While they waited for Drendig and Morvan, it began to snow in waves. Balfast and the rest of the group gathered fuel and started a fire. William could have been more useful in the second part of it, something Balfast noted.
"How are you so poor at starting fires?" he asked. "You've seen battle; that much is plain, and in your story, you traveled much."
"To be honest," said William, "my friend and servant Felix usually deals with such menial chores. While I was on campaign, I was the son of a Duke. So I was spared having to have much part in the matter."
"Well, you ought to learn," said Balfast. "You won't always have servants around. The next time we stop, I'll instruct you in it."
"My thanks," said William, feeling very foolish. "When do you suppose Drendig and Morvan will come back?"
"It may be an hour or more," admitted Balfast. "See, that pass has... problems. Sometimes parts of it get snowed in completely, and it becomes impassable. It always gets snowed in during the dead of winter. And sometimes the satyrs stick around in ambush.
"They'll want to steal what we have, you see."
"I've had my fill of satyrs," admitted William. "But they aren't all bad."
"Maybe not where you are from," muttered Balfast. "And in some places, the sky may be green. But here, we must contend with the savages daily. They all worship Fortenex, but Melchious is a popular minor god among them. Those that worship him are vicious."
"That I can believe," said William. "Why don't you have beasts of burden? Surely you can carry more?"
"You humans are as skinny as twigs," said Balfast. "So a beast of burden is a great help to you. But we minotaurs are strong. We can carry a far greater load than you and fight while doing it. So having oxen or other such animals is not worth the extra food.
"Especially since we eat the same things."
"Ah, of course," said William. "That seems obvious." He paused. "Though oxen don't want to be paid."
"I suppose not," mused Balfast. "But we minotaurs don't have the same ideas about ownership you and the dwarves have. You see, our weapons, equipment, and food are not ours, per se. Rather they are entrusted to us by our chieftain. But they don't belong to him either. He just decides what is done with the clan's possessions. And he can be removed if he misuses this power."
"But I am well acquainted with a Captain, Hrungeld," said William. "He is a minotaur, yet he seems to regard his ship as his property."
"Yes," mused Balfast. "I'm told that minotaurs who sail beyond Viokinar pick up strange ideas. Some clans have had disputes where one claims that a thing is his by right. That it should belong to him and him alone since he made it. Or since he found it."
"Surely there are things which cannot belong to a group," said William.
"Such as?" asked Balfast.
William thought about it. "The Goldenwood Harp. It..." He found he was having difficulty coming up with an answer. "Well, I found it. And I wielded it against many dark things. Yet when my goddess Kiyora needed escape, I traded it for her freedom."
"What you have done is describe something an individual owns," said Balfast. "That does not prove that a group could not have owned it."
"Well, what about the Hammer of Kreshlak?" asked William. "Or the Axe of Fortenex? Those choose their wielders."
"Those belong to the gods," said Balfast. "And are given by them."
"Yet the gods are individuals, are they not?" asked William.
Balfast considered it. "The purpose of all property belonging to a group is that no individual may misuse it. The gods are superior to us. They know better. Therefore they may be entrusted with personal property."
"So if a mortal was wise enough, they might also be entrusted with their property?" asked William.
"Yes," said Balfast.
"What if the group was unworthy and the individual was worthy?" asked William.
"What do you mean?" asked Balfast.
"Well, suppose that the group as a whole chose to do something utterly wrong, such as sacrificing their children to Melchious. And an individual defied and refused," asked William. "Would that individual be worthy to rule over the group as a whole?"
"What you describe has happened once or twice in our history," mused Balfast. "Generally, our solution is to kill the entire group and let Kreshlak sort them out. He hates child sacrifice. You think about things a lot, don't you?"
"Well, I've faced many hard questions," admitted William.
Balfast laughed. "I like you. However, I shouldn't ask such questions of others. Some might take offense."
At that moment, Drendig and Morvan emerged from the snow. They looked foul, and their cloaks were covered in snow. They sat down by the fire and warmed their hands. Balfast looked at them expectantly, and Morvan sighed. "There is no sign of anything, Balfast. We are clear. But it is freezing down there. We might wait for better weather."
