The Myth of the Ice Queen:
Blood and Ice Wolves
Chapter 8 - Ice Storm
Feyt watched Aterius bandage Muroc's leg. The three of them were under an impromptu lean-to tent made of a canvas tarp Dokara and Seelus had set up. They had chosen a good spot next to a sheltering wall of ice that blocked most of the cold north wind. With the canvas cover overhead it’s almost homey, Feyt thought. They had not moved far after the accident so Muroc could be tended to. A sharp edge on the ice had cut him and his leg was badly bruised from being trapped between the large chunks of ice. Feyt could hear the rest of the group outside preparing their own beds. Gairet and Tauras were, as usual, arguing about something.
As Aterius wrapped a final strip of cloth around the wound, he said conversationally, "You know, you are a terrible patient."
"Maybe," Muroc grumbled. "But we still cannot stay here another day. The storm's coming."
Aterius sighed, "True. Are you sure you can walk?"
"Ha! You'll have trouble keeping up with me."
"Rip your stitches and we may not make it across the broken lands. Edon's not far." Feyt's ears perked up. Edon? Aterius went on.
"It's still going to take an effort to get there tomorrow. You know how slow it is to travel here in the Broken Lands. We do not want any more accidents with the ice either. And that storm is going to be here tomorrow."
"Yes, I know. I have been across here a dozen times and this is the first big icefall I have fallen victim to. If fortune favors us, we will be fine."
Wryly Aterius responded, "So now, the great and careful Muroc is an optimist?"
"Oh, leave it go," he groused. Looking past Aterius, Muroc saw Feyt was still there. "I owe you both. That was a risky thing to come down into the icefall with me. I won't be forgetting it."
Feyt was embarrassed at the gratitude, but Aterius admonished Muroc. "You won't distract me with compliments. Get to sleep. You need as much sleep as you can get tonight. Tomorrow won't be easy when you stiffen up." He motioned Feyt out first and followed behind him.
From under the canvas, they heard Muroc say crossly, "I'll sleep. Like a baby. Don't start taking a liking to bossing me around, though. Tomorrow, stiff or not, I'll be pushing you all to move faster."
A few feet away, a small fire flickered invitingly in the wind next to where their packs lay. Feyt wondered where they found anything to burn here. As he stepped close, he saw a small stack of short broken boards. One of them must have scrounged some of the wood as they passed Anchorfief. That reminds me.
Moving around him to stand close to the fire, Aterius stared into it quietly.
Feyt cleared his throat. "He's not happy."
"Ha. Muroc is only happy when he can be cross. Be assured, he is in good shape overall and knowing him, I expect he will be back in his normal form tomorrow, though sore and stiff."
"Aterius, I... I was wondering if you could tell me about what happed to Anchorfief."
"Ah. I did say I would, did I not? Hmmm. Let me think. Where to begin? What do you know of history, Feyt?"
"Um, not much. I just hear what the others in Caernall talk about, I suppose."
"Not much then?" His smile showed amusement. "This area here, the Broken Lands, used to be a part of the Northern Sea many years ago. Anchorfief, those shattered pieces of wood back there, used to be a major city on the coast. It once had the greatest fleet of ships the North has ever seen in its harbor. But that fleet wasn't Anchorfief's. It was Edon's fleet. Anchorfief was the chief mainland port for Edon. Ever hear of Edon?" He paused looking at Feyt.
"I'm not sure. Was that the Kingdom of the North the old women tell stories about?"
"Yes," he smiled. "But they all aren't fairytales, Feyt. Edon was the last great kingdom in the North before the Ice. In fact, the coming of the Ice and the fall of Edon happened at the same time. "
"You mean there hasn't been ice always?" Feyt knew some the old villagers talked about warmer days in the past, but his entire life he had only known the perpetual winter.
