He turned and led the way across the camp. Mercer and Cinder followed. Drake fell in at the back of the line, still grumbling. The fellowship followed them to the edge of the clearing, where a wooded trail wound its way north through the forest and out of the glen. They marched in silence that first day, lost in their own thoughts. Their boots crunched in the thin layer of frost still clinging to the ground. The land sloped steadily up, and the air grew colder as they climbed out of the valley. By nightfall, they made camp with a small fire on the rim of the vale, and enjoyed a supper of venison. It would be the last fresh meat for many days according to Ven. The lands north were sparsely populated with moose and badger, but they wouldn’t find much game so late in the year. They would have to rely mostly on their provisions. Thankfully, the fellowship had generously stocked them with jerky, hard tack, dried fruit, and cheese.
The next morning dawned bright, clear, and cold. Cinder slept fitfully, and she worried, knowing it would only get colder the further north they went. She walked in back of Ven, cloaked in a wooly brown bear skin, still the wind and cold managed to find a way inside where it seeped into her bones and made her shiver.
“How did you find the opening in the wall?” Mercer wanted to know. It was noon on the second day and they were marching across a barren landscape of grey stone and thorny bushes.
“We used to make camp along the northern border to avoid Ravagers and stay clear of patrols out of Citadel. They buy our furs, but there are some who would report us to the authorities if they knew who we really are. So it was only a matter of time before we stumbled on the door. I was the one who found it, by the way. One day, about eight months ago, I was hunting along the wall and there it was. A big opening in the wall, just like it had always been there.”
“Did you name it?” Mercer asked.
Ven stopped and turned. “Name it?”
Mercer nodded.
“No.” Ven shook his head as if such a thing had never even occurred to him. “I didn’t name it.”
“We thought we were the first to discover it,” Mercer explained. “And we named it Cinder’s Pass.”
A wry smile turned up one side of Ven’s face. “That’s fine by me,” he said. “I’d just as soon no one knows we found it.”
“What will you do?” Cinder asked. “People will eventually migrate north.”
Ven started walking again, and after a while he said, “If it were up to me, we’d head west. I’ve been a hundred miles or more beyond the valley and there are plenty more wooded areas where we could live in anonymity. A lot of caves and a few old ruins out that way as well. Others think we should go east, toward the coast. We’ll take a vote.”
“Ruins?” Mercer commented. “Probably a lot of Byte waiting to be picked up.”
“I suppose,” Ven said. “If that’s what you’re into.”
Drake snorted. “What are you into?”
“Peace,” Ven told him. “Quiet. I just want to live my life the way I see fit.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Mercer said.
Ven led the way along a narrow cut between steep rocky hills into a hidden dell with a waterfall cascading over a stone shelf into a shallow pool. Slabs of ice formed on the surface of the water, and dark green bushes with plump red berries lined the shore. “This water’s good to drink,” Ven told them. “And the berries are—”
His words were cut short by a piercing howl. The sudden noise leapt off the rocks and echoed across the water. Cinder gave a start and looked around. On her right, a dozen giant wolves with shaggy white fur and slavering jaws came bounding out of the bushes.
Chapter Seventy-Four
Cinder turned and drew her sword from the leather scabbard with a whisper of steel. Her heart crowded up into her throat and her knees felt weak, but she held her ground. After the grimlacs, a few wolves seemed hardly more than a nuisance. She was scared but determined, knowing Mercer and Drake stood ready to do their part.
The shaggy white beasts bounded over the cold hard ground with pale blue eyes narrowed and yellow fangs bared. Large paws kicked up small tuffs of loose gravel, and deep growls issued from their throats.
Ven notched an arrow, brought his bow back in one smooth motion, and released. The string let out a plaintive creak and then a sharp twang. His arrow took one of the wolves in the flank. The beast gave a high-pitched yowl and broke off from the pack, limping back toward the brush.
