Magician (26 page)

They trudged upward, climbing higher
into the foothills. The sun had set, but the Duke ordered them
onward, fearful of the return of their pursuers. The men stepped
cautiously forward, tentative in the rough terrain at night. The
darkness was punctuated by softly uttered oaths as men lost their
footing on the icy rocks time and again.

Pug plodded along, his body numb with
fatigue and cold. The day had seemed an eternity, and he could not
remember when he had last stopped or eaten. Once he had been handed a
waterskin by a soldier, but the lone drink was a dim memory. He
grabbed a handful of snow and put it in his mouth, but the melting
iciness gave him little relief. The snow was falling more heavily, or
at least it seemed so to Pug, he couldn’t see it fall, but it
struck his face with more frequency and force. It was bitterly cold,
and he shivered inside his cloak.

Like a booming call, the Duke’s
whisper sounded in the murk. “Stop. I doubt they are wandering
about in the dark. We’ll rest here.”

Arutha’s whisper could be heard
from somewhere ahead: “The falling snow should cover our tracks
by morning.”

Pug dropped to his knees and pulled his
cloak about himself Tomas’s voice sounded nearby. “Pug?”

Softly he answered, “Here.”

Tomas dropped heavily beside him. “I
think . . .,” he said between panting breaths, “I’ll
never . . . move again.”

Pug could only nod. The Duke’s
voice came from a short distance away. “No fires.”

Gardan answered, “It’s a
bitter night for a cold camp, Your Grace.”

Borric said, “Agreed, but if
those sons of hell are nearby, a fire would bring them howling down
upon us. Huddle together for warmth, so no one will freeze. Post
guards and tell the others to sleep. When dawn breaks, I want to put
as much distance between ourselves and them as possible.” Pug
felt bodies begin to press around him and didn’t mind the
discomfort for the warmth. Soon he drifted off into a fitful doze,
starting awake often during the night. Then suddenly it was dawn.

Three more horses died during the
night, their frozen bodies lying uncovered in the snow. Pug came to
his feet, feeling light-headed and stiff. He shivered uncontrollably
as he stamped his feet, trying to stir some life into his chilled,
aching body Tomas stirred, then awoke with a start, looking to see
what was occurring. He climbed awkwardly to his feet, then joined Pug
in stamping feet and swinging arms. “I’ve never been so
cold in my life,” he said through chattering teeth.

Pug looked around. They were in a
hollow between large outcroppings of granite, still bare and grey in
patches, which rose up behind them thirty feet into the air, joining
a ridge above. The ground sloped away along the path of their march,
and Pug noticed the trees were thinner here. “Come along,”
he said to Tomas as he began to scramble up the rocks.

“Damn!” sounded from
behind, and Pug and Tomas looked back to see Gardan kneeling over the
still form of a guard. The sergeant looked at the Duke and said,
“Died in the night, Your Grace.” He shook his head as he
added, “He took a wound and never spoke of it.”

Pug counted; besides himself, Tomas,
Kulgan, the Duke, and his son, there were now just twelve soldiers.
Tomas looked up at Pug, who had climbed ahead, and said, “Where
are we going?”

Pug noticed he whispered. He inclined
his head upward and said, “To see what’s over there.”

Tomas nodded, and they continued their
climb. Stiff fingers protested against the need to grip hard rock,
but soon Pug found himself warm again as exertion heated his body. He
reached up and gripped the edge of the ridge above. He pulled himself
up and over and waited for Tomas.

Tomas came over the ridge, panting for
breath, looked past Pug, and said, “Oh, glory!”

Rising up majestically before them were
the tall peaks of the Grey Towers. The sun rose behind, casting rose
and golden highlights on the north faces of the mountains, while the
western faces were still veiled in indigo darkness. The sky was
clear, the snowfall over. Everywhere they looked, the scenery was
draped in white.

Pug waved toward Gardan. The sergeant
walked up to the base of the rocks, climbed a short way, and said,
“What is it?” Pug said, “The Grey Towers! No more
than five miles away.”

