Chapter 2 If You Need it More than Someone Else, It’s Not Stealing.
One of the deckhands who was on break from chipping through the ice to free the boat scratched his beard, watching.
For some time now, a curious knot of passengers had caught his attention; Aamonwelp, gnome, the orange tabby Mutkin, and a leery-eyed man huddled in conversation for an abnormally long time.
Normally, those kind don’t mix, he thought, as he eavesdropped on their conversation. That rough, arrogant lot's going to stop this fecking ice? I'll believe it when I see it. If they melt this curse, I'll start wearing daisies in my hair and blowing kisses to every damn Riganite I see.
That pissant of a rich passenger was off the ship now, ordering everyone around. The annoying little man addressed him like he was a lackey, while the passenger’s actual servant walked off somewhere with an oversized trunk.
“Here. You. Grab my bag for me, and follow.” He felt a miserly sum of copper being pressed into his palm as the rich dolt gave him the command. The deckhand’s first thought was to chuck it into the water by the ship’s hull out of spite but thought again when he saw his crew mates as they continued the frustrating work of chiseling ice to make a path out. Only half a mile to go, I reckon…He decided he’d rather have the excuse of pandering to that frilly sap before going back to work on that.
The deckhand wasn’t the only sailor avoiding the work; some of the other crew had packed up and decided to head out. The ominous sight of the Strige made mutiny an easy choice for seasoned crew members. He heard some of the crew were planning to give the passengers they didn’t like to the Strige to sate them, should the time come. He supposed the rich young man ordering him around was at the top of the list. He glanced at the pitiful change in his open hand. Fine by me. Serves ‘im right.
The deckhand pocketed the coins as he strode over to the shady passenger who was packing the rich sap’s satchel. He felt the man watch him carefully as he made his way over. Maybe I’m not the only one who’s been eavesdropping, he thought.
When he reached the odd group with the bag, the grubby man plunked the now full satchel at the sailor’s feet. In return, he decided to be generous with that fool passenger's money before going back to his real job; "Here, you lot’ll need this more than I will, and I'd be glad to have this ice gone for good. Take it." He thrust the two coppers into the man’s hand, and caught what looked like a grin hidden under a rogue mask.
A manservant, carrying another item from the rich twit’s bag, came near. “Oy. That baggage’s none o’ yers, hand it over now.” He looked up and down at the oily man with the mask. “And just who’re you?”
“Hafoc. At your service.” The rogue plunked the bulging satchel at the servant’s feet and tapped the side like one would pat a horse’s flank. “Know when the ship’ll be free?”
The servant straightened the lapels on his red and gold jacket. “It won’t. That’s what I hear.” He glanced over at the sailors trying to clear a patch in front of the ship’s bow. No noticeable progress could be seen.
The deckhand nodded in agreement. “Yer, it’ll be a time anna half before we get her out of this mess,” he confirmed. “It’ll be faster to swim over to Rigan now. If you know what’s good for ye, you’ll head out now.”
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After the deckhand left, Hafoc adjusted his pack and addressed the others with an air of importance. “We should get going now. Unless’n you want to wait a moon for them to clear a path.” He looked at Autumnus, “I donna know about stopping the curse, but I’m in for finding land.”
Why does he think he's the boss? Tine wondered, then pushed the thought away. Just go along with it. You wanted to make friends for once, right? she told herself. She adjusted her pack, almost knocking the baldric holding her small bow off her shoulder. I wish I had room to put useful something in it. Company or no, I have to follow the supplies and get out of here or I’m dead.
Autumnus shivered. “And how about you?” He asked, bending down to the gnome. “Are you coming? May I ask your name, good gnomess?”
“Well…now, I’m not sure I want to tell you,” she smirked. “Maybe you should just keep calling me ‘good gnomess’ — that’s rich.”
“Well, I’d be happy to, of course —“ Autumnus offered politely, and crinkled his eyebrows. He looked like he regretted the way the conversation was going. Tine hid a smile at this.
“Forget it. Just call me Rhalie already,” came the short reply.
