“Come on,” he said to Harrach, to all the others in his suddenly grim-faced crew. They missed Lothar and Breitt as much as he did. “We still have to find Orin Hawk and save our king.”
The Hag’s Domain, lad? Never been there m’self, and I reckon no sane man would go there unless he had to. It’s a barren place, they say, with no people except the Hag and her minions. Aye, there’s a few old towns and hunters’ camps, all abandoned when the Hag took power. Sometimes the Hag uses ’em herself. Rumor says she has dozens of lairs, and that’s where she hides her treasure.
What treasure? Why, the gold she takes from fool adventurers, of course. That’s where she gets her gold. Aye, and I bet she takes tribute from the goblins and the orogs and the trolls in her mountains, too. They all know better than to take her on!
What else is there? Well, forests and mountains, a lake or two, and lots of snakes—the Hag has a particular kinship with snakes, I hear. They answer her when she calls. She’s half snake herself, ye know….
Fourteen
More snow had fallen in the Drachenaur Mountains than in Grabentod, Parniel Bowspear found as he led his men up the Warde Pass. He had to keep an eye on the ground at all times to avoid slipping.
The mountains rose to either side of them, steep and rocky, with only the occasional gnarled, leafless tree or tuft of grayish grass to break the otherwise barren landscape. Though only an inch or so of snow lay on the ground here, it spoke of trouble to come if a larger storm hit. Bowspear glanced for the dozenth time at the sky, as clear and blue and cloudless as he’d ever seen, but he’d experienced quite enough storms at sea not to trust the weather to hold.
Pausing, he sucked in a deep lungful of air. His breath misted before him, forming ice crystals that he had to keep brushing out of his beard. The thin, cold air felt like knives when be breathed through his nose.
Now came the dangerous part. They would have to prepare an ambush for Captain Evann while staying warm and dry and eluding the Hag, not to mention the other denizens of this inhospitable realm. Unfortunately, the Warde Pass seemed increasingly a bad choice for their ambush; it offered no place to hide, and little cover.
No, he thought, we will have to keep going. Perhaps we will find a suitable place when we turn off into the smaller pass to that old abandoned logging camp—Zwei Frieren Flusse.
He glanced over his shoulder. His men had strung out into a long line, perhaps ten yards between each one. He had taken the lead that morning, setting a swift pace, but they had all managed to keep up without incident. Unfortunately, with fresh snow on the ground, they left ample tracks, but he could do nothing about it now. Perhaps Evann would think orogs or goblins had passed through ahead of him.
The path opened up onto a broad ledge. They would all be able to rest here. Raising one hand, he signaled a halt. Everyone caught up and formed a circle around him.
“We’re going to have to move more carefully,” he said, looking each in the eye. “We’re on the edge of the Hag’s Domain now.”
Their faces remained impassive. Good; they weren’t intimidated. He’d picked them well.
“Yuri,” he went on, “you’re on scout duty. See what’s ahead. We’ll follow about a hundred yards back. Don’t shout a warning—signal it. No telling what might hear you here, and we don’t want to start an avalanche from above.”
“Aye, sir,” Yuri said. He glanced up the slopes toward the ice and snow far above, as if expecting it to suddenly fall on him, then turned and headed up the pass. It wound sharply to the right and vanished behind the mountain.
Counting slowly to a hundred, Bowspear watched him go. When he was certain Yuri was far enough ahead, he started after him.
“Stay close behind me,” he cautioned the others.
It would take them at least two days to get through to the smaller pass to Zwei Frieren Flusse, he knew. He’d heard of a few small caves that travelers used for shelters along the way. They’d look for one tonight.
As the day wore on and he trudged ever onward through the cold, Bowspear found his thoughts wandering to what might lie ahead of them in the pass. There were many possible dangers here. Though orogs and goblins were almost never seen in Grabentod, folk stories told of them teeming in the mountains, sometimes sneaking down by night to kidnap unsuspecting children.
He had never been this far into the mountains before. Several times, he had accompanied King Graben to his hunting lodge on Mount Krakenwald, but the only dangers in that part of the Drachenaur Mountains came from wildlife, avalanches, and occasional forest fires. Here, though … here he half expected to find monsters lurking around every bush or bend.
He almost wished he’d stayed in Grabentod. What chance could Captain Evann possibly have of success here, against the elements, the creatures who lived in the mountains, and the Hag herself? Here, facing the mountains, he felt an almost oppressive sense of impending disaster.
Yuri came jogging back, half slipping on the snow and patches of ice. Drawing up short, Bowspear waited, hand dropping to his sword. His scout didn’t seem upset or alarmed by anything, probably just coming back to give a routine report.
“What is it?” he asked.
Yuri panted a moment, hands on knees, catching his breath. “Sir,” he said, “we’re coming up on the pass to Zwei Frieren Flusse.”
“Any sign of a lodge or a camp where we can spend the night?”
“No, sir,” he said.
Bowspear nodded. “Very well. We’ll see how far we can make it before nightfall.”
Yuri gave a nod, turned, and headed back up the pass. Bowspear resumed his slow march.
As the party rounded the right side of another immense mountain, Bowspear abruptly found himself on a wide stone ledge. A low, moaning wind came up, numbing his fingers and making his eyes sting. To the left, a steep cliff dropped away several hundred feet into a deep gorge. A dark, stagnant-looking lake, half iced over, sat at the bottom.
Keeping as close to the mountain as he could, Bowspear pressed on, every now and again catching sight of Yuri far ahead. The rock underfoot felt icy and slick beneath the snow, and Bowspear almost fell several times.
Suddenly he rounded a corner and came to where the pass split. One trail—broader than the first—continued to the left toward Drachenward. The other, smaller pass climbed steeply and wound out of sight. It looked little better than a goat trail. It had to be the one to Zwei Frieren Flusse and the Hag’s Domain.
Standing at the top of the smaller pass, Yuri turned and waved them on, and then he vanished out of sight, following the trail downward.
Tucking his head into the wind, Bowspear picked his way forward. He climbed the smaller pass, using his hands to pull himself up. A stone twisted unexpectedly under his heel, but he managed to catch his balance before he fell. If he broke his leg, he’d be stranded and die.
At last, he reached the top of the pass. There he paused to catch his breath, get his bearings, and give the rest of his men a hand up. Ahead, the smaller pass leveled out again and turned into what appeared to be a long-abandoned road. An avalanche must have blocked the road some years before, and he and his band had just climbed to the top of the fallen rock and debris.
From this vantage point, shading his eyes, Bowspear could follow the road’s course for several miles ahead. In places, it had been obliterated entirely by passing centuries, but then it picked up again. Looking down on it from above, the road looked like a long gray stone ribbon.
It would make their passage easier, he thought, but it might well be watched. Bowspear considered the possibilities for a long moment before deciding to press on as before. There didn’t seem to be much alternative. With Yuri scouting ahead, at least they would have warning of any dangers.