"Weather can get worse as well as better, Morvan," said Balfast. "And if it gets much worse than this, the whole pass will be snowed in. Let's get through this place quickly. I always hate this part of the journey."
They scattered fire, hoisted their packs, and made for the pass. William shouldered his cloak and kept close to Balfast. He was curious about this land, even if it was colder than Carn Gable. "How many times have you done this?" asked William.
"I think it would be a dozen times now," said Balfast. "My father and his father before him have done a business like this. And it has only gotten better with time. Of course, all the caravans only attract more satyrs and giants."
"Giants?" asked William. "You have them here?"
"Yes, lumbering monsters," said Balfast. "A few can be reasoned with, but even they are dangerous. And some devour whole villages to satiate their appetites. They are an older race and one of the nastier ones."
"Older race?" asked William. "I was taught they were created simultaneously as humans."
"To you, perhaps," said Balfast. "We minotaurs are a bit younger."
"How did you come into being?" asked William.
"On this world?" asked Balfast. "The Goddess Zeya had her way with a white bull she saw emerging from the sea. Her children were the first minotaurs. But she despised them and sought to imprison them beneath the earth.
"Yet Typhos, the mother of all monsters, pitied us and arranged our escape to Viokinar. Here she entrusted us to Kreshlak, and he raised us. We thrived, multiplied, and established colonies in many places.
"Some even in Themious."
"I imagine that doesn't please Zeya." mused William.
"We aren't much inclined to care," admitted Balfast. "Kreshlak is our father, and Typhos, our mother. In spirit, if not in blood."
The pass soon loomed overhead, and William felt it ominous. The sheer walls on either side of them seemed more like an open maw of jagged teeth than a pass. He could see ice spikes growing up on either side of their path and similar spikes growing from above. As they walked, shards of ice would come tumbling down every so often.
William noticed that the walls looked to have been cut. They were rough-hewn. "Is this place natural, Balfast?"
"No," said Balfast. "It used to be that getting over these hills required climbing them with a pack—dangerous and miserable business. But then my grandfather dug his way through with a pickaxe. They mocked him, laughed at him, and then ate their words.
"His efforts have allowed trade to flourish. The colonies to the north are far larger than they ever were before."
"Who was he?" asked William.
"Einhar, the Mountainmover they call him these days," laughed Balfast. "I always knew him as Grandfather. He widened the pass throughout his life, and now it stands here as a testament to his strength."
"Hold on a moment," said William.
He suddenly felt bad and wanted to see what was above him. He placed one gauntleted hand on the wall and began scaling it up. The armor was heavy, but he'd done this before. It was still miserable, though.
"You climb well," noted Balfast below.
"It's a lot harder in this armor," gasped William.
He hoisted himself over the top and looked up the hill. And then he saw them. A pack of satyrs clad in furs and wielding axes came over the mountain. He glanced down. "Balfast, you'd best get moving quickly! There are satyrs headed this way!"
"How far?" asked Balfast.
"A mile perhaps," said William. "I'll stay here and keep them off if they get near enough." He drew his sword.
"Right," said Balfast. "Get moving, you slowhoofs! We need haste!"
William raised his shield and prepared to fend them off. But after seeing him, they halted and lingered by the ridge. He walked alongside the ridge as Balfast and his minotaurs hurried through the pass.
"What of the satyrs, William?" called up Balfast.
"They are just standing there," said William. Then he saw a familiar figure appear over the ridge. "Karasush..." The satyr raised both hands, and magic was in the air. If he had seen him, William couldn't tell.
"Who?" asked Balfast.
"A sorcerer with power over snow," said William. Then he felt the snow beneath him shifting. The satyrs pulled back as the snow on the ground surged forward like an ocean against the shore. "He's going to start an avalanche!"
"Drop the carts and take only what you can by hand!" roared Balfast.
"We'll lose a mighty profit!" said Morvan.
"Better that than our lives!" said Balfast, "Go!"
