The sun was a distant glow on the horizon to the north and the sky to the south was still in darkness when Konrad arrived at Pääbo’s forge. The glow from the coals was inviting and fought off the chill in the air. Pääbo fussed around with a bright copper instrument before presenting Konrad with a fine porcelain mug of brown liquid.
“Here, try this.”
The drink was light and sweet and burrowed down deep into Konrads belly giving off a comforting warmth.
“This is amazing Pääbo, how does that work?” Konrad asked indicating to the intricate machine that was steaming slightly.
“Secret of the Dwarves,” he said tapping his nose. “Here’s your sword as agreed, it came out nice.”
The hilt had been wrapped in supple black leather strips and the pommel shined brightly. The blade itself was flawless, and razor sharp; without the rust coating he could see now that it’s shape gently tapered in from the hilt to the tip. It even had markings on the blade close to the hilt, a hauntingly beautiful flower in full bloom.
“I couldn’t even see the markings under all of the rust, I wonder what it means,” Konrad said.
Pääbo looked a little sheepish. “As a matter of fact it was almost too worn to see properly, so I took a bit of artistic license and re-scribed it. Scrollwork’s a bit of a hobby of mine.”
“It’s perfect,” Konrad said, gently touching the fine contours of the flower.
Pääbo produced a chest plate of leather body armour and a small backpack and lay them on the workbench. “I also had these lying around, might be useful for your travels up north.”
Konrad wasn’t planning on spending any more coin but the chest plate looked like it would fit him perfectly and he was tired of lugging his bundle around everywhere he went. He pulled out his purse, but the blacksmith held up his hands.
“I won’t take nothing for them, I just had them lying around and they don’t mean anything to me. Plus you can’t go keeping your gear all wrapped up in a blanket like that.”
Konrad was overwhelmed by Pääbo’s generosity and thanked him over and over again. Spirit padded over and gave him an affectionate nudge and he scratched her behind the ears.
“Just watch your back up north, and try to get some of that Linium.”
“Can I ask, what are you going to do with it?”
“Fraid I can’t tell you that. Nothing bad, but it's for a special client you see, and they like their privacy if you know what I mean.”
Konrad left the blacksmith and made his way through the village to the long line of wagons and carts that made up their caravan. Rolo was already on the seat of his wagon and yawned widely.
“It’s too early,” he complained, flicking the reins to Konrad and crawling into the wagon to find a place among the piles of furs. “Wake me when you see some snow.”
Konrad relished the opportunity to drive the wagon. The world passed slowly by and the landscape came to life as the morning light touched it.
He passed the time inspecting his new sword and armour, touching the flower engraving and admiring the leather sheath that Pääbo had made. The blacksmiths attention to detail was astounding and Konrad was fixated on getting enough gold to have Pääbo make him a pendant.
Checking that Rolo was sleeping soundly, Konrad pulled off his boot and fished out the small silver ring that Erwan had given him. The engraving on the grey stone was so faint he could barely make out the woman’s face. She was certainly beautiful, if he didn’t know better he would have guessed that it was the face of the Mother herself, though Cloda seemed somehow kinder.
He had largely forgotten about the ring since he had left Fallow Vale, but now he turned it in his fingers he wondered what secrets it held. Perhaps it was one of Alice’s hidden enchanted items?
He held his breath and slipped it onto his finger.
He didn’t feel any different. The leafless trees that bordered the road still swayed gently in the wind and the only sounds were the creak of the wagons, the gentle trample of horses hooves, and the occasional murmur or laugh from the other wagons in front and behind him; if there were any hidden effects he didn’t know what they might be. He twisted the ring around so that it resembled a simple band of grey metal and kept it on his finger.
At dusk they approached the town of Enderburg, which had a wooden palisade at least ten feet high around it. Torches were burning at intervals on the top of the wall and the reflection from the flames shone from the metal helmets of the guards.
“The town’s closed, follow us and we’ll circle the wagons outside the walls,” one of the caravan guards called.
“Why's it closed?” Konrad asked.
“There’s a champion of the Brother in there and she's got four sheep thieves on trial. We’re keeping our distance, don’t take much for them to drag good folk into it just for looking at them sideways.”
The wagons were pulled around and Konrad left Rolo snoring so loudly it sounded like he was sawing logs.
Spirit slinked off into the darkness to explore, while Konrad fed and rubbed down the horse. Then he tried on his new armour, strapped his sword to his waist and put on his backpack. The weapons and armour made him feel taller and he drew his sword and flourished it, making wild slices through the air. Rolo’s horse watched him with an even stare and lifted its tail, giving its own judgement of his performance.