Urged on by the deckhand’s advice, they set off together across the ice. He had verified Tine’s concerns about the Strige once the manservant left, although Tine wasn’t sure why he was so secretive about it; shouldn’t all the passengers be informed? She wondered why so many of the crew stayed. No matter. It’s all behind us now. Literally. She looked back.
After a time, Tine spoke up. “I’ve heard of this happening up north, but had no idea the ice would reach this far.” She looked over her shoulder towards the ship and the awful Strige. Again. She felt like they couldn’t possibly put enough distance between them to make her feel safe. She turned to look ahead, as they walked, but her ears stayed back. Never thought I'd hate anything more than Nagir City, but this comes close...
The gnome blinked and nodded. “Makes me worry about home. Speaking of worrying, stop looking back already. You’re giving me the creeps.”
Tine thought about Nagir City, and glad to be gone from it, shuddered. She wondered how her sister was; she was the only reason to go back there now. Tine hoped the ice hadn’t reached her. Otherwise, the whole damn city could freeze for all she cared.
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Tine noticed three other passengers had strayed from the ship as well; a quiet half-elf whose auburn hair almost covered her pointy ears, a lean, muscular woman, and another, more voluptuous Aamonwelp who had her nose buried in a book even as they walked along the ice. It seemed that Autumnus noticed the trio, too. He trotted over to them. I could never do that. He makes it look so easy.
He soon came back, with the second group trailing behind him. “This is Kylia, Zawn, and Nemophily,” Autumnus indicated the half-elf, the warrior, and the bookish one in turn, with a nod of his head. Kylia, the half-elf, blushed but nodded in greeting. The female warrior, Zawn, busily adjusted her armor. Nemophily, the Aamonwelp, continued reading, but idly raised a hand in response.
Their ship had set sail just hours ago from a port in Nagir, which was a working-class, industrious nation that prided itself on labor. Their destination was everything Nagir was not; the country of Rigan was a land known for wealth, beauty, and idle frivolity. The pilfered map showed Svlandir, a port town to the north of their current location. If they could get there, they could get out of the awful cold and each go on their merry ways. After all, Autumnus hadn’t had any takers on his proposal to stop the ice. His question had hung over their initial conversation like a half of a high-five that was never met.
The pack of them headed north (according to Hafoc’s stolen compass) in hopes of making it somewhere safe before nightfall. So far, that seemed unlikely. The strait of the Nagirrigan Sea spanned almost 30 miles wide. They were walking on a dubious landscape of ice. How long does the curse last? Tine wondered. Will it melt under us and drop us in the sea? Cold as it was, it was hard to imagine. But, as a group, they had only heard bits of news about the curse from travelers who had fled the northern country of Exland.
Autumnus could produce fire in the palm of his hand, which kept them…well, less frozen, if not exactly warm. Nemophily did the same when she wasn’t turning a page in her book. This meant Tine had to walk near one of the demon-like Aamonwelps to keep warm. She stuck close to Autumnus; he looked imposing, but he seemed kind.
As they walked, Kylia poked at Hafoc’s bag, “Got any clothes in there?” Hafoc gave her a lop-sided grin, and with it, the bag so she could see for herself.
“Take whatchu want, but there’s not much,” Hafoc said, as Kylia opened his pack. He waved a hand to encourage the others to help themselves out of it, too. Hafoc didn't pack his bag for the (previously non-existent) polar terrain, but he offered some spare socks, which Rhalie and Kylia used as makeshift mittens; the tears in the heels of the socks served as optional holes for their thumbs. While they were digging through his pack, Hafoc inspected the lantern and found that, in addition to light, it gave off a faint aura of heat that slightly warmed the area around it.
Tine wished she could have offered something, too. Blight, the others must think I’m hoarding everything I brought. I look so selfish! If only they knew why…no, that’s out of the question. She shook her head.
The group all walked on, staying close to both the lantern and Aamonwelp flames for their heat, but it was still uncomfortably cold.