William and the minotaurs fled. As they did, William saw what appeared to be a tidal wave of snow on the hill's crest. Ahead of him, he could see the end of the pass. They were nearly there. The wave fell, and William leaped forward just in time to avoid it as it poured over the pass.
He tumbled down the hill and landed hard, nearly impaling himself on his sword. Looking up, he saw Balfast and the others had made it through. But they were fewer in number than before.
He rushed over to them. "Everyone alright?"
"Where are Drendig and Morvan?" asked Balfast. "Drendig, Morvan! Where are you?"
"Look there!" said a minotaur. He pointed to the snow.
William saw an arm sticking out of the snow, spasming wildly. "Dig them out quickly. Now!" roared Balfast as he ran to them.
The minotaurs dug quickly. Gradually they pulled Drendig out of the snow. He gasped air on the ground. "Drendig, you're alive," said Balfast.
"Kreshlak above, I'll pay the satyrs back for this," said Drendig. "Where is Morvan?"
"He was further back away." said a minotaur. "I fell, and he helped me up. He'll be frozen to death long before we get him out, assuming he wasn't crushed."
Balfast looked very bitter. "Come on, let's move."
"Give us a moment," said Drendig.
"The satyrs are coming soon," said Balfast. "We'll want to be away from here, at least a little ways."
William looked up and saw the satyrs coming down toward them on the hill. "There they are now. We've got to go."
They fled as quickly as they could. The satyrs did not pursue it. Instead, they went down to the pass and looked at it. Down after them came Karasush, hands clasped behind his back. With him came dozens and dozens of more satyrs. Far more numerous than expected.
"Why would they start an avalanche?" asked a minotaur. "How could they gain?"
Karasush reached the pass. Then he raised a hand. The snow before him flowed away from him, scaling back up the hill around them and leaving the pass empty. And there were the minotaurs who had been trapped, as well as the carts that had been left behind.
They stirred, but the satyrs were on them in seconds. It looked like they would cut them to pieces, but Karasush raised a hand and said something on their tongue. Instead, the satyrs looted the packs off the minotaur's backs. Then they sent them away.
Karasush raised a hand and snapped his fingers. The snow whirled around them. Gradually, it settled. When it was done, the pass was sealed once more, and the carts and bundles were all gone.
"How can anyone command the snows on such a level?" wondered Balfast.
"Karasush is a powerful sorcerer. I've met him before," said William. "He's a follower of Fortenex and a powerful one, though I've never seen him in action before."
"We should have fallen on them, Balfast!" said Drendig. "Cut the miserable cretins to death!"
"There are were too many," said Balfast. "At least our men are still alive. Go to them and build a fire at once. We'll need to warm them up quickly.
"At least we still have some of our goods. Though I think it will be a hungry winter in Easormen."
The fires were started, and the nearly frozen minotaurs were warmed as much as they could manage. Most of them caught a cold and were shuddering and sneezing. Fortunately, William had healing magic.
Balfast kept giving him looks, though. Finally, they set out along the road. William hoped there wouldn't be any more incidents.
"How far to Easorman?" asked William.
"Several miles at least," said Balfast. "Come, we'll rest once we get there."
"When did you meet Karasush?" asked Morvan.
"He had me kidnapped by an enemy of mine," said William. "Then he played both of us for fools. He hoped to help Melchious unleash an army of demons called raishans on the land of Khasmir. When we won, he said he had only done so out of coercion and to save his people.
"We didn't fully believe him, of course, but it was to our benefit to at least pretend to."
"So this all happened because you didn't cleave his skull in?" said Drendig.
"We'd just finished a massive war," said William. "We weren't in the mood to start another one. If we hadn't let him help us, he'd have gone to Baltoth."
"This kind of politics is why I hate foreigners," muttered Drendig.
"My apologies," snapped William. "A person in my Father's position does not have the luxury of liking everyone he works with."
"Enough," said Balfast. "We're almost there."
They came around the bend and finally saw Easorman. It was a large town with wooden roofs and log walls. Smoke was pouring from every chimney, and he could see mines dug into the side of the hills. A port in the distant west was also connected to a white sea. At the dead center of the town on a plateau was a wooden hall carved with many symbols. A twenty-foot stone wall surrounded the entire city.
