Book 2: Chapter Twenty-One

The blizzard arrived just before dawn, with enough force that it almost extinguished the bonfire despite the windbreak.

Fergus trudged over to Sarette. “Come help me!” he shouted over the howling of the wind. “If we move the firewood and build another wall closer to the fire, it’ll keep it from going out!”

“I’ll do it!” she yelled back. “You should be in your shelter!”

“The work will keep me warm!”

Other than Sarette, Fergus was the last person still out and about. A few of the other refugees had stayed up all night or drawn the early morning shift to watch over the camp, but she’d convinced them to take shelter before the storm hit. It turned out she was lucky Fergus was still awake—there was no way she could have moved the woodpile on her own. They worked for five minutes before he went to the nearest snow cave and woke up two of his men, a pair of broad-shouldered young brothers.

The four of them toiled back and forth, passing each other as they carried armfuls of wood from the old pile to the new, then returned. All three men were huge, and carried twice as much per trip as Sarette, but she kept at it, and finally they’d moved the entire stack. The fire had stabilized with the extra protection, and they took the opportunity to feed it and build it up again.

“We’ll have to hope the wind dies down before we use up too much of the wood!” Sarette yelled to the men.

“It usually does after the first few hours!” Fergus called back. “You did good!” She couldn’t see his face—his hood and wraps were covering up everything but his eyes in an attempt to ward off frostbite—but she thought she detected a note of admiration in his voice.

“Thank you!” she said. She wanted to praise him in return, but he was older than her, and she couldn’t quite bring herself to do it. “You should get to your shelters now!”

“What about you?”

“Someone’s got to watch the fire! Go!”

She’d explained the plan to him earlier, and Gregor had agreed once he’d returned from hunting, but Fergus still hesitated. At least he’d stopped calling her m’lady.

“Are you sure?” he said. “It’s worse than I thought it would be!”

“I’m stormborn! I’ll be fine!” That was overstating things, but the people of Jol’s Brook seemed to hold the stormborn in high regard, and she’d used that to keep them from panicking during the long day of preparations.

He nodded. “I’ll go! Come get me if you need anything!”

“I will!” she assured him, while privately planning to do nothing of the sort. He’d been up for a full day and night working at heavy labor. If she needed anything, she’d wake Corec or Boktar, who should have managed to get at least a few hours of sleep by now.

Once he was gone, Sarette did a full circuit around the camp. At times, to keep moving forward, she had to bend so far into the wind that she’d have fallen over if it hadn’t been pushing back at her so hard. She stopped to check the snow caves along the way. Each of the shelters had something partially blocking the entrance—personal belongings or a plug of snow—to cut down on cold drafts, but she made sure that the new snowfall wasn’t blocking off the rest of the opening. Air still needed to get through so the people inside wouldn’t suffocate.

By the time she reached the shelters farthest from the center of the camp, she could no longer see the glow of the fire through the swirling snow. They’d been intending for the fire to provide a beacon to guide anyone who went outside during the blizzard. Without it, people could get easily lost and disoriented. If they went the wrong direction, they might die before anyone realized they were missing.

Sarette considered her options, then went to find the supplies they’d unloaded from the sleds, so she could set up guide ropes throughout the camp. Between what they’d brought with them and what the woodcutters had kept in their equipment shack, there was plenty of rope, but she’d need to find something to fasten it to. She started with an obvious choice, tying one end of a rope to a tree that stood sheltering two snow caves, and the other end to the log windbreak Fergus and his men had constructed. Anyone near that part of the camp would be able to follow the rope until they were close enough to see the fire.

Finished with the first guide rope, she returned to the bonfire to add more wood, then started a large pot of tea, setting it up at the outer edge. The bonfire made cooking awkward, but it wasn’t feasible to keep the smaller fires burning during the storm. They planned to limit cooking, and stick to trail rations as much as possible, but there would still be a need for hot drink and hot food to help keep people going in the cold.

A voice came from right behind her. “Do you need help?”

