Jon Sprunk - Shadow's master

“Who puts them up? Priests?” Caim had guessed the table was an altar, although to what deity he could hardly guess. The stains certainly looked like blood….

Egil shrugged. “I suppose. People don't talk about them. It's best that way.”

“Seems like people don't talk about a lot of things up in these parts.”

Egil pulled something out of a pocket-it looked like a stick with the bark shaved off-and started chewing on it. “Back when I was a boy, I remember seeing the sun in the sky. It would rise and fall every day. The warmth of it was like an oven on my face. They say the sun still shines in the south beyond the mountains. That true?”

“Sure.” Caim studied the guide's face.

“I was five years old when the Dark came to these lands.” Egil snapped his fingers. “And all of sudden the light was gone. That was near twenty years ago, and I ain't seen the sun since.”

Caim did the math. That was about the same time his family had been attacked. Were they connected?

“I've got a question,” Dray said. “How does anything grow up here in the dark?”

“Not much does.” Egil kicked a tuft of grass sticking up through the snow. “Except for this stuff. We never saw it when I was little, but now it's everywhere. The priests say…”

“What?” Dray asked.

“Doesn't matter. I don't listen to them. What are y'all hunting? There's lynxes out here, though they're hard to spot.”

“We're not hunting for game,” Caim answered.

The guide nodded. “Yeah. I didn't think so. You aren't outfitted for shit.”

Caim inhaled through his nose, pondering his options. He decided to take a chance. “We're looking for a place.”

“What kind of place? I'll tell you right now there ain't much to find up here. And we'll be entering Bear tribe territory soon.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not really. We probably won't see anyone unless we go near one of their winter villages. But if we do, they might want a tax for crossing their lands.”

Caim shifted in the saddle. “I guess we'll handle that when it comes.”

With a nod, Egil jogged ahead, leaving Caim alone in the dark. Caim looked across the plains in search of a landmark he could use to judge their progress, but everywhere was the same dull, gray-black wasteland. Kit had said there was a town up ahead, but he had forgotten to ask how far. Knowing her, it could be days, or even weeks, away.

Electric fingertips ran down his spine. “Isn't it a beautiful day?”

Caim swallowed a smart retort because, in a way, it was beautiful. There was something pure about the lay of the snow on the plains. Virginal. If not for the glow of the lanterns ahead and behind, he could have believed they were the only people in the whole world. “How much longer till we reach that town?”

“Not too far.” Kit came around to straddle the horse, facing him, her legs wrapped around his waist. “Remember what you promised.”

“I haven't forgotten.” He tried to imagine exactly what she had planned. He was flesh; she was spirit. They couldn't touch, not even to kiss, but she continued to act as if they were lovers in deed as much as in word. He loved her. He could admit that now, but he didn't know what kind of future they could have together.

Egil came back, his lantern bobbing with his strides. “We're making good time. We should reach Jarnflein before next rest.”

Caim tried to look through Kit. She kissed him and disappeared. “Is that a settlement?”

“Yes, somewhat. It's a meeting place. The tribes stop there when passing through following the herds. It can get a bit wild, which is why the hunters like it. It's also a good place to restock.”

Caim nodded. They needed supplies, especially oil for the lanterns. He hadn't thought much of it until they were on the road, surrounded by darkness and leagues of ice and snow.

Malig called out from the back of the line. “They got girls there, right?”

Egil grinned through his short beard. “Aye, northern women with hearty appetites. Don't say I didn't warn you.”

“Bring them on!” Malig laughed. “I've got a big appetite myself.”

“What else can you tell us about this area?” Caim asked.

Egil pointed along the path they followed. “This is Luca's Run, and it goes all the way to Grippenheimr, which is about as far north as anybody wants to go.”

Caim gazed ahead, trying to imagine what lay beyond the horizon. “Who controls it?”

“No one anymore. It used to be Snow Owl land, but they moved out west some years back.”

“What?” Dray looked around like he was just seeing the wastes for the first time. “And leave all this behind?”

“It's the Bear tribe,” Egil said. “They've been expanding their territories. None of the other tribes can stand against them.”

Malig ran gloved fingers through his frozen beard, breaking off small icicles. “Then you should all band together. That's what we did in Eregoth. Kicked that Eviskine bastard and his witch-”

“Malig.” Caim raised his voice. “Take the point for a while.”

Malig glared at him, but then clucked his horse and cantered ahead. Everyone else fell quiet, and Caim was glad for it.

The leagues passed by with awful monotony. The wastes were awash in shades of gray and black. Even the few streams and creeks they crossed were gray, with pale fish darting in their currents. An ache developed behind Caim's temples, dull at first, but it grew in strength as the day stretched on. With his hood pulled down and his eyes half-closed, he didn't see the town until they were almost upon it. Egil's whistle made him look up. Cloaked in snow, the town's outer houses were all but invisible against the wastes. There was no outer wall, not even a palisade. Huge, humpbacked animals wandered outside the town without shepherds or watchers, grazing on the pale grass. They looked like buffalo, but with pale, silver fleece and curled horns.

As they passed through the outskirts, the door of a longhouse swung open, and five men spilled out in a pool of orange light. They rolled around on the ground like a pack of dogs, punching and kicking each other. Eventually, one of the Northmen rose to his feet. Wobbling, with blood running from his mouth and snow in his beard, he growled something at them and staggered back inside the house. A moment later, shouts and sounds of breakage could be heard within.

Traffic increased as they rode deeper into the town. Unlike the trade settlement where they'd left Teromich, there were no southerners to be seen. Caim kept his hood up, but the Eregoths fit in better, all being large and rawboned themselves. Inside the town proper, there were torches and bowls of burning dung to light the way. The streets teemed with Northmen, powerful warriors dressed in furs and hides, running children, old men, and yellow-haired women who watched the Eregoths with frank, curious gazes. Dogs roamed among the people. Not skinny curs like the ones found in southern cities, but shaggy mastiffs with thick shoulders and long fangs.

Caim steered clear of both men and wolf-dogs, finally stopping in front of a tall building sporting a rack of antlers over its door. Across the way, an old Northman pounded on a piece of iron with a massive hammer, the light from the forge reflecting off his huge, sweaty shoulders.

“Where can we hole up?” Caim asked as the others gathered around. The noise and the smells were making his headache worse. All he wanted to do was get off the street.

“There's places that hire out rooms.” Egil pointed farther down the street, toward the town center.

“Is there some sort of market area?”

“Just follow the hollering. You can't miss it.”

Caim looked to Dray. “I'll find a place to stay while you three go with Egil. Get everything we'll need for an extended journey.”