Lhors eased his eyes open a little. The sour twin—as he had come to think of her—managed a thin smile. “Rowan, I told you I will stay with him and wake him from his bad dreams. I said he would be my task.”
“Of course,” Rowan murmured.
Maera got up and left, leaving the cave silent.
“Lhors?” Rowan asked quietly.
He hadn’t been asleep, and of course, she knew that. His face felt hot. “Yes?”
Rowan laughed, deep in her throat. “When we share watch later, pay attention to my sister and her charge, will you? She’ll know if I do, and it will make her angry.”
“Whatever you ask,” he said.
Rowan laughed again and patted his stubbly cheek. “Don’t promise such a thing. It’s dangerous.” Her face suddenly turned more serious. “I do not trust Florimund. I can’t say why. Maera does, but she chooses her martyrs with her heart. I do not.”
Lhors frowned. “I think I see. She believes whatever he has told her, but you are afraid there may be something, um, behind the words?”
“Just so,” Rowan replied gravely.
“But he was a prisoner of the giants, and they—”
“Tortured him?” Rowan finished for him. “Yes. Still, I have learned by hard experience to trust my distrust, if you see what I mean. Thank you, Lhors.” She gained her feet gracefully and went to shake out her blankets.
Lhors sighed faintly, then eased onto one elbow and looked around. Khlened and Bleryn seemed to be asleep—at least one of them was snoring. Gerikh huddled almost on top of the firepit, while Agya was only visible as a tuft of ruddy hair poking out of a pile of blankets. The paladin lay close by, wrapped only in his cloak. Nemis bent over his spellbook. The last vision Lhors had before he fell asleep was of the mage, a blanket draped casually over his shoulders, his lips moving soundlessly as he turned the pages.
* * *
Watch followed watch, and outside the sky grew slowly light—briefly very bright indeed as the sun speared through heavy cloud. But gloom returned at once. The wind died down, but never for long. The shriek of harsh air storming the stones outside made sleep hard to come by, but the fire kept the immediate stone floor warm, and each of the watches brought in pots of snow to keep two pots steaming, one of plain water, the other one of Maera’s teas. During the last watch, Nemis stirred up a large pot of gruel, then sought his blankets while Khlened kept the fire going.
By the time Vlandar was awake, Khlened was pacing, eager to be off. “We need t’find entry—”
“Already found,” Nemis said. He sounded half-asleep and seemed to be having trouble getting his gruel from his clay cup to his mouth. “I have the map of the Rift—both levels—that was hidden in Nosnra’s secret room with the chain.”
To Lhors’ surprise—and Nemis’ visible displeasure—Vlandar sent Khlened and Bleryn out to scout the area. Vlandar must have been aware of the mage’s mood. After the two had vanished in the still-swirling snow, he said, “Nemis, this is not mistrust. I know you have the map, and you have searched as far as your magic can reach. But those two are used to action. Give them a little now, and they may be easier to control later. Who knows? They may actually find something your spell did not.”
Nemis actually smiled. “Now you throw young Agya’s words at me, but you are right, of course. They know this kind of country, and I do not.” He settled next to the fire and opened his book. “This also gives me a little time to find more useful spells.”
“Both of us,” Malowan said as he sought a quiet corner to commune with his god.
“Thank you,” Vlandar said. “Nemis, if I may have the map—and Rowan, I know rangers are usually good at maps. Come help me with this one, will you?”
Lhors hesitated, empty mug in hand, but both ranger and warrior beckoned for him to join them over the map. I know nothing of such things, the youth thought. He sighed quietly. But I suppose I can learn.
* * *
He didn’t feel so confident some time later after the scouts came back. The writing on the map was nothing but oddly shaped marks to his eyes, and all he was certain of was that this Rift was vast, cold, and consisted of two levels with guards everywhere.
Bleryn muttered into his beard as he settled close to the fire. “Fell,” he said briefly.
“No surprise t’me,” Khlened retorted. “’Tis hellish slick everywhere.” He turned to talk to Vlandar. “We saw a path into th’ Rift. There was rutted ice from huge prints, nasty place. No guards outside as we could see.”
