Book 2: Chapter Nineteen

“No, not that way,” Gregor said as Sarette prepared to follow the villagers’ tracks between two tall boulders. While it had been snowing steadily for the past day, the trail the refugees had broken into the snow was deep enough that it hadn’t filled in yet.

The two of them were at the head of the column, with Gregor pulling one of the sleds. Between Nedley and the scout, all of the sled haulers had been able to take breaks, which was necessary with how difficult the path had become.

“Why not?” she asked.

“There’s a creek curving through there. I suspect they took that route because it’s flat, but then they realized they were walking on ice, so you can see where they went back up the next rise. We’ll just go around and meet up with the trail there.”

Sarette nodded. The villagers hadn’t broken through the ice, but it wasn’t worth the risk, especially with the weight of the sleds.

The refugees had gotten at least a day’s head start. Nedley couldn’t remember how much time had passed—and started crying anytime someone asked him about it—but given the trail and the condition of the bodies, Gregor suspected that the attack on the village had happened the morning of the ambush.

“Where do you suppose they’re going?” Sarette asked.

“That depends on whether they think they’re being followed, but at least they’re plainsmen, not southerners. They know how to live in the cold. We’re the ones bringing along the southerners.” The last was said quietly, even though they were speaking the stormborn language.

“They’ve been doing fine so far.”

“Yes, but you heard them talking,” Gregor said. “The warden is the reason why Jol’s Brook was attacked. We shouldn’t be bringing them back into the mountains. What if it happens again?”

“Then we’ll deal with it, or the High Guard will. You saw how those red-eyed men fought. They had no organization or tactics. They outnumbered us three to one, but even with their ambush, there was no way they could have won the battle. Even one of our ranching villages could have handled them. I was the only one who messed up, but I’ll do better next time.”

“You’re talking like you’re one of them,” the scout said, facing her and staring at her sigil again.

“I guess I am.”

“You have an obligation to the High Guard,” he said.

“My first obligation is to the stormrunners. Besides, the High Guard will be glad to see me go. I never fit in there, and they only tolerated me because they had to.”

“I doubt that’s true—you’ve done a good job on this trip. Besides, why would you want to leave the mountains?”

“To see what’s out there,” she said, still not sure that she actually did want to leave the mountains, despite what she’d said to Corec. But she’d committed to it, and intended to follow through. “It’s not like I’m the first person to ever go, and I’ll be back.”

Gregor stopped abruptly. “That looks like smoke ahead.”

“I think I hear something, too,” Sarette said, stopping to listen. “Are those axes?”

“It sounds like it. It must be the people from Jol’s Brook.”

“They don’t have guards posted.”

“They’re not soldiers.”

Sarette frowned at that. After what had happened, even civilians should know enough to keep a watch.

The others joined them, so Sarette switched back to the trade tongue to give them an update.

Corec nodded and said, “Nedley, get that armor off. Let’s not scare them—hopefully no one will recognize you. We’ll need to find you something else to wear.” They’d only let the boy keep the brigandine coat because it had enough padding to keep him warm.

“Yes, sir,” Nedley said, his voice squeaking as he scrambled to get out of the oversized armor. He wasn’t wearing his helmet. Neither were Corec or Boktar—the helmets didn’t have enough padding to block the cold of the metal.

“One of my robes would fit over his clothing,” Bobo offered. “And I think we’ve got a spare cloak somewhere. A woman’s cloak, but who’ll notice that way out here?”

When Nedley was dressed again, they approached the column of smoke visible on the horizon. Not sure what sort of welcome they’d receive, they left the sleds behind, and Corec and Boktar took the lead. On the leeward side of the next hill, they found a large camp built around an area that had been mostly cleared of snow, with a bonfire in the center and four smaller cooking fires spaced around it. There were two tents set up at the periphery of the cleared area, and several temporary structures had been built by hollowing out openings in the three-foot-deep snow that surrounded the clearing. Pine branches had been layered over the tops of the openings to form roofs.

There were blankets and bedrolls spread out near the big fire, and some of the villagers were sleeping there. Others sat nearby, staring off into nothingness. The rest of the camp was busy. Women were working at the fires or watching over the younger children, while the older children were building more of the snow structures. Half of the men were chopping up deadfall as firewood, and the rest were trimming branches from newly cut trees, then using those to construct a short wall of logs at one edge of the clearing.