Sarette whirled around, her heart pounding. She hadn’t heard anyone approaching over the wind. “Shavala! What are you doing out here?” The elven woman was too slender to be out in the weather, and she wasn’t wearing enough layers. She’d decided against buying a heavier coat in Snow Crown, and she hadn’t covered her head or her face.

“I’ll be all right for a little while,” Shavala assured her, leaning in to make sure she could be heard. “Like you. My teacher can ignore the cold entirely.”

Sarette hesitated, then nodded. It wasn’t her place to judge the other woman’s abilities. “Did you need something? There’ll be tea soon.”

“I couldn’t sleep with all this,” Shavala said, pointing up at the sky. “I’ve never felt so…much of a storm before. Is it always like this?”

“No, but it happens. This is why most of our people live in Snow Crown—it’s sheltered from the worst of it.”

A blast of wind came from the direction opposite the two windbreaks, causing the bonfire to sputter and blow almost sideways.

The elven woman shivered. “I guess it is colder than I expected.”

“You should get closer to the fire to warm up. I need to figure out a way to keep it burning if the wind’s going to change directions.”

Shavala closed her eyes, then opened them again. “The wind is too strong; I can’t stop it.”

“No one could,” Sarette said in disbelief. “Not for the length of a blizzard.”

The other woman shrugged. “I thought I’d give it a try. But if I can’t change the wind, maybe I can do something else.” She squatted down near the bonfire and held her hands out, looking as if she was warming them. Parts of the fire that had been blown out by the wind suddenly sprang back to life. The flames were still being blown in one direction after another, but they no longer sputtered.

Shavala stood up. “That should hold it for a while. I may have to do it again later.”

“What did you do?”

“I asked it to keep burning, and it agreed. It wants more wood, though.”

Sarette blinked, not sure how to respond. “You asked it?”

“Well, it’s not like talking to a person, or even an animal. It doesn’t actually think for itself, but I called out to it, and it responded. I’ve always liked fire; it’s so much easier than wind. But it’s hungry.”

“Back in Jol’s Brook, when you burned those men…” Sarette wasn’t sure what her question was—she hadn’t seen the spell itself, only seen the aftermath.

“I called fire out of nothing. It’s harder to do it that way, but it still came. It’s easier like this, when it’s already here.”

The more Sarette learned about druidic magic, the less similar it seemed to stormrunner magic. “I suppose I’ll feed the fire then,” she said.

“I’ll help you, but then I think I should go back inside. You were right about the cold.”

They added more wood, then Shavala returned to her shelter and Sarette set up three more of the guide ropes. She tied the third to a tree beyond the edge of the camp. From where she stood, she could see only the nearest of the mounds indicating a snow cave. With just a few more steps, even that was gone, and she was alone in the storm. Unraveling the scarf from around her face, she looked up at the sky and took a deep breath of the icy air. She spread her arms out wide to feel the full strength of the winds, closing her eyes and spinning around like a child at play. Despite the cold and the lack of sleep, the storm was somehow invigorating.

When she opened her eyes, Gregor was standing before her. Like Shavala, he hadn’t bothered to cover his face.

“First time on blizzard watch?” he shouted over the noise, grinning at her.

“My first time doing it for real,” she called back to him. “Is it your shift already?”

“Not yet. I just thought I’d check on things.”

He was checking up on her, and on her ability to manage the situation, but somehow it was easier to take coming from the experienced scout than from her own squad.

“No one’s come out yet for food,” she said, “but I’ve got a pot of tea going. It’s time to do another round of the camp to make sure the air holes aren’t getting blocked, and the shelters that are farthest away can’t see the fire, so I’ve been setting up guide ropes. I’ve got two left, but I can’t figure out what to tie them to.”

“You check the air holes. I’ve got some metal poles that might be sturdy enough to hold the ropes, if I pound them into the ground.”

As they worked, two of the village women came out to the fire, had mugs of tea, then started putting together a pot of stew. Until Sarette’s shift ended, it would be her responsibility to make sure the humans either stayed near the fire or limited the amount of time they spent outside. The blizzard would last for two days, but so far, things were going as well as could be expected. If they were lucky, and everyone was careful, they might all make it through the storm alive.

