by Allan Cole
“When the storm was over they moved on as a single, enlarged group. I can only speculate that they’re headed for the same place but I think it’s as good a guess as any.”
Carale broke in. “If they went t’ so much trouble t’ capture our Evocators, Me Lady,” he said, “why’d they end up killin’ one of them?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “Not for certain, anyway. But I’d say it was a fair guess that they wanted some magical feat performed.”
“‘N Lord Serano refused?” Carale said.
“Yes,” I said. “He refused.”
Left unsaid was the realization that Searbe must’ve complied. Otherwise we would have found his corpse here too.
“But why’d they go t’ so much trouble, Lady?” Donarius asked. “I can understand wantin’ t’ wipe out our tradin’ posts. But why go t’ all th’ trouble to catch our Evocators ‘n carry ‘em away?”
“The same reason the giants attacked Pisidia,” I said. “And the sole purpose for that, unless I’m wrong, was to carry off the Oracle Mother, Lady Daciar.”
“But tha’ don’t answer th’ why of it, if yer’ll be beggin’ me pardon, Me Lady,” Carale said.
“No, it doesn’t,” I said. “But it does show a pattern. These pirates want much more than booty. At least the kind that you can spend. Someone is going to no end of trouble to get their hands on as many wizards as they can. For what purpose I can’t say. If it were only to weaken their opponents, why they’d just kill them. But each time it seems they’re most anxious to keep the wizard alive.”
Everyone’s eyes glanced over to the other side of the chamber where the rock heap that was Serano’s grave crouched.
“Didn’t do too good a job keepin’ him alive,” Lizard muttered.
“That was probably a mistake,” I said. “They got their blood up and tried to force the issue. Whatever that issue was. Unless I’m very wrong there’ll be the hells to pay when they get where they’re going and are one Evocator short.”
“Shows to go ya,” Donarius said, “tha’ it’s savages we’re up against, Lady. They can fight. I’ll give ‘em tha’. But they ain’t so good at followin’ strict orders.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” I said. “That might be a weakness we can exploit.”
“Aye, we’ll be doin’ tha’, Lady,” Donarius growled. “Tell th’ truth, I figger we ain’t got much hope a gettin’ home. ‘N if that be the case, I’d like to get a few good exploitin’ type sword strokes in.”
“Let’s not be foolhardy,” I said. “We’ve all been in tight fixes before. We’ll get out of this one.”
“Never been in one wi’ such a tight fit,” Lizard muttered.
“Well, I have,” I said. “I was lost in the West for nearly two years. The people I was with, other than my guardswomen, were poorly trained and motivated. Tell the truth, if I was the only hope the rest of the crew had of getting back they’d of slit my throat in the night. Although that was tried when it looked like we were nearly home.
“We’re in a much better position here. We know which way home is. All of us are here freely and we’ve had no lack of training. All we need to do is keep going. If we find a port we’ll find a ship. Then it’s only a question of how we get our hands on that ship.
“So let’s not fix on the idea of revenge just now. There’ll be plenty of time for that. And plenty of help to carry it out once we reach Orissa.”
Carale waved a hand, taking in the chamber of stone.
“If savages they be,” he said, “they got more brains than most. ‘N from th’ looks of this place they’ve been around for a longer time’n most as well.”
“This wasn’t built by the current crop,” I said. “Just as you judged, this is an ancient place. From the shape of the doorway where we found poor Lord Serano, it was constructed during the time of the First Ice Bear King.”
I picked up a broken piece of paving stone. “There was magical labor in the making of this, as well as physical. But it’s old sorcery. I’m not saying our enemy isn’t capable of doing the same thing. It’s just that I don’t think he’s been around long enough to accomplish a project so grand. I’d bet a fat purse of gold that as we travel we’ll find other such comfort stops.
“My guess is we’re still dealing with an upstart. Someone trying to wear the mantle of a great and legendary king who spent his whole lifetime adding to the work of another great king who came before him. This is the remnant of an empire, my friends.
“An empire someone is attempting to rebuild.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
PEOPLE OF THE ICE
Our first sight of them was through a swirl of fog rising off a broad frozen lake.
The mist enveloped us as soon as we set foot on the ice. We were four days out of the oasis when we came upon the lake. The caravan track vanished at the edge and we lost many hours examining the shore in both directions before we were certain they’d headed out across the ice. Even though a much larger group had crossed before us, we were uncertain as we made our first timid steps on the lake’s frozen surface.
It seemed solid as true ground but the knowledge that we could break through at any weakened point made us nervous. A person might die in a few short minutes in water so cold that it could stop your in mid-beat. Our whole group could be gone just as swiftly if we all went in.
