Jon Sprunk - Shadow's master

Their camp was set against the lee of a steep hillock. Caim figured they had come about fifteen leagues, but it didn't feel like enough. He imagined the Snow Lions prowling on their trail. You'd make better time on your own.

Caim winced at the thought. It wasn't the first time it had occurred to him that this entire endeavor would be easier if he were traveling alone. Like the old days. But it went deeper than that. He didn't like feeling responsible for others, and he had a nasty suspicion that this mission wouldn't end well. For any of them.

Snow crunched beyond the circle of firelight, and the others reached for their weapons, but Caim didn't stir. He'd seen the man coming from three hundred paces off.

“Egil!” Dray barked. “I almost killed you, you dumb shit.”

Malig laughed and lowered his axe. “We thought you ran off, boy. Never to be seen again.”

Egil unslung his rucksack and knelt by the fire. “I got out when I saw them kittens coming across the snow with you.”

Dray sat with his bare sword across his knees. “Kittens?”

“The Snow Lions. That's what we call them. They were a great tribe back in the day.” He pointed up to the murky sky. “Before this happened, they controlled most of the central lands. But they resisted when the dark lord came, and now they are all but gone. Anyway, they won't be bothering you again. They had unexpected company.”

Caim took out his seax knife and a whetstone, and worked on the blade's edge. “The other Northmen approaching the village?”

“Aye. Bear tribe. Near a hundred of them. Old Wulfgrim must've been shitting his breeches. Anyway, the kittens ran off as fast as they could ride, heading west by south.”

Dray spat into the fire. “They were free with their words when they had us all penned up like lambs for a Godsday feast, but they run out at the first sign of real trouble.”

“I don't know,” Aemon said. “That Wulfgrim is a canny one. If he survived what Caim done to him, I'd not want to be within fifty miles of him.”

Dray looked to Egil. “So what tribe are you from?”

“Fox. There aren't too many of us left anymore either.”

“And the Bear people,” Aemon said. “What are they like?”

“They come from up north.” Egil pulled a greenish-yellow bulb from his rucksack and took a bite. “They always had a reputation for being an ornery bunch, but with the coming of the dark lord, it got worse. Now they have their run of the wastes. No tribe will stand against them. Those who dare are crushed and their lands taken.”

“Like the Lion tribe,” Aemon said.

“Aye. Like as not we've seen the last of them.”

Caim held up his knife. The edge gleamed like a ribbon of silver. He slid it back into the sheath. “What can you tell us about this lord?”

Egil finished his fruit, or whatever it was, and threw the stem into the fire. “Hard to say. What do you want to know?”

“Have you ever seen him?”

“Nah. I don't know of anyone who has. He don't leave his fastness in the north.”

“Never?” Caim asked.

“Not that I've ever heard. His soldiers swing through the villages about once a season, but if you're right with your tithes and make no trouble, they're no worse than other landlords.”

“Does he rule this entire country?” Caim asked.

“Not sure what you mean by country, but he holds all the wastes in his grasp. From ocean to ocean, people say, though I've never been to the great waters, so I couldn't swear to that. They say he rules a fair bit of the Southlands, too.”

“They lie,” Malig growled. “Eregoth is free.”

Egil shrugged. “As you say, but that's what I've heard tell. The dark lord's been in power for most of my life.”

Caim did the figures in his head. By that reckoning, this tyrant had come to power roughly two decades ago. That made for a chilling coincidence, considering his own history. Caim had more questions. How far away was this fastness and what was it like? How many soldiers did the ruler of the wastes employ? But he kept them to himself. Egil was no fool.

Caim stood up. “Aemon, take first watch. I'll be back.”

No one questioned him. Aemon was the only one to look up, and he just nodded and sat cross-legged by the fire.

A bitter wind swept over Caim as he left the tiny circle of light. Without any real plan of where he was going, he let his feet carry him around the base of the hill until he found a gentling of the slope. He began to climb. It got steeper the higher he went, until he was half climbing, half crawling at the end. The top of the hill was relatively flat and covered in icy snow. Below, the wastes spread out in an ocean of white and black shadows. To the north, the darkness was absolute, denying him a glimpse of what lay ahead, but the calling remained, the droning hum in the back of his head, pulling him in that direction.

The plains to the south were brighter, if just by a hair, but it was enough for him to see to the horizon. Somewhere beyond his sight were the mountains, and then Eregoth and Nimea, stretching all the way down to the Midland Sea. What was Josey doing right now? Did she worry about him?

A soft light showered across his shoulders and pooled around his feet. “It may not be a fancy hotel, but at least we can be alone up here.”

He braced himself as Kit's ethereal arms wrapped around him. Her lips made little electric jolts on the back of his neck. “You okay, Caim? You've been quiet lately.”

“I'm just tired. I'll be all right.”

She floated around to face him. “You always say that, but you never let me in.”

He looked past her. Through her. Seeking something else to focus on. How to explain what he felt inside? He didn't understand it himself. “Things are changing, Kit. Everything is different. My past. The shadows.”

Her eyebrows came together. “What about me? Am I different, too?”

“I didn't mean-” He lifted a hand, but she hovered out of his reach. “Kit, it's been tough. You and I haven't had a lot of time together since we left Othir.”

“Whose fault is that? I've tried again and again to be with you, to get you alone, but you always have excuses.”

“Well, here I am!” He winced as the words carried louder than he intended. “I'm here, Kit. And this may be as much privacy as we're ever going to get.”

She tilted her head to the side. “Well, then. I suppose I'll have to make the most of it.”

“What's that supposed to-?”

Kit grinned at him, and something changed. At first Caim couldn't put his finger on it. Then he realized-he could no longer see through her. She looked almost solid.

“Kit.” He reached out. “What…? How are you-?”

Just before his fingertips made contact, her smile collapsed, and the light of the distant stars shone through her again. Kit sobbed, and Caim wasn't sure what to say. For a moment it had seemed like she was almost real. He stepped toward her. “Kit, are you all right?”

She retreated off the side of the hilltop, her face hidden within the silver curtain of her hair. “Stay away!”

“Kit, I almost thought…I mean, it looked like you were…Will you please tell me what's happening?”

When she didn't answer, Caim lowered his voice. “Kit, talk to me. I can't help you if I don't know what's going on.”

She took her hands down from her face. She was wholly ethereal once again. “Why are you here, Caim? This place is wrong. I know you feel it, too. I see it in your eyes. Let's just leave.”

“I can't, Kit. It's too late for that.”

“What do you mean? What are you planning?”

“I don't know.”

“Caim, if you think I'm going to stay around and watch you do something foolish just to satisfy some manly-”