The ice covered most of the sea’s strait, but to the east, some unfrozen water remained along the coast of Rigan using the far-off port of Svlandir as their guide. For now, they had no idea how to get there, aside from swimming, so walking north to get closer to the port seemed like a good enough plan for now. Unfortunately, they only had so much daylight left…
A strong breeze rushed over them toward the water, making Tine realize how unprepared they were for such a trip. She walked with small cat steps on the ice as the group continued on. As they talked, they each wondered aloud to each other if the curse would take over the whole world if it wasn’t stopped. The prospect was overwhelming, and they soon fell silent again.
During the long trek away from the marooned ship, Tine got to know the others better: Autumnus was reliable and kind and she soon learned to trust him. Kylia had a sharp eye and Rhalie was sharp witted. Hafoc seemed considerate, but something made her distrust him still. Neomphily and Zawn were with them, and not; they kept to themselves while they followed the group. They hadn't been traveling together for long, but the necessity of crisis had made them a functioning community of sorts, even if not all of them were exactly friends. They called each other friend for now; there didn't seem to be a better word for whatever they were to each other. Not yet.
Lurking on their left, to the west, the new glacier seemed endless. The sun fell low. Nightfall would only bring greater danger and more cold. On the bright side, visibility remained good, and if they shielded their eyes against the sun's glare on the ice, they could see pretty far. Kylia’s eyesight turned out to be the best; she alerted the group that there was the figure far ahead.
The stranger in the distance hadn't seemed to notice them yet. As they walked, Autumnus insisted that they approach it, noting that perhaps they could ask how to cope on the ice as they trekked to Svlandir. The others found it hard to argue with a towering companion who had a flaming hand, no matter how polite he might be, so on they went.
Near dusk, the group approached the figure, who huddled over a hole in the ice with a long stick. Kylia drew her weapon first, and said in a low voice, “Everyone is an enemy until they aren’t.” A few of the others followed suit.
In contrast, Autumnus grinned broadly as they approached, arms outstretched. One palm, still ablaze, stood out sharply against his demon-red skin and dark blue garb. Tine wondered how welcoming he actually appeared to the small stranger.
They could see the figure was ice fishing now that they were closer. The fisherman looked like he had mixed feelings about meeting the bedraggled group, perhaps because of the mixture of flashing weapons and smiles. As he made up his mind about them, the fisherman gripped his pole and took them in, each in turn: a frowning orange Mutkin cat with a backpack, a blonde, female warrior who was tapping her foot, a defensive, slight half-elf, the rough vagabond human in a cloak, a pretty, but dangerous looking gnome, and the two demon beings with horns and fiery skin. After a moment, he shivered a little, as if breaking the ice around him, and started talking excitedly, mostly to Autumnus, who continued to smile broadly.
"It's good to see someone... It's been so long — just me and the fishies...what's that, Kilgore?" He addressed a little trout hanging by a rope on his stick, "Ah, yes, I think they look like good-uns too. Shoulds we gives them helps? Yes?” He puts his head close to the fish on his pole, apparently listening.
This day just keeps getting better and better, Tine thought. But the fisherman had a small fire that looked so warm. And fish. She could go for some of that.
The chatty fisherman acted like he hadn’t talked to anyone in seasons. He had spent years walking along the glaciers far north, but lately, the ice had expanded, and he began to wander more south. Apparently, if you stay on the section that is already ice, you aren’t frozen as the curse stretches into new territory, Tine noted.
”Is getting night.” The fisher continued earnestly. “Wills you leave or stays by the fire?"
Nemophily mumbled thanks, sat by the fire, and poked it with a twig she nabbed from its base. Zawn plunked down next to her, as close to the flames as her chainmail would allow without heating it up.
“I think we stays, yeh?” Hafac looked to the others. It sounded a little more like an order than a question.
The night rose around them, and the fire held them safe in its circle of light. Then, the fisherman began to describe the terrible creatures they might encounter on the ice. Maybe he isn’t just alone, Tine thought. Maybe he’s the only one left.
A wolf howled in the distance as night swallowed them completely.