Frostfell

CHAPTER SIX

Arzhan Island, the Lake of Mists in the lands of the Khassidi

"He's awake."

Amira started. She was sitting by the lakeshore, her open spellbook in her lap, so absorbed in her studies that she hadn't heard the man come up behind her. Gyaidun, his name was. She should've heard him coming, but the big brute moved with a panther's grace. That and this damnable fog. It seemed to cloud her other senses as much as it hid everything from sight. It unnerved her. The lake, the woods around it, and the entire damnable Wastes… she hated them. Her home seemed very far away.

"It's about time." Amira snapped her book shut and pushed herself to her feet. Evening was coming on anyway, and she'd soon need the fire to read. "I felt fine a long ago."

Gyaidun scowled. "You were brought in before he was."

Amira said nothing. She knew the elf called Lendri had been clinging to life when Gyaidun carried him in. It had taken all of the belkagen's skills to heal him, and for a while even he had feared the younger elf might not pull through. He'd been unconscious all day, which meant he was sorely hurt indeed, for unlike other races, elves did not sleep.

The big man was still scowling. "Lendri nearly died saving your son," he said.

"Saving my son? Really? And where is my son?" Amira clenched her jaw and glared. She had to take deep breaths to keep the tears back.

Gyaidun looked away, but he seemed more angry than apologetic.

"You wish to speak to him? This way."

"I know the way." She pushed past him and headed back to camp.

Despite her words, she almost did get lost on the way back. It was not a large island, but the mists off the lake were thick as wet wool, and this late in the day she couldn't see more than twenty paces in any direction. The trees and the iron-gray boulders strewn about the island were little more than indistinct shadows. She caught the pale nimbus of the campfire off to her right and realized she was passing the camp. She spared a sidelong glance at Gyaidun. He said nothing, but she saw the amusement in his eyes.

Lendri was sitting next to the fire, swathed in a thick hide blanket. One naked arm stuck out, holding a wooden bowl filled with a steaming liquid. He sipped at it and winced. For the first time, Amira noticed that Lendri had the same odd scars on his face that Gyaidun did-three long slashes down each cheek and a fourth cutting through them. He had even more tattoos than the big man. They twined about his arm, neck, and even around his eyes, and they seemed very dark against his pale skin. A huge gray wolf lay on the ground not far away, its head resting on its paws and its eyes closed. Mingan, the belkagen had called it.

The belkagen sat not far away. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and his shoulders sagged. He'd been busy since Gyaidun brought Amira in the night before, using all his arts and herblore to heal her and Lendri. He looked up as Amira approached the fire.

"You are still feeling well, Lady?" he asked.

"I'm fine." Amira sat down across from him. "You should rest. You look as if you're about to fall over."

A faint smile. "I will seek my dreams soon. But first we must make amrulugek. 'Hold council,' as you westerners would say."

Amira cast a quick glance at Gyaidun, then fixed her gaze on Lendri. "You… tried to save my son. Thank you. I am in your debt."

Lendri bowed his head but said nothing.

"Gyaidun," said the belkagen. "Sit. We have much to discuss."

The big man gave the belkagen a hard look, and it was the elf who looked away first, his eyes downcast. Amira didn't know if it was the weariness or merely the odd behavior of these easterners, but she could've sworn the belkagen looked… guilty. Gyaidun definitely looked angry as he sat, his movements stiff, his jaw clenched, and his nostrils flaring like a stallion about to kick his way out of the stall.

Amira held her tongue, deciding that in the tense atmosphere it was better to let one of the others speak first. She busied herself wrapping the leather cord around her spellbook and stuffing it into one of her shirt's many deep pockets. The belkagen had given Amira one of his old shirts. It was shaped much like the Tuigan kalats, but rather than being made of cotton or wool, it had been stitched from elkhide with fur trim. It was far too large for her, but it had deep pockets.

Still no one spoke. Lendri sat sipping whatever was in the bowl, the belkagen stared into the fire, and Gyaidun sat feeding small strips of meat to his raven, which bobbed up and down on his lap.