Gardan waved for the boys to return,
and they scrambled down, falling the last few feet to land with a
thump. With their destination in sight, they felt revived. They came
to where Gardan stood in conference with the Duke, Arutha, and
Kulgan. Borric spoke softly, his words carrying clearly in the crisp
morning air. “Take whatever is left on the dead animals and
divide it among the men. Bring the remaining horses, but no one
rides. No use covering the animals, for we’ll make broad tracks
anyway.”

Gardan saluted and began circulating
among the soldiers. They stood about in pairs or singly, eyes
watching for signs of possible pursuit.

Borric said to Kulgan, “Have you
an idea where the South Pass lies?”

“I will try to use my magic
sight, my lord.” Kulgan concentrated, and Pug watched closely,
for seeing with the mind’s eye was another of the feats that
had eluded him in his studies. It was akin to using the crystal, but
less pictorial, more an impression of where something was in relation
to the spellcaster. After a few minutes of silence, Kulgan said, “I
cannot tell, Sire. If I had been there before, then perhaps, but I
get no impression of where the pass may lie.”

Borric nodded. “I wish Longbow
were here. He knows the landmarks of the area.” He turned to
the east, as if seeing the Grey Towers through the intervening ridge.
“One mountain looks much like another to me.”

Arutha said, “Father, to the
north?”

Borric smiled a little at Arutha’s
logic. “Yes If the pass lies northward, we still might chance
across it before it is impassable. Once across the mountains, the
weather will prove milder in the east—at least that is the rule
this time of year. We should be able to walk to Bordon. If we are
already north of the pass, then we will eventually reach the dwarves.
They will shelter us and perhaps know another route to the east.”
He inspected his exhausted company. “With three horses and snow
melted for drinking water, we should last another week.” He
looked around, studying the sky. “If the weather holds.”

Kulgan said, “We should be free
of bad weather in two, perhaps three days. Farther into the future I
cannot judge.” A distant shout echoed over the trees, from deep
within the forest below. Instantly everyone was still. Borric looked
to Gardan “Sergeant, how far away do you judge them?”

Gardan listened. “It is hard to
say, my lord. One mile, two, maybe more. Sound carries oddly in the
forest, more so when it is this cold.” Borric nodded. “Gather
the men. We leave now.”

Pug’s fingertips bled through his
torn gloves. At every opportunity during the day, the Duke had kept
the men traveling over rock, to prevent Dark Brotherhood trackers
from following. Every hour guards had been sent back to cut false
trails over their own, pulling blankets taken from the dead horses
behind, obscuring the tracks as best they could.

They stood at the edge of a clearing, a
circle of bare rock surrounded on all sides by scattered pines and
aspens. The trees had grown progressively thinner as they moved up
into the mountains, staying on the rougher, higher terrain rather
than risk being followed. Since dawn they had moved northeast,
following a ridge of rugged hills toward the Grey Towers, but to
Pug’s dismay the mountains seemed no closer.

The sun stood high overhead, but Pug
felt little of its warmth, for a cold wind blew down from the heights
of the Grey Towers. Pug hqard Kulgan’s voice some distance
behind. “As long as the wind is from the northeast, we’ll
have no snow, as any moisture will have fallen on the peaks. Should
the wind shift and come from the west, or northwest, from off the
Endless Sea, we’ll have more snow.”

Pug panted as he scrambled along the
rocks, balancing on the slippery surface “Kulgan, must we have
lessons, too?”

Several men laughed, and momentarily
the grim tension of the last two days lessened. They reached a large
flat, before another upward rise, and the Duke ordered a halt. “Build
a fire and slaughter an animal. We’ll wait here for the last
rear guard.”

Gardan quickly sent men to gather wood
in the trees, and one was given two of the horses to lead away. The
high-strung mounts were footsore, tired, and unfed, and in spite of
their training, Gardan wanted them removed from the smell of blood.

The chosen horse screamed, then was
suddenly silent, and when the fires were ready, the soldiers placed
spits over the flames. Soon the aroma of roasting meat filled the
air. In spite of his anticipated distaste, Pug found his mouth
watering at the smell. In a while he was handed a stick, with a large
piece of roasted liver on it, which he wolfed down. Nearby, Tomas was
doing equal justice to a portion of sizzling haunch.

When they were done eating, the
still-hot meat left over was wrapped with strips from horse blankets
and torn tabards, then divided among the men.