Bleryn snorted. “Tell ’em about yeti,” he said.
Khlened rolled his eyes. “Y’ didn’t expect ’em, place like this? Was two going that way.” He pointed where Lhors thought north might be. “Yeti tracks all over up here. Nasty creatures love it here. We also say one roamin frost giant wi’ two wolves on his heels. Mind now, wolves ain’t bugbears! Th’ wolves can hear and smell all too well, and a pack of ’em is bad news. And yeti. Even the Fists avoid yeti.”
“I can agree with that,” Malowan said mildly. He looked over at Agya, who was drawing on thick, oversized mitts Lhors thought must be the paladins. “Agya,” the man said, “remember that I can keep you safe from them.”
“Yessir, I know it,” she replied and managed a smile, but Lhors could see her eyes were worried, and the hands under the mitts trembled.
“We will leave as soon as we can,” Vlandar said. “But all of you, make sure you are clad as best you can be and that your weapons are to hand. There will be guards at or near this entry. Our goal is to get through this place before cold can kill any of us, and we first and foremost seek the key—whatever it is—that will guide us beyond the Rift. Leave the fire to die out. We’ll want the warmth to the very last.”
He turned as Maera touched his arm. She was holding up a very pale Florimund. “Warrior, he recalls something I thought you should know.”
“Tell him, yes,” Florimund whispered. “Such cold, the screech of wind. This—I think I was—was first brought here when I was—was taken, you know. I recall giants wrapped to the eyes in thick furs and a white-furred brute like a hairy man. Tunnels of ice and such cold…” He licked pale lips, and his eyes kindled. “I was not afraid, only angry they dared lay hands on me!” He glanced sidelong at Maera, who patted his shoulder. “Still, they eat our kind. Frost giants. But there was another, a giant called Nosnra. They gave me to him, and Nosnra’s guards hauled me over to a double circle of chain. I do not remember anything after that—except dark and pain.” He choked and buried his face in long-fingered hands.
Maera she stroked his hair. “You are safe, cousin,” she murmured. “Rowan and I will protect you until you are strong enough to do battle again.”
“Battle. Yes.” Florimund stirred under her hands. “Yes I will. I will wreak death among these… oh gods, cousin, I am so very weak! And the cold wakens each wound the torturers inflicted. No, I will not speak of it!”
Maera spoke urgently against his ear, then drew him away.
Vlandar glanced at Lhors, who frowned at his hands. He came over to sit beside him and whispered, “Lhors?”
“Sir?”
“I know Rowan spoke to you after some tiff with her sister last night—over Florimund. What did you think of all that, just now?”
His father had asked such questions this last year, over game trails, Lhors remembered. “Sir, the fellow was locked in that cell, but who could have known we would be down there?”
“Yes,” Vlandar said gravely. “He truly was a prisoner. Still… ?” He looked a question.
Lhors shrugged. “Rowan worries. She told me so—because Maera trusts him too much. I understand they are kin, if only because they are half-elves, but my own cousin from New Market was not my friend, and I would never have trusted him.”
“I agree,” the warrior said. “Sensible youth.” He looked up as Gerikh and the dwarf came over.
“Uh, sir? This Rift…” the engineer began apologetically.
�
��Thing is,” Bleryn added, “We know it. Him ’cause of ’is trade, and I’m from cold near as bad as this. Both of us should be able t’ spot traps before they get any of us.”
Vlandar nodded. “Good point. One of you up front and one at the rear. Your choice.”
The paladin broke in. “But whoever goes ahead with Malowan must accept Agya.”
“Agya—the girl-child?” the dwarf asked.
“She’s Mal’s ward, once a street-thief. Ask Khlened. She can smell things most of us wouldn’t.”
“That keeper and his ape,” the barbarian agreed.
Vlandar nodded again. “A spell might hide wolves or yeti. Agya’s nose will warn us anyway.”
“Like it,” the dwarf said. “Me for the front.”
“Done,” Vlandar said and swung his pack over his shoulder.