As the group approached, the people all stopped what they were doing and stared silently, worried looks on their faces. The men who’d been working on the log wall approached, and some of the others crowded behind them.

Corec came to a halt. “Are you the folks from Jol’s Brook?” he asked.

“Why do you want to know?” asked the man who’d stepped to the front. He was huge, with a bushy beard and wild red hair streaked with gray. He carried a felling axe in one hand, resting it against his shoulder.

“We just came from there. We saw what happened.”

The man nodded. “I’m Fergus, the headman. It was an army of demonborn with red eyes. They came in before dawn, and killed half the town before anyone knew what was going on. Then they rounded up the rest of us from our homes and forced us to leave. You’re lucky you didn’t run into them.”

“We did,” Corec said, projecting his voice so all of the refugees could hear. “We killed them. It should be safe to return.”

That announcement caused a murmuring throughout the crowd. Fergus stared silently for a moment, eyeing Corec’s and Boktar’s weapons and well-used armor as he evaluated the words.

“You really killed them?” he asked.

“We got most of them, and drove away the last few.”

“What if they come back?” a man in back shouted.

“I can’t make any promises, but I don’t think they will.”

“Did they hit the farms?” someone else yelled from the crowd. “My sister and her husband homestead a mile outside the village!”

Others started calling out questions. While Sarette waited for things to calm down, she checked her weather sense once again. It had been two days since Corec had cast the warden binding spell, as he called it, and her senses seemed sharper and more detailed each time she looked. What she saw this time disturbed her, but there was too much commotion to interrupt.

Corec held his hand up for quiet. “We didn’t stop to check any of the farms. I suspect they’re safe, but you’ll have to look in on them yourselves.”

“Please, do you have any food?” pleaded a blonde woman who’d come to stand next to Fergus.

He rested an arm on her shoulder. “My wife, Winna. They didn’t give us time to take much. A few of us were going to try to sneak back and see what we could find. But you say they’re gone now?”

“They are, but there’s not much left in the village. Only four buildings are still standing. I didn’t see much in the way of foodstores.”

“We have food,” Ellerie announced, then glanced at Corec, who nodded. “Plenty of it.”

Looks of relief flashed across the people’s faces.

“We can pay,” Fergus said. “A bit, anyway. The demons didn’t take our coin.”

“Don’t worry about paying,” Corec said. “We’ll share what we’ve got.”

Fergus looked back at the log wall they’d started building. “If the village is safe, we should go. We can get a good start today. You’ll let us have enough food to get home? I haven’t been able to hunt without my bow.”

Corec faced Ellerie and tilted his head to the west. She nodded.

He said, “We’ll go back with you, to make sure you get there safely. We can help you take a run up to Elmsford to lay in supplies, if you’d like.”

“Thank you.”

Sarette couldn’t remain silent anymore. “You can’t go back!” she exclaimed. Everyone stared at her in surprise.

“Pardon?” Fergus asked, then his eyes widened as he realized she was stormborn. “M’lady?”

“There’ll be a blizzard bringing in a cold snap early tomorrow morning,” she said. “If you’re out on the trail without shelter, you’ll never make it back.”

The headman exchanged a worried glance with his wife.

“Are you sure?” Corec and Gregor both asked at the same time.

“Yes. I can feel it coming in.”

Gregor looked up at the sky, pursing his lips. “There won’t be time to finish whatever you’re building there,” he said, pointing to the short wall of logs.

“It’s a windbreak for the fire, m’lord,” Fergus said, “and maybe the start of a defensive wall in case they came after us. But if the storm’s coming in tomorrow, we’ll need to build snow shelters instead.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Gregor nodded. “A lot of them.” He turned to Sarette. “How long will the cold snap last?”

“At least two days, I think. That’s all I can see. The blizzard will come and go.”

“If it’s coming in the morning, we need to get started now.”

Gregor and Fergus started discussing locations for snow caves, waving some of the other villagers over to join them.

Corec furrowed his brow, watching the commotion. “What’s happening?” he asked Sarette.