Drake gripped his staff in both hands and intoned a spell. The air crackled with wild electricity. It was a hastily summoned spell, but when he struck the ground with his staff, ranks of sharp ice spears leapt from the ground and marched in ranks at the oncoming wolves with a sound like kitchen knives scraping together. The blast caught four of the wolves, slicing through legs and bellies, spilling steaming piles of guts and dark red blood over the snow.
Ven hastily notched and fired three more arrows while Drake heated up another spell. Two of the shafts found their mark and the wolves tumbled to the ground. The third arrow missed and clattered among the rocks.
The remaining five covered the distance with frightening speed. Their long legs and powerful haunches launched them across the open ground. Cinder crouched and thrust her sword straight out in front of her, bracing for the impact. One of the wolves, a gray monster with yellow eyes and black lips peeled back from jagged fangs, threw himself at her and was impaled on the tip of her blade. The force slammed her over backwards, and the hairy dog landed on top of her. Matted fur and fetid breath overwhelmed her senses and filled her vision.
Mercer cut one of the wolves nearly in half with a swing of his great axe. The animal leapt into the air and Mercer’s blade caught it on the side with a powerful hacking noise that sent the beast spinning aside, trailing blood and gore over fresh snow. A second wolf went for his legs and Mercer slammed his axe down, catching the animal a blow on the head. There was a hard hacking sound and the wolf fell dead, its skull crushed. A third jumped, and Mercer had just enough time to get his arm up. The wolf’s jaws closed on his forearm and bore him to the hard earth. Mercer lost hold of his axe and went down on his back, two hundred pounds of wolf on top of him, claws raking his chest and teeth savaging the flesh of his forearm.
Ven had turned and leapt lightly up the low boulders at the base of the hill. Cinder thought he was running away, but he stopped atop a large rock and notched another arrow. Two wolves remained; one on top of Mercer and the other had Drake’s staff clutched in its powerful jaws, growling from deep in its chest. Drake held the beast at bay with trembling arms and sweat trailing down his face. Cinder shoved the dead wolf off of her and then tugged at her blade. The steel ripped and squelched. By the time she managed to jerk the sword free, Ven had loosed his arrow. The wolf holding onto Drake’s staff let go and went lopping away with a shaft through his throat.
Mercer lay on the ground struggling with the last wolf. Blood bubbled from his forearm, wetting the beast’s face in a grisly mask of red. Mercer’s face twisted in pain and fear. He wrapped his free arm around the animal’s neck in an attempt to cut off its air, but the raking claws and thrashing head made that impossible.
Ven had another arrow notched, but he couldn’t fire without hitting Mercer, and Drake couldn’t cast for the same reason. Cinder raised her sword overhead and brought the blade down on the dog’s back. The edge impacted with a wet hack. The wolf gave a surprised yelp and released Mercer. Cinder had managed to cut right down to the bone. The wolf turned and sprinted for the thick tangle of brush, leaving a trail of bright red blood.
Mercer crawled to the edge of the lake with his teeth clenched in pain and thrust his ravaged forearm into the icy water, then closed his eyes and put his face down on the rocks, muttering his thanks.
“Are you okay?” Cinder asked.
“Never better,” Mercer said in a deadpan voice. He pulled his arm from the water. The skin was lacerated. Blood flowed freely from the deep cuts, turning the water pink.
Drake muttere
d a curse. “He got you good.”
“Get a bandage, will ya?” said Mercer.
Drake turned and dug through his gear for gauze and a healing potion.
Ven leapt down from the rocks. “Maybe we should turn back? Ayrie could fix that up in a few minutes, have you back on your feet.”
Mercer shook his head and cradled the wounded arm to his chest. His left hand hung limp and drenched in red. “By the time we go all the way back, the snow will be too deep for traveling and we’d be stuck until spring.”
“Let me try,” Cinder said.
They turned to look at her.
She shrugged. “It’s what I’ve been practicing for.”
“You can’t make it any worse,” Mercer said, and held out his mangled forearm.
Drake held the bandages in standby.
