Trail of Rifts

by David Bokman

  “Istig is quite a way up north from here. You’re far from home,” said one of the other men, this one older and frailer. “And you came from the south. Not often you see someone from beyond the Horizon make it out this far. Anyway, I don’t see how that makes you entitled to the rift.”

  “It doesn’t. It just shows that I… find ways to get what I want. And that I’m not a ‘southerner’. In any case, as I said, we don’t want the rift. Just let us look at it. We’ll pay you. Hell, you can even have the Undying Ice.”

  “Very well. Gold will do fine, though. Easier to use than the ice.”

  Cadwell took his hand off the hilt. “Five suns each, courtesy of Kardh’Ao. Next time a Herald comes through, I recommend a more welcoming approach. Some of us are quicker to rage than charity.”

  To Mae’s disappointment, the rift did not seem to be anything out of the ordinary. “Surely we can glean something from it with our new knowledge. Hey, broad-nose! Has there been any big battles in this area of the land?”

  “Damned if I know, I’m no historian, and my name is Oso.”

  “What about the magic?” asked Samson. “Na, can you do any… anything arcane with it? Do some magic? Influence it? Sorry, I’m not familiar with your parlance.”

  “I… don’t know? Perhaps some arcanists can, but I doubt I’m skilled enough.”

  Mae shrugged, and said, “What the hell, worth a try. Do you thing, Na.”

  “I can’t just ‘do my thing’, I’d need to study it, figure out what part of it to concentrate on…”

  “Just go with your gut.”

  “This won’t work,” sighed Na, “but I’ll give it a try, sure.”

  Florianna walked up within a foot of the rift and sat down on her knees, closing her eyes. The other heralds watched in anticipation for ten… twenty… thirty seconds, but nothing seemed to happen. The rift remained open and remained a gaping abyss too deep to comprehend. After perhaps a minute of concentration, Florianna opened her eyes. “I can’t do it. I can feel… something, but I can’t make sense of it. You’d need an expert for this. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, what’s she doing?” one of the northerners asked.

  “I believe we’re done here. Thank you for your hospitality, Oso,” said Cad, indicating to the others to follow him onwards. Florianna shakily got up to her feet, took a moment to regain her bearings, and then followed the others.

  Thirty-five by fourteen, Mae thought to herself as they continued northward. Why do the rifts keep expanding? Will all of them eventually be as big as the dormant one? This Atlas better have the answers we need. They would get no answers from it, or perhaps him, if they did not make it to the mountains, though. A prospect which at the moment did not feel especially simple to execute.

  “Mae? That special ice you have, what is it? I had never even seen ice until a week ago, and now you’re telling me there’s some sort of rare variant of it, too?”

  “Undying Ice, yes. It got its name due to the fact that it never melts. A bit of a dramatic name, perhaps.”

  “Never?”

  “I’ve had this piece for… for a long time, and it has never melted, regardless of where I’ve been.”

  “I hear that kind of ice is rather valuable,” said Cadwell.

  “To the right people, sure. It's mainly used to brew potions. I think it’s used in some arcane practices too. I just keep it as a trinket from my homeland, for sentimental reasons.”

  “And how did you come across it?”

  “Found it in a cave.” Mae’s response came as quick as an arrow.

  “Sure you did.”

  “Let’s keep moving. It’ll probably take us a few days to reach the mountains,” said Mae, turning her attention to the path once more. Off in the distance, she could just barely make out the mountains. At least there’s no way we get lost, she told herself.

  It would take until the fourth day before the heralds finally reached the Cold Peaks. By all accounts, the trip had been easier than expected. We’ve traveled from Grensby to Vestrok, we can manage the journey from Vestrok to the mountains, Florianna had told herself when the air felt especially cold or her feet especially tired. A few more days, and then you will never have to go this far north ever again. You’ll have seen all you need to in the north. Just a few more days on the road. Persist. And persisted she had, alongside the other heralds. The road had remained tricky, but manageable. The weather had remained cold, but survivable. And the wildlife had remained interested, but peaceful.

