Skycities of Arhosa Read online

  As she closed with the predator, she swung hard, digging her sword into its gut, headless of any return strike. Rather than respond as she expected, the monster howled in pain, eyes flaring as it slid out of her range, the elegant dodge of her sweeping counter denoting intelligence behind the feral casing. Mouth opening wide, it bucked up high on its hind legs, breathing in deeply, the very air screeching as it disappeared into the cavernous chest. Thumping back down to the ground, the beast explosively expelled chill air in a wave of biting ice and grasping tendrils of cold, momentarily blinding Ira with the frozen tongue of air.

  Reacting only a little less swiftly than Ira, Canere skirted to the side, moving so that Ira would not be affected by his impending magic. Satisfied that she was safe, the arcanist gestured, ending with the tossing back his of head. From his mouth came a great flame, bathing his foe in a roasting tongue of fire.

  Yaden, for his part, flicked one of his little dancing spheres of light at the beast, hoping it would distract the creature. He then approached rather more cautiously, uncertain if his assistance would help Ira with the combat, or hinder her sweeping strokes.

  The blast of cold was something Ira hadn’t expected, but it was something she was prepared to deal with. Ducking aside, she let the cold mix with the heat of the fire from Canere, shedding some of the ice from her cloak. Grateful for the warmth, she waded in again, closing the distance to the creature and slashing it across the shoulder, leaving a ragged wound.

  The icy monster howled in pain, shying away from Ira and then bursting up the slope, moving at a lightning pace to scramble away from a hunt gone wrong. Its paws tossed snow into the air as it speeds across the land, spray churning with each stride.

  Seeing the creature now in full flight, Canere stretched his hands out towards the beast, letting fly a series of shooting sparks toward the beast's retreating back, making it yip and pour on ever more speed.

  And with that, the beast was gone, disappearing over the knoll, presumably never to return.

  The three friends glanced at once another with bemused expressions, ones that changed as the shock of combat wore off and their emotions swung from grim focus to delayed surprise, and thence to laughter.

  “Really, Canere? You fired sparks at its butt?” Ira was laughing, her whole body shaking, even as she cleaned the sword using a handful of snow.

  “I wanted the beast to never think about coming back. Figured he could do with a little reminder.”

  “The problem is, we now have to live with the smell of burnt fur. It’s putrid!” Yaden held his nose in mock disgust.

  “Better that than the sound of that creature having a little nibble on your flesh.” Ira shook her head. “More seriously, you weren’t sure whether to come to my aid or not, were you?”

  At Yaden’s acknowledgement, Ira nodded. “Thought so. As long as you’re more than about three feet away from me, you’re not going to interfere with the sword strokes, although timing our attacks so they complement one another will take practice. And that light in the creature’s eyes was a nice little touch – kept it from being able to see my follow up strike.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve got a few other bits and pieces of magic scattered around, but that’s about the best I can manage at short notice.”

  Canere clapped him on the shoulder. “You and I can figure out how they can be used, while Ira goes and gets the rest of the wood for the fire. Sounds, right, doesn’t it, Ira?”

  A glare was the only response that the arcanist got.

  ***

  After another two days of struggling through the overly tight limbs and non-existent paths of the pine forest, the explorers decided that perhaps the best bet was to plot their course along the lower slopes of the mountains that surrounded them, reasoning that although the pitch might be problematic, it would be less so than the heavy brush through which they fought.

  Having accepted the logic as reasonable, the three then spent the next day battling through the brush at a diagonal angle, until at last they broke free and could once more see the sun and sky above them, rather than the shadowed world of the pines. It was a relief, knowing that there was no longer anywhere near the impediment that there was before.

  That night, they sheltered against the edge of the forest, the trees providing a reasonable windbreak against the howling winds that cut down the valley above their heads, rustling the tops of the pines and occasionally scattering drifts of snow down upon them.

