by Ellen Porath
Lida turned toward Kitiara. “You’re responsible for this? Do you know what he and the Valdane are doing, the damage they’re causing? The deaths, the heartbreak among the Ice Folk?”
Kitiara snorted. “Do I care?” she shot back. “Let the Ice Folk take care of themselves.”
At that moment, Kitiara heard a howl from the south. “Wolves,” the swordswoman said. “But like none I’ve ever heard before.”
“Dire wolves,” Janusz said.
That information offered no solace. Moments later, snow churning under their broad feet, a dozen huge wolves drew up, attached to an empty sledge by braided leather thongs.
Kitiara had seen wolves before, of course, but these were fearsome, snarling beasts, a sea of gray, white, and black fur on scraggly bodies. One gray beast, the largest of the pack, stood motionless at the fore, eyeing Kitiara through bloodshot eyes. Plumes of steam rose from its mouth, forming ice drops on its muzzle.
They didn’t seem to be primed for attack. Kitiara looked questioningly at Janusz.
“They eat only meat, dead or alive. There’s not much else to eat down here, of course. They’re as stupid as ice floes and always hungry, so don’t turn your back on them, Captain Uth Matar.”
Kitiara raised her eyebrows. At a sign from Janusz, Res-Lacua brandished a whip and hustled the women on board the wooden sledge. The ettin cracked the whip and sent the wolves driving to the left, then to the right, breaking the runners free of the ice. The lurch sent the swordswoman crashing back into the lady mage. Soon the two women were kneeling as they rode with their hands braced on the wooden sides. The ettin raced behind.
Kitiara looked around for Janusz. Janusz was levitating a few inches above the ground, off to their right, his robe fluttering in the wind as he matched their speed across the Icereach, heading inland over the snow.
All of a sudden they stopped. The ettin pushed warily ahead, placing one foot in front of the other cautiously. Janusz watched but said nothing.
“What is it?” Lida whispered to Kitiara. “I sense nothing magical—nothing new, anyway.”
The swordswoman shrugged. “Looks the same as the rest of the Icereach to me. Windswept, chunks of ice strewn all over. A few hill-sized blocks, but otherwise snow, snow, and more snow. Maybe a bit of a depression up ahead, but …”
At that moment, the ettin broke through the snow and disappeared with a shout into a gaping hole. Janusz chanted and traced figures in the air, and Res-Lacua floated back up through the hole, laughing as he landed back on solid ice. Kitiara slipped out of the sledge, dashed forward, and leaned over the edge of the crevasse.
The crevasse was a hundred feet deep. Kitiara hastily backed away from the edge. “It’s a crack in the ice,” she told Lida. “And it’s practically invisible until you fall into it.”
“Another barrier to an invading army,” Janusz commented.
Soon they resumed, cutting to the west around the crevasse and then veering south again. Nearly as quickly, however, they drew to another stop. “Now what?” Kitiara muttered. Lida pointed to a dark patch in the snow. “A lake?” Kitiara asked. “In this climate?”
The ettin didn’t move forward to investigate. It merely snapped the whip, forcing the dire wolves around the dark patch. Sun glinted off the surface, revealing the ice that formed a thin skin on the water. “An ice lake,” explained Janusz. “Filled with fish. Everything that lives in the Icereach feeds from these ice lakes—except us, of course. I offer far better fare at the ice warren. Unless, of course,” he amended, “you like raw fish. The Ice Folk certainly do, but they’re not civilized. Raw fish, untreated skins, smoky peat fires, and the infernal stink of walrus grease. They use fish for everything from cooking to greasing the runners on their iceboats.”
After a short time, Res-Lacua shouted to the dire wolves, who slowed as they curved around a line of huge blocks of ice. The captives had seen isolated out-croppings of the formations, but these blocks looked as though they’d been placed there by intent and design, not chance.
Lida pointed wordlessly to the silhouette of a figure at the top of one block, but Kitiara had already noticed the bulky form, the short horns that curved forward over the creature’s forehead. “Minotaur,” the swordswoman said.