"No. Once Edon lay on a beautiful green island. It had one large central peak, which is the mountain you have seen ahead of us. That is where Muroc expects we will find the ice wolves. But on that island, somewhere buried in the ice near the base of the mountain, lies the city of Edonhall, capital of Edon, the Great Northern Kingdom.
“From Edon, the last great king, Graerfin, ruled all the northern lands as far south as Eras Holm, and as far east as the Sorrowful Mountains. The fleets of Edonhall were the mightiest in the western lands." Aterius bent over and opened his pack. Fishing out a long stemmed pipe, he stood back up and began to poke some smoke-weed into it. He continued.
"Then the Ice appeared suddenly. The histories I was taught say, when the Age of Ice started, the entire mountain and center of the island was frozen in an instant. Edonhall disappeared under it with all her people. The royal family was lost along with the entire populace. The great fleet and Edon's armies were without a leader.
"With King Graerfin suddenly gone, the Admiral of the Fleet, Asaerdas, assumed the throne and moved his capital to Anchorfief making it the capital of Edon's empire after that. But the Ice had weakened the empire tremendously. Many of Edon's allies and vassal states fell away. Either right away, like Ergas Holm, or in the passing years like Myrthrall and Estigas.
Aterius bent to the fire. Plucking up piece of a burning stick, he lit his pipe. Then stood back up. He drew a deep breath in and blew out a large puff of smoke. He smiled and sighed, the he went back to his story, taking smaller puffs from time to time.
"But the Ice kept on growing in sudden bursts and spurts. Winter suddenly took up most of the year. The snow fell and fell. It grew deeper every year. Asaerdas refused to resettle elsewhere and his ships traded far and wide to keep Anchorfief supplied. Asaerdas and his heirs never called themselves kings however. Their family and kin were known as the Admiralty.”
"The Ice never stopped though. Bite by bite, it took centuries for it to eat up an ocean, but eventually it did. Slowly the Ice was strangling Anchorfief. Eventually, a couple of hundred years ago, a sudden fast growth of the Ice cut the sea route off entirely from Anchorfief when the Ice reached Lormager Point to its west. Most of the ships were trading to the south or patrolling the coast to keep away pirates and incursions from the southern kingdoms. The ships of the great fleet that were not trapped with Anchorfief could not return. The fleet and its Admiralty established themselves in a harbor further south called Fredoris, after the sea god's son. They kept their allegiance to Anchorfief.
"Over the next century, the Ice froze right up to the edge of the shore at Anchorfief. Its populace had shrunk by then, but it still needed the supplies that were carried overland from the ships at Fredoris to survive in the long winters. Then, about sixty years ago, the Ice grew suddenly again. Growing up onto the shore and into the city of Anchorfief. The residents dug and shoveled, and carried the ice away trying to do that as fast as it grew. But it was too much. Gradually the city was emptied as people fled the freezing cold. They were losing heart and could not keep the Ice from gaining ground.
"Muroc's ancestral family had stayed behind to run Anchorfief after the Admiralty moved to Fredoris. They either had or took on the family name of Anchorfief back then. Muroc was about ten years old and was there, chopping and shoveling the Ice, when the Ice Wolves came. They came in the spring. The wolves began by sneaking into Anchorfief at night and killing anyone they found outside. That went on for almost a year.
The Anchorfiefs sent hunting party after party out to fight the wolves. Most came back empty handed; some came back with heavy casualties, and some never returned at all. The wolves were too much.
"Then the cursed Ice grew again. It is said that the Ice began to moan like a dying man. The noises continued for seven days and then suddenly, like the icefall we experienced, the Ice began to move. It thrust up out of the sea and toppled onto the buildings of Anchorfief. In a day, it moved to cover the entire city. The survivors salvaged what they could and headed south.
"The ice wolves came in droves. Killing the stragglers and even pulling down groups of armed men. The Anchorfiefs fought their way south for three days before, the wolves suddenly left them alone. The number of their dead was staggering." Aterius tamped out his pipe. "So, Muroc's family were the last to leave when the ice wolves came."
