Memories of Ice

'Then let us turn round,' Stonny snapped. 'Now, before it's too late.'

'But it already is,' Keruli replied. 'These undead servants continue to cross the river from the southlands, all in service to the Pannion Seer. They range ever closer to Saltoan. Indeed, I believe there are now more of them behind us than between here and Capustan.'

Hood-damned convenient, Master Keruli.

'We must,' the man within the carriage continued, 'fashion a temporary alliance with these necromancers — until we reach Capustan.'

'Well,' Gruntle said, ' they certainly view it as an obvious course to take.'

'They are practical men, for all their other … faults.'

'The Barghast will not travel with them,' Hetan snarled.

'I don't think we have any choice,' Gruntle sighed. 'And that includes you and your brothers, Hetan. What's the point of finding these undead hunters only to have them tear you to pieces?'

'You think we come unprepared for such battle? We stood long in the bone circle, Captain, whilst every shaman of the gathered clans danced the weft of power. Long in the bone circle.'

'Three days and three nights,' Cafal growled.

No wonder she damn near ripped my chest open last night.

Keruli spoke. 'It may prove insufficient, should your efforts draw the full attention of the Pannion Seer. Captain, how many days of travel before we reach Capustan?'

You know as well as I. 'Four, master.'

'Surely, Hetan, you and your brothers can achieve a certain stoicism for such a brief length of time? We well understand your outrage. The desecration of your sacred ancestors is an insult not easily accommodated. But, do not your own kind bow to a certain pragmatism in this regard as well? The inscribed wards, the sticksnares? Consider this an extension of such necessity …'

Hetan spat, turned away. 'It is as you say,' she conceded after a moment. 'Necessary. Very well.'

Gruntle returned to Bauchelain and the others. The two sorcerers were crouched down with the shattered axle between them. The stench of melted iron wafted up.

'Our repairs, Captain,' Bauchelain murmured, 'will not take long.'

'Good. You said there's three of these creatures out there — how far away?'

'Our small shaman friend keeps pace with the hunters. Less than a league, and I assure you, they can — if they so will it — cover that distance in a matter of a few hundred heartbeats. We will have little warning, but enough to muster a defence, I believe.'

'Why are you travelling to Capustan?'

The sorcerer glanced up, an eyebrow lifting. 'No particular reason. By nature, we wander. Upon arriving on the west coast of this continent, we set our sights eastward. Capustan is as far as we can travel east, yes?'

'Close enough, I suppose. The land juts further east to the south, beyond Elingarth, but the kingdoms and city states down there are little more than pirate and bandit holdings. Besides, you'd have to pass through the Pannion Domin to get there.'

'And I gather that would be trying.'

'You'd never make it.'

Bauchelain smiled, bent once more to concentrate on the axle.

Looking up, Gruntle finally caught Buke's eye. A slight head movement drew the man — reluctantly — off to one side.

'You're in trouble, friend,' the captain said in a low voice.

Buke scowled, said nothing — but the truth was evident in his eyes.

'When we reach Capustan, take the closing coin and don't look back. I know, Buke, you were right in your suspicions — I saw what was within the carriage. I saw. They'll do worse than kill you if you try anything. Do you understand? Worse.'

The man grinned wryly, squinted out to the east. 'You think we'll make it that far, do you, Gruntle? Well, surprise — we won't live to see the next dawn.' He fixed wild eyes on the captain. 'You wouldn't believe what my masters unleashed — such a nightmare menagerie of servants, guardians, spirit-slayers — and their own powers! Hood take us! Yet all of it barely managed to drive one of those beasts off, and when the other two arrived, we were the ones retreating. That menagerie is nothing but smouldering pieces scattered for leagues across the plain. Gruntle, I saw demons cut to shreds. Aye, these two look unshaken, but believe me, that's of no account. None at all.' He lowered his voice still further. 'They are insane, friend. Thoroughly, ice-blooded, lizard-eyed insane. And poor Mancy's been with them for three years now and counting — the stories he's told me …' The man shuddered.