Hweilan waited, counting to a hundred, listening. If anything was out there, it wasn't moving. Never in her life had she been so cold. Lendri's packs still rode her back. Surely he had flint and steel. Maybe even dry grass for kindling. But she could not get the image of Soran out of her mind The dead face.
The implacable approach.
The red fire, all malice and hunger, flashing behind the dead eyes.
And she knew that any fire would be seen, even if she could muster the will to gather dry wood.
Her teeth would not stop chattering, and she was shaking so hard that her jaw ached. Gooseflesh prickled her from head to toe, and she felt as if every hair on her head was standing straight up. She had to keep closing her eyes to keep the moisture on them from freezing. Each time, she had to force her eyelids open again. Her body cried out for rest, but she feared that if she slept, she'd never wake again.
She knew her only two choices were to build a fire and risk being seen by the Nar and… that thing. Or freeze to death. Given the two fates…
Scith had once told her that freezing to death became painless after a certain point. One even began to feel warm again, before the end came.
Hweilan closed her eyes, and remembering that moment, the thing she cherished the most was the fire that had burned merrily between her and Scith, wafting long, slow breaths of warmth over her open hands.
Just thinking of it, Hweilan felt warm again.
She stood on black rocks, looking down on clouds and listening to the roar of the world. Above her, a clear night sky rimmed the horizon. There was no moon, but the stars burned like fresh-cut diamonds set on velvet tapestry. One star just topping the horizon burned bright as a small sun, though it shone blue and cold.
Behind her, a great wall of mountains pushed up against the sky. Their heights dwarfed any mountains she had ever seen. Fully half their slopes were draped in snow, and even the nearer foothills were taller than the Giantspires near her home.
She stood on the fingertip of the mountains' last grasp, and the world fell away at her feet. Miles away to her right, a river thundered over the chasm, its voice so powerful that it shook the rocks beneath her. Hweilan had no way to fathom the depth of the valley, for it was all a mass of starlit mist stirred by the cataract. Woods covered the lower slopes of the mountains and the distant lowlands, and they were black amid the trails of mist winding through their boughs.
Turning her back on the valley, she faced the woods of the mountainside. Mists curled through the trunks, and here and there she could see birds or small animals flitting from branch to branch.
She relaxed her eyes and took it all in, not focusing on any one spot. Just the way Scith had taught her. Let your eyes drink every dreg of light. In the darkness or in thick cover, watch for movement. If you see something, do not focus on it. Keep it at the edge of your sight. That part of your eye takes in more light than looking at it straight on.
There it was. Pale shapes moving amid the boughs. Just a shade paler than the mists themselves. They moved without haste, and now and then one or more would stop, and Hweilan knew they were watching her.
She looked to each side. A broken, uneven chasm all around. To her left, climbing up again to the mountain's heights. To her right, sloping down and finally curving to the edge of the falls. No paths anywhere, and the few protruding rocks that might serve as holds or even the occasional shelf to rest upon… all were slick with spray from the falls. One slip, and Hweilan would soon find out how deep the valley was inside the mists.
Howling wafted down the mountainside, and when she turned back, the shapes had come much closer. Dozens of them at least. Maybe a hundred or more, and the nearest ones were only a stone's throw away. She could see that although most were pale as ghosts, some were a darker gray, some brown, and one was black as dreamless sleep.
She reached for her knife, only to discover that she had no knife. No belt. In fact, she wore no clothes at all, and it wasn't until that realization that she felt cold. Goosebumps shot up all over her, her hair standing on end.
The first wolf-a beautiful thing, white as new snow-was almost upon her. Hweilan crouched and raised her arms to protect her throat.
But the wolf rushed right past her, so close that its fur brushed her leg. The final step it leaped into the air and plummeted into the mist. Another wolf followed it, then another, then three more. In moments it seemed an entire river of wolves rushed past her, their claws clicking on the rocks, and their panting breaths enveloping her in thick, warm fog. Every one leaped into the open air and fell without a sound, the mist swallowing them.
Only the black wolf remained. It stood a few paces in front of Hweilan, watching her for a moment, then turning back to look into the woods. A low whine escaped it, and she could see tension in its movements. Fear. What could have-?
Then she sensed it.
It had not been the wolves' eyes intent upon her. Something from the woods was watching her, from up there in the dark where she couldn't see it. And it was getting closer. She could sense it, like a sudden lightness to the summer air that meant a storm was on the way.
She heard rustling and shrieking in the woods, and as she watched a great cloud of birds erupted from the trees for miles around. They flew every which way, most seeking the heights and speeding away, but she saw some of the stragglers stop their fluttering midair and fall back to the ground as if dead. More creatures ran past her-mice, squirrels, bears, and many strange creatures that she'd never seen. Those who could scrambled down the cliffside. The others leaped, much like the wolves had done. Even the insects were leaving the shelter of the woods.
Most of the breeze had been coming up from the valley itself, pushed upward by the great fall of water. But now the wind shifted, coming from the woods itself, and Hweilan smelled something putrid and foul.
The black wolf gave her a final look that seemed to shout-Run! — then it too leaped off the cliff.
Hweilan coughed at the foul stench coming from the woods. What could make such a foul reek?
Then she heard laughter and singing. The voices were sweet, but in the laughter she sensed hot malice, and even though she could not understand the words of the song, she sensed blasphemy in the words.
Whatever it was, it was getting closer.
Time to choose, said a voice from behind her. Something about it reminded her of her mother.
She turned, but no one was there. Only the distant falls and a long, long drop.
She turned back to the woods. Death, said the voice again. Death comes from that way. Be sure of it. Hweilan faced the chasm again. And that way…
The voice trailed off. Death? Something worse? The animals had leaped that way, without hesitation, choosing the drop into nothingness over whatever approached from the dark.
Choose, Hweilan.
She took a deep breath, gagging on the reek, then took two quick steps and leaped, pushing as far as she could in hopes of clearing the cliffside rocks below.
Her mind swirled, her body took in one great gulp of air.
She plunged into the mist, the wetness hitting her naked skin like a cold slap. Her whole world went gray, she took in another breath to scream It came out a cough. Water sprayed out of her nose and throat, and she found herself on her hands and knees on a rock floor, bits of grit and sand raking into her skin. Her hair hung in heavy, dripping clumps, and water streamed off her, as if she'd just been dumped from a bath.
A cold bath. She was shivering, and her breath clouded in front of her face.
Still on her hands and knees, she looked up.
She was in a cavern. Bigger than any she'd ever been in. Her grandfather's hall could have fit inside with room to spare. Great columns of stone went from floor to ceiling in no particular order. In other places, long cones of stone hung from the ceiling or pushed up from the floor. A red glow lit the cavern, making the damp stone seem almost bloody. But she couldn't see where the glow was coming from. It certainly gave no heat.