Damn it all. Amira decided to break the silence. "When you and Jalan, when you were attacked, how many were there?"

Lendri took another sip from the bowl, then fixed Amira with his gaze. She shivered, again feeling as if she were a rabbit being sized up by a hungry predator. "The boy," said Lendri, his voice low and hoarse. "Jalan. He told me…" He glanced at Gyaidun and the belkagen.

"Told you what?" Amira asked.

"I told him you were here, that I would bring him to you. 'She is not my mother,' he said."

Now all three men were staring at her, the belkagen looking surprised and the big man's eyes narrowed with suspicion. Even the raven stopped eating and fixed its black eyes on her.

Amira straightened, taking on the regal pose she'd been taught by her mother. "I have no husband," she said. "I am sworn to Cormyr, my life one of service. Jalan is not a child of my body, true enough, but I raised him from a babe. I loved-" A sob threatened to break out.

Amira felt tears flooding behind her eyes. She bit her lower lip, took a deep breath, and swiped her sleeve across her eyes. "I love him as my own."

There was a long silence, then the belkagen spoke. "Among the Vil Adanrath, one who cares for a child, who loves and feeds a child, who would die and kill for a child… this is the parent."

Amira nodded her thanks.

"Then why would the boy say such a thing to Lendri?" asked Gyaidun.

Amira shot him a venomous glance. "As you may have noticed"-she looked to Lendri-"Jalan is not Cormyrean."

Lendri said nothing. Didn't even nod. Just kept those predator's eyes fixed on her.

"I am a war wizard," Amira said. "I serve the crown of Cormyr and have done so for almost twenty years, since I was a girl. When the Horde invaded fifteen years ago, I fought for my people. I was at Phsant and Inkar, but mostly my company roamed, harrying the Horde's flanks, killing scouts, and raiding supply lines. I killed. I watched friends die." She closed her eyes, not to relive the memories, but to concentrate on pushing them away. "During one battle… gods, we'd been fighting since dawn with no rest. The sun was setting when my company came upon the remains of a Tuigan camp. The warriors fled, for we had won the day. They… they slaughtered captives and their own slaves- men, women, children-rather than have them freed. But in their haste to be gone from us, they missed one. A boy, not even walking yet. My captain found him crying over the body of his dead mother, covered in her blood."

Gyaidun spat a curse in a language she didn't recognize, and when she looked up, she saw fury in the man's eyes.

"I was young," she continued, "little more than a girl myself. My captain gave the child into my keeping. I balked at first." Amira smiled. These were the few memories of the war that did not wake her in a cold sweat at the darkest time of the night. "But I grew fond of him. Fondness grew to love. Months later when a suitable mother was found, my captain relieved me of my duty to the child. I told him that if he took the child he'd experience the wrath of a war wizard firsthand. I named him Jalan, after my older brother who'd died in the war."

"Why does he not claim you as his mother?" Lendri asked. The hardness was gone from his eyes. He seemed genuinely confused.

"Jalan is fourteen." Amira shrugged and tried to put lightness in her voice, but even she heard the bitter tone. "And growing up in House Hiloar is not easy, even for one born into the House. For someone who looks… 'eastern,' especially after the bloodiest war in generations with the eastern hordes… well, many among my family were less than kind to Jalan."

"The boy does not have Tuigan features," said Lendri. "He's far too lean, and his eyes-"

"Tell that to my mother," said Amira. "After the invasion of the Horde, all easterners are savages to many of my people. I shielded him as much as I could, but my duties as a war wizard often sent me abroad, and I had no choice but to leave him with my family. Their treatment of him ranged from coldly polite to cruel. It was… not the best childhood for him."

"You allowed this?" asked Lendri.

"What choice did I have?" A cold edge tinged Amira's words.

"Among our people-"

The belkagen cut him off. "She is not of our people, Lendri. The bonds of duty to family and clan are not always easy to bear. This we know."

Lendri looked down. "The belkagen speaks wisely," he said. "I ask your forgiveness, Lady."

Amira acknowledged his apology with a nod. She glanced at Gyaidun.

Was he blushing?