  On the third day, they had even had the pleasure of acquainting themselves with the fabled ice wolves of the north. They were not as big as their southern cousins, and truth be told they seemed to have more differences than similarities. The overarching shape of the animal was similar to a wolf, that was true, but they looked very different indeed. The ice wolves’ fur, instead of the normal grey, was of an icy color. The fur also seemed far thicker and rougher, as if the wolf was covered in a million tiny icicles. Their legs were far more muscular, with toes at least twice the size of a normal wolf. Despite this, they barely made any sound as they walked, using the snowy terrain to their advantage. I’d rather fight two brown bears than one of those, Sam thought to himself, avoiding eye contact with the beasts. The beasts, in turn, had avoided the heralds, content with just observing the party from afar.

  As the heralds reached the Cold Peaks, though, they were introduced to a new kind of beast. “Did you say hundreds of tunnels?”

  “Hundreds of tunnels in the mountains, yes.”

  “How are we possibly meant to navigate through that?”

  “Hopefully we can find something to guide us in the right direction.”

  “And if we don’t? Hell, we don’t even know that this is the right place!”

  “Let’s worry about that later.”

  “No,” said Cadwell. “I’m with Sam. Let’s worry about it now. Don’t want to die lost in some tunnels up in the middle of nowhere.”

  “Let’s look at the mountains,” suggested Na. “Do any of them look like a place where someone would hide an atlas?”

  The mountains looked like mountains. They differed in size and shape, but none seemed to stand out among the rest. The heralds’ investigation was not made easier by the fact that they could only get a good look at the mountains closest to them, and, as Mae had said, the Cold Peaks stretched for tens of leagues in both directions. Investigating every mountain and cliff was out of the question.

  After assessing the situation, Florianna spoke up again. “Okay, new plan. These mountains offer decent protection from the wind, so why don’t we set up camp, eat some food, and develop a plan of attack?”

  “Do my ears deceive me?” asked Mae. “The young adventurer, taking charge of the situation once more? Well, you heard the order, heralds. We make camp.”

  The sun had not yet reached the halfway point of its journey across the sky, but if it was one thing the heralds had learned after their time on the road, it was that you were always hungry. Thus the earlier stop was welcome, and they had no trouble consuming some of their rations. That’s another thing I miss from Velema, Na thought to herself, biting down on a bit of dry meat. There was always food available, and you could always choose your food for yourself. Out here, it’s the same every single day. The young noblewoman was still not entirely sure how she felt about life as an adventurer, an explorer of the world. The initially overwhelming feeling of freedom and excitement had started to wane with time, and she had only become more and more aware of the less pleasant parts of constantly being on the road. Perhaps there is a reason people want to be kings and queens after all, she decided. It is extremely boring, but it is easy and it is safe and it is warm. I miss the warmth of the south most of all. At this point, Florianna would gladly give up all her arcane scrolls for a day of warmth and comfort. Just one, though. One day to regain my strength, and then I would be back on—

  “We’ve got company, friends,” said Samson, suddenly fixat
ing his eyes on something in the distance. It took a while for the others to make out what he was seeing, but soon they too could see the three dots moving towards their camp.

  “Who the hell else travels up here? Is their biggest, deepest wish to be eaten alive by ice wolves?” said Cad.

  “If it is, they can be eaten alone. We don’t want company. Not where we’re going.” Mae got up and grabbed one of her daggers. The others followed suit, and together they formed a semicircle around their campsite. The three figures seemed unphased, continuing their approach at a leisurely pace.

  “Hold on…” said Samson, as the figures got closer. “I think… no, surely not?”

  “Spit it out, Sam.”

  “I think those are the same three men we met a few days ago at the rift? Oso and his friends?”

  “They followed us? Are they stupid enough to try to rob us?” Cad sounded almost offended.

  “Well,” said Na, “is it really so stupid? Haven’t we been robbed by bandits once before?”

  “Quiet, they’re coming closer.”

