But at last, late in the second day, they rounded the peak into the lee. Wind still eddied around them, but with less force, and they took a moment to rest. Elof looked about him at the mountainside, remembering those first dazed moments of a strange freedom. There were the lakes, the woods, but no longer as friendly as they had seemed. The bleak gray light did not help. He turned away to the ridge above. "Beyond there lie the glaciers. The duergars cannot have gone that way. It must have been somewhere on this slope they vanished. Or appeared to. It was dark, and they had the only lanterns."
Kermorvan kicked at a hefty boulder. "I did not realize the Ice was quite so close. That bodes ill. If they do have a door or gate here, something that could make that deep sound you heard, they will have disguised it with all their skill—too much, perhaps, for us. But we will search, all the same." He looked up at the sky again, the mustering of the clouds. "Let us hope we find it soon. For in these high places, even at this season, such a sky can mean snow."
Darkness was falling as they toiled up to the ridge, weary, chill and sick at heart. They had quartered the whole wide slope between them, and found no single boulder, no crack in the steep rock walls, no break in the scree, which seemed anything but natural. Only the very summit of the ridge remained, and it looked too bare to hide even a rathole, scoured flat by the relentless north wind. Beyond it, too, the stark glow seemed stronger than ever against the gray clouds, and shone like a warning even on the brief mist of their breath.
This too may be frozen
. …
Kermorvan, as usual, reached the rim a little ahead. And there Elof feared for him, for he saw the swordsman halt in his tracks, silhouetted against the glare, stand staring a moment and sink very slowly to one knee. Elof sprang to catch up, and himself came reckless over the rise, and stood transfixed at the sight spread out before him.
They had come to the rim of a deep valley in the mountains, a steep walled gouge like a swordblow among the peaks. Somewhere in his dazed mind Elof realized it must be directly opposite the Mastersmith's valley, stemming from the far slopes of the same peak. But that side was merely barren and cold. This side was in the grip of the Ice.
So it was that Elof first beheld the great Adversary, and he also sank down, daunted. It was a sight of awe and wonder, and what he had least of all expected, it was beautiful, so fair the marvel of it awoke coursing ice in his very veins. Far out into the distance below him stretched the glacier, infinitely far along the widening valley between dwindling peaks and out onto a vast expanse of softly glowing gray-white. The eastern walls of the mountains sank into it as if into a sea, overwhelmed; here and there, as if in mockery of former majesties, a remote peak protruded, blunted and crumbling like a slighted fortress. Beyond these pathetic remnants it stretched out into an infinite distance so featureless that the eye strained to focus on it and blurred painfully, finding no hold or reference. Even a horizon seemed to be lacking, perhaps because there were gray clouds there to merge with it. Whatever the truth of it, the sight filled Elof with the sudden chill feeling that he, that the whole warmly living world of earth and flowers and beasts and men and women were nothing but a very thin crust of dirt upon an infinity of cool sterile whiteness, a smear of filth on the chill beauty of a gem, at the mercy of its slightest movement or disturbance, utterly insignificant. Even when he shifted his gaze to the high peaks above him and across the valley, seeking comfort in their strength, they seemed things of slight and temporary moment, no more a barrier than their buried kin had been. It was simply a matter of time, and the Ice had already long spans of years frozen at its heart. What did man have?
Then suddenly he held his gaze, peering, questing into the gloom beyond the glow. He scrambled up, braving the wind that whipped at him, shielding his eyes with his hand till he was sure of what he saw. He turned and found Kermorvan at his side. The swordsman's face was pale and stern, full of awe and wonder, but no slightest trace of fear; it was set like flint, and the gleam in his eyes as they scanned the endless distances was a challenge returned. "You saw something?"
"I… think so! Out across the valley, among the high peaks beyond the end of it, see!
See—"
Kermorvan rubbed his eyes, peered and shook his head. Then he turned back, blinking, and looked at one peak again. "I see…the faintest of orange glows…"
"You do indeed!"
Kermorvan eyed him doubtfully. "It could be many things…"
"So it could. But do you see any more hopeful sign?"
Kermorvan shook his head grimly. "I do not, for this slope below us seems as empty as the rest. Very well, let us be on our way, for it will be sore walking to bring us round all these mountains." He swung his pack back onto his shoulders, and was about to set off down the slope again when Elof caught him by the arm.