"To answer your question, Lendri, Jalan is on the verge of manhood. He often chafes at his mother's influence- especially the past few years. I fear he blames me for many of the insults and cruelties he suffered from my family. Perhaps the blame is not altogether undeserved."

There was a long silence, then the belkagen spoke. "You are from Cormyr. A war wizard, you said. How did you come to be out here, a captive of slavers?"

"Last year I was sent to High Horn. You've heard of it?"

The men shook their heads.

"It is a castle in the far west of Cormyr. In the mountains. A hard, cold place. Those sent there are either the most skilled warriors and wizards, sent there to make them the best of the best. Or they're considered trouble and are sent there to be disciplined."

"And which are you?" asked Gyaidun. "The best or trouble?"

"I'm both."

Gyaidun smirked and looked away, but the belkagen chuckled.

"We'd been there a few tendays when I was sent out into the field.

Some patrols had gone missing, and the knights looking for them wanted a wizard on hand in case they ran into more trouble than they could handle. We found the patrol in a valley, all dead, but only two died of obvious wounds. Scavengers had been at all of them, but using my arts I was able to determine how they died. It was early summer, still cool in the mountains but not cold, and yet-"

"They were frozen," said Gyaidun, his eyes bright and… hungry.

"Like those slavers. Weren't they?"

Amira nodded. "We gathered the bodies and returned to High Horn.

While we were gone, there was an attack. A dozen or so made it inside the castle. Several died. Good men and women. Friends. And the raiders took my son."

"A dozen or so?" said the belkagen. "How could so few breach a castle filled with your kingdom's best and escape?"

"Most of the raiders were pale-skinned men. Warriors. But one… it was… uh…"

"A thing of darkness and cold malice," said Lendri, his voice low.

"Hooded in an ash-gray cloak."

"Yes," said Amira. "How…?"

"I saw him last night-or one very like him."

"Him?" asked the belkagen.

"Him… it, I don't know," said Lendri. "His presence made my skin crawl and froze the air around me, but I heard him speak the words to his spell, and it was a man's voice." He took another sip from his bowl and swallowed hard. "But something was… wrong with the voice.

Something twisted, as if the man were not used to speaking."

"He was alone?" asked Amira.

"No," said Lendri. "Others were with him. The whiteskins you spoke of. They are known here in the Wastes. And feared. Siksin Neneweth, my people name them."

Amira's brow creased. "I don't know the word."

The belkagen broke in. "Damarans call them Aikulen Jain, and the Tuigan Shen Ghel. Ice Walkers, Frost Folk it means."

"In the attack on High Horn, three of the raiders died. Two were Tuigan, but the other was one of these pale-skinned barbarians you speak of, these 'Frost Folk.' The senior war wizard at High Horn examined them, probing their minds. The Tuigan were just mercenaries, hired swords. Saelthos said he could read nothing from the other… only a sense of cold and frost. But he said he thought the man was Sossrim, not… Frost Folk."

The belkagen threw another log on the fire, sending sparks spiraling upward, where they were quickly snuffed out in the heavy fog. "Sossrim they once were," he said. "But now they dwell farther north than Sossal, in the endless ice where months do not see the sun.

You've heard of the Raumathari Empire in your Cormyr?"

"Of course."

"In the years of war between Raumathar and Narfell, many from Sossal allied themselves with Raumathar against the demon hordes of Narfell. But in their desperation, some even among the Raumathari sought power where they should not. I have heard it told that in those ancient days some of the Sossrim swore loyalty to Raumathari wizards who sought power with demons, devils, and other foul beings from the outer darkness. Their own folk shunned them, and so they have lived in the far north, performing their vile rites. In the darkest winters, sometimes they raid far south, taking plunder and captives. But I have never heard of them striking all the way into Cormyr. So far… never have I heard of such a thing. And Jalan was all they took?"

"Yes. They slaughtered any who stood in their way, and the… uh, the dark one called down a killing frost, but they took no plunder.

Only my son."

"Why?" asked the belkagen. "Why travel more than a thousand miles through foreign lands for one boy?"