The sky was a pale gray, proof the sun had risen, but there was no hint of where it might be under the thick mass. The wind had lessened but still gusted strongly. To Lhors it seemed even colder outside. Khlened, who had taken last watch, told them it wasn’t much past daybreak. “An hour when the chiefs will be sleeping, if they’re like frost giants I’ve battled.”
“Good,” Vlandar replied. “But the guards may not be asleep.”
Vlandar and Nemis spent a few more moments with the map of the Rift while the others finished getting ready, then the warrior put Bleryn ahead of him and the mage, Lhors just behind, with Khlened to bring up the rear.
Agya was just behind Lhors and quietly grumbling as she toiled on. The youth heard Malowan, who was on the girl’s heels. The man’s voice sounded soothing, though Lhors couldn’t make out the words. Agya sighed as if she was annoyed but soon fell silent. Lhors glanced at Mal. Unlike his ward, the paladin seemed unaware of the cold, though he did wear thick mitts.
Nemis walked easily up ahead. Despite the deep snow and slick spots, he held an oiled rag that he had dipped in some silvery powder—to test for invisible enemy, he’d told Vlandar. Lhors looked to both sides. With all this wind and snow, any enemy might be invisible! he thought. Wonder if that herb Malowan gave him to add to the rag really can find evil. But anything here would probably be evil.
A steep-sided ravine cut across their path. They followed the side of this for a little ways, and then Nemis pointed out something below to Vlandar. The warrior nodded in response, and the mage turned to grip the side and scrabble for footing. He dropped down gradually and finally vanished below. Vlandar followed. When it was his turn, Lhors realized there was a trail down there, and a few rough steps were cut into the side—or maybe the wind had carved them, since they didn’t seem large enough for giants’ feet. The trail was clear of snow, but it looked icy. Nemis and Vlandar waited a few paces on for the others to catch up.
“The entrance to the Rift is just down there, according to our map,” Vlandar said quietly. “Remember that there are wolves and yeti about, and there may be giants along this path. But there is no other way in that Nemis and I could find.”
“We should be aware of them before we see them, Nemis and I,” Malowan agreed. He glanced at his ward “Agya?”
The girl scowled. “Nose still works good, but th’ wind ain’t ’elping.”
“It gets steeper from here,” Nemis said. “Watch where you step. It is slick and steep. One wrong step and you won’t get a second.” He set his feet carefully and walked sideways, Lhors noticed, like his father’d taught him. Lhors turned sideways and followed.
The ice was chipped into rough steps, but for legs much longer than their own. The surface of the ice had been cross-hatched and in places covered in ash, so footing was reasonable. The wind was an unpleasant constant at their backs, but it kept the ice clear at least.
Vlandar drew them off to one side when they reached the bottom where the path forked. Lhors stared aghast at the steep drop-off just beyond. They might have been alone in the entire world. The silence was absolute, except for the high-pitched wail of the wind high above and the stealthy hiss of it down here.
“That deep defile,” Vlandar said, “is the Rift itself, not our path. The main entry is ahead. If our map is correct, there are two levels to this hold, but unlike the Steading, the upper is for storage and guards and the like, while the chief lives below. His kitchens are there, and the best guest quarters.”
“Just beyond the entry,” Nemis said and pointed down the left-hand path, “there are marks on the map to indicate guards, but the marks were not made by the originator of the map. I believe Nosnra noted the places he would be challenged when he was forced to come here.”
Lhors shook his head. None of it made sense to him. “If that chain could bring him anywhere, then why not set him down in the throne room or the council room? I mean—” He fumbled for words. “He could fall out here, break his neck, or be caught by something like his own cave bear.”
Vlandar smiled grimly. “But if the chief here meant to shame him? To walk even from the entry just below there would remind him each time that he is a servant here. Think. The great chief of the Steading must walk the entire way to the throne room and answer each guards challenge. It may not be so, but it seems likely to me. We will be able to test my theory, if the guards match the marks on this map. Let us go.”
Vlandar and Nemis led the way down the left path and into a high-vaulted ice tunnel.
It was still dreadfully cold, but the wind lessened even more. Enough greenish light came through the thick ice that they could make out the path heading south on the east side of a steep dropoff. Perhaps twenty paces ahead, a tunnel branched right.
