Howl and Roz joined us as we silently gazed up at the towering mountain of ice that stood before us. The White Forest marked the end of the tree line. Above here existed ice and snow and, for the brief summer, scattered fields of wildflowers and scrub brush that were as fleeting as a distant dream. The path, still compact snow, led ever upward, skirting the plains of ice, winding through the windswept trees that lay nearly sideways from the constant storms that buffeted the mountain peaks.
Camille gazed at the panorama of jagged peaks and frozen sheets of ice. “Where’s your temple?” she whispered, as if afraid of setting off an avalanche.
“See the bend that winds to the left, near the stand of scrub there?” I pointed to a small thicket of scrub brush in the distance. “When you turn left, you pass behind a tall ridge and then curve back to the right. You can’t see from here, but there’s a fork in the road at that point. The path leads higher, the fork takes you on to the Order of Undutar. I haven’t been this close to the temple in . . . six hundred years.”
And then it hit me that I was on the way home—but to a home that had cast me out, that had branded me pariah. I’d spent so many centuries writing them out of my life, hiding behind half-truths and truths unknown. And now I had returned, to discover once and for all what the truth of my life was.
Would I like the answer when I found it? I didn’t know, but whatever happened, I would know, forever, if I was a murderer.
FIVE
“WE’RE CLOSE TO SUNSET AND THE NIGHT winds will be howling down the mountain any moment. We have to reach my Pack.” Howl motioned off the trail toward one of the nearest skirts of ice that stretched down from the glacial peak.
Most people didn’t understand that glaciers weren’t the mountains themselves but rather the ice that covered the mountain in large patches and sheets. Some glaciers melted during the summer—there were areas here that did, but unlike back in the Cascades near Seattle, the Northlands were not subject to global warming. During summers here, the temperature occasionally reached sixty degrees, but days like that were seldom and far between.
Bits of dried grass occasionally poked through the snow that blanketed the mountain. What rock we could see was dark and granite-hard, peeking out through the windswept snowbanks. We were reaching the highlands here, where the glaciers took hold and the alpine regions started in earnest.
The ice would be problematic in places, though most of it was rough and chunky. Not easy to navigate but easier than the smooth, hardened shell that streamed in long fingers down the mountain. The Skirts of Hel would be grueling to cross, even with our gear.
I thought over what we’d brought, but our mountaineering gear was limited. I’d assumed I’d be keeping on trail. I’d forgotten what harsh territory the craggy peaks around the temple really were.
Roz knelt beside me. “Take heart. I know what you’re thinking,” he said, staring at the expanse of ice before us. “We’ll find a way across.” He stood, turning to address Howl. “Where are we headed?”
“See that dark mouth against the rock, under the overcropping ledge up there?” Howl pointed to a barely visible splotch against the mountainside. If we could just hoof it without worry, we’d be there in ten minutes. But with the landscape reminiscent of a frozen lava field, it wasn’t going to be so easy.
“I can see where it is. I can take Iris and Camille through the Ionyc Sea and meet you there.” Smoky shrugged. “Easy enough.”
“Sounds good to me,” Camille said. “I don’t fancy trying to work my way over that ice, and night is coming.”
Howl gave him a nod. “That would be best. But let me go on ahead. My people would not welcome you kindly without my presence. Rozurial, how will you fare?”
“I can travel through the Ionyc Sea, too. It’s easy with a visual marker.”
And so it was settled.
Howl leapt forward and, in midair, became a huge white wolf, transforming in the blink of an eye. He stood shoulder high to Smoky, gigantic and fierce with red eyes and a swishing tail. He gave us a long look, then turned and bounded across the ice as if it were nothing. Within minutes, he was standing at the edge of the cave, waving to us.
Smoky wrapped his arms around Camille and me, and we flashed out of the snow, into the Ionyc Sea. The shift was abrupt, and if I had not experienced it before I might have been terribly frightened. It was like we were in a bubble, and the outer world had turned to smoke and fog around us. Before I could adjust my thoughts, though, we were standing near Howl, so quickly that Camille and I were both left breathless.
Howl nodded as Rozurial appeared beside us. “Handy travel, it is. Come, follow me and do or say nothing until I have introduced you. You are in my home now, and you will show respect for my people and my ways. They are leery of dragon folk,” he added, looking at Smoky. “Dragons have been known to carry my wolves away and eat them.”
“Wolves eat cattle, too, and sometimes people,” Smoky said. “It is the way of the world.”
“Aye, it is the way of the world, but here we will all eat venison stew.” Howl smiled, then, ducking his head, led us into his world.
AS WE FOLLOWED him into the cavern, a strange glow took hold of the walls—faint like blue topaz, sparkling with a cold magical fire. The cavern extended far back into the mountain, with a high ceiling, and glistening stalagmites and stalactites shimmered their way to meet in the center, forming walls and chambers.
A rimstone pool sat in the center, but instead of being filled with hardened calcite, the water was clear and fresh, and warm—I could see the steam bubbling from it. Howl must have a way to heat it from below the floor.
Eye catchers floated lazily throughout the chamber, and everywhere we looked, wolves of all sorts sat, resting, watching us. Several men sat among them, strong and bare-chested, with six-pack abs, long, flowing black hair, and eyes that glowed topaz like Morio’s—who was a youkai-kitsune. I looked for women but saw none. But scent on the wind told me they were here—females of the Pack. I had the feeling they were remaining in wolf form, protected from the sight of outsiders.
“This is your court,” I said, suddenly understanding.
“You are observant, Lady Iris.” Howl motioned to the men and they crossed their arms across their chests and knelt as the Great Winter Wolf Spirit passed by them. We followed in his wake, first me, then Smoky, then Camille and Roz behind her.
Howl stopped by a stone worn smooth into a throne. He slid off the heavy fur and, bare-chested but with a wolf pelt around his neck, took his place on the dais. With the headdress and pelts off, he reminded me a little of the Autumn Lord. His hair was jet-black streaked with silver, now that I could see it, and his eyes were the color of chocolate, dripping with gold flecks.
He was vivid in that unearthly way the Elemental Lords had, and as I gazed at him, surrounded by his people, I slowly dropped to the floor, kneeling. Beside me, Camille and Rozurial had done the same. Smoky stood tall but inclined his head.
Howl rose, then looked around at his people who gathered to watch—in both wolf and human form. He held up the staff that had been lying by his throne, with a handle made of wood, inlaid with bone.
“Listen well. These four are under my protection. Lord Iampaatar, Rozurial the incubus, Lady Camille, and Lady Iris walk under my cloak. Let no one who honors me lift paw or hand against them.”
There was a collective shuffle, as if the Pack wasn’t sure what to think, but then—as one body—the men standing by him went down on their knees, heads thrown back, exposing their throats. The wolves in the hall rolled over, all of them, onto their backs, again exposing their bellies and throats.