"Not that way," he said. "We dare not go round, I know that part of the mountains only too well. We would have to risk crossing the Mastersmith's road, and near his house!"
"Well then, what other way may we take?"
Elof bit his lip, and looked away, down into the valley far below. "There is only one. Across the Ice."
"
What
!" Kermorvan clapped a hand to his sword. "I'll take my chances with your accursed master—"
Again Elof held him back, this time with real force. "You fool! If he can compel the Ekwesh, could he not take you without a blow struck? And not simply slay you, but bend you to his will, and set you against all you now seek to preserve! Is
that
the chance you prefer?"
Kermorvan stood angry and irresolute, looking down the slope to the distant valley, and up toward the crest and the Ice glow. It was obvious which he preferred, but he could not escape the smith's logic. "I said I would go with you," he muttered. "Do not doubt me. But will we not be risking the same, or worse, upon the Ice?"
"It may not be so terrible, not here at its margins!" insisted Elof. "You saw as I did, nothing moved in that valley, nothing stirred. And it is not wide, we could easily be across in a night if we hurry—"
"A night—" began the swordsman, gazing back down the valley again, but then he caught Elof's arm, and pointed.
Far below, at the very margin of the nearest patch of
woodland, something was slipping through the bushes
, something big enough to make them rustle and quiver without showing itself. But then, as the bushes ended among high stones, it did emerge for an instant into the gleam of stars and Ice, slipping across an open patch to take cover behind a great jagged rock. It was man-shaped, but chillingly unlike a man, huge and heavier in the shoulders and high-crowned head, with long arms that swung at its side as it loped along.
"
Kerys
!" breathed the swordsman. "Think you that's what was on our trail in the woods?"
"It moved in much the same fashion—but listen!" A little way along the line of bushes something else was rustling its way forward, and there were other sounds from deeper in the wood, a soft guttural grunting. "A whole pack of them!" said Elof quietly. "Well, warrior, are you still for going back that way?"
"Suddenly the Ice acquires a certain appeal," admitted Kermorvan drily. "But might those things not be set to drive us onto it?"
"Perhaps. But only at our last extremity, frightened, slow and unwilling. They might not expect a sudden bold dash…"
"I would not call twelve hours' fast marching a dash, however bold. But you have the right of it, smith! Lead on!"
Together they strode back up to the crest and, as lightly and quietly as possible, began to descend the far slope. "This isn't too hard!" whispered Elof.
"No more is the path to the River, they say," countered Kermorvan gloomily. "One way."
"Ach, save your encouragement for the Ice, we'll surely need it there!" Surprisingly, Kermorvan chuckled, and climbed with a lighter step thenceforward.
At first sight, from high above, the distant Ice had looked glass-smooth and dazzling white, but as they clambered down the steep slopes the glacier that filled the valley seemed grayer and more marked. Elof could see that in fact it was not at all smooth, and only anything like white in the center; along either edge ran great striations, almost as dark as the rock they clashed with. As they came closer these resolved into dark uneven ridges streaked along the surface of the Ice like sediment in a frozen river.
"I have heard them talked of," said Kermorvan, "and called
moraines
. They are made of rock and debris the Ice has ground away in its passage, freed when a little of the surface melts in warmer weather. No doubt many a proud mountaintop lies before you there. And they will not make our path any easier."
The moraines lay the length of the valley, but there were other, finer markings lying across the surface, cross-hatched in places and deepened by long shadows. "They look like wrinkled skin," said Elof. "Ancient skin, withered and grimy. And see there where the valley bends, they deepen and come together as they might at an elbow! As if the glacier were the limb of some horrible beast-thing…"
"Those would be crevasses, I fear," said Kermorvan. "Thicker and deeper at the elbow, as you say. Let us keep well away from there! They will be hard enough to avoid as it is!"
And indeed, when they at last drew near the margins of the glacier, Elof wondered if he had not led them astray, so rough did their way look, and so fearsome the moaning of the wind among the moraines. A frozen film, clear, hard and treacherous, lay over all the lower rocks, and slippery pockets of dirty snow lay frozen between the stones. One last step from the rim, he stumbled badly, almost fell, and halted, wavering. Then, cautiously, he took his first step onto the Great Ice.