The sledge swung around the end of the blocks, and suddenly they were in the middle of a shouting, gesturing mass of minotaurs and ettins. Res-Lacua barreled into the crowd with a cry of joy, greeting several ettins with undeniable affection. The ettins, nearly twice the height of the minotaurs, crashed their spiked clubs together, pounded each other on the shoulders, and roared in orcish. The minotaurs overlooked the display, seeming to think it beneath them, but a third group of creatures, half-men, half-walrus, watched with stupid expressions. “Thanoi,” Kitiara said. “Walrus men.”
One of the thanoi, a broad creature with long tusks growing from each side of its mouth, seemed especially irritable. It was unclothed, with the arms and legs of a human and the face, build, and dark gray hide of a walrus. Thick webs of skin joined its fingers and toes. Coarse bristles hung from its upper lip, masking the thanoi’s broad mouth. One hand clenched a harpoon; the other hand reached for the women. It reeked of dead fish. Lida shrank back against Kitiara; the swordswoman thrust the mage to the floor of the sledge, leaped out onto the packed snow, and assumed a combat stance, even though she had no weapon. She lunged for the thanoi’s harpoon just as a cry rent the air.
“Despack!”
The ettins and thanoi drew back. The minotaurs stood their ground, but made no move toward Kitiara or Lida.
Janusz spoke again, in a language Kitiara did not know. The minotaurs listened, however, and when the mage’s speech was over, one of the bull men stepped forward, glanced down at the swordswoman as though she were no more worrisome than a flea, and used the butt end of its double-edged ax to prod the swordswoman toward the mass of walrus men and two-headed trolls. Kitiara shouted back at Janusz, “Remember, mage, if I am killed, you will never get the information you seek.”
The mage only smiled; his self-assurance seemed limitless, and Kitiara, looking around her at the weapons of the hundreds of evil creatures that served him and the Valdane, thought for the first time that she might finally be up against an unbeatable foe. She marched in the direction that the minotaur had indicated. The crowd parted before her and the minotaur, and Janusz called after them. “Toj is pledged to protect you, Captain—unless, of course, he believes you are trying to spurn my hospitality. So do take care, Captain.”
Kitiara didn’t reply. Clearly she was outnumbered, and Lida Tenaka, her magic weakened, was only a hindrance. Toj drew up next to Kitiara. “You were a mercenary?” the minotaur said.
“Not were,” Kitiara corrected. “Are.”
Toj laughed. “The mage said you were a stubborn one. I see he was right.”
The creature had a curiously formal way of speaking, as though he were translating from some other language into Common. Kitiara didn’t even come up to his shoulders, and she was unarmed but unafraid. For the moment, at least, the minotaur wouldn’t harm her, and she might learn something if he proved talkative. “You are a soldier for hire?” she asked. “Like the ettins and the thanoi?”
The minotaur faced her. His eyes flashed and his bull nostrils widened. Toj wore a steel ring through his nose, and another through his right ear—insignia of rank among some minotaurs, Kitiara knew. She saw glimpses of broad teeth. His double-edged ax swung dangerously; the muscles of his upper arm bulged and flattened as he controlled the heavy weapon. When the minotaur finally spoke, his voice was thick with anger.
“I am a mercenary,” he said. “I fight for hire. There are no fighters like the minotaurs. These fish men”—he gestured contemptuously toward a tusked thanoi—“have the brains of snowflakes. They believe the Valdane will turn the Icereach over to them when the battle is won and the Ice Folk are gone. The fish-eyed fools! The ettins are slaves. Slaves. And they, too, are stupid, so stupid they don�
��t even understand they are slaves. Do not compare a minotaur with thanoi or ettin. We do not belong in the same breath with such vermin. We are the warriors. Our duty is to conquer the world. By Sargas, we are the chosen ones!”
Toj poked Kitiara with the ax. “Resume,” he ordered, and she tramped on.
Their surroundings were like military camps everywhere: noisy, dirty, smelly. But after his speech, the minotaur seemed disinclined to talk. Kitiara stole sidelong glances at the creature as she strode along.
Minotaurs generally inhabited seacoast regions. They were known throughout Ansalon for their skill as shipbuilders and sailors and for their ferocity as warriors. Kitiara remembered the warning that one mercenary had offered her years ago: Never surrender to a minotaur, for that would be viewed as a sign of weakness and rewarded with execution. Males and females alike were trained in battle, and males and females alike went to war. Toj, with curving horns nearly two feet long, was an impressive specimen of his kind. Reddish-brown fuzz covered his bull face, the fuzz thickening to short fur on the rest of his massive body. Despite the cold, he wore only a leather harness and kilt; numerous loops along the former held a whip, a flail, and several daggers.
