“We’ve got to get out of here!” Gilthanas shouted above the wind as he picked up his cloak and wrapped it around himself. He hefted the lance over his shoulder. “That fire can be seen for miles!”
“The White,” Ulin breathed, realizing he might have made a terrible mistake.
“Frost might notice it” Gilthanas replied, as he started from the clearing. “And if he sees us—unless I’m very, very lucky with this lance—we’re dead.”
All that was left of the large pine was a black silhouette that creaked in the wind. The fire had left almost as quickly as it had come, and Groller carefully edged away from the tree. Fury, his muzzle red with blood, followed. The trio stared at the wolf. The wound from the spear had healed in the passing of a few minutes.
“No time to wonder about that now!” Gilthanas shouted, pointing at the wolf. “Let’s move!”
Groller and Fury took the lead, cutting toward the edge of a canyon. It stretched like a deep scar across the land, the moonlight hitting the edges of it and filtering down to the snow-covered floor far below.
They descended the terrain for hours, and dawn found them at the bottom of the canyon. They rested there, sleeping in shifts to keep watch for more of the creatures and ice bears.
They’d found tracks of the latter just before they started down the ridge, and at the bottom they had found nine additional sets of boot tracks.
Then they spent days wending their way through the canyon, which had the advantage of offering considerable protection from the wind. They could hear each other without shouting, and Gilthanas passed the time asking Ulin questions about his magical training. They diligently tried to follow the boot tracks, jumped at every unusual sound, and contemplated what was so extraordinary about Fury that had made him heal so easily.
A three-day blizzard slowed their progress to a crawl, completely covered the boot tracks they’d been following, and had them wondering if they would die before reaching their destination. But finally the blizzard broke, and the sun made a rare appearance.
“Three weeks. At least I think it’s been that long,” Ulin said as they neared the end of the canyon.
“Closer to four,” Gilthanas returned.
“It seems like we’ve been here forever.” The mouth of the canyon widened, opening onto a vast plain of ice. “You said a month right?”
“My best guess,” the elf replied. “Decades ago, when this was all scrub, it would’ve taken me two or three weeks to traverse this ground. So I guessed a month given all the snow.”
“I think you were being optimistic,” Ulin said. “I wonder if my father has found the scepter yet. He’ll probably be safe and sound with Goldmoon at the Citadel of Light long before we ever locate the tomb “
“And warm,” Gilthanas added.
“I can’t remember what warm is like.”
“Don’t worry. It’s not much farther. A few more days from my recollection” the elf replied. “It’s just past the plains.” He shook his hands. His fingers were numb beneath his gloves, and he could barely feel his frozen toes. He and Ulin had taken turns complaining about the cold for the first week or so of the journey. Now the Qualinesti kept all the complaints to himself. He glanced down at the ground, and sucked in his breath. Just ahead, there were traces of crimson in the snow. Frozen, it was impossible to tell how fresh the blood was.
“Ize bear!” Groller hollered. The half-ogre spun and hurled the spear he’d appropriated from one of the walrus creatures. A large ice bear, easily a dozen feet tall, was poised to strike a little more than a dozen feet from them. Nothing but white fur against all that snow and ice, it had been difficult to see. Only its black eyes and nose had given the half-ogre an inkling. The spear sank into the bear’s stomach, but the bear didn’t move, and it didn’t growl. It remained frozen and unblinking, with the spear protruding from it.
The wolf’s hair stood in a ridge along his arched back. Fury hunkered low in the snow, his nostrils quivering and his tail straight out
Groller stood puzzled as Ulin shuffled toward him. The younger Majere wished he would have paid more attention when the half-ogre was teaching the Kagonesti and the dwarf some of the hand signals he employed for words. Ulin tugged on the half-ogre’s furry sleeve, then balled his gloved hands and vigorously shook them in front of his chest. It was the gesture for cold, frozen. Ulin pointed to the bear and repeated the gesture, trying to explain to Groller that somehow the bear had died frozen in that position. But the half-ogre shook his head.
“Dno,” he said to Ulin. “Ooo-lin wrong ‘bout bear.” Groller sniffed the air and plodded toward the bear, pulling loose his spear and gazing beyond the unfortunate creature. Ulin and Gilthanas followed him, but Fury held his position, refusing to go any closer and growling all the louder.
“In the name of Paladine,” Ulin whispered.
Groller brushed away some of the snow along the wall behind the frozen bear, revealing a thin sheet of ice that cracked quickly after the half-ogre pounded on it several times. Also revealed was the entrance to a massive cave. Inside were more frozen bears and dozens of seals. A whale, looking like it somehow had beached itself upon the cave floor far from the sea, was also there.
“Here, over here.”
At first Ulin thought it was the wind whispering, but the sound repeated itself, with a little more volume this time. Glancing deeper into the massive chamber, Ulin spied nine figures—eight of them wearing the mailed armor of the Knights of Takhisis beneath their furry cloaks. The ninth, a young woman, was clad in the silver-plated armor of a Solamnic Knight of the Crown. Frost covered her exposed face and hands, but her eyes blinked.
“Here!” one of the Knights of Takhisis called.
Ulin and Groller rushed forward. Gilthanas stood at the cave entrance, swallowing hard. “Gellidus’s larder,” he whispered. “Ulin” the elf said a little louder, “If we’re going to try to free anyone alive, we’ve got to do it quickly. We can’t afford to stay here. Who knows when the dragon will get hungry and come back here looking for something to snack on?”
Ulin and Groller chipped frantically away at the ice. Only two of the eight Knights of Takhisis lived—and the young Solamnic, though just barely. The other Knights of Takhisis had been smothered by ice that covered their entire forms. Practically all of the other creatures in the larder were covered with ice, too, and in some cases the coating was an inch or more thick.
“The White,” the first Knight of Takhisis to be freed said. He wobbled, unable to stand on his frozen legs. “He came upon us in the valley. I thought he meant to kill us all there.”
“But he wanted to save you for later,” Ulin surmised. The younger Majere helped the Solamnic Knight, while Gilthanas and Groller each supported one of the Knights of Takhisis as they hurried from the cave.
It wasn’t until they were well away from the valley that they stopped and interrogated the knights.
“Fiona Quinti,” the Solamnic introduced herself. She took off her helmet and a shock of curly red hair cascaded out. “I’m new to the order at Castle Eastwatch on the westward side of Southern Ergoth.”
“You were headed to Huma’s Tomb,” Gilthanas said in a hushed voice. “What did you want there? And what were you doing in the company of Knights of Takhisis?”
“I was with four others, hunting for deer, when the Dark Queen’s men came upon us. They slew my companions, kept me alive.” She cast a sullen look at the Knights of Takhisis.