For a moment he thought crazily he was back in his forge, and had trodden on a hot iron coulter. The searing blaze in his worn boots was cold, not flame, but the sensation was the same, a fearful burning that mounted to his calves. He hopped with the agony, scrambled up onto some stones to find a moment's relief, but it was as if ice was touched to his bare nerves. He hesitated, gasping, desperate to spring back to the rocks. A longer time he might have stood there, perhaps to his own destruction, had Kermorvan not plunged straight out among the frozen debris at the moraine's edge without so much as breaking stride. That took away Elof's choices; he could only set his teeth in his lip, and stumble after.
He was startled to see Kermorvan hurrying along, choosing his way carefully in the twilight, but swinging his pickstaff and bounding from stone to Ice and back again with all his usual energy. It struck Elof just how bold this man was, marching out to confront a thing that had probably been a childhood bogey, and in manhood had come to embody the powers he hated. There might be tremors in his mind, but in his stride none, nor did he fail to turn back to help the smith when he slipped noisily down a high ridge in the uncertain dusk. By then, an hour on, numbness had dulled the pain enough to let Elof speak. "Don't you feel it?"
Kermorvan crouched down beside him among the debris of shattered rock. "Feel what?" It was obvious he did not. Elof wondered, but did not explain. Kermorvan drew his cloak about him. "The wind, yes! And cursedly exposed, out there in the open, with so much light around us. It might be harder going in the dark, but I would be less worried about unfriendly eyes. May those clouds come south before moonrise, and blot out the stars also!"
But he was not to have his wish, for though the clouds mounted into immense black ramparts on the northern horizon, the wind died, the chill air fell still and silent. The sky over the valley remained open and bitterly clear, and the stars as they came out looked down on their warped reflections in the Ice.
There came a sudden shimmer in the air high overhead, as if a vast invisible curtain had been momentarily twitched across it from one horizon to the other. Kermorvan, rising to his feet, gasped and ducked down, and Elof beside him. A sound grew in the silence, a faint angry crackle at the edge of hearing. The curtain twitched again, this time a pale rippling flicker of reds and greens, growing ever more intense; blues and purples shone only a second before the dark sky swallowed them. Pale yellow streaks of light arced across the darkness and diminished. A corona of cold fire, impossibly vast, rippled across the stars and shamed them, a vision of piercing splendor.
"What sight is this?" breathed the Sothran, shielding his eyes.
"The North Lights!" whispered Elof, feasting his gaze. Another streak crossed behind them. "And a rain of star-stones to go with them! I have seen them before, but from a distance, and never so gigantic, never…"
"What could it portend?"
"Nothing, that I know of," answered the smith. "And yet… The Mastersmith did once say that they might herald some meeting of forces—what more, I can't imagine."
"A meeting!" muttered Kermorvan grimly. "Then let us not be caught in the middle!" Half-crouching, hiding from watchful eyes, they began to creep forward along the moraine until they were opposite the nearest part of the far slope. "Now there is nothing for it but the open, between the crevasses," added the swordsman tautly. "And the longest part of our way. Come!"
And so they made their way across the whiter open area of the glacier, striding along broad ridges, creeping across narrower ones on all fours with deadened fingers that could barely grasp their staves, hearing little gouts of half-solid snow fall away from under their feet and go slipping down into the deep crevasses at either side. They landed with a soft echoing splash, suggesting that hard-edged ice awaited them down there if they fell, and not soft snow. The cold fire overhead beat down on them, setting strange livid hues in their faces, lending shadows a faint flickering animation that made finding their footing doubly difficult, filling the distance with sinister promises of movement. Strange forms took shape and danced among the patches of clear ice; once Elof seemed to see Kara's face in the reflections, gazing at him in fear and warning, and later he saw Kermorvan rub his eyes and mutter, "The Gate! The High Gate…"No way among the crevasses was ever as clear as it had seemed at first, and they had to be forever spying out new ones. But these seemed always to drive them up the valley, away from the wall, and they became acutely aware that precious hours were passing. Kermorvan hugged chill hands; Elof, scanning the open distances of the valley, flexed his numbed limbs and remembered all he had heard of the dangers of frostburn. All of a sudden Kermorvan came to a halt, so suddenly they almost collided, and stood peering down the valley. Then he shook his head impatiently and was about to move on when Elof tugged him back. "No! I see it too!"