Finally they came to a stop on a ridge overlooking a shallow valley. Toj and Kitiara were at the very end of the line of ice blocks. A short distance in front of them, dozens of women, children, and men, dressed in rags and filthy parkas, groaned as they pulled at an ice block the height of three men. Thongs of what was probably sealskin bound them to the block. The formation moved only a scant inch or so at a time.
“Ice Folk?” Kitiara asked.
The minotaur nodded. “We have captured several villages,” he commented.
The captives were rugged-looking, as one would expect from dwelling in such a harsh climate. Their skin was leathery, their hair long. Kitiara had heard of these nomadic people of the snowy reaches, with their special weapons made of dense ice, their fierce pride, and their iceboats. But these captives looked as though they hadn’t eaten in days.
“The survivors make good slaves—while they last,” said Toj. “But they wear out quickly.”
Even as the minotaur spoke, one of the men slumped silently and was borne away triumphantly by an ettin. The remaining Ice Folk pulled with a burst of energy, edging the block into position in line with the others. Then, prodded by armed ettins and thanoi, they headed back into the vast spaces of the Icereach.
“What is the purpose of the wall of blocks?” Kitiara asked.
The minotaur laughed. The sound had an odd, mooing quality.
“The mage said you are not only stubborn,” Toj said. “You are curious. It appears to be a wall, and that is all it is. There is another wall far to the south. It is a natural formation and much larger than this one, but of no strategic use to us. The Valdane wishes a second one built upon this spot to slow the enemy, should he come.” He pointed. Although his legs ended in the hocks and hooves of a bull, his hands were like a man’s. “The wall will nudge the enemy toward a crevasse. They will never see the opening. The mage has cast a spell around it, and some say that the crevasse even moves, although I suspect that’s a tale to discourage the thanoi from wandering about. The enemy, to be sure, will not glimpse the danger until they are hurtling through the air to their deaths!”
“And who is the enemy?” she asked quickly.
“All of Krynn,” the minotaur replied just as swiftly. “Everyone who would oppose us.” He cast a sly look down at her. “You would do well to join us, Captain Uth Matar. I hear you have uncommon military skill. The Valdane could use you. I would not mind such an assistant.”
Kitiara snorted. “Somehow I doubt I’ll have the opportunity. The mage doesn’t seem to like me.”
“Ah, but mage Janusz is not running this campaign. It is the Valdane you must impress. Perhaps he will be forgiving.”
Indeed, Kitiara was tempted. The Valdane certainly had might on his side. But the mage would never allow her to strike a separate deal with the Valdane. She shrugged her shoulders, and Toj didn’t pursue the subject.
They returned through the camp. Lida and Janusz were waiting silently when Toj escorted her up to the sledge. Hostility was apparent between the mages, and they avoided even glancing at each other. Res-Lacua galloped up, belching and smelling of fish. Wordlessly Kitiara and Lida entered the sledge, and this time Janusz joined them. The dire wolves leaped against the traces, and they left the camp behind.
“An impressive outpost, eh, Captain?” Janusz said at last.
“Adequate,” Kitiara said. “It needs an able commander to whip the troops into shape, but it has potential—in the right hands.” Lida cast her an amazed glance.
The mage threw his head back and laughed. “Ah, Kitiara, you have nerve. I’ll grant you that.”
The ettin ran behind the wolf-drawn sledge. Kitiara saw, in the shadows at the bottom of the sledge, the shard of shale that had been teleported with her from Darken Wood. She had dropped it earlier. Now she edged toward it, covering it with her booted foot.
Snow began to fall, turning quickly to sleet.
The ettin gloried in the feel of the sleet against his nearly bare body. Lida and Kitiara pulled their coats around them against the relentless wind.
“At least he stinks less in this cold,” Kitiara muttered. Lida barely smiled.
They appeared to be climbing. Kitiara soon realized they were ascending another lip of the glacier.
The wind was fiercer here. Lida pulled the hood of her robe tighter around her head. Kitiara caught snatches of the ettin’s humming.