#

“You aren’t from Tyrsall originally? Where were you before that?”

“Four Roads,” Treya said.

She and Ellerie were talking quietly in their snow cave, wrapped in coats and blankets, while Sarette slept next to them on the mattress of pine boughs they’d constructed. After over a day in the cramped shelter, with only occasional brief trips out and nothing else to do but talk and sleep, the experience had become surreal. There was little to judge the passing of time except for Sarette and Gregor trading shifts every four hours. Well, that, and the fact that the swirling mass of snow outside was slightly brighter during the day than at night. Sarette had been right about the snow caves, though—somehow they trapped heat inside and made the blizzard almost bearable, despite the deep, biting cold outside.

“In the free lands? Why did you leave?”

“Mother Yewen thought I would have more opportunities in Tyrsall. There was a teacher for the Order of Mystics there, and more opportunities for concubines.”

Ellerie shuddered. “I don’t understand why your people allow concubines. Letting men buy women? It’s disgusting.”

Treya shrugged uncomfortably. She’d had similar thoughts, but she felt compelled to defend the Three Orders. “That’s not really how it works. Or, at least, we try to make sure it doesn’t turn into that. It’s supposed to be more of a partnership. Besides, it’s up to the girls to choose it for themselves; they aren’t forced into it.”

“Why would they choose it?”

“The idea of concubines is engrained in the culture. No, that’s not what I mean. It’s…romanticized within the culture.” Treya had given the idea a great deal of thought, but she’d never tried to put it into words before. “There’s a mystique about being the other woman, about a wealthy man seeking you out.”

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Ellerie harrumphed. “If you like that sort of thing.”

Treya laughed. The elven woman got along with men just fine, if her relationship with Boktar was any indication, but she’d made her romantic preferences clear.

“You also have to remember that rich orphans don’t end up in orphanages. We’re all from poor families, so there’s the allure of living in a noble household, or even a successful shopkeeper’s home. And there’s some gratitude involved, too. The Orders took me in and raised me after my parents died. They taught me a lot.” She smiled at the memory. “The first thing they taught me was how to read. I hated it so much back then, but I eventually learned.”

“Where do boy orphans go?”

“Apprenticeships with tradesmen, mostly, even if they’re too young to do much work yet. Some are adopted.”

“The girls aren’t adopted?”

“Not as often, but it happens. Sometimes even after the Orders take them in. Babies mostly, and the younger girls. How is it handled in Terevas?”

“Terevas doesn’t have many orphans. My people live for a long time, and they’re careful.” Ellerie frowned. “Sometimes they’re careful. Anyway, there’s always some family willing to adopt.”

Ellerie rarely spoke about her homeland, so Treya tried to remember what she’d been taught about the place. “Is Revana di’Valla still queen?”

“Her Exalted Majesty,” Ellerie said absently, then her eyes shot to Treya’s. “She’s very formal. And unpleasant.”

“You’ve met the queen?”

“I guess you could say we’ve met, but I’d rather not talk about her.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is it true what Bobo said about the palace being made of glass?”

“What else did he say?” Ellerie asked, tensing.

“Not much. It was just an offhand comment he made a long time ago.”

The other woman nodded, seeming to relax. “There are glass palaces—more than one—but they’re not all that interesting, to be honest. It’s a pretty place on the surface, but…” She shook her head. “I wouldn’t recommend visiting.”

“I don’t imagine I ever will, though I guess it depends where we end up settling down.”

“Settle down? Oh, you mean with Corec and the others?”

“Yes. I’m still getting used to the idea. I’d always intended to keep traveling, like one of my teachers does, but then the healing magic came out of nowhere. I can help more people if they know where to find me.”

There was a scraping sound from the entrance of their shelter as someone moved the pile of snow they’d been using to block the worst of the wind. A moment later, Gregor crawled through the tunnel.

He looked up at Treya. “You’re a healer, yes?”

“I am,” she said, wanting to spring to her feet, but there was no room with Gregor kneeling in the entrance area.

“We’ve got a little girl with the freezing sickness. We’re warming her by the fire, but I don’t know if that’ll be enough.”