"I don't know. I wish I did. I only want my son back."

"Have you ever noticed anything special about the boy?"

"You're asking a mother?"

The belkagen smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "You study the arcane. You know what I mean."

"Dreams."

Both the belkagen and Lendri seemed to tense at this. "Dreams…?" asked the belkagen.

"Jalan was always a vivid dreamer, even as a small child. I can only remember images and words from dreams, but Jalan… he could recall sounds, shapes, even smells and touch in solid detail. And he said he often dreamed of a shining song."

"A shining song?"

Amira shrugged. "Only a dream. I never thought about it much."

The belkagen and Lendri shared a look. "The elves do not sleep like other folk of the world. We rest and"-he seemed to be searching for the word-"walk the dreamroad. Dreams can be very powerful and hold great meaning."

"I sometimes dream I can fly," said Amira. "It doesn't make me a bird."

"What did you do?" Lendri broke in.

"About birds?"

"About your son. When you returned to the High Horn and found him gone."

"In Cormyr," said Amira, "the war with the Horde is still fresh in the minds of many, especially among the knights and wizards. I don't know any who didn't lose someone. When it was discovered that Tuigan and other easterners had penetrated one of our westernmost outposts … well, it was treated with extreme concern.

"Three expeditions were mounted to pursue the raiders, each led by a war wizard. Since the murderers had my son-and since my family has contacts in Nathoud-I volunteered to lead one team. Two of us caught up with them about fifty miles east of the Sunrise Mountains. We caught them late in the day. By surprise. But still they fought like cornered dogs-except for the cloaked one, who cowered and hid and left the fighting to his men and other hired blades. They fled before us.

"But when the sun went down, the… dark thing, he… uh, seemed to 'wake up' and fill with terrible strength. He killed over half our force." Amira shivered at the memory and pulled her cloak around her. Full night had fallen, and their campfire did little to penetrate the thick darkness. "It was as if he called down the heart of winter itself. Strong men died in their tracks. All but a few of us were killed, but we took many enemy lives as well. A few of us managed to get away with Jalan and flee. We ran through the night. More died.

In the end, it was only the sunrise that saved us. Exhausted as we were, we pushed on."

"You said three teams were sent out," said Lendri. "Your team met with one. What of the other?"

"What few of us survived met them in Almorel. We'd hoped to find a portal thereabouts and make it as far west as we could. We watched for the pale barbarians and the dark thing, but we were foolish." Amira stared into the fire, and her voice hardened. "We underestimated our foe. Whoever is leading them put the word out to every thug and bandit in the Wastes. That loud-mouthed bastard Walloch and a bunch of his men hit us leaving Almorel. Killed the other war wizard, took my staff and book, and when I'd used my last spell… well, you figure out the rest. That's where you three enter the story."

"Will more of your war wizards come to help?" asked the belkagen.

Amira looked around and saw a waterskin lying on the ground. She reached for it and took a long swallow before replying. "I wouldn't hope for it."

"Why? Does your order forsake its own so easily?"

"They may not know what happened yet." She avoided the belkagen's gaze. "May not know for days. Tendays even. And even if they do, they have no idea where I am. Our last known location was Almorel. They'll start searching there, but it could take them days to find me. And if I'm on the move every day, it could take tendays before they catch up."

"On the move?"

Amira held the belkagen's gaze. "I'm going for my son. You said that if I waited, you could help. Give me some hope, some chance of success. But that raises another question I haven't been able to answer: Why did you help me in the first place? Outside Almorel, when Walloch's force hit us, there were others on the road. Lots of others.

Travelers, merchants, Tuigan warriors… those who didn't flee just watched that slaver and his men slaughter us. What makes you three so different?"

Lendri ignored the question. He simply sat drinking from the wooden bowl and staring off into the distance. The belkagen held her gaze for a long moment, then looked to Gyaidun.

The big man shooed the raven off his lap-the bird gave an angry caw until it saw the remains of the belkagen's dinner lying not far from the fire and went after it-then shrugged and said, "I was born a slave. Never much cared for slavers since. I've made it a point to make their lives difficult whenever I can."