"What happened to the Admiralty in Fredoris?" Feyt asked open mouthed.
"Once Anchorfief was gone, they dispersed. They had nothing left of the Empire of the North. They just sailed away. Many became pirates. Or merchants. There are hundreds of ships along the coast, all the way down to the southern kingdoms, that claim to be descended from the captains of the fleet.
Feyt was impressed. The tales Caernall's old women told were nothing like this history he had just heard.
Aterius was very solemn. "Ever since then, the Ice has kept growing. Spreading and moving in spurts and sudden expansions. It has filled the Plains of Edon and spread tapering off into the Tundra we passed over to get here."
"How do you know so much about our northern lands? Gairet said you came from one of the southern kingdoms."
Aterius laughed. "I was taught a great deal of history before I ran away to become an adventurer. My parents intended I become a learned academic and stay in the Academy of History. I changed my area of studies several times to avoid that academy, and finally ran away, as I told you the other day."
"Is it really warm where your home is?"
Aterius laughed at his wide-eyed look. "Yes, Feyt. It is warm the whole year round. Hmmm. Speaking of warm, we should get to sleep. Other than our lucky watch-winners, I think we are the only ones still awake."
The next day Muroc proved he was feeling better. Even with his limp, he drove them forward through the Broken Lands like a taskmaster. I am glad Muroc does not have a whip. I am sure he would be using it on us given half a chance.
Slow as it was through the Broken Lands, the biting wind and occasional sleet inspired them to keep up the pace. The storm Aterius had predicted two days before was about to break. Near noon the party walked single-file out between the last up-thrust spires of ice that marked the end of the Broken Lands. The ice here ended in rocks and snow that began to swiftly rise in elevation as they kept moving. Feyt assumed from Aterius' story that they were now on the island of Edon.
At the head of the line, Muroc called a halt and waved Gairet and Dokara ahead to scout. They trotted past him and up though the rocks. Most of the group sat or leaned on various boulders.
Sitting there steaming from his exertion, Feyt was thankful for the stop. He had opened his parka miles back and even pulled it back so it hung below his shoulders. It felt good to cool down. He was sweaty and that was bad. He needed to keep his parka as dry as he could. As he sat there wiping his brow, it started to snow. Big soft fluffy flakes that started light, with just a few, then came down thicker and thicker. They swirled in the wind making him feel like the whole world was moving around him.
"Muroc!" Aterius's snow-muffled voice called from the end of the line. "The storm is going to break on us before much longer. How far to the base of the mountains? Can you tell?"
"Not far,” Muroc called back. “I haven't been able to see the mountains for a couple of hours now, but we aren't too far. See? The trail is starting to wind and rise here. It'll be close, but we'll make it."
"Good thing, too." Tauras piped in. "The temperature is dropping." With a start, Feyt suddenly could feel it. He had been comfortably cooling down, but now that Tauras had spoken, the chill bit into him. He pulled his parka back up onto his shoulders. His sweat was icy in it already.
"Let's get moving. It's only mid-day and this blustering wind will surely get worse," Muroc ordered.
Only mid-day? The storm makes it so dark it feels like it's past dusk. I am tired enough to have walked all day, too. Feyt stood and rebuttoned his parka, leaving the top two silver buttons open for now. He shouldered his small pack and with two steps, he realized how much he had stiffened up sitting in the chill. I wonder how the others feel, especially Muroc? He's older than most of us combined I bet, plus his leg must really hurt from his injuries.
They climbed what Muroc said was a trail. To Feyt it just seemed a wide space between a new type of tree that grew here. Unlike the spruce before, these tree's leaves were just grey-green needles. Definitely odd, Feyt decided.
By mid-afternoon, the storm became a blizzard. Soon the struggling hunters could barely see each other in the swirling snow. Not more than a half dozen yards away, everything else was whited out. Muroc continued to lead them uphill at a brisk pace, although they stumbled as the snow grew deeper around their feet. To Feyt, it seemed to go on forever and take on a surreal feeling. It's like I'm lost in the afterlife, nothing but clouds and swirling whiteness.