Cinder sat down cross-legged on the cold ground, closed her eyes, and took a few deep breaths to steady herself, then she reached out, took hold of Mercer’s arm, and closed her eyes. She could feel everybody waiting, watching, wondering if she could really do it. Healing a human arm was, after all, much more complicated than mending a broken chicken wing. But Cinder tried to put all those thoughts and worries aside and focus. Mercer did his best to hold still, breathing through clenched teeth and letting out the occasional groan of pain while blood bubbled up from the cuts in his arm. Cinder dug deep, remembering everything Ayrie had told her about healing, and she reached out, channeling the Mystical Plane. She connected to the soft warm light and allowed it to flow through her into Mercer. There was a moment where she almost lost contact, but she managed to keep the connection. A moment later, Mercer’s breathing quieted and she felt his body relax.
Ven let out a curious grunt and Drake sniffed.
When Cinder opened her eyes, Mercer’s forearm was no longer bleeding, and the worst of the cuts had stitched together. The evidence of the attack was still plain to see, but Mercer was in no danger of bleeding to death. He wiggled his fingers and then flexed his wrist and nodded.
“You did good, kid.” He grinned. “You did real good.”
“Impressive,” Ven agreed.
Drake thrust the healing potion into Mercer’s good hand. “You’d better drink this all the same.”
He popped the cork with his thumb and tipped the bottle back, wincing at the taste. “Thank you.”
Cinder sat back with a smile on her face. She had done it. The wound wasn’t completely healed—he would still need a bandage and Drake’s potion would certainly help—but she had healed the worst of the damage. Not bad for a week’s worth of lessons.
Ven laid a hand on her shoulder and gave a nod. “Ayrie will be proud to hear it.”
Chapter Seventy-Five
For three more days Ven led them onwards, over barren stretches of windswept wilderness and through deep evergreen forests, along icy streams and past frozen lakes. The air grew colder with each passing day, and snow blew down out of the north until they walked with their chins tucked into thick woolen mufflers to protect chapped and bloodied lips. Cinder was perfectly miserable the whole time. Her toes felt like chips of ice inside her boots and her ears burned at the harsh sting of the winter winds. Even Mercer, solid and powerful though he was, marched with his head down and his shoulders hunched. But Drake had it worse than the others; bitter cold assailed his fragile body. He shivered uncontrollably, and his yellow teeth clacked when he laid down to sleep. At times he would lag far behind, and the others would be forced to stop and wait for him. Cinder began to wonder how much farther he could go.
On the evening of the fourth day, as they sat around the fire shivering in their blankets, Cinder thought about telling Drake he could go back. She and Mercer would go on, find the money, and split it with him when they got back to the outcast camp, but something stopped her. Some unnamed fear lurked in her heart, and just as she was about to suggest it, she swallowed her words. She spent the night wondering if she were just plain selfish or if there was something more, something she had missed. In the end it didn’t matter. Drake had come this far and he would have to press on, at least as far as Ven went. Cinder doubted he could find his way back to the outcast encampment without a guide.
The fifth day had them trudging across a wild, frozen tundra of gray rock and treacherous blue ice that forced them to go slow or risk losing their footing. By that point, Cinder had started wondering how much further she could go, and she was amazed Drake was still on his feet. He must want that money pretty badly.
The wind was a merciless enemy assailing them with cruel talons that cut right through the layers of fur and cloak. It howled across the barren stretches with all the fury of an angry banshee until they had to yell to be heard.
Cinder was walking with her head down and her joints aching, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other without slipping on the ice. She shouted, “Ven!”
He stopped and turned back, questioning her with a glance.
“Are you sure we’re going the right direction?”
He pointed. “Look!”
She followed his gloved finger. Across jutting slabs of ice and rock she spotted a grim fortress of gray stone on the horizon. It reared up above the hazy skyline of shifting white snow like an arthritic finger of rock pointing at the sky. Cinder had been walking with her head down and hadn’t even noticed the distant castle come into view. She smiled for the first time in days, and a tear gathered in one eye, then froze, and she brushed it away. “How much farther?”