Treya didn’t know much about freezing sickness. Yet another problem with never having received any training in healing. “I don’t know if there’s anything I can do, but I’ll try.”

Gregor nodded and backed carefully out of the tunnel. Treya was already wearing her coat, but she buckled it up tightly, then put on her cloak and hood and wrapped a scarf around her face before following him into the much colder air outside.

A small group of villagers were between the bonfire and the new woodpile, standing close together to block the wind. The girl was about six years old, wrapped in blankets, and was being held by her kneeling parents as close to the fire as they dared. She was unconscious and her skin was pale, almost blue.

Treya knelt beside them, then laid her hands on the girl’s head and chest, checking her over with her healing senses. “What happened?”

The mother was crying, but the father said, “She hid some snowballs inside her coat to surprise her brother with, but she fell asleep and they melted and got her clothes wet. She was sleeping that way for hours before we realized. She told us about it while we were getting her wet things off, but then she fell back asleep and now she won’t wake up.”

“We’ve got hot tea,” Gregor said, holding a mug.

“We tried, but she wasn’t swallowing,” the father said.

The girl’s body was colder than it should be, of course, but also everything inside her seemed to be moving too slowly. That information didn’t tell Treya what to do, though. The girl didn’t need healing so much as she needed warming up.

“What do you normally do for freezing sickness?” Treya asked Gregor. “What about hot water?”

He shook his head, as did some of the villagers standing nearby. “Not hot water,” he said sharply. “It can harm the skin when it’s like this. The fire, the dry blankets, something hot to drink—usually that’s enough if we have better shelter, but the priests can do more.”

Ellerie had followed them, but she just grimaced and shrugged when Treya looked her way. The elven woman probably knew less about freezing sickness than Treya did. Terevas was farther south even than Circle Bay.

Treya closed her eyes to cut down on distractions. She focused back on what she could sense, and tried to think of a way to help. Even if she figured out how to warm the girl up, she could only do so from inside her body, and that seemed dangerous.

It would have to be the blood. Blood traveled everywhere. Just as she was about to attempt it, though, something jolted her out of her trance. Warming the blood too quickly would be dangerous. Warming it in the wrong spot could push colder blood into the heart, and that would be dangerous too. Where had the new knowledge come from?

When she closed her eyes again, her sense of the girl’s body had changed. Some blood vessels glowed brightly, some glowed more dimly, and some didn’t glow at all. Treya realized the glowing was telling her which blood vessels to warm up, and by how much.

She got to work.

#

When Corec woke, something was different. It took him a moment to realize the howling winds had stopped. The only sounds he could hear were of people getting ready for the day.

Something else had changed, too—he was warm. With two layers of clothing, the blankets, and the tight press of bodies, the sleeping platform was almost too warm. He tried to disentangle himself from Katrin without waking her, but she opened her eyes.

“Is it morning?” she mumbled, yawning.

“Yes, and I think the blizzard’s over.”

“It died down over the last hour,” Shavala said, sitting up on Katrin’s other side. She’d already been awake, since one person had stayed up at all times to watch the shelter for signs of collapse.

“I’ll meet you out there,” Corec said. He crawled through the tunnel to the outside world, pushing his travel pack away from the entrance, where he’d left it to block the wind. It was covered with snow, but not enough to block off the tunnel entirely. They’d checked regularly to make sure an air hole remained, and Sarette and Gregor had done the same during their patrols.

Fergus, Bobo, and Gregor were standing near the fire, so Corec joined them.

“I guess we made it through well enough,” Fergus said, staring around the camp with dark circles under his eyes. Another two feet of snow had been piled on top of the shelters, and the fire rings for the cooking fires had been completely buried on the first day. Only the area immediately surrounding the bonfire was still bare. “I heard there was another case of freezing sickness last night?”

“Yes,” Gregor said, “and frostbite along with it. One of the men. The priestess, Treya, says he’ll regain the use of his fingers. The family wasn’t wearing enough layers to keep warm. It happened during my shift, so I gave them my blankets. And Bobo’s.”

“Thank you m’lord,” Fergus said, then turned to Bobo and ducked his head. “And you as well.”