The walking went on and on, until Feyt ran into the back of Seelus when he stopped suddenly. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Gairet's back from scouting. He's talking to Muroc." Seelus' head and shoulders had little piles of snow on them that made little peaks. Feyt would have laughed if he were not so tired. I wonder if I look the same?
Muroc finished talking to Gairet, looked back to the line of hikers and yelled, "We're in the foothills."
Feyt looked around. I don't see any difference. He could see the day was finally ending though and it was beginning to get darker. The snow had let up slightly and he could now see maybe fifty yards or so around them. The foothills were eerie in the twilight. There was a small gully to their left and a low hill beyond covered with trees. To Feyt, these trees with the grey needles all looked dead. He shivered. Like skeletons. Probably died from the continuous winters.
Muroc yelled again. "We need to find shelter. Spread out until you can just see the person on each side of you. We are going to swing to the west. Down this gully and over the hill. Try to walk along levelly. With seven of us spread out, we should come across something that will pass for shelter. "
"Shouldn't we split up? We can cover more area," Feyt offered.
"No. We could cover more area, but if we split up, none of us will know if the others find a good spot. With this weather, just trying to regroup and search for each other, could be fatal." Addressing the others, he went on, "All we need is a small cliff or rock pile. If we do not find anything in an hour or so, I will pass word. At that point we'll pick the first likely thick patch of trees and hope for the best."
Feyt stumbled and slid down the gully and then clambered up the other side. He kept looking up and down the hill, making sure he could still see the silhouette of Seelus above him or of Tauras below him. The storm began to get worse again. Soon Feyt was only half-sure he could see his friends on either side. He was certain a couple of hours had passed when he heard a faint call from Seelus above.
When he answered, he could just barely hear, "Feyt! Pass the word down. Muroc says Gairet found a cave."
"Okay!" he yelled back. As an afterthought, he thought to himself, Thank God.
He had to wait a bit for a gust of wind and blowing snow to die down before he could hear Seelus again. "Wait till Aterius and Tauras come to you before you come up to me."
"Got it." Then Feyt had to call to Tauras twice before he again barely made out a reply. "Come up!" He yelled twice more before he heard what he hoped was a confirmation. Then he waited for an interminable length of time before he heard another call closer. Answering, he guided them in to him.
As they finally reached him, Aterius was using his javelin as a walking stick and Tauras stumbling behind in the blowing snow. Aterius said, "Whew. It gets pretty steep right down below you, Feyt." Feyt saw that icicles had formed on each of Tauras's drooping mustaches.
"Yeah. Lucky for you," Tauras groused wiping his brow.
Aterius went on. "Blinded by the storm, we must have followed our original ridge well up the mountain. When we swung out and dropped down to spread out, the terrain got very steep. It is hard going back down there."
"I hope the others are close?" Tauras asked.
"Not really," Feyt responded. "Seelus is up there far enough away that I only heard him faintly."
"Figures," Tauras mourned.
Aterius patted his shoulder, "Well then, let us get going. I for one am ready to make my bed."
Aterius led the way, Feyt fell in behind him, and Tauras brought up the rear lagging a bit behind. Soon, a few calls to Seelus steered them in to where he stood, shivering, his breath making clouds.
"It gets cold when you have to stand still for long," his words came out around his chattering teeth.
"Well, then let's get you moving," Aterius chuckled. With that, their group continued in a line up the mountain with Seelus now at the head. After a bit, they finally caught sight of Dokara and Muroc standing together further up on a rise. Going uphill in the deepening snow made for a hard climb and it slowed them as they plodded towards their friends.
Suddenly beyond Muroc, Feyt saw Gairet running full speed through the falling snow and bleak dead trees.
"Wolves!" He screamed.
Behind him ran four man-sized ice wolves, closing fast.