"That's it?"

"We helped," said Gyaidun. "Why suspect our reasons?"

"I'm a stranger to these lands. Trusting doesn't come easy for me."

"If we wanted you dead, we could've killed you or left you to die.

If we have not earned your trust by now… why chase the wind?"

"Maybe it isn't me dead you want."

Gyaidun snorted. "Don't flatter yourself, woman."

Amira blushed. "That wasn't what I meant. How do I know you aren't slavers yourself? Maybe you just saved me to collect the price instead of Walloch."

"I… we never asked for your trust," said Gyaidun. "Not asking now. No one's keeping you here."

Amira's eyes widened, and she looked to the belkagen. "You convinced me to stay. I wanted to leave long ago. It was you who said I should stay, that you'd help-"

"Lendri and I are going after your son," said Gyaidun. "But no one invited you. Best that you stay here with the belkagen."

"Curse my House if I will, you-"

"I care nothing for you or your House."

Amira stood, her face a mask of fury. "You stupid, arrogant-"

"Peace!" said the belkagen, and he stepped between them. "Lady, please sit."

"I've sat enough. Damn you, you convinced me to lie about all day.

Jalan's getting farther each moment!"

"Enough!" said the belkagen. The predator's gaze had returned to his eyes, and his nostrils flared in anger. His jaw clenched, and he stood with all the poised authority of a king, his staff held high.

"You will sit and hear me or I will tie you down-for your sake and the sake of your son."

Amira sat, her mouth pressed in a flat line. Gyaidun was staring at her, not smiling but watching her.

"And you-" The belkagen turned to Gyaidun. "You will sit silent and ponder the courtesy due an honored guest. Disrespect the lady again, and I'll thump you into the lake."

The big man returned the belkagen's glare. "The… 'lady' speaks much of what I'm thinking, Belkagen. The trail goes cold. I could've put leagues behind me before sunset."

The belkagen's staff thumped to the ground, and he leaned heavily on it a moment before sitting. "You would leave your rathla behind?" he asked, but Amira could hear the weakness in the elf's argument.

"Once Lendri was healed, he could have caught me. Easily." Gyaidun spoke carefully, with respect, but Amira could hear that it was silk over a blade. Something was going on here. "But you persuaded me to stay," he continued. "Just as you did the lady. Why?"

The belkagen shot them each another look. "Think. Both of you.

Lendri says that this dark one is traveling with the ones who have Amira's son. He seems to weaken during the day. Most likely Jalan's captors rest during the day and travel at night. Even if this dark thing does not need sleep, the Siksin Neneweth do. Most likely they have slept all day today. We-and I do mean we-will certainly do all we can to save the boy. But we cannot rush after them like a pack on a bloodscent." He looked at Amira. "You said that the first time you caught them, that… thing killed most of your force by himself. What can four expect to do?"

"We didn't know what we were facing the first time. I do now."

"Do you? What is this 'dark one,' then?"

Amira locked eyes with the belkagen, but it was she who dropped her gaze first.

"I thought as much," said the belkagen. "Then hear me. My people have walked these lands for many hundreds of years, and I myself walked here long before your grandfather was born. Not all lore is kept in books inside your stone forts, and the tales of these lands reach far back to the days of Raumathar and farther back still. You have heard of Iket Sotha? 'Winter's Fort' in your tongue, I think."

"You mean Winterkeep?" said Amira.

"Ah, Winterkeep, then."

"It's a ruin on the Great Ice Sea, said to have once been the capital of the Raumathari Empire."

The belkagen smiled, seeming genuinely pleased. "Very good! I see you were a good student."

"My family has had trading contacts in Nathoud for years. Most in House Hiloar study the lore of the East. Knowing your customers and competitors makes for good business."

"You've heard of the legends surrounding the place, then?"

"What ruin isn't surrounded in legends?"

The smile on the belkagen's face fell to a frown. "You study history but disdain legend?"

"Disdain? No. But history is fact. Legend is… not. Scholars-"

"Scholars? Pfah! I have met some of these 'scholars.' Half-mad, most of them. Legends… well, they are known by the people, who are … what is your word? Sane."

