T Lain - Plague of Ice

“That was unfortunate,” said Sonja, her eyes lowered. Howls could still be heard in the distance. “Quick,” she continued. “It sounds like the rest of the pack is in the valley already. We have to find a way out of here before they arrive.”

The party carefully climbed over the mound of snow where the wolves were buried, falling leg-deep into the loose-packed snow as they did. The jumble filled the center of the valley, and they stuck to the walls as much as possible as they slid through to the other side.

It was hardest for Lidda, whose small legs barely lifted her above the level of the snow. As she clawed her way through, her leg brushed against something furry and dead within the mound. She clenched her teeth, trying not to think about it. When she made it to the other side, she was about to say something when a sudden stir of snow and teeth thrust out of the snow pile behind her, nudging against her leg.

Lidda let out a sharp yelp, sending a few trickles of snow from the unstable cliffs around them, and pulled away. A wolf’s snow-covered snout poked out of the snow behind her, teeth bared and emitting a low growl. It didn’t sink its teeth into Lidda’s leg but offered only a small nip. Lidda spun around and drew her sword.

“Lidda, don’t,” said Sonja. “It could have bitten you but it didn’t.” The druid stepped forward as the weak and dying animal pulled more of its body out of the snow. Sonja helped it by grasping the scruff of its neck and hoisting it free. It lay on the ground, its stomach heaving.

“Uh, Sonja,” said Hennet, “shouldn’t we keep moving…”

Ignoring him, Sonja laid her hand over the wolf’s head, stroking its ears gently, and she closed her eyes. A calmness overtook the animal’s face, the redness clouding its eyes fading away. The wolf’s mouth opened, and it let out a soft moan. Its eyes slipped shut, and the heaving of its chest ceased.

“Is it dead?” asked Lidda.

“It said something to me before it died,” said Sonja. “It said ‘don’t resist.’”

“What does that mean?” asked Regdar.

The sound of running paws grew through the valley. This second wolf pack rounded a corner, coming into full view as it ran toward the party. There were many more of them in this group, so many that there was scarcely room enough for all of them in the valley. Regdar extended his hand to fire a magic missile, but Sonja pulled his arm back.

“That’s not necessary,” she said. “These wolves will not harm us.”

“Are you kidding?” said Lidda, her sword at the ready.

“I’m serious. They were told not to kill us, and they won’t. You selected me as your leader, so let me lead you now.”

“Sonja,” said Regdar, his hand on the hilt of his greatsword as the tide of wolves narrowed in, “are you absolutely sure?”

Sonja didn’t answer but stared steel-eyed into the coming wolf pack. She raised her hands above her shoulders in a gesture of surrender.

When the wolves arrived, the pack did exactly as Sonja said. Some of them stopped in their tracks ahead of the party while others slipped past them to take up positions on their flanks or rear. There was no running away now, and dozens of cloudy, red wolf eyes were trained directly at the party.

“Talk to them, Sonja,” said Hennet.

“I don’t need to,” Sonja replied. “I know exactly what they’d say. They want us to come with them.”

To prove the point, the wolves behind them took a step forward.

“A wolf escort,” mused Regdar. “I sure hope they take us someplace good.”

At that, they all started moving. At the first navigable ravine, the wolves directed them upward, climbing to the top of the hills. The wolves directed them vaguely to the northeast. “At least they’re taking us in the right direction,” Lidda quipped as the wolves led them farther into the cold zone.

For hours they proceeded through the snow-covered hills and valleys, an unceasing march. Whenever one of them slowed or threatened to stop altogether, a quiet growl, a threatening glance, or a slight nip kept them moving. Occasionally more wolves joined the pack, silently appearing out of the gloom and taking their place among the lupine escorts. Some of them were black, some were white or brown, some old, and others little more than pups. Some were pristine and clean while others’ muzzles were coated with blood.

On the whole, the party was probably traveling at a better pace than they would have if left to themselves, as the wolves leading the way broke a path through the deep snow, easing everyone else’s passage. Moreover, they proceeded in what Sonja believed was almost exactly the same direction that she’d been headed, but the exertion of the march left them cold, dispirited, and ill-prepared for combat. Sonja tried using her magic to communicate with the wolves, but she could not get a more telling statement than, “Don’t resist.”

“Why are we doing this?” Hennet asked under his breath, even though he didn’t expect the wolves knew what he was saying. “I think we still could fight off these wolves, especially if I dropped a fireball right in the middle of them.”

“I don’t like being out of control,” agreed Regdar. “Perhaps we should try something bold.”

“Make one threatening move and you’ll be torn to shreds,” promised Sonja. “We’ve killed enough wolves today. These animals are under the control of something unnatural. I want to know what.” She paused before adding, “I want to free them.”

Eventually they left the hills behind and entered a new landscape. It was mostly flat, though still with occasional rises and cliffs, and under their feet there was the vague impression of sponginess, as of a frozen moss floor. All around them the land was dotted with small, snow-covered mounds.

“What are these, Sonja?” asked Lidda.

“Trees,” the druid said, “or what’s left of them. This is the Fell Forest. Remember when the gnoll said that its home was destroyed by the weather changes? I didn’t think it meant that quite so literally. Nature has been dealt a cruel blow indeed.”

When they passed close to one of these mounds, Regdar, moving slowly enough to not alarm the wolves, scraped some ice off its top. Underneath was the jagged impression of a tree stump. Everything that previously was above the stump had been torn away by a mighty force.

“Well, what happened to the trees, then?” asked Hennet. “I don’t see them anywhere.” The wind at this moment was reasonably strong but not so forceful that it could tear a tree in half and deposit it miles away.

Sonja looked up at the sky. It was a menacing mixture of gray, white, and black. “The weather in this zone isn’t predictable. Those winds last night were fierce, but they were mild compared to whatever did this. Maybe they deposited the trees far from here. Or maybe somewhere up there—” she pointed at the white sky—“those tree trunks are still flying away, waiting for the winds to let up, waiting to drop.”

“Yondalla protect us!” swore Lidda, casting a nervous glance at the sky. “I don’t want to be standing underneath them when they do.”

“No,” agreed Regdar. “Nor do I want to be here when those winds start up again.”

The wolves quickly moved the party to an area clear of the stumps.

“This must have been a convenient path when the forest was still here,” said Sonja. “The wolves keep to the habits of their forest home, even though it’s now destroyed.” She felt sorry for them, though she knew that these highly adaptable creature were far better suited to this new landscape than most animals.

This clinched one thing in her mind, at least. These wolves, or most of them, were native to this area. The snowbloom she’d found was certainly not, and she’d seen ample evidence of a strange influx of new life in the cold zone. But an influx from where? How could a fully grown snowbloom appear in a place that wasn’t even snowy two weeks before?