T Lain - Plague of Ice

“Do you know who this benefits?” she asked. “White dragons. I bet our big, white friend out there is behind all of this.”

“What do you think, Sonja?” said Hennet. “Is it possible?”

The druid shrugged. “White dragons are dangerous enemies, vicious and unpredictable. Some of them bury themselves in their lairs for centuries on end, caring for nothing but their hoards. I once watched a single white dragon slave rear back and destroy a half-dozen of its frost giant masters when one of them kicked it. But they’re not known as planners. To be responsible for this, that white dragon would have to be far more intelligent than average. Or it had help.”

Over the roar of the wind came a new sound, a distant, high-pitched howl. Hennet started. “What was that?”

“Probably nothing to worry about,” said Sonja. “Just a wolf.”

“Nothing else is normal here,” Hennet said. “Why should the wolves be?” Already he was out from under his wool blankets and preparing himself for battle. This roused Regdar, who poked his head out, scratching his forehead.

“What’s going on?”

“The mighty sorcerer heard a wolf,” Lidda joked.

“Is that all?” asked Regdar and put his head down again.

“Now you laugh,” said Hennet, “but we’ve seen the way nature is being stirred up. We don’t know how a wolf would react to us.”

“I wouldn’t worry,” said Sonja. “I have a certain way with wolves.”

“There they are now,” said Hennet. Gray and black forms stalked through the white haze, their wiry legs pacing through the snow, some with their muzzles lowered to the ground and sniffing for new scents. They were fairly close but seemed to be keeping their distance. One looked over at the party, giving them only a quick glance before looking away.

“Quick, let’s move,” said Sonja. Her voice was calm but urgent. “We’re not far from those gnoll bodies. The wolves probably picked up the scent and are here to scavenge them. It’s best we leave now.”

In record time they dismantled their camp and were ready to move. They plodded through the deep snow under Sonja’s leadership, leaving the wolves far behind.

“You’re sure we’re going the right direction?” asked Lidda. “We can’t see the forest or the mountains anymore, so how can you be sure we’re headed toward the Fell Forest?”

“You’ll have to trust me on this,” answered Sonja. “My direction sense is good, even in a blizzard.”

“We don’t have much choice,” said Lidda. “If we’re going to move at all, someone needs to pick a way.”

High above, the sun inched across the sky, a bright spot plastered onto the cotton clouds. The wolf howls kept up from behind, seemingly drawing closer. One wolf followed them, and Sonja couldn’t explain why. If the pack was feeding on the gnoll corpses, why would one shadow them? Though Sonja said nothing, her expression became more puzzled as the hours went by. In time they reached a set of low, snow-covered hills.

“These weren’t marked on my map,” said Regdar.

“Nor mine,” Hennet agreed. “I’ll have to share some strong words with the mapmaker when we get back. Assuming he’s still alive.”

“Can we go around?” asked Regdar.

“We might waste more time doing that than going straight across,” Sonja said. “There may be valleys we could get through more quickly than traipsing over every hill. Let’s spend some time seeking them out.”

The occasional, eerie, wolf howl in the distance broke the silence.

“Something’s not right,” Sonja said. “Something’s stirring them up and it’s not just the weather.”

When the wolves howled to the south, the marchers veered north. When they heard wolves howling in the west, they turned east. Soon they found themselves hopelessly off track so that even Sonja’s vaunted sense of direction seemed to be confounded. The clouds were so thick that no sign could be seen of the sun itself, not even a brighter portion of the sky. All was uniform and gray.

“Maybe we should stop avoiding these wolves,” suggested Hennet. “They’ll move if we come too near, won’t they?”

“Normally, they would,” agreed Sonja, “but I don’t want to risk it. I suspect they’re under outside influence of some kind. I don’t know what it is. Maybe a lycanthrope or a vampire that has influence over wolves. Maybe something else. In any case, I don’t want to face a whole wolf pack in this terrain and after yesterday’s fight.”

So they trudged on, weaving from east to west, until their path led them over a low ridge and the valley they sought opened before them.

“Let’s hurry,” Sonja advised. “I’ll be happy to put these wolves behind me.”

The floor of the valley was deep with snow, almost up to their knees, and the surrounding hills channeled the wind so blowing snow constantly pelted their faces. Still, the level ground was easier going than hiking across the ridges. The farther they went, the more jagged, rocky, and rugged the hills around them became. Sheer cliffs lined the valley walls. Occasionally these were cut by snow-drifted ravines. At points it ceased to be a valley so much as a canyon that twisted and wound its way through the hills, but mostly proceeded in what Sonja assured them was still the proper direction.

“I hope we reach the Fell Forest soon,” said Hennet. He spoke softly, for Sonja warned them that loud noises might set off snowfalls. “I don’t like it that we haven’t seen any trees yet.”

“You know what I don’t like?” said Regdar. “No more wolves howling.” The fighter forced a half-hearted smile. “I didn’t like it when we could hear them, and I really don’t like it now that we can’t.”

Soon, a straight, sharp, white cliff face loomed ahead of them, flanked on both sides by similarly unscalable bluffs. They turned back to find a ravine up which they could escape, and immediately the air was filled with lupine howls.

“They herded us in here, the damned beasts!” shouted Lidda, drawing her blade.

“It cannot be,” said Sonja. “This isn’t wolf behavior at all.”

Slender, black forms appeared in the distance, running hard toward the small group, leaping and bounding through snow sometimes as deep as their heads. At least two dozen wolves could be seen, and maybe more behind.

“What do we do, Sonja?” asked Hennet.

“I could try to tame them with my spells, but I couldn’t get them all. My magic might not function correctly, or at all, if something’s at work in their minds.” She breathed heavily, reluctant to say what she was thinking. “Bury them. Do it quickly and painlessly and hopefully we can escape before more arrive.”

“Bury them?” said Hennet. Then he realized what she meant. The wolves were close now, only a dozen yards away. Their reddish eyes shone through the snow falling all around them, their jaws hung wide open, and drool dripped off their lolling, pink tongues. Hennet extended his hand toward a snowy patch along a cliff face overhanging the valley. He conjured a magic missile and fired it, striking the snow and sending a rumble echoing through the valley.

The ice slid down the side of the cliff like a long, solid sheet, leaving the open rock behind it. The avalanche struck the ground just before the wolf pack, kicking up a cloud of ice and snow that set the ice tumbling off the opposite cliff as well. A few defiant half-barks, half-howls could be heard through the rumbling of the cascading snow. Hennet’s avalanche also tipped off lesser falls of snow all along the sides of the valley, almost reaching the party’s position, but these were small and inconsequential. By the time the cloud of snow had settled enough to allow some visibility, the entire wolf pack was buried beneath the avalanche.