  After a few more minutes, all doubt was gone. The three men coming towards the camp were indeed Oso and his two friends. They had no weapons drawn and were not approaching quickly nor stealthily. They were just… walking towards the camp, as if they were old friends coming to join the meal. “It’s been days, how could we not have spotted them following us? And if they were going to attack us, why didn’t they just do it at the rift, where they could have disposed of the bodies?”

  “I said quiet,” said Mae. “Prepare yourselves.”

  “No, it doesn’t make any sense. This is not what an attack looks like. Cadwell?”

  “It is certainly strange, yes.”

  “I say we hear them out,” said Na. “And if they draw arms, well, we deal with them. We’re four, they’re three.”

  “We don’t know how skilled they are, though,” said Sam. “They could be three Jaios, for all we know.”

  “That’d make things easy,” scoffed Cadwell.

  They let the three men approach a few more yards, and then, when there was a distance of perhaps fifty yards between them, The Dart spoke up. “Halt! What do you want?”

  “Hello again! Could we join you?” said Oso, speaking as one would to an old acquaintance.

  “We should hear them out,” Na whispered to the others.

  “Agreed. I want this mystery solved.”

  “And I think we should tell them to leave us alone. Sam?”

  The young Aeni thought for a moment. “They could know about The Atlas, and we don’t really have another plan. We let them join, but keep an eye on them.”

  Mae kept her dagger at the ready. “Fine. Hey, Oso! You can join us, slowly!”

  The northerner put his hands in the air in a disarming gesture, and his friends did the same. “As slow as you want, Herald! We mean you no harm.”

  The northerners continued wading through the heavy snow, eventually making their way up to the heralds. Oso and his friends looked exactly like the last time they had met, as if this four-day journey north had not affected them in the least.

  “What is it you want?”

  “Can we sit?”

  The Dart moved over, making an opening in the semicircle. “You can, but we’ll stand, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Naturally.”

  Oso’s two friends saw fit to give the heralds their names upon sitting down. The old, frail man was called Ark. The third, a younger, skinnier man with rashes on his face, was known as Bol. “We’re sorry for the subterfuge and deceit,” said Oso. “We’re not really northerners, and we didn’t really care about that rift.”

  “You… What?”

  “Well, I suppose by now we have to be considered northerners, but I digress.” Oso’s accent was hard to place and was entirely different from when he had spoken to them at the rift.

  “So what was all that about, then?” said Cad.

  “It’s about you four! You’re who we were interested in, not the rift.”

  “Interested why? What were you doing?”

  “A test, if you will. To see what kind of people you are.”

  “What’s your conclusion?”

  Oso gave a wide smile. “That you are quicker to charity than rage. A good trait. You seek to defuse situations of conflict, not egg them on. Or…” Oso looked at Cadwell, “at least most of you do. You act with compassion, but also with ruthless determination. The latter we have observed firsthand by following you up here.”

  “And what’s the point of this test?” asked The Dart.

  “We had to ascertain whether or not we could offer you our help. After some deliberation, we believe we can.”

  “Help us how?” The Dart was beginning to ever so slowly lower her weapon.

  Oso grabbed a bit of dried meat, and bit into it. “Help you find him, of course. We work for The Atlas.”

  ⧫ CHAPTER XXIV ⧫

  “They attacked a holy house.” Zena was getting tired of repeating herself. What is it they don’t understand? “They attacked a holy house, and they have to die for it.”

  “Of course, Townmaster, but we’re not even sure who it was,” said Commander Dovan.

  “What do you mean? It was The Black Sheep. Nobody else would be this stupid, nor this violent.”

  “But the Sheep are all nonhumans. One of the perpetrators managed to weasel his way into your entourage of personal guards. He was human,” said Paavo.

  “And the guards that were on the scene report a mixture of humans and nonhumans attacking them. Speaking of which, how is your wound, ma’am?”

  “It’s nothing.”

  In truth, it was far more than nothing. The top physicians had all been rushed to the Townmaster's Tower, much to Zena’s displeasure. This had proved necessary, though, as she could have sustained permanent injury if the blade was not removed safely and swiftly. Ever since the blade had been removed, an excruciating pain had appeared all over her abdomen, and she still had trouble both eating and moving. “I’m glad to hear it. You look stronger already, Townmaster.”