“We need shelters for everyone before tomorrow morning. Real shelters, not tents. They’re getting ready to build snow caves.”

“It’s that bad? How did you convince them so quickly?”

“Gregor knows I trained as a stormrunner. I don’t know why Fergus listened, but he’s a northerner. His people know what a blizzard’s like. They won’t waste any time getting ready.”

“You look worried. What is a blizzard like here? Back home in the Black Crow Mountains, they weren’t a problem.”

“The snow will be heavy and the wind’ll blow hard enough to keep it in the air, so you won’t be able to see more than ten feet in front of you, maybe less, and there’s no way to tell what direction you’re going. The cold snap will be worse than the blizzard—a human caught without shelter will freeze to death, even dressed warmly. Even one of my people might die if it’s too cold or lasts too long.”

“The mountains and the trees don’t block the worst of it?”

“Maybe in other places, but we’re in the Heights. This is where storms begin. It’s why we don’t let travelers into the mountains in the winter.”

Corec sighed. “I knew we should have waited until summer.”

Sarette’s eyes widened in surprise as she realized what she’d said. “Oh! I didn’t mean you! You’re a warden.”

He chuckled. “That doesn’t really mean anything. I know your people think highly of the wardens, but the ones I’ve met don’t go around doing good deeds and helping people. Not for free, at least.”

“But you’re helping these people!”

“Because they need help, not because I’m a warden. You’re helping them too.”

“Oh.” Sarette wasn’t sure what to say. Corec had never really acted how she’d expected a warden to act, but this was the first time he’d spoken to her about it.

“All I’m saying is that wardens are regular people,” he said. “They’re not anything special.”

“You helped me.”

“Maybe I did, but it’s too soon to tell. Like I said before, we don’t know how the binding spell will affect you.”

“No, you did help. I’ve never been able to read this much about a storm before. If I didn’t know how bad it was going to get, we’d be in trouble.”

He nodded. “I guess it’s good we did it, then. It sounds like we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

While the two of them had been speaking, Fergus had assigned tasks to the village men who’d gathered.

After the group dispersed, Boktar said, “The red-eyes didn’t let you take your bow, but they let you take axes?”

“No, the tools were already here,” the headman said. “We keep ‘em in a shack around the bend. And some tents, some pots and pans. We’re woodcutters, some of us. We’ve been coming into the mountains for years now. Not enough trees left in the foothills.” He ducked his head in Gregor’s direction, then Sarette’s. “Sorry, m’lord, m’lady.”

“You haven’t broken any laws yet, as far as I know,” Gregor said, “but you have to be careful about how much you take.”

“As you say, m’lord.” Fergus’s voice had taken on a strangely formal tone that didn’t sound natural coming from him.

“How many people are here?” the scout asked.

“Fifty-two of us made it out—they spared the east half of the village.”

“If we’re going to be snowed in for a few days, and then help get your people back home after that, we’ll be using up our rations quickly. I should go hunting—it sounds like today will be our last chance for a while.”

“I’ll go with you,” Shavala offered. She’d been standing nearby with the rest of the group, who all seemed uncertain about what to do.

“I’ll teach the rest of you how to help build shelters,” Sarette said. “We’ll need everyone.”

#

“It’s not as heavy here,” Shavala said to Gregor as they came to a stop. The sparse woods ahead of them were only dusted with snow. The largest drifts were less than a foot high, and some of the ground was completely bare.

“Yes, this looks like a good spot,” he replied. “The nearest mountains are northeast and southwest, so they’re blocking the storms rather than funneling them through. There may be deer, or even elk if we get lucky. The animals that stay in the mountains through the winter look for spots like this where it’s easier for them to find food.”

“Should we tell the others? Would it be better to move the camp here?”

“It’s just as cold here as back there, and there’s less snow to build with. Let’s keep this spot for hunting, so we don’t scare off all the game.”

Shavala nodded.

“I haven’t been here before,” he said, “so I don’t know if there are any good hunting grounds. I’ll head east. You should look around here first, so if you catch something, it’s nearby. If you manage to get an elk, remember that they’re heavy. It’ll have to be in a spot we can get the sled to, so we can haul it back out.”

