Four more days they fared down within the folds of the harsh grey land, struggling through the deep snow, the horses taking turns breasting the drifts and breaking trail for all others. And for those same four days they gradually drew closer to the dark spire, though to Arin it seemed as if they made little or no progress at all.
The following day, onward they struggled, and nigh the noontide, as Arin eyed the great black mountain towering upward in the near distance, "Huah!" exclaimed Melor, his voice echoing and slapping along the high, bleak stone. Moving afoot to a patch where snow lay in but a thin scattering, he squatted and brushed the white aside, revealing a pavestone. "This is a tradeway."
"Tradeway?" asked Rissa. She stepped to Melor and knelt beside him and helped brush even more snow away, exposing additional pavestones covering the canyon floor.
She turned to Silverleaf. "Vanidar, he's right-it is a roadway."
Perin turned to his twin. "Perhaps this leads unto the very Wizardholt itself."
"Most likely," replied Biren. "They would need to bring in supplies: food and clothing and other such, including Wizardly things."
Perin's eyes widened. "Wizardly things?"
Biren shrugged, and as he did so he heard the chrk! of a ptarmigan, then the hammer of wings, and looked up to see the bird in white winter plumage flying away to the north.
All the rest of that day, the band pressed northeasterly, drawing nearer and nearer to the great black slopes. And the deeper they fared into the mountains, the more certain they became that they were upon the correct path, for frequently could they see signs that this indeed was a road. Pavestones running in unbroken stretches for up to a furlong ere they disappeared again under the drifts of snow; a hundred yards of stone curbing revealed along one stretch upon the right; a bridge over a frozen stream; stone slopes carved away to provide passage alongside sheer rises: by these indications and more did they see that this was a well-traveled route, a path of commerce.
Now the land began to rise, and they rode and walked up and over ascensions and down again into the folds of the earth, slowly gaining elevation. And as they topped each crest they could see far and wide, peaks rising up beyond peaks, to the limit of the eye's seeing. But always the dominant view was of the great black mountain in the foreground reaching upward toward the sky.
And now the stone about them began to darken, and the deeper they rode, the deeper the shading became. "It is the dark of the Wizards' mountain," noted Vanidar Silverleaf, "reaching outward to touch even this."
The meager sun passed low across the sky and fell beyond the distant mountains and night came upon the land. And once again the band made a fireless camp, settling against the cold, dark stone while remote stars wheeled overhead throughout the icy nighttide, and just ere dawn the thin pale crescent of the waning moon preceded the sun into the sky.
They rode all that day and the one following, drawing unto the very flanks of Black Mountain. And each day near the noontide they saw a ptarmigan winging north.
"Wizards' eyes?" asked Perin.
"Mayhap," replied Biren. "Just as I suspect the white falcon was the eyes of Dalavar Wolfmage."
Perin nodded, and together they watched as the snow-white bird flew toward the black stone ahead.
Just after setting out the next morn they arrived at road's end. And before them recessed and embedded in the jet black stone stood two massive, shadow-wrapped, frost-rimed iron gates.
They had come to the Wizardholt at last.
CHAPTER 20
Alos shivered and gulped down his glass of wine. He turned his face toward Arin. "This talk of Wizards and of Foul Folk, I don't like it."
"Hast thou aught against Magekind? Against the Rupt?”
Again Alos trembled. He opened his mouth as if to say something, his one good eye, watery and pale, staring at the Dylvana.
Arin leaned forward. "Alos?"
He looked at her, pain on his face, as if struggling to release even a single word… and in that moment there came a tap at the door.
The old man glanced at the entryway and slumped back in his chair and let out a long breath, then smiled his gap-toothed brown-stained grin and said, "Let's have some more wine, eh?"
As Aiko stood and stepped to the door, the Dylvana sighed and replenished Alos's glass, then looked to Egil, but he seemed lost in his own thoughts-or in his memories-a bleak look on his face. "Egil?"
He glanced up at her.
"More wine?"
Frowning, he shook his head, No, and then his gaze dropped as his thoughts turned once again inward.
Again came the tapping on the door just as Aiko opened it. "Oh my!" exclaimed the serving girl, catching her breath at the sight of the yellow warrior, crockery rattling on the tray. "I've come wi' th' noon meal, m'Lady." The girl edged past Aiko and then moved hastily to the sideboard and began laying out the food.
As Aiko resumed her seat on the floor, Egil shook his head as if to cast away ill memories, and he took a deep breath and seemed to come to himself. Then he turned to Arin and smiled. "I would hear more of this tale of yours for I am curious as to what brought you to Morkfjord. But first I would see"-he canted his head toward the bathing room and privy-"if I can make it in there and back on my own. And then let's eat; I'm famished."
The noon meal done, Egil leaned back against propped pillows and said, "Now tell us more of your story, Lady Engel, for-"
Aiko growled and started to stand, but Arin held out a staying hand toward the warrior woman, and the Ryodoan settled back, a dour look on her face.
Egil laughed, then sobered. "I'm sorry. I gave my word. And I have broken it twice in this day alone. It's just that… just that"-he took a deep breath and then plunged on-"you are my engel, Lady Arin."
Of a sudden Arin felt her heart racing, and she turned her face from him and stared into the hearth as if seeking a portent, though no fire burned this warm day.
Egil, seeing that he had disturbed her, started to hold out a hand in supplication, but instead dropped it to the coverlet. He cleared his throat and said, "Well now, the meal is finished. Pour me an ale, Alos, and pour one for yourself. And then, Lady Arin, if it pleases you, I would hear more of your tale. Why did you come to Morkfjord? Too, where are your Elven companions? -Nothing ill has befallen them, has it?"
Arin turned away from the hearth and glanced at Aiko.
Egil's gaze followed her glance, but Aiko's face revealed nought. He looked back to Arin and added, "Tell us, too, of your visit with Wizards and of their sorcerous ways."
With a clang! Alos dropped the pewter pitcher a few inches to the table, but it landed upright on its bottom, and although ale sloshed, none spilled out. Shakily the old man handed Egil a full mug and took up his own and gulped full half of it down.
CHAPTER 21
As Arin looked into the deep shadow veiling the massive gates, a thought came upon her unbidden: Tonight is the full dark of the moon. Is it an ill omen touching our arrival this day?
"The ironwork-it looks to be Drimmen made," declared Perin, staring at the massive portals recessed deeply in solid black rock.
"Aye," agreed Biren, "as does the stonework. Is this a Mageholt or no?"