Amira chuckled, but it was an empty laugh with no humor in it. She buried her face in her palms and rubbed her eyes. Her head hurt. And getting a straight answer out of the belkagen… he was worse than any master or teacher among the war wizards. Gods, I hate the Wastes, she thought.

"What do your legends of Winterkeep have to do with me and my son?"

"And you still haven't answered our question," said Gyaidun. "Why have you kept us here? The trail goes colder as we sit by the fire, and this is the best lead we've had in over ten years. Ten years, Kwarun! If we lose-"

"Peace," said the belkagen. "I know your need, Yastehanye. I share your need. But rushing to our deaths-"

"Rushing?" Gyaidun's shout roused the wolf sleeping by Lendri's side, and it sat up, its ears stiff. "Would that we were, Belkagen.

Instead we sit by the fire and talk!"

The belkagen opened his mouth to respond, but Lendri spoke first.

"Peace, rathla. I feel your hunger. But you did not face this… thing. Our oaths, both blood and milk, bind us. But we cannot keep them by rushing to our deaths. If making amrulugek will give us a chance to bring this thing down, then it is worth a small delay."

"Look," Amira broke in, "you three obviously have much to discuss, but I don't understand half of what you're talking about. All I want is to get my son back. If you can help, I will be in your debt. If not, then speed me on my way. I beg you."

The belkagen muttered a long string of words in his own tongue.

The speech was completely foreign to Amira, but she could sense the frustration in his words. He took a deep breath, then stared into the flames and spoke.

"Lady Amira, Lendri and Gyaidun and I have walked many horizons together, few of them pleasant. Forgive us our heated words."

Amira glanced over at Gyaidun, who didn't look at all apologetic.

"You were speaking of Winterkeep…" she said.

"Yes, Winterkeep. Iket Sotha. It is a place shunned by the people of these lands. In ancient days it was a place of beauty, but foul things happened there, and this cold earth has a long memory. One of the great weaknesses of your 'histories,' Lady Amira"-the belkagen gave her a weary smile-"is that if the tome and scholar are both lost, your 'history' is lost. The people of these lands have a better way of preserving truth. We remember the tales, sing the songs, and dance the fires. Your history is a book. Ours lives in us and our children."

Amira took a deep breath and forced civility into her tone.

"Honored Belkagen, my child-my only child-is getting farther away as we sit here. I would be most grateful if you came to your point soon."

The belkagen's smile fell to a frown. "As you say. Even a young, upstart people like the Tuigan know of the evil of Iket Sotha. They tell tales of how the angry ice gods rose from Yal Tengri and sealed the Raumathari kings and their sorcerers in ice. The Tuigan, who fear very few things in this land, will not go near Iket Sotha. But the Tuigan are a young people, and their tales only touch the leaves of a tree whose roots go deep, to a time when the Tuigan still dwelt in the East.

"In the dying days of the wars between Raumathar and the demon-haunted empire of Narfell, the Nars summoned great ice devils to fight for them. Every army sent against them was beaten or pushed back-until the rise of Arantar and Khasoreth. You have heard of them?"

Amira shook her head. "No."

"Many songs are sung of their adventures in these lands. Arantar was a great sorcerer, the greatest of his age. Some have even said that his father was a god or some great being from beyond. Fire was the soul and song of Arantar, and he was its unquestioned master.

Khasoreth was his apprentice, but his great love was for ice and cold.

Arantar's mother was Raumathari, and together, he and Khasoreth were able to stand against the armies of Nar and their demons. For the first time in many months, the Nar fled the battlefield, and for a time there was peace in these lands."

"I take it the peace didn't last," said Amira.

"No," said the belkagen. "One particularly bleak winter… something happened to Iket Sotha."

"Something?"

"Here is where even the tales of my people fade to legend. It is not known what destroyed Iket Sotha, but one thing is certain: Great powers fell upon Iket Sotha. The Tuigan say they came from Yal Tengri.

Raumathari legends say they came from the heart of Iket Sotha herself.