"It is quite rugged, isn't it?" asked William.
"Indeed," said Balfast. "And that on the hill is the hall of Chieftain Behorn! Come, tonight we'll drink and make merry even if we won't be wealthy at the end. Lost half my damn shipment."
The gates of Easorman were tall and reinforced with iron bars. Atop the wall, a lookout called down to them with an arrow notched to his bow. "Who goes there?"
"I am Balfast," said Balfast. "I've come with supplies for the village."
"You don't look heavily laden," noted the lookout.
"The satyrs started an avalanche as we went through the pass," said Balfast. "We had to save what we could."
"Behorn won't be pleased about that," said the lookout. "Open the gates; let them in."
The town within was bustling. Wherever they walked, they saw blacksmiths working metal. There were carpenters carving wood and priests performing rituals. It was crowded, and the watchman stood by with spears and helms.
Balfast led them through the town and up a series of steps to the top of the plateau. As they came to the doors of the hall, they opened. Out strode a massive minotaur female with black spots. She hugged Balfast warmly. "Balfast, you old cow! It's been too long. Unload your things quickly, then you and your companions come with me to my hall! We'll drink a toast and share stories like old times!"
"Just so long as we pay back the satyrs in due time, Behorn," said Balfast.
"A fine idea," said Behorn. "Still, let's warm up a bit before we do anything." She looked at William. "Wait, who is this human?"
"He is not from the Iron Kingdom," said Balfast. "He claims to have been transported here by the gods. I don't know what to make of him, but he's been of some value to me."
"Well then, he'll be welcome with the rest of your men," said Behorn. "Come, master human, come in and tell me your story. We have been without new tales for many months."
They entered a grand dining room. On the walls were the heads of many monsters. One, in particular, was of a massive snakelike creature with horns. It had a beak in place of a mouth and red eyes. Balfast looked at it in bemusement.
"The sea serpent is new," he said.
"Yes, yes it is," said Behorn. "One of my hunters caught the beast and hung it on the wall. My son has done his work well. So tell me of these troubles, Balfast. And try not to leave anything out; I love your stories."
Food was laid out on the table. Roasted goat meat of exquisite tenderness. Balfast told the story in full. There were some parts of it that William needed to learn, they had happened before he joined the company. It seemed that Balfast had had a dangerous road even before he'd met William. He'd had to fend off a group of giants who came after them, kept them back, and been held up by unnatural storms. William wondered what these giants looked like and half hoped he would see one. Though fighting, one seemed out of the question.
"Well, you've certainly had a time of it," said Behorn. "The satyrs have been restless of late. We've had one or two skirmishes with them already. If Drendig returns with their location, I'll gladly wipe them out. Still, this Karasush concerns me.
"Not many sorcerers have enough power to start an avalanche."
"He might not have needed a lot of power," said William. "Avalanches don't start because all the snow moves at once. They do it because some snow picks up momentum and causes the snow around it to fall. That causes the snow around it to fall, and so on."
"Yes, I suppose he might have simply dropped a few pebbles. Perhaps he's not a sorcerer at all," mused Behorn.
"No, he is one," said William. "I've seen him in action. With the way he can summon snowstorms, he must have some powerful support."
"Then why did you tell me he was not a powerful sorcerer?" asked Behorn.
"I didn't," said William. "I meant to say that the avalanche alone did not indicate that he was a powerful sorcerer."
"You do play around with words, don't you, little human?" asked Behorn.
"I was educated by a very learned sorceress named Rusara," said William. "Sometimes I get ahead of myself."
"Well, this seems as good a time as any for you to tell us your story," said Behorn. "From the beginning, of course."
"What do you mean "from the beginning?" asked William. "I can't exactly tell you my life story?"
"Then tell us an interesting story from it," said Behorn. "You must have a few."
"Alright then," said William. "Over a year ago, my friend Felix and I were captured by satyrs. While I languished in their dungeons, I was approached by a demoness..."