Bobo shrugged off the praise. “In truth, I slept so much during the day, I just couldn’t sleep last night on top of it. The blankets might as well see some use.”

Fergus sighed. “I suppose we should get started back to Jol’s Brook. We’ll have to break the trail all over again, and the snow’s deeper now.”

“We can do that, can’t we?” Corec asked. “If we go first with the snowshoes, and pack it all down, the rest of you can just walk on top.”

“You’re still coming with us?” the man asked. “After losing three days here, I didn’t want to presume.”

Gregor said, “I can’t speak for our visitors, but it’s my job to see that no one gets lost or stuck here in the mountains.”

“The rest of us are coming too,” Corec added. “We’ll make sure that there aren’t any more of those men who attacked you.”

“We appreciate everything you’ve done for us,” the headman said. “If we hadn’t known about that storm…” He shook his head and sighed.

Just then, a howling could be heard faintly in the distance, but this time, it wasn’t the wind.

“That doesn’t sound like wolves,” Corec said.

“Snow beasts,” Fergus said flatly. “Must have come down during the blizzard.” The other refugees had all stopped what they were doing, and now stood with concerned looks on their faces.

“It sounds like they’re to the west,” Gregor said. “Do you get many attacks?” he asked the plainsman.

“No, we keep our ranches well isolated, so they don’t usually bother the village. They mostly head into the mountains.”

The scout pursed his lips. “If we can hear them, they can’t be more than fifteen miles away, and the trail we took is the only good one around here.”

“They’re coming this way?” Corec asked.

Gregor shrugged. “Even if they’re heading up the slopes to hunt, the trail will funnel them in this direction eventually, unless they decide to turn back on their own. At least the storm covered our tracks, so they don’t know we’re here.”

“Was that a snow beast?” Sarette asked, rushing over to the group, still buckling her coat.

“Yes,” Gregor replied, “and if he’s calling out, there are others.”

As if in response, more howls came from the same direction, answering the first.

“They’re not hunting,” Fergus said, listening to the sound. “They’re just telling the others where they are.”

Gregor nodded. “Which means they’ll be moving slow for now, but we can’t go back to Jol’s Brook or we’ll risk running into them. We have to stay here.”

Corec said, “Will we need to fight them? What are they like?”

“I’ve heard they’re as tall as ogres,” Bobo said.

“Never seen an ogre,” Fergus said, “but they’re big, about twice as tall as a man.”

“They’re strong, and their fur is thick, almost like armor,” Gregor said.

“How many do you think there are?” Corec asked. “Can we stop them before they get here?”

“I heard at least five. That could be all there are, or there could be fifty. I would need to go look to tell you for sure.”

“By yourself?” Sarette said. “We need to…” She paused, then said something in the stormborn language.

Gregor peered up at the nearest mountain, then spoke to her in the same language. She replied. They stared at each other, tense, but finally the scout nodded.

Sarette told Corec, “Even for a small group of snow beasts, the High Guard usually sends out at least two patrols—four full squads—all armed with crossbows. We only have one crossbow. I don’t think we can stay here; we should go east instead.”

“To keep ahead of them?”

“Yes, but I meant we should go to the ruins. There are stone walls there, and the people can hide in the buildings. We can’t protect them here. If the snow beasts come after us, even five of them could flank us before we can stop them. If there are more…”

Corec nodded. “If there are buildings, we can set up defenses, but I thought we were still four days away.”

“Closer to five,” Gregor said, “but they’re not tracking us yet. As long as they’re exploring the mountains, we can keep ahead of them. Once they get here, though, and see our tracks… They can move twice as fast as us, so we need to be over halfway to the ruins before they figure out we’re here.”

“I don’t know if the women and children can keep up that pace,” Fergus said. “They’ve been through so much already.”

Corec said, “If we need to, we’ll send the rest of you on ahead, and we’ll stay back and ambush them.” He’d felt useless for the past few days, depending on Sarette and Gregor to know what they were doing, but a fight was something he could handle.

