The Complete Riftwar Saga Trilogy: Magician, Silverthorn, A Darkness at Sethanon. Raymond E. Feist
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 heard 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