Shavala had been hunting for longer than Gregor had been alive, and she knew very well she’d need help to haul a deer, much less an elk, but he was just doing his job, so she smiled and nodded without saying anything.

He continued, “It’ll be dark in three hours, and it took us an hour to get here. That doesn’t leave us much time. I’d rather have a full day for it, but we can’t come out here after the blizzard starts.”

“I can hunt in the dark,” Shavala said.

Gregor stared at her for a moment. “You can?”

She nodded.

“Well, we have the torches and lantern to light our way back. I wouldn’t mind making the return trip after dark if you want to stay out later. Our rations aren’t going to last long with fifty extra people, and if Sarette’s right about the blizzard, it’ll be a few days until we can get them back to Jol’s Brook. We should take any chance we get.”

“I’ll be back here by midnight if I don’t find any game sooner,” Shavala said. It would be a long night, but would give them time to return to camp before the storm worsened.

Gregor nodded. “I’ll be here as soon as night falls. If you get back early and the sled’s gone, then I’m out hauling back whatever I got.”

He stalked off then, through the woods to the east, carrying his crossbow.

Shavala decided to take his suggestion and stay nearby, in a thicker part of the woods, to see if anything crossed her path. If Gregor was right about the animals coming here to feed, waiting might be more productive than searching. While she waited, she found a batch of ironwood trees with dried-out, flowery catkins hanging down from the branches. Each of the pods held fifteen or twenty small seeds in papery husks. The catkins that had fallen to the ground had already rotted or been emptied by squirrels, but the ones still on the trees looked fine. Shavala filled two of her foraging bags, stuffing them as tightly as she could. Someone back at the camp could take the time to peel apart the husks and harvest the seeds. It wasn’t a lot, given how many people there were to feed, but every bit counted.

She left the bags on the sled, and decided to roam out farther. Since Gregor had gone east, she went west, using both her sight and her elder senses to search for any sign of movement.

She soon found a game trail leading through a copse of birch trees covered with white bark, a variety she’d never seen before. There were tracks on the trail, much larger than any deer could have made. She followed them. Beyond the birch trees, as the ground began to slope upward once more, was a mix of larch and fir. The tracks followed the rise, but the snow cover grew heavier, obscuring the trail.

Then, in a clearing ahead of her, she felt a familiar presence before she saw it.

“It’s you again,” she said to the wolf. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised anymore. I’d wonder if you were following me, but you always seem to get wherever we’re going before I do.”

He cocked his head to the side, staring at her curiously. It had only been a few weeks since she’d seen him last, but he’d filled out more, looking like a healthy adult.

“You’re quieter than usual,” she said. “What are you doing here?”

He bounded over to a structure of tumbled stone, whining as he pawed at the snow surrounding it.

“Did you lose something?”

Stepping closer, she realized the mass was an old shrine, even older than the Raven shrine she’d found with Bobo. The wolf was clearing away the snow from its base. Shavala swiped her arm across the offering table, brushing it clean with her coat sleeve. The headpiece column had fallen over on its side, but if there had ever been a carving on it to indicate which god it belonged to, it had broken off or been worn away.

“What are we looking for?” she asked the wolf.

He laid his front paws on the offering table and barked, looking at her.

“There was nothing there,” she told him. “It was just snow, and dead leaves, and dirt.”

He barked again.

Shavala sighed, wishing that the druid’s gift of speaking to animals also worked in reverse. She could only interpret his body language and sounds, and he wasn’t acting like any wolf she’d ever met before. Even for him, this was odd behavior.

Then she had an idea. “You want me to put something on there?” she asked.

He yipped, and pranced around in the snow.

Shavala set her bow down and pulled her belt pouch out from one of the inner pockets of her coat.

Bobo had said that each of the old gods liked different offerings, but she didn’t know which of them this shrine belonged to. She still had some of her shiny, smooth stones, but that was what she’d offered the last time, and she thought the old gods might prefer some variety. She’d given her squirrel carving away to Lorvalla, the dorvasta leatherworker in Tyrsall. Then she remembered that she still had the hawk feather she’d found when she first left the forest. It was carefully wrapped, resting inside another of her pockets.

Unwrapping the feather, she laid it on the center of the offering table, then added one of her shiny rocks to hold it down in case of wind.