Blood and Ice Wolves
Chapter 8 - Ice Storm
Feyt watched Aterius bandage Muroc's leg. The three of them were under an impromptu lean-to tent made of a canvas tarp Dokara and Seelus had set up. They had chosen a good spot next to a sheltering wall of ice that blocked most of the cold north wind. With the canvas cover overhead it’s almost homey, Feyt thought. They had not moved far after the accident so Muroc could be tended to. A sharp edge on the ice had cut him and his leg was badly bruised from being trapped between the large chunks of ice. Feyt could hear the rest of the group outside preparing their own beds. Gairet and Tauras were, as usual, arguing about something.
As Aterius wrapped a final strip of cloth around the wound, he said conversationally, "You know, you are a terrible patient."
"Maybe," Muroc grumbled. "But we still cannot stay here another day. The storm's coming."
Aterius sighed, "True. Are you sure you can walk?"
"Ha! You'll have trouble keeping up with me."
"Rip your stitches and we may not make it across the broken lands. Edon's not far." Feyt's ears perked up. Edon? Aterius went on.
"It's still going to take an effort to get there tomorrow. You know how slow it is to travel here in the Broken Lands. We do not want any more accidents with the ice either. And that storm is going to be here tomorrow."
"Yes, I know. I have been across here a dozen times and this is the first big icefall I have fallen victim to. If fortune favors us, we will be fine."
Wryly Aterius responded, "So now, the great and careful Muroc is an optimist?"
"Oh, leave it go," he groused. Looking past Aterius, Muroc saw Feyt was still there. "I owe you both. That was a risky thing to come down into the icefall with me. I won't be forgetting it."
Feyt was embarrassed at the gratitude, but Aterius admonished Muroc. "You won't distract me with compliments. Get to sleep. You need as much sleep as you can get tonight. Tomorrow won't be easy when you stiffen up." He motioned Feyt out first and followed behind him.
From under the canvas, they heard Muroc say crossly, "I'll sleep. Like a baby. Don't start taking a liking to bossing me around, though. Tomorrow, stiff or not, I'll be pushing you all to move faster."
A few feet away, a small fire flickered invitingly in the wind next to where their packs lay. Feyt wondered where they found anything to burn here. As he stepped close, he saw a small stack of short broken boards. One of them must have scrounged some of the wood as they passed Anchorfief. That reminds me.
Moving around him to stand close to the fire, Aterius stared into it quietly.
Feyt cleared his throat. "He's not happy."
"Ha. Muroc is only happy when he can be cross. Be assured, he is in good shape overall and knowing him, I expect he will be back in his normal form tomorrow, though sore and stiff."
"Aterius, I... I was wondering if you could tell me about what happed to Anchorfief."
"Ah. I did say I would, did I not? Hmmm. Let me think. Where to begin? What do you know of history, Feyt?"
"Um, not much. I just hear what the others in Caernall talk about, I suppose."
"Not much then?" His smile showed amusement. "This area here, the Broken Lands, used to be a part of the Northern Sea many years ago. Anchorfief, those shattered pieces of wood back there, used to be a major city on the coast. It once had the greatest fleet of ships the North has ever seen in its harbor. But that fleet wasn't Anchorfief's. It was Edon's fleet. Anchorfief was the chief mainland port for Edon. Ever hear of Edon?" He paused looking at Feyt.
"I'm not sure. Was that the Kingdom of the North the old women tell stories about?"
"Yes," he smiled. "But they all aren't fairytales, Feyt. Edon was the last great kingdom in the North before the Ice. In fact, the coming of the Ice and the fall of Edon happened at the same time. "
"You mean there hasn't been ice always?" Feyt knew some the old villagers talked about warmer days in the past, but his entire life he had only known the perpetual winter.
"No. Once Edon lay on a beautiful green island. It had one large central peak, which is the mountain you have seen ahead of us. That is where Muroc expects we will find the ice wolves. But on that island, somewhere buried in the ice near the base of the mountain, lies the city of Edonhall, capital of Edon, the Great Northern Kingdom.