He felt Spirit nudge him gently in the back and she gave him a meaningful look with her dark eyes that told him that she wanted him to follow her. She didn’t make a sound as she moved through the trees and doubled back each time Konrad had fallen too far behind, giving him a condescending look.
“I’m sorry I don’t see in the dark,” he muttered, tripping again on a hidden root.
They skirted the outside of the camp until they reached an area set a little distance away from the large wagon belonging to Vestus, the caravan leader.
Vestus himself was not far away. He had three well armed caravan guards with him and was speaking with a man and a woman who wore thick furs.
“Those were the ones Rolo was fighting in Humbert,” Konrad hissed, receiving a cold look from Spirit. “Sorry,” he added, turning his attention back to the conversation.
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“He’s under my protection. How am I supposed to get folk to trust me to take them somewhere if I sell him out?” Vestus asked.
“He’s not allowed to pass into the north,” one of the northerners replied.
“By who’s orders? These are the Duke’s roads, anyone can pass.”
“Luther’s orders, he’s the thane of Montdun now and he says that Rolo Dauska is exiled from the north. If he comes with you, you won’t get past the first snow.”
Vestus looked troubled and held a muted discussion with his guards that Konrad couldn’t make out.
“What about his fee? He paid a deposit and the rest was to be paid when we reached Montdun, who’s going to settle that?”
“Luther will settle any debt when you arrive. He’s a man of his word.”
“That’s not good enough, this is going to seriously impact my reputation, who’s going to pay for that?”
“Luther—” the northman began.
“Yes I know is a man of his word, thane of Montdun,” Vestus snapped, reaching into his coat and pulling out a thick piece of paper. “This is a writ from the Duke of Tajar himself allowing me passage on these roads. Don’t think this is the first time someone has tried to shake down passengers under my protection. Rolo and his damned wagon are going north and I’d advise you two not to try and stop us. I know people at court, your thane will have to answer to them if he touches a hair on the head of any of my passengers.”
Vestus stormed off back to the circle of wagons with his guards following behind.
Konrad also turned to go but he felt Spirits jaw clamp gently onto his wrist, holding him in place.
“We have to go and tell Rolo,” he hissed, but Spirit didn’t move so he returned to his position and waited.
“You know I really expected him to give Rolo up,” the woman said, studying the back of the retreating wagon master.
“Nice to know that there are still honourable people out there.”
“It’s impressive really, certainly makes you feel a bit safer on the roads doesn’t it?”
“That it does.”
“Suppose we should go and kill Rolo in his sleep then?”
“Yea.”
The crashing of branches announced a third northman who appeared out of the darkness.
“Banan, did you see him?”
“He’s sleeping in the back of his wagon just like you said, I would have done him already but that wolf of his was next to him.”
Spirit had been by Konrad's side the whole time and he smiled, Banan clearly wasn’t the bravest of the group.
“Did you see the size of it? It had teeth like this,” Banan continued, demonstrating teeth that were at least six inches long.
The woman hefted a heavy crossbow. “Thats what this is for, now let’s go quick before that wagon master can warn him.”
Spirit bounded silently out of the undergrowth back the way they had came and Konrad moved as carefully as he could to follow her. He could hear the sounds of the three killers following close behind him and he felt conscious that although he had an armour plate on his chest, he didn’t have one on his back. He ran harder, the unfamiliar weight of the sword bumping against his knee.
Bursting through the undergrowth he sprinted to Rolo’s wagon but the big man wasn’t there.
A giant hand clamped over his mouth as he was pulled back into the cover of the trees.
“Shh,” Rolo hissed.
Konrad heard voices and saw the shadows of the three figures cautiously circle the wagon. They held a hushed conversation and although Konrad couldn’t make out the words he could sense their frustration.
There was a glugging noise and sharp tang of spirits on the air, then a match flared. Rolo snarled and made to move out of their hiding place but this time it was Konrads turn to hold him back as flames flickered rapidly over the canvas, happily engulfing the wagon and burning brightly in the night.
A haunting howl was heard in the darkness nearby.
“It’s the wolf,” Brenan cried backing away clutching the crossbow and pointing it at the shadows.
"Take the horse," the northerner woman yelled. “Let’s get out of here!”
“They were in Humbert,” Rolo said, his eyes fixed on the dancing flames.
Konrad rapidly explained the conversation that he had overheard and Rolo scratched at his beard.