Pug and Tomas sat by Kulgan as men
broke camp, putting out fires, covering signs of passing, and
readying for the resumption of the march.

Gardan came to the Duke. “My
lord, the rear guard is overdue.”

Borric nodded. “I know. They
should have returned a half hour ago.” He peered down the
hillside, toward the huge forest, mist shrouded in the distance.
“We’ll wait five more minutes, then we will go.”

They waited in silence, but the guards
didn’t return. Finally Gardan gave the order. “All right,
lads. Off we go.”

The men formed up behind the Duke and
Kulgan, and the boys fell in at the rear. Pug counted. There were
only ten soldiers left.

Two days later the howling winds came,
icy knives ripping at exposed flesh. Cloaks were gathered around each
figure tramping slowly northward, leaning into the wind. Rags had
been torn and tied around boots in a feeble attempt to hold off
frostbite Pug tried vainly to keep his eyelashes free of ice, but the
harsh wind made his eyes tear, and the drops quickly froze, blurring
his vision.

Pug heard Kulgan’s voice above
the wind. “My lord, a storm comes. We must find shelter or
perish.” The Duke nodded and waved two men ahead to seek
shelter. The two set pff at a stumbling run, moving only slightly
faster than the others, but valiantly putting their remaining meager
strength into the task.

Clouds began to roll in from the
northwest, and the skies darkened. “How much time, Kulgan?”
shouted the Duke over the shrieking wind.

The magician waved his hand above his
head, as the wind blew his hair and beard back from his face,
exposing his high forehead. “An hour at most.” The Duke
nodded again and exhorted his men to move along.

A sad sound, a neighing cry, pierced
the wind, and a soldier called out that the last horse was down.
Borric stopped and with a curse ordered it slaughtered as quickly as
possible. Soldiers butchered the animal, steaming hunks of meat being
cut away, to chill in the snow where they were cast before they could
be wrapped. When they were done, the meat was divided among the men.

“If we can find shelter, we will
build a fire and cook the meat,” the Duke shouted.

Silently Pug added that if they
couldn’t find shelter, they’d have little use for the
meat. They resumed their march.

A short time later the two guards
returned with the news of a cave less than a quarter mile distant.
The Duke ordered them to show the way.

Snow began to fall, whipped by the
driving wind. The sky was now dark, limiting visibility to only a few
hundred feet Pug felt light-headed and had to struggle to pull his
feet from the resisting snow. Both hands were numb, and he wondered
if he was frostbitten.

Tomas looked slightly better, being
somewhat hardier by nature, but he also was too exhausted to speak.
He just plodded along beside his friend.

Suddenly Pug was lying face down in the
snow feeling surprisingly warm and sleepy. Tomas knelt beside the
fallen magician’s apprentice. He shook Pug. and the nearly
unconscious boy groaned.

“Get up,” Tomas shouted.
“It’s only a little way farther.”

Pug struggled upright, aided by Tomas
and one of the soldiers. When he was standing, Tomas indicated to the
soldier he could take care of his friend. The soldier nodded, but
stayed near. Tomas loosened one of the main strips of blanket tied
around him for warmth, knotted one end to Pug’s belt, and half
guided, half pulled the smaller boy along.

The boys followed the guard who had
helped them around an outcropping of rock and found themselves at the
mouth of a cave. They staggered forward a few steps into the
sheltering darkness, then fell to the stone floor. In contrast to the
biting wind outside, the cave seemed warm, and they lapsed into an
exhausted sleep.

Pug awoke to the smell of cooking horse
meat. He roused himself and saw it was dark outside, beyond the fire.
Piles of branches and deadwood were heaped nearby. and men were
carefully feeding the fire Others stood by. roasting pieces of meat.
Pug flexed his fingers and found them painfully sore, but as he
peeled off his tattered gloves, he saw no signs of frostbite. He
nudged Tomas awake, and the other boy raised himself up on his
elbows, blinking at the firelight.

Gardan stood on the other side of the
fire, speaking with a guard. The Duke sat nearby, in quiet
conversation with his son and Kulgan. Beyond Gardan and the guard,
Pug could see only blackness. He couldn’t remember what time of
day it had been when they found the cave, but he and Tomas must have
slept for hours.