“
Cross?”
It was Cole. She looked exhausted.
“
Yeah?”
“
You got a second?”
“
No, I’m real busy.” He smiled. “Sorry. I’m not as funny when I’m this tired.”
Surprisingly, Cole smiled, too, and she sat down next to him. It was so cold in the ship they’d all taken to huddling close to one another. Everyone else but Ekko was asleep, bundled beneath old blankets and coats.
Cole’s dark hair hung lank around her face – it had grown considerably in the weeks they’d spent incarcerated in Krul – and in spite of what she’d been through she still carried a sort of radiance about her, a natural beauty that owed as much to her demeanor and her stalwart resolve as it did to any physical blessings. He could see why Black had very plainly stated that she would die for this woman.
“
Well, I need to interrupt you,” she said with a small smile.
“
What’s up?”
“
Cradden Black and his men attacked my expedition party and took me hostage…”
“
Yeah…God, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that…”
“
You forgot. I did, too. Hey, we’re exhausted,” she said. “But I just remembered something that I wanted to tell you. Most of the people in the group that hired me on as a guide were archeologists out of Dorn. They wanted to see Karamanganji and look at the famous glyphs, to see if they could make sense of what others couldn’t.”
The glyphs of Karamanganji were one of the features that had made the site famous. It was hypothesized that they might have been the base for several languages encountered After the Black, which was odd when one considered that most of those languages originated from completely different worlds. There were theories that when realities converged during The Black, temporal and spatial relationships were created between races and locations that, prior to the catastrophe, had never been linked in any way whatsoever. History itself had been re-written.
The theory was dismissed by most as ludicrous. The idea that reverse tangential lines of chronological connection existed brought up some terribly frightening notions regarding the nature of reality. Cross had heard the theories, and they made his head hurt.
“
Black said you’d mentioned to her that someone in your party was actively searching for the Woman in the Ice,” Cross said. He was suddenly worried, but he wasn’t entirely sure why.
“
Well, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about,” she said. “The expedition as a whole wasn’t looking for the Woman, but one of its members was. He asked me about it a couple of times: if I’d heard of it, if I thought the rumors about it were true, and so on. He was so insistent that I finally asked the head archaeologist, a guy named Kyver. Kyver told me there
was
some rumor that one of the Bone Towers might house the Woman in the Ice, but it was pure conjecture, and it had nothing to do with why they were going. He was frankly surprised that anyone besides himself even knew about the rumor, or why they would bring it up.”
Cross nodded. His worry grew.
“
The guy who asked you about it…”
“
That was the weird thing. He was one of the armed escorts – a mercenary hired out of Ath when one of the group’s regular men came down with the flu.”
“
So the guy asking about the Woman in the Ice…”
“
Wasn’t even part of the original party.”
“
What did he look like?” Cross asked.
Cole paused. It was obvious that she needed to concentrate in order to remember, which worried Cross even more.
“
He was tall, with short blonde hair. He wasn’t really handsome, but not really…well, not really remarkable at all…he was just sort of plain. I’m not even sure if I could point him out again if I had to. But he wore all black.”
“
What sort of weapon did he carry?” Cross asked.
“
Funny, I never actually saw it,” Cole said, thinking back.
The airship bounced through some turbulence. The interior was only dimly lit by red stones set high in the walls, rubies that cast everything in a bloody haze.
“
I think it was a rifle,” she said at last. “I remember now. It must have been, because it was very long, and he kept it wrapped up and stashed away with his other gear.”
“
He escaped, didn’t he?” Cross asked. “When Cradden and his gang attacked you?”
“
Yes. He didn’t even put up a fight…he just fled. He was gone in an instant, while the expedition team was being…shot down.” She swallowed, pained by the memory. Cross gave her some time.
“
Did he give you his name?” he asked eventually.
Cross loaded his HK magazines. He hadn’t even realized he was doing so.
“
Markos.”
Cross laughed.
“
Jennar. His name is Jennar. Markos is one of his aliases. It’s an old alias, and he hardly ever uses it…but he
has
used it before.”
“
Who is he?”
“
Trouble. And the fact that he was with your party, looking for the Woman in the Ice…that’s even
more
trouble.”