“Vestus is an honourable man, but if these three were sent then there will be others,” said Rolo. “We can’t travel with the caravan any more. The coast is two days walk, I have friends there who can put us on a boat bound for the north.”
“The guard said that there’s a champion of the Brother in the town, couldn’t we go to them?”
Konrad didn’t have a clear idea of what the Brother’s champions did but it was something to do with keeping law and order in the wilder regions of Parthanea.
“Gods no, have you ever met a champion of the Brother? They look like librarians, but they kill like assassins. It’s the coast for us.”
Konrad was concerned for Spirit and reluctant to leave, but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than she slinked out of the shadows and nuzzled up to him.
“You did well Spirit,” he said, giving her a scratch.
“You know you don’t have to come with me my young friend, this will be dangerous,” Rolo said.
As much as Konrad appreciated Rolo’s concern, his destiny lay in the north. He had Linium to find and a quest to complete.
“We’re coming.”
Rolo spared one last look for his burning wagon before leading them into the forest. As they reached the Duke's road he looked up at the dark clouds that blocked out the moon and frowned. “There’s going to be some bad weather, but that’s good for us, they won’t follow.”
As Rolo predicted, the wind picked up as they followed the main road north, growing in strength until the trees on either side of the road thrashed together.
After several hours they left the road and set off over wild, hard land. The grass here was hardy and tough and drove a deep fatigue into Konrad's muscles as he waded through it. Even Spirit looked as if she were having difficulty.
They battled on into the depths of the night and the storm developed into a tempest; wind and rain hammering into their bodies, seemingly coming from every direction at once. Konrad was soaked through and every three steps he made forwards he was driven back one. He pushed on in a trance, feeling as though he had been walking for days. Whispers on the wind urged him on towards the coast, their voices hungry.
The light of morning didn’t bring any respite, as great horizontal sheets of ice and snow battered them; the gift of Casovan seemed to have deserted him and the cold seeped into his bones making him shiver uncontrollably.
“We have to find shelter,” Rolo roared.
Konrad was too tired to reply, he tried to lift his hand in agreement but his arm was too heavy.
“Wait here,” the hardy northman cried.
Konrad sat down on the soaked earth and Spirit flopped down next to him, her head in his lap. As hard as he tried he couldn’t keep his eyes open and when Rolo shook him hard he realised he had fallen asleep. A blizzard had whirled around him and the snow lay several inches deep.
“This way,” Rolo roared.
Reaching the summit of a nearby hill, Konrad found the wind so strong that he feared that he was going to be plucked up and tossed up into the sky. A great roaring and crashing came to his ears as the ocean below boiled under the rage of the storm; great waves crashing upon the rocky shore, flinging water high into the air.
Hadn’t he seen this exact image before? Standing here in this exact same spot. The cold ocean with the shore dusted with snow, and far beyond an abandoned fishing village desperately clinging to the rocks.
Rolo spoke but he couldn’t make out the words over the noise of the storm.
“What did you say?” Konrad cried.
“I didn’t say anything,” Rolo roared back.
Konrad shook his head to clear his thoughts and willed one foot in front of the other until they reached the closest stone walled fishing shack, where all three collapsed onto the rough floor.
Spirit’s eyes were wide open in fear and she jumped at each flash of lighting and crack of thunder.
“Lyran, if you can hear me, I bless Spirit,” he whispered into the wet fur. Almost immediately Spirit stopped trembling and sighed, her eyes closed.
Sometime later Konrad opened his eyes and found to his surprise that the noise of the ocean had stopped. The crashing and smashing of the waves was silenced and the howl of the wind had ceased. In the eery silence he saw that his companions were also still and silent, alive but frozen in a moment in time.
“I can smell him on you Champion.”
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, seeming to enter his head without the courtesy of passing past his ears.
“Who are you?” Konrad asked, peering around the derelict hut.
“Has he sent you here to kill me? You shall not succeed. Like the others you will fall. He is the cold that bites, but I have a cold that burns.”
The voice laughed, shrill and childlike.
“I’m not here to kill anyone, I just want to get back whatever was taken. I won’t harm you.”.
The laughing came again, mirthless and cold.
“He lies, he is a liar. Nothing was stolen, occupied perhaps. But it doesn't matter, it's mine now and it's valuable, oh so valuable. Will you come and see? I do like guests.”
The voice became mournful. “My Elena loved guests, she would serve them fresh fish. But no more, not for so-so-so long ago has she lived and laughed. Come to me, champion, under the coldest mountain in the north.”