"You brought me here because you're bored?"
"You were found in the company of an elf that the queen swore to kill if she ever found. A little exciting, yes? That makes you a candidate for… well, a few questions, at the very least. What happens to you next"-he turned and smiled at her, but it was the smile of a wolf finding a lamb all alone on the hillside-" depends very much on your answers." He looked around at their surroundings, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "Best we not talk through this little bit of our stroll."
"Why?" she whispered back. "You said the tigers would behave themselves."
"There's more than tigers in these woods. Quiet now. And stay close."
They wound their way farther down into the valley. They left the giant trees behind and entered woods that seemed more familiar to Hweilan-at least in size. Set amid the frost and snow, their bark seemed just a shade above black, and their trunks and branches leaned and twisted every which way. Even though they were seemingly still in the grip of winter, leaves filled their branches. The leaves, some as large as her hand, seemed like an oak's-though the blade had far too many points and their veins looked silver, even seeming to glow if she looked at them just right. Silver moss and icicles hung from them, and undergrowth, aside from the occasional bit of the strange flowers, was sparse.
Their path disappeared, and Menduarthis led them into the trees.
The air became much quieter. There were no more songs of birds or cries of animals. Their footfalls crunching through the snow seemed muted, and even the uldra appeared uneasy. They gripped their spears in tight fists, and their oddly glowing eyes kept careful watch.
A rift in the earth blocked their path. It was only four or five paces across, but so deep that Hweilan could not see its bottom. Ice-covered stone and soil fell away at her feet into shadow. Definitely too far to jump. Hweilan looked both ways, searching for a bridge. Then she saw somthing on the other side of the ravine.
"That is the strangest tree I have ever seen," she said in an almost reverent whisper. The thing had two trunks that joined together about a third of the way up, then sprouted outward again just below the crown. It had an unsettlingly human shape. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of smaller branches, vines, and thorns sprouted from its limbs.
At the sound of Hweilan's voice, the tree moved, the thick cluster of branches that Hweilan could only describe as a "head" turning toward them, and two eyes regarded her. They glowed like the uldras' eyes, verdant green, and the look was decidedly baleful.
Menduarthis turned to her. He put a thin finger across his lips and whispered, "I said quiet."
She stepped as close to him as she could without actually touching and whispered, "If this place is so dangerous and your queen wishes to see me, why has she not provided an escort?" Her words came out in a plume of frost that coated Menduarthis's shoulder.
He smiled, but taut anger lay behind it. "What do you think I am?"
She opened her mouth to reply, but he placed his hand over her mouth and shushed her. His skin was shockingly cool-far colder than any man's ought to be. She wondered how he could stand being outside without gloves.
They continued on. The tree thing across the canyon followed them for a while, keeping pace and watching them from the opposite side. But the rift grew no narrower, and the thing made no effort to cross. Finally it gave up but stood there watching them as they continued. When they were almost out of sight, the thing threw back its head and let out a long, mournful sound that seemed part howl and part trumpet. It sent a chill down Hweilan's spine-and when other calls answered, in the distance, her chill grew into a full-fledged shudder. The sounds stopped them all in their tracks.
"How many of those things are out there?" she said.
Menduarthis turned and said, "We might just find out if you don't keep quiet. If I have to tell you again, I'm going to have Nikle gag you."
They walked on, always downslope, and at a much faster pace.
The rift widened the farther they went. The slope on which they trod grew steeper, the trees sparser, and more rocks began to peek through the snow. But Menduarthis seemed to know his way, and Hweilan followed his footsteps almost exactly.
Walking near the cliff's edge, Hweilan looked down and was surprised to see something: the bottom of the canyon. Its flatness made her suspect it was a river or lake where the water flowed right up to the cliff's edge, for there were no trees or brush of any sort. Just a flawless sheet of snow, blue and sparkling in the faint light.
"What-"
"Best not to talk just yet,' Menduarthis interrupted, and he motioned to the path in front of them. "The walls have ears."
Looking where Menduarthis had pointed, Hweilan saw that the woods were coming to an end, and they were nearing a wall.
As their little company passed out of the shelter of the wood, they walked into snowfall. Large heavy flakes that seemed to whisper as they fell. They came to the wall, and Hweilan saw that it was not a wall at all, but a huge hedge, comprising many thousands of dark-green-leafed branches, each armored in an array of thorns. No frost of ice covered it, and there was movement within the branches. Furtive shapes that must have been very small to work their way through the tangle. Hweilan saw tiny pairs of eyes glowing from the shadows, but if they caught her watching, one blink and they were gone.
"Menduarthis," Hweilan whispered, "what is in the hedge?"
"Locals. Don't worry. They know you're with me."
"That last local didn't seem to like you much," she said, thinking of the tree things.
He shrugged. "Most of the locals don't. But they know I'm here at the queen's behest. No one will interfere with that. Now be quiet."
Hweilan scowled, but the place seemed to call for quiet, almost as if the sound of snowfall was a constant shush. She turned to look at the uldra. The little hunters, all of whom seemed perfectly at ease around tundra tigers, were as wary as she'd ever seen them. They kept looking around, their eyes wide and movements skittish as birds.
She saw no more eyes in the depths of the hedge, but she did notice that even the snowflakes would not settle upon it. Most flew away at the last instant, as if stirred by a puff of air. But a few did manage to hit an outstretched branch or leaf, whereupon the flake sizzled away into a tiny mist that fell to the ground.
Menduarthis walked a few paces left, then back to the right, leaning in close and passing one hand over the hedge. The leaves and branches rasped and rattled as his hand passed over them.
"What are you looking for?" she asked.
He stopped and stood ramrod straight, heels together, head back, arms outstretched slightly. Almost exactly the same pose he'd taken that night on the mountain before Hweilan gasped and stepped back. She could feel the power building.
Menduarthis leaned his head back, his eyes closed, but his nostrils flaring as he took in deep draughts of air.
The ground shook. Just a trembling at first, like the feeling in the air during thunder. But then everything underfoot shuddered with such force that Hweilan fell forward into the snow. She looked up.
Before Menduarthis, a shard of ice came up from the ground, splitting the hedge like shears through cloth. The shard was knife thin at first, but as it rose it thickened. By the time it stopped some ten feet or more above them, its base was wider than she was tall.
Still holding his pose, Menduarthis flicked his fingers forward, and the ice shard split with a crack! that sent a gout of frigid air and frost spewing over him. He brought his palms together with a flourish, then waved them apart. The split shard molded outward into an arch, then melted away into a heavy frost, much like the snowflakes had on the leaves. When it was gone, all that remained was a tunnel through the hedge, blue-silver mist falling down the sides and swirling along the bottom.