  Morning came, and brought with it a fierce sun and winds that made last night’s storm seem peaceful. So cold was the gusting air that the Hanians were forced to wrap their faces in thick layers of cloth, leaving but a tiny slit for their eyes to peer through. It cut their vision down to almost naught, seeing nothing more than a small patch directly in front of them, but it saved their flesh from the ravages of the northern climate.

  Midday came, finding the three upon a wide and shallow rise, the lowest slopes of a white mountain, covered in the snow that cloaked the northern range. Above them, as they paused for a drink from the water bottles that lived tucked beneath their warm outerwear, came the distant sound of a crack, followed moments later by the echoes of rumbling and roaring.

  Ira glanced up the slope to their left, then shouted. As Yaden and Canere stared at her in confusion, she pointed to the distant cloud upon the mountain, one that grew closer with every passing moment. As realization dawned on the others, Ira set off sprinting, Canere and Yaden following within a second.

  Ahead of them was a wound in the mountain, a cliff of black rock that jutted from the engulfing snow. Its tall rise and slightly inward curving face offered their best chance of protection from the onrushing snow.

  It was towards this obstacle that they sprinted, with the avalanche tumbling down towards them now blotting out the peak from whence it came. The first shards of the snow were beginning to blow past as they dove into the protection of the overhang, hoping against hope that the slide did not bury them there.

  Roaring and growling as it sprayed forth from the cliff, the avalanche spewed outwards, some falling upon the downed Hanians, most of it missing and landing beyond them, wedging them in against the base of the cliff.

  Their belongings were not so lucky, Canere’s pack pounded by a massive ice chunk that fell from the lip above, landing only a foot from where he lay. Maybe some of the food and blankets were retrievable, but his more valuable spellcasting tools were almost certainly gone.

  By the time they dug themselves out from the snow, the light was failing, and while they had retrieved almost all of the items buried in the avalanche, a cold wind had picked up, whipping through the long valley of the mountains and scouring the slopes, the temperature plummeting with the fading light of day. Shelter was a necessity, for the cold was quickly becoming dangerous. And one of the broken items was the rods that held the tent aloft.

  Scouting the land surrounding the cliff, Ira hunted for shelter while the others attempted to jerry-rig a solution to the shattered poles. Only after the sun had dipped below the horizon and the cutting wind had become a scything knife did she find an appropriate abode: a dark cave mouth hidden in a face of the rock, low and with an overhanging stone.

  The deep cleft ran back into the mountain, twisting as it did, narrow and dim. Painful to crawl into, the three squeezed themselves into the shelter, grumbling all the while.

  “So now we don’t have a tent?” Yaden scowled as he peered at the opening of the cavern, almost hidden by the dim night.

  “The tent cloth is fine. It’s the rods that hold it aloft that are broken. I’m not much of a hand with crafting things, but I suspect between us we can make replacement fitments with the daylight.” Much as it would have been helpful, Canere’s magical capabilities did not extend into the realm of creating or fixing items.

  “I can probably manage the matter, although the carved branches will be heavier than the light rods we set out with.” Ira was eyeing the dagger strapped to her leg. Not an ideal knife for whittling, but it would serve.

  Yaden snorted. “In other words, just a delay. Which this blasted valley seems full of. How many days are we going to have to spend trudging back and forth through these bloody trees? Our food isn’t going to last forever.”

  At that, the arcanist’s face fell. “I wasn’t thinking of that, or else I’d have felled the winter beast. We could have frozen its meat and used it as food.”

  “On second thought, maybe starvation is a better option. You’re suggesting we eat something like that? Uncertain magical beast meat?”

  “There aren’t too many entirely natural creatures that can survive the cold and the lack of food this far north. There’s probably some, but we’re on the very edge of their territory, I would suspect.”

  “So random magical beast meat will sustain us. That’s lovely. I always wanted to explore new avenues in cuisine that involved possible poisons.”