  “So if it’s not the Sheep, then who?”

  Dovan cleared his throat. “Well… We have reason to believe the attack was orchestrated by both The Black Sheep and The Sons, working together.”

  “Those two, working together?” Frida failed to keep her silence any longer. “Right, of course. What next, maybe The New Port lended a helping hand, too?”

  “I doubt they’d have any trouble sparing a few men, considering they’ve already got your part of town in their fist,” Dovan snapped back.

  “The Sheep and The Sons hate each other, Commander. Why would they work together?”

  “Out of necessity, not out of friendship, ma’am. Thanks to you and Stonehand, they are both severely weakened. For one of them to do something like this on their own is highly unlikely. We’re guessing they figured they needed to band together to survive.”

  “Will they be a problem?”

  “Short term, perhaps. Until we figure out where they’re hiding.”

  “Very well. Frida, you will lend fifty men from the Portsguard to Commander Dovan until this situation is resolved.”

  “But Zena, I—”

  “You struggle to put them to good use, anyway. I doubt they will be missed. And Dovan, with these reinforcements, I expect this to be handled quickly. Understood?”

  “These criminals will soon be but a memory, Townmaster.”

  “And whoever leads them, whoever made the call to attack the temple, bring them to me. Alive. What’s the status report at the temple?”

  “A dozen of our guards dead, about as many of the scum. Several civilians too. The temple is still standing, but repairs will take at least a month if the builders are to be believed.”

  “They broke the city’s codex by attacking a holy house. They have acted as sanctuaries for hundreds of years. I believe that sends a pretty clear message, Commander. Gloves off. You have fre
e reins to use whichever methods you see fit to bring these criminals to justice.”

  Paavo let out an exaggerated yawn. “Will that be all?”

  “One more thing. Dovan, Frida, where were you during the funeral? You were both invited, expected, but I saw none of you attend.”

  “I wish I could have attended, but the Gods did not want it. First I was forced into a meeting, then I had to resolve a situation at the docks, and then a patrol of Portsguard were attacked by The New Port. When all that was done, my head was hurting so much I wasn’t sure I’d survive the day,” said Frida.

  “A couple of prisoners tried breaking out of the dungeon,” said Dovan.

  “Our city is lucky to have such hard-working commanders. That’s all for now.”

  It still doesn’t add up, Zena thought as she was finishing up her midday meal later that day. The Sons have never killed anyone, why start now? Are they really so desperate as to abandon their principles? Perhaps they were, perhaps they were not. In any case, it was clear that the Sheep were not working alone. She had ordered all her personal guards to be checked, just to be sure there were no other backstabbers hiding in her midst. And until the investigation is complete, I’m not letting any guards step near me.

  Zena was no stranger to viewing the guards as her enemy; that was how she had survived growing up in West Kardh’Ao. Thinking back, it was rather surprising that she and her brother had survived at all. Back then, the Portsguard was a different beast entirely, she thought. And its commander was not some kid like Frida. No, forty years ago, the Portsguard had been run by Ser Oswald. Nowadays, knights were but a relic of a past time, but just a few decades ago, before The Reform, they could be found in most corners of the world. And Ser Oswald was a particularly evil one. Zena did not remember how he had come to Kardh’Ao, nor how he had managed to work his way up to the position of commander; she was no more than four years old when he took charge of the operation. Something she did vividly remember, though, was how he sent Portsguard to her home every single week, always asking for more and more money.

  Zena and her family had lived far away from the port, but that had not stopped the guards from making the trip up to their little fishing hut week after week. Although Zena, Paavo and their mother all fished every waking hour they still never had enough money for the guards. And what they could not pay with coin, they paid with pain. Still, Zena thought, if it hadn’t been for Paavo’s talent for fishing, it would’ve been far, far worse. Her brother had always seemed to understand fishes better than most everyone. He would always find the best fishing spots, figure out the best bait, and be the most patient.