“There,” she said to the wolf. “Are you happy now?”

He barked again and wagged his tail.

“Now that I’ve done something for you, will you do something for me? This time, I need your help to hunt. You can smell what I can’t see.”

#

Katrin tossed her coat to the side, too hot from exertion to continue wearing it. She shoveled the last of the snow off the sled, packing it on top of a large mound. Each mound had to be at least five feet high. Some of them had enough snow surrounding them that the builders could just shovel it up on top, but there weren’t enough good spots like that, and Sarette and Fergus didn’t want to build the snow caves too far away from the main fire, worried that people wouldn’t be able to find their way during the blizzard.

Despite the effort involved, Katrin had one of the easier jobs. All around her, people were working as quickly as they could to build up the mounds and construct the snow caves. Women were busy at the cooking fires, making major inroads on the supplies the group had brought with them, while Fergus and three of his men had returned to building their log wall higher to serve as a windbreak. The big fire was still burning, allowing the workers to warm themselves up when needed, but night was approaching fast, so Ellerie had scattered mage lights around the camp.

Katrin pulled the sled back to another mound and waited at the entrance. Corec was inside, pushing snow out of a tunnel that was only tall enough for him to crawl through. When she got there, he took a break to help her shovel his newest load onto the sled.

“Remind me to never come north in the winter again,” he muttered. “I’m using my strength spell just to keep going.”

“You should see what Boktar’s doing,” she said. “He’s taking his shield inside the cave with him, loading it up with snow, then sliding it back out again so Nedley can empty it.”

Corec stared at her. “You’re kidding. I wonder if he’ll let me borrow it? That would be a lot easier than going through the tunnel feet-first and kicking it out ahead of me.”

“You’re not using the shovel anymore?”

“I’m using it to clear out space inside, but it’s too hard to shovel the snow through the tunnel. Maybe if I shoveled it halfway into the tunnel and then you scraped it clear from the other side?”

Katrin tried not to sigh at the thought of the extra work. “We could do that,” she said.

“How’s it going?” Sarette asked, coming over to inspect their work. “Are you two almost done with those shovels?”

“I think the new mound’s high enough,” Katrin said.

The stormborn woman glanced at it. “I’ll get some of the boys to tamp it down before we start digging into it, to make sure. What about this one?”

Corec gestured to the entrance, so she crawled through, returning a moment later.

“That’s big enough for now,” she said. “Can you go ahead and round out the roof on the inside so water doesn’t drip? And then dig out more of the tunnel so it slopes down as it reaches the outside. It should slope up into a small entrance inside the cave, and then beyond that is the sleeping platform, which should be another foot higher. That’ll trap the warm air inside, and give the cold air somewhere to go.”

“I didn’t realize how complicated these were,” Corec said.

“This is about as simple as we can go and still have them done tonight. There’s no time to do anything fancy.”

He laughed. “Fancy?”

“The snowborn make larger domes of snow and ice for their winter hunting camps,” Sarette said absently as she looked out over the activity in the camp. “Those can last for months, while we’ll be lucky to get a few days out of these. We don’t have the right type of snow.”

“Snowborn?” Katrin said, startled.

The other woman turned her attention back to the conversation. “That’s just what they call themselves. They’re actually stormborn who kept going north rather than stopping when our people reached Snow Crown. We trade with them sometimes.”

There was a startled shout and then a flurry of activity on the far side of the camp, where some of the villagers were working.

“What happened?” Katrin asked, trying to make sense of the scene.

“One of the caves collapsed. They must have dug too close to the surface. They’ll need to start a new one.”

“Should we help them?” Corec asked.

“They know what they’re doing,” Sarette said with a shrug. “I’ve only made these for practice, but most of them have done it for real when they’re out hunting on the prairie. There’s no other shelter out there.”

“What if one collapses happens while we’re sleeping?” Katrin asked.

“Someone in each shelter will need to stay awake at all times, with a shovel or some other tool close at hand. Gregor and I can keep watch from the outside, but it won’t be safe for the rest of you to be out there for too long when the cold’s at its worst.”

Katrin looked nervously at Corec. Circle Bay suddenly seemed like a great place to live. Why had she ever decided to leave?