Finally they reached a vertical flank of mountain stone, and Bekki turned rightward to the east, while the frigid blast shrieked down from the heights above, carrying stinging ice and hurtling snow on its furious wings.
"I say," called Tip toward Bekki, but his words were shredded on the squalling wind and carried to shrieking oblivion. I say, wouldn't it be better if we were roped together? But no one could hear him or read his thoughts, and so, unattached, he followed Bekki, and Beau followed him, with Phais coming after and then Loric. To the right loomed shapes-trees?-he did not know. He was just about to try yelling to Bekki again when of a sudden the fury abated, and he came into a cavernous vault, with stone overhanging above and rubble underfoot, and in the dimness he could see Bekki and his pony trudging on ahead, back into recesses of the great hollow.
Tip led his pony on inward and turned to see Beau and his mount coming after, and then Phais drawing her animal behind with a packhorse in tow as well, and finally Loric with two steeds after.
Bekki nodded at the fire. "Before we leave, we shall gather wood to replace that which we burn."
Beau gazed around at the vaulted chamber, a semidome of sorts, sides curving 'round to the back, ceiling arcing down to the back as well, the rubble-strewn floor more or less level. They sat at the rear of the hollow in relative comfort, snow flying and wind howling a hundred feet away at the bowed mouth of the wide cavity.
Beau turned to Bekki. "Oh my, Bekki, how did you ever find this place?"
"It is a Chakka wayfarers' shelter. I have been here before."
Beau looked at the cords of wood stacked against the back of the chamber. "Yes, but with all the snow, I mean, how could you see?"
"I could not, but as I said, I have been here before."
Beau threw up his hands in a gesture of puzzlement.
Bekki glanced at Tip, then said, "Chakka cannot lose their footsteps. Once we have been to a place, the way is always within us. It is a gift from Elwydd."
Beau looked out into the shrieking snow. "Oh my, quite a marvelous gift, I should say." He turned to Tip. "I wonder if we have a gift… Warrows, that is."
Tip sighed and tapped his chest at the point of the coin. "Perseverance, I shouldn't wonder."
Phais shook her head and looked at the Warrows, then said, "Nay, Tipperton, 'tis heart."
They spent that night and all the next day in the cavernous shelter, the wind screaming past It was during Bekki's watch on the second night that the storm began to abate, and by the next morning there was nought of it left but a| few gentle flakes drifting down. The five scoured for dead-wood among the broad stand of trees ranging before the hollow to replace the wood they had used. And then they set out once again to the east, the ponies and horses at times broaching deep drifts, at other times faring across ground scoured clean by the blow.
Slowly the skies cleared, and by midafternoon the comrades rode beneath a glacial sky, the sun remote and chill the air numbingly cold, their breath streaming white, the vapor freezing on crusted scarves wrapped 'round faces and Bekki's beard was clotted with the ice of his exhalations.
Through the slits of his eyewear, Beau looked at Tip, the other buccan with his cloak wrapped 'round. "Lor', Tip but I don't think I'll ever be warm again. I mean, this is even worse than when we were in Drearwood."
"Let's walk awhile, Beau," said Tip, swinging a leg over the saddle forecantle and hopping down. "It'll warm us."
"I'm all for that," replied Beau, dismounting as well. "I mean, I'd walk all the way to Dendor if it'd keep me warm."
"There'll be a warm inn in Dael," said Tip, "with good hot food and something steaming to drink."
"Oh my, hot wine mulled with spices," groaned Beau. "I can taste it now."
Walking behind and leading two animals, Phais said, "A warm bath would serve better."
"Oh yes," agreed Beau. "A hot bath with hot wine to sip even as we soak."
Tip's mind flashed back to their first bath in Arden Vale, its warmth driving away the chill in their bones. And then he blushed, remembering dark-haired, blue-eyed Lady Elissan walking in on him as he stood naked in the bath washing his hair, his eyes closed against the soap running down, and he recalled her words at their last parting: When next thou doth take a bath, keep thine eyes open, else thou mayest once again have thy splendor revealed.
Tipperton laughed, his breath puffing white in the brumal air.
Beau looked at him. "What?"
Tip shook his head. "Oh, nothing."
And on they trudged, now and again coming across the bodies of Foul Folk who had died of wounds sustained in the battle before the gates of Mineholt North, wounds which ultimately proved fatal during the retreat as the Horde had fled. Yet they could not say how many other dead Rupt they had unknowingly passed hidden beneath the snow.
Early on the nineteenth of December the road they followed entered Daelwood, a wide forest in Riamon. Frost covered the stark limbs of the wintering trees, the boughs barren and hard.
"Oh my," said Beau, as they wended through the desolate wood, "but with the branches scraping at the sky, well, it reminds me somewhat of Drearwood."
"Nay, my friend," said Phais. "Dhruousdarda is an evil tangle; Arindarda is not."
Beau frowned. "Arindarda? -Oh, you mean Daelwood."
"Aye."
Tipperton nodded. "I agree. There was an evil air to Drearwood, whereas here there is none." Then he turned to Phais. "I say: Arindarda: doesn't that mean, urn, Ringwood?"
"Aye, it does. Once nearly all of the land within the ring of the Rimmen Mountains was covered with this forest, but men have hewn it down until but a remnant remains."
"Goodness," said Tip, shaking his head as he remembered the rolling plains he had scouted with Vail, "what a loss."
On they fared within the forest, and late in the day they crossed an ice-covered stone bridge above a frozen tributary of the Ironwater River. On the far side, the road swung southeastward, following along the stream.
"We'll camp here at the turn," said Bekki, glancing through bleak limbs at the cheerless sun.
"How much farther to Dael?" asked Beau, dismounting.
"Ten leagues and one mile minus some paces will bring us to the city walls," replied Bekki, loosening the cinch strap on his shag-haired pony.
"Barn rats," groaned Beau. "I was hoping we'd get to an inn tomorrow, but it looks more like two days, eh?"
Bekki turned and shook his head. "Not quite. Even with this snow and ice, a day and a half should see us there."
Beau hauled the saddle from his pony. "A day and a half, Tip, and then it's hot mulled wine and a bath for me."
Late the next day they came across a frozen man. With his cloak wrapped 'round and his back to a tree, he sal next to the road. Snow covered his feet and legs, and a white frost clung to him from the waist up. His icy face was chalky, and his eyes were frozen shut.
"Is it one of the Horde?" asked Tip.
Bekki shook his head. "Nay, I think not. By his garb it looks more to be a Daelsman. Caught in the storm, 1 deem."
"Aye," said Phais. "Though late in the storm, I would think. There is little snow clinging unto him."
"It could have been blown away," said Tip.
Loric cocked an eyebrow. "Mayhap, though I ween the words of Dara Phais more like to be true."
Beau finished his examination and turned to the others. "Well, he's frozen through and through; there's nothing we can do for him now." He looked at Bekki. "Maybe a pyre, for we won't be able to bury him in this rock-hard winter ground."
Bekki shook his head. "Instead we'll report him to the town militia. They will come with a wagon and bear him back to Dael. His kith need to identify him and mourn him properly."
"What about Wolves or such," asked Tip, "won't they be likely to, um-?"