The proper way of crossing would have been to stretch out in a long line, rope ourselves together, then move along with as much distance as possible between us. If one went in the others could instantly drag him out. Even if that plan failed, at least only one of us would be lost.
We didn’t have enough rope to take such precautions. We got together what line we could, which was barely sufficient for three people with seven feet or so between them. Those three took the lead, testing the treacherous path for the others. But the fog became so thick that even that small precaution proved useless. We were forced to stay within a few feet of the person in front or we’d all be lost.
We must have strayed from the path during the early part of our effort, because at one point we all walked out on a weakened area.
The first warning was a sudden series of loud pops and cracks, like the breaking of bones. The ice shifted under us so suddenly that no one even had time for a warning shout.
We stood still for what seemed like eons as the surface buckled beneath our feet, tilting crazily this way and that. What made it even more frightening was that we couldn’t see the danger. I heard the splash of open water somewhere in front of us and smelled the musty odor of lake bottom.
Then all became still. The shifting and crackling of the ice ceased.
We waited as long as we could, then gingerly made our way around where we imagined the break to be.
About an hour later, to our vast relief, I picked up Searbe’s faint sorcerous scent. Then the twins found some castoffs from the caravan. More certain of our direction we struck out at greater speed, following the trail.
The fog billowed around us, making us feel like we were in a world of bleak dreams and smothering nightmares. The wind was slight but seemed to whistle a ghostly song in our ears. The waves of fog formed monstrous shapes, broke apart, then reformed to even more ghastly images. We had no idea had far we’d come or how much longer we had to go before we reached the other shore. We were tense, sweating under our parkas, imagining that unseen danger would erupt at any moment.
I was at point when we spotted them.
I felt them first - a heavy pressure in the air of a large moving presence. Then the fog parted and I saw something broad and gray cut through. It swung toward me, then away.
I heard a strange voice shout an order and we dropped flat on the ice. Then I heard another shouted order and a distinctive rasping sound, like something heavy was being drawn along the ice.
The fog whooshed to one side and to my amazement I saw what appeared to be a ship tack a few yards in front of me. The ship leaned to one side, steadied, then r
ighted itself and disappeared into the fog bank.
I waited until all was silent again. Then I gave two sharp tugs on my rope, signaling the others to stay where they were. I untied the rope and crept forward. I’d seen a ship and thought that at any minute I’d come to the edge of the ice and find water. Instead the surface remained steadfastly firm and frozen. My hand struck a ridge in the ice. I stopped and came to my knees, peering down at what I’d found.
There was a large slash in the ice about three hands wide. I moved along on the slash for a short distance and saw it was more of an unbroken track than a cut. Using the track as a starting point, I crawled away on a diagonal. About ten feet from that point I came to a second track identical to the first. I signaled and the others moved up.
Just as they reached me I felt a shift in the air pressure, like pillows pressing in. I heard a heavy presence grate on the ice and we all dived out of the way as the fog parted and a shadow bore down on us.
I lifted my head as the ship went by, sailing across the ice on great wooden skis.
The ship looked spectral, haunted, with fog billowing all around and the mast and sail and lines all faintly aglow. They looked like the trails heavenly bodies make on starry nights - a whisper to the eye to sketch a pattern that might not really be there. Ice particles shimmered within that sketch, making the ship appear more ghostly still.
I saw a large shape at the tiller, heard barked orders come from that shape, saw other man-like shadows scurry to carry them out. No one was looking in our direction and I doubt if they could have made us out if they did. Then the fog shifted again, obscuring all but the figure at the tiller.
A trick of light made his face suddenly glare into startling clarity. It was long and pale as new ice and the eyes were painted black circles, rimmed with dark blue and white. Blue streaks highlighted the long cheek bones and the chin was pointed and tipped with black. The lips were stained blue and there were black streaks to indicate fangs.
I tensed as the man’s eyes swept over me, ducking my head so I wouldn’t draw attention. Then they moved on and the ship was gone.
Lizard was nearest, so I tugged on his sleeve to pass the word for us to move back and regroup. A few moments later Lizard tugged my sleeve in return. Everyone was ready.
We started to slither back but then stopped as a big bell tolled from that direction, the tones rolling and booming through the frigid air. I flattened on the ice again, hesitating, wondering which way we should go.
The bell took up a steady toll, about once every two breaths. Then I heard other sounds coming our way - heading toward the bell. Two forces converging with us in between.
This time I could make out many voices, barking dogs and much movement. Quickly I cast a spell of confusion to aid the fog, then I signaled Lizard to tell the others to spread out. As he moved away lights bobbed into view all around us, flitting about like monstrous fireflies.
Two shadows hurtled toward me. I shifted on my side to present as small an edge as possible.
The shadows became hooded, fur-cloaked men drifting across the ice at high speed. They were only a few feet apart and I tensed, hand clawing out my knife as I braced for one of them to stumble over me in the fog.