Nemis and Vlandar slowed at branch passages heading north and south, and the warrior signed a halt. “Dead end ahead,” he said. “Guard quarters south, no door. North, a guarded passage, and the way to the living quarters is beyond them.”
Bleryn drew his axe and went over to join Khlened. Vlandar put Nemis at the rear to keep an eye and a sense on the guard chamber to the south. He then brought Agya and the paladin to the fore, gestured for Lhors to join him, and signed for silence. Agya licked her lips and glanced at Malowan, who nodded and smiled as if to say, “You can do it.” The girl cast her eyes up but moved out, swiftly and silently working her way up the crooked passage, pausing now and again to listen intently. At the innermost point of a right-hand bend, she stopped cold, gestured urgently for silence, and held a hand to her ear.
Listen, she must mean, Lhors thought. He could hear giants, their harsh laughter echoing up ahead. The chamber must open out. He found himself wishing he understood maps better and promised himself he’d seek out Vlandar or Nemis for a good look at the map the next time they stopped for a rest. If I survive the next few minutes, a corner of his mind added. He made Gran’s sign for averting disaster and ill thoughts, then pulled a boar spear from his sheath.
At the point where they could almost see into the chamber, Agya stopped, pressed back against the wall, and tested the air once again. Malowan came up behind her, hands moving in a reveal spell. He held up three fingers. Vlandar nodded, then beckoned for Bleryn and Khlened to join him in the lead. Lhors glanced back. Nemis was back against the frozen wall watching their back trail.
Lhors could see little ahead. Still, the youth was aware of a large space just ahead. The ceiling arched into a vault, and from where he stood he couldn’t make out east or west walls.
Vlandar gestured urgently and faded back against the right-hand wall. Dwarf, barbarian, and paladin joined him, and for one brief moment Lhors could make out what was in there.
The space ahead was an ice cave, longer than it was tall. The floor littered with cast off bits of old clothing and broken weaponry. The only properly clear path through it was a rut as wide as the youths arms could stretch. It eventually bent right out of his line of sight.
Greenish light made the three fur-clad giants look unwell, but they stood out clearly against the surrounded ice. Only one was armed at the moment, and even he wasn’t paying much heed to the passage. He leaned a
gainst a massive pike, egging on his companions who were wrestling. The din was awful.
Vlandar gestured with his drawn sword and ran forward, Khlened and Bleryn on his heels. The fellow with the pike came slowly around as he sensed movement or heard their feet pounding the filthy ice floor. He stared blankly then bellowed a warning—likely to the wrestlers, though Lhors thought he might be trying to alert the guards back in the barracks to the south. Not a good time to think about that.
Nemis passed Lhors, his lips and hands already working his wall of silence spell. Lhors hoped he wasn’t too late. Khlened had freed his morning star and threw himself away from his companions so he could swing the massive weapon. He hurled it with a pained grunt, then chuckled grimly as it wrapped around the pike-holder’s throat, trapping the weapon against the brute’s ear. The giant fell, and the blade sliced into his unhelmed scalp. He came unsteadily to his feet, blood soaking into his fur cloak, as he fought to unwrap the chain. But his hands were trapped, and the spiked ball had caught on his armor. Injured, bleeding, and disoriented, he fell again and this time stayed down, thrashing feebly.
Khlened hefted a large rock from a pile nearby—the giants must use them as weapons, Lhors realized. The barbarian held the stone high above giant’s head. He was grinning madly as he let go. The brute grunted and lay still, breathing heavily.
It had all happened so quickly that the two wrestlers had time to do no more than separate and sit up, dumbfounded. They stared blankly. One ran for his pike, but Vlandar and Bleryn were there first. The dwarf staggered under the weight of the massive pikestaff as he swung it away from the wall. He managed to brace the pole against the floor just in time, letting the giant’s weight do the rest. The monster stared in shock at the length of shaft sticking from his belly. He fell to his knees, gasping in pain and fumbling for the broad knife in his belt. Bleryn was behind him by then, bringing his sword down two-handed across the unmailed neck. His first stroke bounced off thick skin or bone, but the second reached its mark. The giant toppled slowly onto his side and lay still.
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