Fergus nodded. “We’ll bring the axes. I’d better get everyone ready before they start panicking.” A number of the villagers had gathered around during the conversation, and when he rushed off, they did too, gathering up their meager belongings and passing word along to those who hadn’t heard.

“I’ll go wake the others,” Katrin said. She and Shavala had made it out in time to hear most of the conversation.

“Boktar first,” Corec suggested. “I’ll go dig the sleds out from under the snow, but I’ll need his help to get everything packed again.”

#

Sarette checked her map again, then surreptitiously aimed her spyglass north. Their blizzard camp had been out of view of any watchtowers, and in the day since they’d left, they’d been skirting around a massive slope. Finally, another peak came into view beyond it, and she found what she’d been looking for.

“I’ve got it,” she murmured to Gregor. The two of them were at the head of the procession, neither hauling a sled. Fergus had detailed several of his men to help, so that the people carrying weapons could keep them close at hand. Corec and Boktar, as the most heavily armored, were serving as rear guard.

The scout immediately stopped and turned around. “Let’s take a meal break and give the children a chance to rest,” he announced to the group. There were sighs of relief up and down the line, and not just from the children and their parents. Everyone was tired from the pace they were setting.

Fergus approached. “Did you see any sign of them?” he asked, indicating the spyglass. Sarette had stopped several times throughout the morning to look behind them for the snow beasts, giving her an excuse to carry it.

“No, but it wasn’t likely. We haven’t heard them since yesterday.”

“Maybe they won’t come this way.”

“I hope so,” she said, but Gregor had warned everyone that they weren’t safe just because they were too far away to hear the calls. If the snow beasts discovered the camp, they could close the distance quickly, and there was no sign of a snowstorm coming that would be heavy enough to hide their trail.

With everyone stopped, Boktar, Nedley, Ellerie, and Winna distributed hardtack and dried meat up and down the line.

Sarette snuck away from the group, beyond a line of trees, and found a spot that was getting sun through a break in the clouds. She pulled two signal mirrors from her pocket, using one to catch the sunlight and angle it toward the other, which she aimed at the watchtower.

Tower One Sixty-Two, acknowledge, she signaled. She waited a minute, then did it again, then again.

Finally, there was a response. One Sixty-Two here. Unknown party, acknowledge.

Two High Guard, sixty outsiders, including children, she sent back. Low supplies—food, blankets. Heading east by south-east to South Valley ruins. Snow beast incursion behind. Unknown numbers, unknown distance. Requesting assistance.

Bouncing nearest, the tower signaled, meaning they would check with the other nearby towers to find out what sort of assistance could be provided.

Three minutes later, there was a response. Nearest help six days from South Valley, eight days with supplies. Single patrol. Outside of signal view.

Sarette bit her lip. Was it better to get help sooner, or give the patrol two extra days to stop somewhere for supplies? Food was holding out, but it would soon run low with the number of extra mouths they were feeding. And the patrol was currently out of sight, so unless the closest signaler could bounce the message off of yet another tower, it could take another day or more to even get word to them. If there was a fight with the snow beasts, it would likely already be over in six days, one way or another.

She signaled back, Supplies needed urgent. Bounce west to locate snow beasts. Request intercession, all available.

Acknowledged. Tower officer assuming command.

There. It was out of her hands now. The tower would watch for any more signals from her, but with how often they’d be out of sight, and how often the weather would prevent signaling, the watchtowers were in a better position to make command decisions.

She returned to the group and joined Gregor. “It’s done,” she said in the stormborn language. “A patrol will meet us at the ruins in eight to ten days with supplies.”

“No help with the snow beasts?” he asked.

“The tower didn’t indicate any patrols near enough. I asked them to bounce the message to the western towers to find the snow beasts, and requested help from all available.”

He nodded. The all-available request would mobilize help from scouts, hunting parties, and any nearby settlements, with the tower captain using the best information available to decide what level of response was safe and appropriate. It might not result in any help at all, but if the group of snow beasts was small enough, and there was a ranching settlement nearby, the people there might decide to take care of the matter themselves whether any of the High Guard were present or not.

“Then we’ve done what we can,” the scout said.