I caught a glimpse of wooden skates and then the men moved smoothly past on either side. One of them brushed my parka with his skate, yet didn’t notice. I heard one man say something to the other. It must have been humorous because his companion laughed.
Dogs yipped, a whip cracked and then a whole line of shaggy figures plunged into view. A dog-drawn sled rushed down on me and I thought for certain the animals would sense me and howl the alarm.
The whip cracked again and I had to roll to the side as the dogs and then the sled shot past.
A whole group of voices followed in the sled’s wake. I barely breathed as a crowd of fur-cloaked people skated by me. Their conversation was casual. I heard snatches of gossip. Remarks about market prices. Complaints about husbands and wives and lovers.
We remained flat on the ice for hours. Cold crept into our bones, tweaking the painful scars we’d suffered at AnteroBay. At least a score of dog sleds passed, perhaps a hundred people or more - both in groups and singly. Two more ice ships sailed past. Yet during that whole time no one saw us, or even suspected our presence.
If the fog had lifted we’d certainly have been discovered. It was like hiding out in a great field of tall wheat that was about to be harvested. While we waited, dreading that moment of discovery, a large group of people we feared might be our enemy was passing through that field like a gap-toothed rake. Only luck could keep those gaps spaced wide enough so no one would find us.
Our luck held and finally the crowd thinned to a few stragglers. And then the bell stopped.
I took my best guess on which direction would lead to safety and we withdrew as quickly and as silently as we could.
We barely got off the ice in time. Just as we reached the rocky shore a wind came up sweeping away the fog in long lingering wisps and we had to sprint for the cover of a low boulder covered hill.
I skittered over the top, flipped around and as my men swarmed past I raised up on my elbows to get a good view of the area from which we’d retreated.
The landscape was a scene out of a devil’s dream. The lake was a broad plane of ice rimmed with ugly black fingers of ruination. As far as the eye could see the southern and northern shores appeared as if they had been gouged by giant claws.
Hills had been pared down, mountain sides blasted with fire. Dirty snow and ice ringed those wounds and here and there I could see jagged roads and paths slicing through the rock. They led to the mouths of huge caves that seemed shored up by hand-hewn rock. There was no sign of activity on the roads or near the caves, although I thought I could make out vaguely familiar equipment scattered about here and there. I could also see clumps of large stone buildings with huge, black-streaked chimneys. Fire glowed in some of the chimneys but there was little smoke.
Then I heard a whoosh in the air and from around a bend in the lakeshore came a graceful ice schooner. It was built for war, with a heavy ram fixed to the front and shields hanging from the sides. I saw fur-clad men with spears and other weapons standing on the deck.
Fluttering from the mast was the flag of the Ice Bear King.
The ship tacked for the point where the lake bowed into a bay. There was an ice port there, with dirty brown docks and a jumble of warehouses. Several smaller ice schooners were pulled up at the docks and I saw figures swarm along the longest one to meet the incoming ship.
Crowded around the port was a warren of homes and buildings that made up what appeared to be a small city. The town was easily a mile long and was ringed by hunched mountains of gray, streaked with fingers of bare black rock. The homes and buildings were narrow and seemed to be constructed of rough timber, with high, sharply-peaked roofs to shed snow. Other than the figures on the docks and ice schooners, I couldn’t see anyone about.
Then the big bell tolled again and my eyes swiveled and found the source of the sound.
At the far edge of the city was a huge shaggy shape, easily twice the size of any of the buildings.
I jolted back.
It was a bear. A giant bear, reared back on its hind legs, jaws gaping wide for the attack.
The bell tolled again and I suddenly realized the sound was coming from between those massive jaws, which looked like they could engulf a ship. Then my breathing steadied and the bear came into better focus.
It was carved from stone and there was a wide staircase that led from its feet to big gates set in its paunch. The gates were open and I saw people swarming through.
“What in th’ hells is it, Me Lady?” Carale said. He’d come up beside me.
“Some sort of temple, I think,” I muttered, but my mind wasn’t on the answer.
Actually I was barely aware of his presence. Instead I was gathering myself to cast out my senses. I motioned for him to be silent, then caref
ully slipped a feeler forward, like an eel slithering from its den and tasting the water for some sign of prey.
I caught a few magical particles drifting in the etherous breeze, noted they came from Searbe - our kidnapped Evocator - and followed that trail. The particles became fresh clumps of spoorsign the nearer I came to the town.
I pulled back, took a few deep breaths to moor my physical self, then turned to Carale.
“He’s still there,” I said, pointing toward the town.
“Lord Searbe, ye mean, Me Lady?” Carale said. I nodded. “Do we try t’ go in and get him?” he asked.