But the one thing that all tales tell the same is that it was in the death of Iket Sotha that the Fist of Winter was born."

"The Fist of Winter?"

"A name given to them among the people of the Endless Wastes."

"I don't understand," said Amira. "What are they?"

The belkagen thought a long time before answering. "None know for sure. But they are… terrible. Their corrupted flesh cannot abide warmth, and so they dwell in the farthest reaches of the north. But in winter when Yal Tengri freezes, they often roam Iket Sotha and the surrounding lands, preying upon the unwary. Over the years, renegade bands of Sossrim have sworn allegiance to them. These are the Siksin Neneweth, the Frost Folk, and they worship the Fist of Winter as gods and offer blood sacrifices to them."

"And you believe one of these… things has my son?"

Amira had been staring into the fire during the belkagen's tale, but she looked at him now and was shocked at what she saw. The weariness still pulled on him, his shoulders slumping and his eyes seeming empty. But his face was now breaking into what seemed to her a mixture of sadness and fear. The belkagen cast a glance at Gyaidun, then quickly looked away. Amira looked to the big man. Fury seemed to come off Gyaidun in waves, like heat. His eyes were unblinking and fixed on the belkagen, and Amira could see the muscles of his neck standing up taut.

"Belkagen…?" said Amira.

"There…" The belkagen avoided everyone's gaze and looked up where the smoke from the fire was curling into the mists. "There is more to the tale. The Fist of Winter and their servants prey upon any who come too close, and I've heard of many fortune-seekers going into the ruins of Iket Sotha and never coming out again. But in some years, during the winter months when days are cold and nights dark, the Fist of Winter roams throughout the east, hunting."

"Hunting for what?"

"Boys," said the belkagen. "Some very young and some just shy of manhood, like your Jalan. I've heard of boys being taken from tents, from the heart of cities, boys who are sent to watch the herds and are never-"

Gyaidun lunged over the fire, screaming and reaching for the belkagen. Amira saw murder in his eyes. She grabbed her staff and scrambled away as the belkagen jumped to his feet and ducked. Gyaidun and the belkagen were screaming at each other in their own tongue, and Lendri, weak as he was, had dropped his drink and was trying to pry the two of them apart. Wide-eyed, Amira held her staff ready to strike should the argument come her way.

Lendri managed to push himself between the two combatants. Gyaidun tried to shove him away, but the elf latched onto the man's shoulders and held on. Lendri shouted something, just one quick word in his language, and Gyaidun stopped as if slapped. But he still held his fists before him, and his gaze was burning, looking over Lendri's shoulder to the belkagen, who stood a few paces away, guilt in his eyes.

Gyaidun said something, his voice harsh and angry. The belkagen replied. Amira couldn't tell if his voice was trembling from indignation or fear. Both, she decided. Had Lendri not intervened, she was quite sure the big man would have hurt the belkagen. Gyaidun's whole body was trembling, his face was twisted in a rictus of fury, and tears were running down his cheeks.

"What's going on here?" she asked, her staff still held ready, her mind searching for an appropriate spell should any one of them come at her. "Have you all gone mad?"

No one said anything. Gyaidun was still staring daggers at the belkagen, who was returning the gaze, though he seemed pained and saddened. Lendri watched Gyaidun long enough to be sure the big man was under control, then turned to the belkagen. Amira saw mistrust and anger in his eyes as well.

"What is going on here?" she asked.

Gyaidun glanced at her and the tension left his body. He stood straight, looked back to the belkagen, and said, "I will not share a fire with a traitor. Sumezh." He spat in the belkagen's direction, then turned and stormed off. For a moment, he was a shadow in the mists, then they swallowed him.

Lendri watched him go, then turned to the belkagen. "I apologize for my rathla's rude words, Belkagen. But you do owe us an explanation. Now."

Defiance and anger flickered in the belkagen's countenance, but neither caught. His shoulders slumped. "My apologies, Lady. You found yourself in the middle of a family quarrel."