“You’ll be there before nightfall,” Ven told her, and they resumed course.
By noon, the distant castle had resolved into a small city of ancient stonework and crumbling spires, like some forgotten metropolis of a long-lost age. There was no fortification. Rugged ice and rock formed the only ramparts to protect from invasion.
They had topped a small rise, and there Ven shuffled to a stop. The path to the fortress was plain and mostly straight. He shrugged out of his pack, set it at his feet, and yelled, “This is as far as I go. You shouldn’t have any trouble reaching the city from here, but watch out for polar bears. I’ve been all the way to the outskirts and found the place deserted, but that was five, almost six months ago in summer. Who knows what you’ll find now. If you push hard, you can be there before nightfall. You might find what you’re looking for and be able to come back before you get snowed in.”
“If we get snowed in?” Cinder asked.
Ven drew up his shoulders. “The city will provide shelter and you can hunt polar bears. They’ve got a lot of fat. It’ll keep you alive until spring.” He gave a reassuring smile. Cinder saw his cheeks move above his heavy scarf. “It’s not how I’d want to spend the winter, but for ten million Byte, I suppose it’s worth it.”
“Thanks,” Mercer said and stuck a hand out. “For everything.”
“Good luck,” Ven told him.
Drake offered his hand.
Cinder threw her arms around Ven’s shoulders and hugged him tight. “Say hi to Ayrie when you get back,” she said. “She’ll be happy to see you.”
“You think so?”
“I know so,” she told him.
He nodded, then opened his pack and presented them with extra rations made from nuts and berries, jerky, flasks of oil, wicks, flint, and several pairs of woolen socks. “Gifts from the gathering,” he said. “May the Creator bless and keep you.”
They accepted the presents with many thanks. If they got snowed in, and Cinder thought that very likely, the oil might keep them from freezing to death. They stuffed the food and survival gear into their packs and Cinder pulled a pair of socks on over her gloves for extra warmth. Ven shouldered his gear and shook their hands, wishing them luck one last time.
Cinder said, “You be careful.”
“You too,” he said, and then turned to go.
They watched him until he disappeared behind a snowbank, and then set off on the last leg of their journey. Their goal was within sight. Mercer led the way and Cin
der came behind, walking with renewed stamina. Even Drake had more vigor in his step. The snow-swept fortress lay ahead, and the end of the quest was at hand.
Their high spirits lasted less than a mile. A dark cloud bank gathered overhead and unleashed frozen hell. Snow so thick Cinder couldn’t see ten feet in front of her face blew horizontally across their path, like the land was doing everything in its power to prevent them from reaching the city. Before long they were forced to hold onto each other’s coats or risk being separated and lost in the blizzard. Cinder clutched the back of Mercer’s fur cloak with both hands, and Drake held fast to her sleeve. They trudged along, heads down and eyes narrowed against the onslaught. Mercer was slowing down, and a good thing too, because Cinder could barely keep her exhausted legs moving. She didn’t know how Drake managed. Several times she looked over her shoulder to make sure he was still there. After a while, it was all she could do to force her legs forward. Her thighs burned, and it felt like there was an anvil on her chest. She was just about to call a halt when the last of the storm spent its fury and the gusting winds slackened. The wall of white broke up and they sighted the grim stone fortress in the distance. They had strayed several hundred meters west and had to navigate a slippery expanse of ice, but the grim walls of the fortress loomed up before them.
Drake got Mercer’s attention and pointed one arthritic finger at a distant polar bear moving along the ice pack to the west. It was bigger than any polar bear Cinder had ever seen, even the ones in television documentaries, with long yellow tusks visible even from this distance.
“Keep an eye on him,” Mercer said. “Let me know if he comes this way.”
The sun was a hazy white dot on the horizon. They mounted a rocky incline toward the outer walls of the fortress, and by the time the last of the light was shrinking from the sky, they had reached the first frost-covered dwellings.
The Savage Realms Page 29