  “That’s okay Yaden, I’ll be more than happy to eat your share.” Ira grinned at the roustabout. “Too much meat might add muscles to your frame, anyway. You’d lose your waifish looks.”

  A little glowing bee that buzzed around Ira’s head and kept settling on the tip of her nose was the answer she got. Annoyingly, any attempt to swat the creature did little more than send it skittering about again, until Canere and Yaden were both chuckling loudly at her antics.

  Although when it dove down her shirt and began trying to tickle her, the glare that she shot Yaden was enough to make him end the spell.

  Moods restored, the three of them hunkered down for the night.

  ***

  The morning dawned bright yet grey, the sun diffusing through clouds overhead, muting the sharpness of the landscape. Fallen snow had banked against the base of t
he cliff, a thin wall between the heroes and the outside air. It had kept the cavern warm enough throughout the night, trapping the heat from the slumbering friends within the narrow cleft.

  Ira kicked the blockage with her boots, occasionally swinging with her pack as well, knocking away the snow that formed the seal over their resting place. Once enough of an opening had been battered through, she struggled outside to face the morning light, her mind immediately turning to the practical matter of whittling branches into poles for the tent.

  Behind her, she could here Yaden and Canere still snoring lightly. The two of them were always the type to be sleeping in, although in Canere’s case it was usually because he’d spent the whole night engaged in some interesting task. Yaden, well, his need to sleep through mornings was generally less productive.

  Eyeing the two of them, Ira grabbed a handful of snow, packed it down, and then let fly, pegging Yaden within his sleeping bag.

  The young man shot upright, narrowly missing cracking his head on the stone wall of the cleft in his panic. As his breathing slowed and his senses returned to him, he focused in on Ira, eyes glaring, and then whipped his pack at her.

  Full as it was, it made a heavy and poor projectile. Yet still thrown well enough that she was forced to dive aside, landing in the snow, to avoid being clobbered by it. By the time she had extracted herself from the mess of the snowbank, Yaden had collected his pack and stuffed his sleeping gear atop it.

  Refusing to look at her, he stomped past, steps heading to the north.

  Shaking her head at the mood Yaden was in, she went and woke Canere in more gentle fashion.

  He arose slightly befuddled, but was soon up and glancing about. “Where’s Yaden gone off to?”

  Given that the answer he received was a sigh, he knew it wasn’t the best. “I woke him up with a snowball. He didn’t appreciate that very much, and has already set out.” Ira shrugged. “Didn’t think he’d be that upset.”

  “I think he’s sick and tired of this snowy expanse. He’s not the only one, to be honest. It’s not the travel that’s the problem; it’s the mind-numbing drudgery of it. We walk ten hours a day, stop to camp, and wake up the next morning wondering if we’re back where we were the previous day.”

  “But you knew that when we set out. Or at least had a good intimation of it. We all did.”

  Canere flicked his fingers together, and the chirp of a bird sounded instead of the normal click. “Academically, I know a great many things. I have read of the horrible battles that ripped apart the Arhosan Empire, and of the glories of the age that came before that. Doesn’t mean I’d be ready to experience either of them. I think the same is true for all of us here. We can take only so much.”

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re wise beyond your years? And a total know-it-all?” Ira was laughing as she said that, taking the sting from the words.

  Canere answered with a sarcastic bow, then pointed at the third member of their little trio. “The know-it-all believes we need to chase him down before he gets too far ahead.”

  Gathering their belongings, they set out after their friend.

  ***

  Despite the poor start to the day, the three had managed to reconvene as moods returned to a normal equilibrium, and in the break that they took for lunch, Ira had begun the work of whittling away at a branch. Added vastly by the gift of a minor servitor from Canere.

  At the questioning glances from the other two, he’d shrugged, and gestured at the wedge of papers that he’d taken from the archives. “Sometimes, it’s just easier to use a magical servant than to do things yourself. Even though I know the energy should be going into keeping Yn Dref afloat.”