He told them how he had been rescued by Kiyora and ventured across Seathorius. This time, he added many more details than he had when talking to Balfast, so the story was almost new to him. He described the Nakmar's customs. He spoke of how he had befriended Massacre and escaped from Laughing Wraith.
They seemed to enjoy the tale. "Now, that is quite a story. Yet you've only told us how you got to Artarq. How is it that you came here?"
William realized that the light coming in through the windows had faded. Night was coming on, and the only illumination source was the fire burning in the hall. "Honestly, the story is quite a bit longer than that, and we're all tired.
"I suggest we pick it up tomorrow.
"Yes, yes, a wise idea," said Behorn. "Tales are best when spread out. Go over them too quickly, and you cannot appreciate their twists and turns. That harp you play with is the one you got from the chimeras den?"
"No," said William. "I... well, I no longer have that one. My tale tomorrow will tell you how I lost it."
"I look forward to it," said Behorn. "Still, what are your plans now?"
"Well, I was hoping to head south and find a ship back to my own land," said William.
"You may find that difficult with the pass sealed off by rock and snow," mused Behorn. "You might scale the heights, but the satyrs are bound to prowl around now. And winter will come on in a bit."
"I suppose so," said William. "Is there any other way south?"
"Not in winter," said Behorn. "Yet you might go east."
"East?" asked William in surprise.
"Yes," said Behorn. "The Iron Kingdom lies that way."
"But I've seen only mountains to the east," said William. "Is there some hidden pass?"
"No," admitted Behorn. "And in winter, climbing over them means death. But there are ways under them. Through the domain of the Withering King."
William remained silent for a moment. "Who is this Withering King?" he asked after a moment. "I have heard of him in stories but with few details."
"A servant of the Withering," said Behorn. "The greatest and strongest of them all. He can slaughter entire armies by himself, and his minions are legion. Yet he has little interest in conquest, fortunately for us. If you pass through his domain and you don't anger him, you might make it to the other side."
"Where would I go to reach this place?" asked William.
"I will gladly lead you there myself in a few days," said Behorn. Then lightning shattered the sky, and Behorn looked up. "Ah, thunder graces the sky. Kreshlak is riding the winds in his chariot."
"What is a chariot?" asked William.
"A cart was drawn by four fire-breathing goats that were sired by his union with a giantess. Or so some of the stories go," said Behorn. "Even the Iron Kingdom cannot keep out Kreshlak when he sets himself to it."
"What is this Iron Kingdom like?" asked William.
"A bitter realm where gods are banished," said Behorn. "Those that rule it claim the gods are evil and persecute those who believe in them. The fools have it in their heads that mortals can rule themselves without gods."
"That doesn't sound like a very safe philosophy," said William. "How do they protect themselves from the supernatural?"
"Something to do with the power of the mortal spirit," said Behorn. "I don't know, I've never understood it. Balfast, you've traded with them once or twice, yes?"
"Once," said Balfast. "I have no desire to return there, however. The friend I was staying with was found to have kept a necklace with the image of Kreshlak on it. They crucified him, threw me in prison, and took my goods without trial.
"I managed to bribe my captor and had to make my way out on foot."
"So you see, you may want to consider staying here until spring, Paladin," said Behorn. "Even if you make it through the domain of the Withering King, you'll only find yourself hunted. If you reveal yourself, you will likely come to a horrible and untimely end."
William hesitated. It might be nice to stay here. Certainly less dangerous. But simultaneously, he felt he was needed somewhere beyond those mountains. He had to act. Yet how would it appeal to his hosts? "I intend to go anyway. I like the idea of enjoying your hospitality, but there will be more adventure this way."
"Now that is a warrior's answer," laughed Behorn. "Still, it is late, and we're all tired. Let us sleep and make our plans in the morning."
"I thank you for your hospitality," said William.
"As do I," laughed Behorn. "I'd like to know if all those stories you told are true or not. However, you deserve hospitality simply for telling them either way. Either way, you should stay a few days here. It is too cold to make the journey now.
"And perhaps while we wait, you may finish your story."
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