“From Edon, the last great king, Graerfin, ruled all the northern lands as far south as Eras Holm, and as far east as the Sorrowful Mountains. The fleets of Edonhall were the mightiest in the western lands." Aterius bent over and opened his pack. Fishing out a long stemmed pipe, he stood back up and began to poke some smoke-weed into it. He continued.
"Then the Ice appeared suddenly. The histories I was taught say, when the Age of Ice started, the entire mountain and center of the island was frozen in an instant. Edonhall disappeared under it with all her people. The royal family was lost along with the entire populace. The great fleet and Edon's armies were without a leader.
"With King Graerfin suddenly gone, the Admiral of the Fleet, Asaerdas, assumed the throne and moved his capital to Anchorfief making it the capital of Edon's empire after that. But the Ice had weakened the empire tremendously. Many of Edon's allies and vassal states fell away. Either right away, like Ergas Holm, or in the passing years like Myrthrall and Estigas.
Aterius bent to the fire. Plucking up piece of a burning stick, he lit his pipe. Then stood back up. He drew a deep breath in and blew out a large puff of smoke. He smiled and sighed, the he went back to his story, taking smaller puffs from time to time.
"But the Ice kept on growing in sudden bursts and spurts. Winter suddenly took up most of the year. The snow fell and fell. It grew deeper every year. Asaerdas refused to resettle elsewhere and his ships traded far and wide to keep Anchorfief supplied. Asaerdas and his heirs never called themselves kings however. Their family and kin were known as the Admiralty.”
"The Ice never stopped though. Bite by bite, it took centuries for it to eat up an ocean, but eventually it did. Slowly the Ice was strangling Anchorfief. Eventually, a couple of hundred years ago, a sudden fast growth of the Ice cut the sea route off entirely from Anchorfief when the Ice reached Lormager Point to its west. Most of the ships were trading to the south or patrolling the coast to keep away pirates and incursions from the southern kingdoms. The ships of the great fleet that were not trapped with Anchorfief could not return. The fleet and its Admiralty established themselves in a harbor further south called Fredoris, after the sea god's son. They kept their allegiance to Anchorfief.
"Over the next century, the Ice froze right up to the edge of the shore at Anchorfief. Its populace had shrunk by then, but it still needed the supplies that were carried overland from the ships at Fredoris to survive in the long winters. Then, about sixty years ago, the Ice grew suddenly again. Growing up onto the shore and into the city of Anchorfief. The residents dug and shoveled, and carried the ice away trying to do that as fast as it grew. But it was too much. Gradually the city was emptied as people fled the freezing cold. They were losing heart and could not keep the Ice from gaining ground.
"Muroc's ancestral family had stayed behind to run Anchorfief after the Admiralty moved to Fredoris. They either had or took on the family name of Anchorfief back then. Muroc was about ten years old and was there, chopping and shoveling the Ice, when the Ice Wolves came. They came in the spring. The wolves began by sneaking into Anchorfief at night and killing anyone they found outside. That went on for almost a year.
The Anchorfiefs sent hunting party after party out to fight the wolves. Most came back empty handed; some came back with heavy casualties, and some never returned at all. The wolves were too much.
"Then the cursed Ice grew again. It is said that the Ice began to moan like a dying man. The noises continued for seven days and then suddenly, like the icefall we experienced, the Ice began to move. It thrust up out of the sea and toppled onto the buildings of Anchorfief. In a day, it moved to cover the entire city. The survivors salvaged what they could and headed south.
"The ice wolves came in droves. Killing the stragglers and even pulling down groups of armed men. The Anchorfiefs fought their way south for three days before, the wolves suddenly left them alone. The number of their dead was staggering." Aterius tamped out his pipe. "So, Muroc's family were the last to leave when the ice wolves came."