"It's more than that," said Lendri. "And you know it. Talk or I may not try to restrain him next time. You've known this-who was responsible for Erun-all these years, after all we've lost, but you said nothing. Why?"

The belkagen looked off into the mists where Gyaidun had disappeared. "Because there is nothing you could have done. Either of you. Or all the Vil Adanrath. You would have only been rushing to your deaths."

"Listen," Amira broke in. "I don't understand any of this. Who is this Erun? I just-"

"Be silent, woman," said Lendri.

Amira opened her mouth to give the insolent elf the tongue-lashing of his life, but she shut it again when he looked at her. The fire caught in his eyes, and again she was reminded of the wolves in the darkness, circling her fire. The tongue-lashing could wait.

"Please, Lendri," said the belkagen. "Sit down before you fall.

And there is no need to be rude to our guest. None of this is her fault."

"No," said Lendri. He didn't sit, though Amira could see his arms and legs trembling from the effort of standing. "It is yours. Do not hide behind her. Explain yourself."

The belkagen sighed, then sat by the fire. He placed his staff across his lap, closed his eyes, and said, "I spoke truly. By the time I'd heard of Erun, many days had passed. Although I suspected the Fist of Winter was involved, it was only suspicions. I have become certain in my own mind only in the years since. I know you and your rathla.

Had I told you, both of you would have rushed off to Iket Sotha like a pack on bloodscent. And both of you would have died. What happens to the children taken, I do not know. But whether they are alive or dead, you and Gyaidun could do nothing for Erun if you were dead." "So you did nothing? All these years, you simply sat?" "No!" The belkagen looked up at Lendri, and a bit of the heat had returned to his eyes.

"I have sought knowledge and chased every rumor, hoping and praying for any sign of Erun and the others. I only became more certain of the boy's fate, but I learned nothing of how to save him." "I'm going after my son," said Amira. "And don't you silence me again, elf. Not ever. I have half a mind to broil the lot of you for keeping me here all day. You promised me help, Belkagen. You said if I waited, you might give me hope. Where is it?" "I believe they are taking your son to Iket Sotha," said the belkagen. "For what reason? I do not know.

But knowing what I have told you, we can go after him prepared.

Perhaps we can rescue your son. You said you did so once before. If we can get him away-" "They'll only take him again," said a voice from the darkness. Gyaidun emerged from the mists. He looked down at the belkagen in disgust. "They did so once already. They traveled across half the world to get him." He looked to Amira. "Do you wish to spend the rest of your life-and your son's-running?" "I'm going after my son," said Amira, though the cold fear had returned to her heart. She had to force a steady calm into her voice. "I don't think I can kill this dark one who leads them. His powers are beyond me. But I'll get my son back or die trying. If I have to spend the rest of my life keeping him safe, so be it. I'm his mother." Gyaidun smiled, but it was one of the most frightening smiles Amira had ever seen. "Well said. Lendri and I will be going with you." "And me?" said the belkagen. "You can sleep in the Nine Hells for all I care," said Gyaidun. "Rathla!" said Lendri. "Chu set!" The belkagen said nothing, would not even look at Gyaidun. A spasm seized Lendri and he would have fallen had Gyaidun not rushed over and caught him. The big man helped the elf to sit. "Your anger is just," said Lendri. "Your disrespect shames us both, rathla. The belkagen's silence these years borders on deceit, but his words are not without some wisdom. If our foes are as dangerous as Lady Amira and the belkagen say, we will need help." "Who would-?" said Gyaidun the same time that Amira said,

"There is no time-!" They both stopped and looked at each other.

"Tonight I walk the dreamroad," said Lendri. "Tomorrow you two should follow the trail. I will seek out the Vil Adanrath." The belkagen hissed. "Foolish. They are more likely to kill you than help you. You know that." "This concerns Erun," said Lendri. "Haerul may well kill me, but he'd hunt the Beastlord himself if there were a chance of finding Erun. If I can find them. If not, I will meet you at Akhrasut Neth in three days." "Wait," said Amira. "Who is this Haerul? And who is Erun?" "Erun is my son," said Gyaidun. "He was taken eleven years ago. Just like Jalan."