  The rest of the day passed with little more than an unpleasant brush of snow, the clouds overhead whipping by too quickly to do more than leave a fresh inch on the ground, much of which was soon stripped away by the wind.

  That wind forced the three to take shelter amongst the trees, ploughing their way through the heavy branches until enough of the boughs stood between them and the outside world to provide a reasonable shelter. There, they pitched the tent and crafted a small fire, lit as always by a spark from Canere’s talents.

  Food was little more than dry, tightly packed rations, moistened by fresh water melted out of the snow. Dull but nourishing, there was little to recommend it aside from that, and soon the dreary nature of their day, and the faint echoes of the foul moods that had started it off, sank in and the three crawled into their sleeping blankets.

  ***

  A shiver woke Yaden, his flesh tingling despite being inside all the clothes he possessed. He went to blink, to clear the sleepiness from his eyes. And couldn’t. Reaching up, he brushed a hand against his face, and discovered that his eyelashes were frozen together, the air so cold that the moisture trapped in them had turned to ice.

  It was with difficulty that he dragged his fingers out of their gloves and began to pick away at the glaze that coated his face, each little shard that he had to pull off sending painful shocks as hairs came with them.

  “Yaden?” The voice came from the blanket immediately next to him, so it had to be Canere, although in the frigid cold in the tent, it was hard to tell.

  “Yes?”

  “I can’t see.”

  “Ice on the eyelashes. You’ll need to pick it off.”

  What followed was the same faint cursing and scraping that Yaden had been making since he woke.

  “You’re the arcanist. Is this cold magical?”

  All noise from under the blanket stopped.

  “You had to ask…” Canere trailed off, working his fingers upon his face until at last he could open his eyes enough to see, not that there was more than the faintest light in the tent, such was the midnight hour.

  Sitting up, he began to gesture, calling to mind one of the more basic detection spells that he had been taught. It took a little time to cast, but almost nothing in the way of magical effort, and was one of the reasons that the spell remained popular even when stronger or more efficacious options had been developed. The other was that it was one of the few items of magic open to all comers, for specialization walled off much of the arcanist’s realm from him.

  “Yaden, the air in the tent is flickering…”

  “Bugger.” Acting while speaking, the multitalented young man reached over and shoved Ira, hard enough for her to sit up with shock, her hand immediately reaching for the sword that lay alongside her.

  “What is it? And why can’t I see?”

  As Yaden assisted in freeing her from the ice that had formed, Canere took it upon himself to explain.

  “The cold in here isn’t natural. That’s why it’s so much worse than previous nights.”

  “And?”

  “We don’t have an ‘and’ yet.”

  “But?”

  “But whatever is causing this is unlikely to be doing it with good intentions in mind.”

  Having freed his companion, Yaden began buckling on his gear as best he could, weapon first. “On the other hand, it probably doesn’t know we’re here.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “Because whatever’s causing this hasn’t tried to crash down the tent, and isn’t even close enough to be making noise as it passes through the brush.”

  “And if it’s a spirit or elemental?”

  Yaden smiled wanly. “Then I hope you’re good at running.”

  ***

  Properly prepared, the three adventurers slipped from the tent, Ira quickly knocking it down and attaching it to their packs, the other two kneeling, facing out into the forest, their senses straining.

  Despite his earlier success, Canere refrained from using his magical talents, fearing both the distraction and the energy they would require.

  The tent packed away, they pushed off through the branches, moving slowly and carefully through the woods. Yaden took point, his ghost light faintly circling about a foot in front of him, providing just enough light for him to be able to see where he was going.

  A loud crack shattered the silence, causing Yaden and Ira to glance at Canere, who was now suddenly sprawled across the ground, a mound of snow half disguising him.

  Shaking his head at disgust in himself, the mage threw away the branch he had been attempting to lever out of the way and began to rise, freezing halfway up.