"What happened to the Admiralty in Fredoris?" Feyt asked open mouthed.
"Once Anchorfief was gone, they dispersed. They had nothing left of the Empire of the North. They just sailed away. Many became pirates. Or merchants. There are hundreds of ships along the coast, all the way down to the southern kingdoms, that claim to be descended from the captains of the fleet.
Feyt was impressed. The tales Caernall's old women told were nothing like this history he had just heard.
Aterius was very solemn. "Ever since then, the Ice has kept growing. Spreading and moving in spurts and sudden expansions. It has filled the Plains of Edon and spread tapering off into the Tundra we passed over to get here."
"How do you know so much about our northern lands? Gairet said you came from one of the southern kingdoms."
Aterius laughed. "I was taught a great deal of history before I ran away to become an adventurer. My parents intended I become a learned academic and stay in the Academy of History. I changed my area of studies several times to avoid that academy, and finally ran away, as I told you the other day."
"Is it really warm where your home is?"
Aterius laughed at his wide-eyed look. "Yes, Feyt. It is warm the whole year round. Hmmm. Speaking of warm, we should get to sleep. Other than our lucky watch-winners, I think we are the only ones still awake."
The next day Muroc proved he was feeling better. Even with his limp, he drove them forward through the Broken Lands like a taskmaster. I am glad Muroc does not have a whip. I am sure he would be using it on us given half a chance.
Slow as it was through the Broken Lands, the biting wind and occasional sleet inspired them to keep up the pace. The storm Aterius had predicted two days before was about to break. Near noon the party walked single-file out between the last up-thrust spires of ice that marked the end of the Broken Lands. The ice here ended in rocks and snow that began to swiftly rise in elevation as they kept moving. Feyt assumed from Aterius' story that they were now on the island of Edon.
At the head of the line, Muroc called a halt and waved Gairet and Dokara ahead to scout. They trotted past him and up though the rocks. Most of the group sat or leaned on various boulders.
Sitting there steaming from his exertion, Feyt was thankful for the stop. He had opened his parka miles back and even pulled it back so it hung below his shoulders. It felt good to cool down. He was sweaty and that was bad. He needed to keep his parka as dry as he could. As he sat there wiping his brow, it started to snow. Big soft fluffy flakes that started light, with just a few, then came down thicker and thicker. They swirled in the wind making him feel like the whole world was moving around him.
"Muroc!" Aterius's snow-muffled voice called from the end of the line. "The storm is going to break on us before much longer. How far to the base of the mountains? Can you tell?"
"Not far,” Muroc called back. “I haven't been able to see the mountains for a couple of hours now, but we aren't too far. See? The trail is starting to wind and rise here. It'll be close, but we'll make it."
"Good thing, too." Tauras piped in. "The temperature is dropping." With a start, Feyt suddenly could feel it. He had been comfortably cooling down, but now that Tauras had spoken, the chill bit into him. He pulled his parka back up onto his shoulders. His sweat was icy in it already.
"Let's get moving. It's only mid-day and this blustering wind will surely get worse," Muroc ordered.
Only mid-day? The storm makes it so dark it feels like it's past dusk. I am tired enough to have walked all day, too. Feyt stood and rebuttoned his parka, leaving the top two silver buttons open for now. He shouldered his small pack and with two steps, he realized how much he had stiffened up sitting in the chill. I wonder how the others feel, especially Muroc? He's older than most of us combined I bet, plus his leg must really hurt from his injuries.
They climbed what Muroc said was a trail. To Feyt it just seemed a wide space between a new type of tree that grew here. Unlike the spruce before, these tree's leaves were just grey-green needles. Definitely odd, Feyt decided.
By mid-afternoon, the storm became a blizzard. Soon the struggling hunters could barely see each other in the swirling snow. Not more than a half dozen yards away, everything else was whited out. Muroc continued to lead them uphill at a brisk pace, although they stumbled as the snow grew deeper around their feet. To Feyt, it seemed to go on forever and take on a surreal feeling. It's like I'm lost in the afterlife, nothing but clouds and swirling whiteness.