The wolves skimmed over the deepening snow. Lida seemed to lapse into a reverie. Falling asleep, she awakened with a scream when she tumbled backward off the sledge. Kitiara dove off after her and hauled the lady mage to her feet, holding off the wolves with curses. The display amused the ettin and Janusz, but more important, all the commotion distracted them. When Lida was rescued, the piece of sharp slate was safe in the pocket of Kitiara’s parka, and the swordswoman was certain neither foe knew of it. It wasn’t much, but it might come in handy.
The trek continued. Silence overtook them all, unbroken by anything save the wolves’ panting and the squeaking of the snow as it compacted beneath the sledge. The ettin had stopped humming.
Eventually the snow and sleet slacked off, and the grayness gave way to some of the brightest sunshine Kitiara had ever seen. The sun glared painfully off the whiteness, bringing tears to her eyes. The glare didn’t seem to bother the ettin. Kitiara and Lida pulled the hoods of their fur coats forward, narrowing their eyes to slits, and restricted their gaze. It was at that point that Kitiara realized the conveyance had stopped.
“Get out,” Janusz ordered.
“Here?” Kitiara lifted her head. For a moment, she saw nothing but snow. Then her teary eyes adjusted, and she saw a gash of gray-blue before her. She and Lida climbed out of the sledge, stretching to ease their stiffness.
Beyond the shadows, the curve of the glacier was steeper than anything they’d seen so far.
“Castle,” said the ettin.
Kitiara and Lida looked around them and then at each other in wonderment. There was no habitation in sight, and certainly no castle.
“Magic?” Kitiara whispered. “Is it invisible?”
Lida looked around, then shook her head. “I see no sign of magic.”
The ettin pointed to the promontory up ahead.
“Perhaps we’ll be teleported again,” Kitiara suggested. Her thoughts were occupied as she moved forward. Suddenly strong hands slammed into the small of her back. She pitched into the blue grayness. Into the snow shadow.
Into … nothing.
Kitiara heard Lida shout and saw the lady mage drop into the void with her. As Kitiara spun and fell, thrashing, she knew her mistake. She’d been pushed into a snow-filled chasm in the glacier, invisible in the glare of the setting sun. She caught swirling glimpses of sky, of smooth wall, of a distant V at the bottom
, rushing toward her with terrifying speed. Twisting, she saw the Valdane’s mage near her, floating down like a feather. Why would he kill her before he knew where the ice jewels were? It defied logic.
The swordswoman saw the jagged ice at the chasm’s bottom. There was nothing Kitiara could do. The surface had shrunk to a dot of light far overhead. She heard Lida screaming again. Kitiara laced together a string of obscenities. At least the gods would see that Kitiara Uth Matar, unlike the lady mage, would not leave life mewling like a kitten.
The thought of her unborn child broke into her oaths. Kitiara would die without bearing this infant. Not, she assured herself, that she would have chosen to give birth anyway. There were certain mages who could be paid to take care of inconveniences like that.
Still …
She forced her thoughts away.
Would the baby have had her black curls? Caven’s ebony eyes? Or Tanis’s pointed ears and tilted hazel stare? Would it have inherited the half-elf’s irritating, judgmental, always-do-the-right-thing attitude?
Was that another chasm opening below, within the glacial chasm through which she hurtled?
Kitiara would have been braver than her mother had been in the throes of childbirth, she knew.
Believing that death was near, Kitiara comforted herself with the knowledge that she would not have whimpered during the birth pains. She would have astounded the midwife with her bravery. Not, Kit reminded herself again, that she would have had the baby. Or, she amended, if she had given birth, certainly she wouldn’t have kept the baby.
She hadn’t taken precautions against a pregnancy, not ever. The thought had never occurred to her. How could her woman’s body have betrayed her like this?
Then Lida vanished—into a side channel.
Kitiara hurtled after her. As suddenly as if she’d passed from air to some thicker medium, her descent slowed. Below her, Lida floated, now feetfirst, to the bottom of a vertical tunnel. Kitiara landed next to her. She heard Janusz cough, and she whirled to see the mage standing thirty feet above in an opening along one wall. He raised a hand in a lazy parody of a welcome. Kitiara looked away.
