she finally continued. “We must pursue this ettin.”
“Why?”
Lida swallowed. “I believe the ettin will lead us to the Valdane. Res-Lacua is Janusz’s ettin and his slave. The ettin must return to him.”
Tanis spoke slowly, never taking his gaze from her. “It feels like a trap to me, Lida. We follow the ettin, and the mage gets the chance to take revenge on Kitiara. How will we take on an entire army?”
Lida found herself stammering under Tanis’s steady hazel gaze. “Half-elf,” she said at last, “it’s too late to back away from this. Kitiara is far from helpless, and she will have us to protect her. I believe she knows far more than she is telling any of us.” When Tanis said nothing, she swallowed again and went on, inwardly berating Xanthar for forcing her to carry the argument alone. “I will go with you, half-elf. My magic is far from strong, but I will do what I can. Perhaps this is a trap, but I’m not the one who set it. I believe we’re the only ones standing between the Valdane’s greed and the deaths of many, many people. It’s a question of honor, Tanis.”
“A question of honor,” Tanis repeated softly.
She reached out a hand toward him and rested it on his sleeve. “Half-elf, in turn I have a question for you. What is Kitiara to you?”
Tanis stared at the magic-user. Her straight black hair poured over her shoulders. Her voice was low and vibrant. “She is important to you, this swordswoman?” the mage prodded when he did not reply.
“She is—” Tanis faltered under the intensity of her blue gaze, so startling against that dark skin—“an acquaintance. We are traveling together.”
The black pupils widened, and the edges of the magic-user’s lips curved. “Ah. An acquaintance.”
“Yes.” He looked away.
The woman’s words carried an undertone of amusement. “This is Kitiara’s battle, not yours, Tanthalas Half-Elven. How fortunate for Kitiara that she has an ‘acquaintance’ with the strength and courage not to abandon her at such a dangerous time. One wonders what you would do for a wife or child if you would go to such lengths for a mere acquaintance.”
Tanis flushed. “You are bound to fight against this Valdane, then?” he said hurriedly.
She nodded. The half-elf, after hesitating, returned to the group.
You have no intention of accompanying them. Xanthar’s voice carried a note of reproach.
I am afraid, Xanthar, and I am not a very powerful mage. They don’t need me. They’ll do fine alone. But they may not follow through on the task if they think I intend to leave them behind.
Xanthar reached over and plucked a twig from a tree with his beak. Then he peeled the bark from it, rotating it with his tongue while removing the bark with the edge of his beak. And you believe the ettin is leading them to the Icereach? I must point out, Kai-lid, that the ettin seems to be heading north, whereas the Icereach, the last time I checked, was in the southernmost reaches of Ansalon.
Kai-lid didn’t answer. Xanthar mused, I have heard that there is a sla-mori in Darken Wood, one that leads far to the south. It might be rumor, or it might not.
A sla-mori?
A secret passage. A magical tunnel that whisks occupants far, far away, if they can fathom its mystery. Rumor has it the elves built the sla-moris long ago.
And this sla-mori is to the north?
The owl nodded. A short distance—in a valley next to Fever Mountain. Perhaps that is where the ettin is going. Then Xanthar changed the subject once more. You have looked closely at Kitiara, I assume.
Yes.
And you have seen? Not with your two eyes, but with your inner eye?
I have seen, Xanthar. I wonder what she plans to do.
Xanthar laughed out loud. You believe she knows, then, Kai-lid? Truly you give humans more credit for self-awareness than I do.
But how could a woman be with child and not know it?
Never underestimate humans’ deafness to their inner voices, Kai-lid. Never.
Chapter 12
Attacks
THE GIRL’S FACE, LIKE THAT OF HER OLDER BROTHER, was dirty with soot and walrus grease, rubbed in by their mother early that day to ease the bite of the cold wind that swept across the Icereach.
“Haudo,” she whispered to her brother, her black eyes bright with the delight of her idea. “I am an ice bear.” She stretched her fur-mittened hands far above her head, warm in its sealskin hood with seabird-feather trim. She emitted an approximation of the polar bear’s roar. Then she giggled.
But Haudo frowned. “We must never mimic the ice bear, Terve,” he reminded her with the pedantic tone that was second nature to older brothers. “He is the grandfather of this land, and we must honor him.”
Terve sulked. “You are a spoilsport, Haudo. I wish I’d stayed home.”
Haudo sighed. “You pestered me to come along until Father ordered me to take you. I told him you were too little. I told Father you’d get tired, that you’d be no help at all. But they wanted you out of the way so that they could braid sealskin into ropes in peace for once, so I—”
“That’s not true! I can too help find the frostreaver ice!”
“Then do it,” Haudo g
rumbled. “And for once in your eight winters, Little Sister, be silent while you do something.”
“You have only four winters more than me, Brother,” Terve complained, but she held her tongue for a short time after that. The boy and girl poked through the litter around Reaver’s Rock, an outcropping of densely frozen ice an hour’s ride from their camp by iceboat. Their boat lay on its side a short distance away, its large sail flat against the ice and its long, wooden runners shiny. The packed ice of the Icereach was slick enough here to permit the use of the Ice Folk’s traditional form of transport, although buckling of the snow and ice and occasional crevasses that had filled with drifting snow made the way treacherous. From here, the Icereach seemed to undulate in gentle hills; Haudo could barely see the smoke from the peat fires of his home village.
The Ice Folk boy probed at the base of the gigantic outcropping, looking for slivers of reaver ice dislodged by frost heaving. The steel-hard material could be fashioned into hide scrapers, small knives, even into sewing and knitting needles, although only the Revered Cleric could supervise the gathering of the large chunks suitable to become The People’s traditional weapon, the battle-ax known as a frostreaver. Terve wrapped even the tiniest shards in tanned seabird skins and laid them reverently in the basket she’d woven from strips of walrus gut.
Inevitably Terve piped up again. “Why do The People call it Reaver’s Rock, Haudo? Who was Reaver? And this is ice, not rock.”
Haudo grinned at the shortness of his sister’s self-imposed silence, but he answered gently. Haudo was of the Storyteller Clan; it was his role in life to memorize the thousands of tales that made up the oral history of the Ice Folk. This telling of the Reaver’s tale would be good practice, even though little Terve had surely heard the story dozens of times. And a tale would help pass the time.
He puffed out his chest, took a deep breath, mimicked the storytelling stance of his father, and began, following the ritual of his clan. “The elders say The People can see the edges of the world from the top of Reaver’s Rock. And that all they can see is theirs, as it always has been and always will be, to be shared only with the ice bear. So say the elders.”