The walking went on and on, until Feyt ran into the back of Seelus when he stopped suddenly. "What's going on?" he asked.
"Gairet's back from scouting. He's talking to Muroc." Seelus' head and shoulders had little piles of snow on them that made little peaks. Feyt would have laughed if he were not so tired. I wonder if I look the same?
Muroc finished talking to Gairet, looked back to the line of hikers and yelled, "We're in the foothills."
Feyt looked around. I don't see any difference. He could see the day was finally ending though and it was beginning to get darker. The snow had let up slightly and he could now see maybe fifty yards or so around them. The foothills were eerie in the twilight. There was a small gully to their left and a low hill beyond covered with trees. To Feyt, these trees with the grey needles all looked dead. He shivered. Like skeletons. Probably died from the continuous winters.
Muroc yelled again. "We need to find shelter. Spread out until you can just see the person on each side of you. We are going to swing to the west. Down this gully and over the hill. Try to walk along levelly. With seven of us spread out, we should come across something that will pass for shelter. "
"Shouldn't we split up? We can cover more area," Feyt offered.
"No. We could cover more area, but if we split up, none of us will know if the others find a good spot. With this weather, just trying to regroup and search for each other, could be fatal." Addressing the others, he went on, "All we need is a small cliff or rock pile. If we do not find anything in an hour or so, I will pass word. At that point we'll pick the first likely thick patch of trees and hope for the best."
Feyt stumbled and slid down the gully and then clambered up the other side. He kept looking up and down the hill, making sure he could still see the silhouette of Seelus above him or of Tauras below him. The storm began to get worse again. Soon Feyt was only half-sure he could see his friends on either side. He was certain a couple of hours had passed when he heard a faint call from Seelus above.
When he answered, he could just barely hear, "Feyt! Pass the word down. Muroc says Gairet found a cave."
"Okay!" he yelled back. As an afterthought, he thought to himself, Thank God.
He had to wait a bit for a gust of wind and blowing snow to die down before he could hear Seelus again. "Wait till Aterius and Tauras come to you before you come up to me."
"Got it." Then Feyt had to call to Tauras twice before he again barely made out a reply. "Come up!" He yelled twice more before he heard what he hoped was a confirmation. Then he waited for an interminable length of time before he heard another call closer. Answering, he guided them in to him.
As they finally reached him, Aterius was using his javelin as a walking stick and Tauras stumbling behind in the blowing snow. Aterius said, "Whew. It gets pretty steep right down below you, Feyt." Feyt saw that icicles had formed on each of Tauras's drooping mustaches.
"Yeah. Lucky for you," Tauras groused wiping his brow.
Aterius went on. "Blinded by the storm, we must have followed our original ridge well up the mountain. When we swung out and dropped down to spread out, the terrain got very steep. It is hard going back down there."
"I hope the others are close?" Tauras asked.
"Not really," Feyt responded. "Seelus is up there far enough away that I only heard him faintly."
"Figures," Tauras mourned.
Aterius patted his shoulder, "Well then, let us get going. I for one am ready to make my bed."
Aterius led the way, Feyt fell in behind him, and Tauras brought up the rear lagging a bit behind. Soon, a few calls to Seelus steered them in to where he stood, shivering, his breath making clouds.
"It gets cold when you have to stand still for long," his words came out around his chattering teeth.
"Well, then let's get you moving," Aterius chuckled. With that, their group continued in a line up the mountain with Seelus now at the head. After a bit, they finally caught sight of Dokara and Muroc standing together further up on a rise. Going uphill in the deepening snow made for a hard climb and it slowed them as they plodded towards their friends.
Suddenly beyond Muroc, Feyt saw Gairet running full speed through the falling snow and bleak dead trees.
"Wolves!" He screamed.
Behind him ran four man-sized ice wolves, closing fast.