Everyone else woke up a couple of hours later. The night outside was still pitch black, so dark there might have been nothing outside of the vessel except for an unending and starless void. It was as if they floated through ink. The rumbling airship – with its bloody lights and the ear-shattering monotony of its engines – existed all by itself, a blip in an endless ebon sea. It seemed they’d flown forever, and whatever reality existed beyond those walls was part of some other world. As long as they stayed in the ship, they were safe, safe from the reality of all they’d been through, and everything that they still had to do.
But they couldn’t stay in the ship forever.
“
We have trouble,” Cross explained when everyone was awake. They ate MREs and drank water. Everyone was tired, miserable and exhausted. Even washed and somewhat rested they looked and moved like people who’d been to hell and back.
And we still have one last stop on our trip.
“
Trouble?” Black asked. “What,
more
?”
“
Just for something different, right?” Kane laughed.
Cross had Cole recall her story. Black nodded with the parts that she was already familiar with.
“
The reason that Cole can’t remember exactly what he looks like,” Cross explained, “is because this man, Jennar, is a warlock who uses his spirit to disguise his appearance. That’s a very rare and very difficult talent that only a few mages have. Also, that long weapon he had wasn’t a rifle, but it’s a sort of sword called a nightlance.”
“
I’ve heard of those,” Kane said. “It’s a Crujian weapon, right?”
“
Right.”
“
Who is this clown?” Black asked.
It was Ramsey who answered.
“
Black Circle,” he said. The way he mouthed those words, it was as if they left a bad taste in his mouth.
Nothing else needed to be said. The Black Circle was well known, even if many chose to believe they didn’t exist. Nihilists and fanatics who lived in the shadows, the Circle’s efforts revolved around a drive to bring about the downfall of all life. They were well-supplied, well trained, and very powerful. Luckily, their numbers were few, but they were capable of doing incredible damage given the right opportunity. Some said the Circle believed they were God’s angels, sent to punish those who’d somehow survived Judgment Day; others thought they served some other-worldly evil, a demonic or undead agent, or even The Black itself.
Whatever their motives, one thing was clear: they were friends to no one, for they sought the destruction of all. They wanted to watch everything – the world, its people, all of it – burn. They sought oblivion, and they were willing to give their own lives to achieve that end, if necessary.
A member of the Black Circle had been there with Cole, searching for the Woman in the Ice. Weeks had passed since Cole had been abducted. For all they knew, the Black Circle had already found what they were looking for. And if they had, there was no telling how much damage they’d already done.
EIGHTEEN
KARAMANGANJI
They came upon the frozen city at first light. Soldiers from Claw Company, out of Ath, waited for them, just as Ramsey had promised.
Even through the frosted and thick-paned window of the airship, they saw how much brighter the world became that far north. They were deep in the Reach, in Gorgoloth territory and well beyond the White Line. They felt the biting chill even through the walls of the craft.
They had no real plan aside from finding the Bone Tower that Cole thought housed the Woman in the Ice. They hoped they'd beat the Black Circle agents to the site, but Cross thought that was highly unlikely. The best they could hope for was that the Woman was buried deep, or else shielded behind a great deal of arcane safeguards, and that the Black Circle hadn't actually reached her yet. Still, it had been weeks since Cole’s party had been ambushed, and even though it would have taken Jennar some time to gather his allies and guide them back to Karamanganji, the Circle still had a significant head start.
Cross’ nerves were on edge, and his pulse raced with worry.
They touched down to the west of the frozen city. Everyone threw on as many layers of winter clothing as they could: heavy coats, hats, thick gloves, extra pants, double layers of socks, anything that Ramsey had on hand. Unfortunately, the Gol had never really anticipated making an arctic trek, so their clothing supplies were a bit thinner than they would have liked.
Bitter winter wind greeted them as the rear doors slid open. Blasts of bone-chilling air cast everything in white drifts and icy fog. Cross shivered the moment the doors opened. The faces of the refugees from Thornn were wrapped with shreds of torn blankets. They all looked like stuffed scarecrows, and they moved with about as much grace.
The sky was dull white, and the earth was pale and sheen. Most of the ground was layered with sheets of snow so cold it had fused into layers of ice. Sharp stones protruded from the ground like shards of broken glass, and a trail of rock led up the face of Mount Karamanganji, a desolate peak that stuck like a black and jagged tooth into the frozen sky. The ruins of the city stood at the base of the mountain, easily visible from atop the rise.
It was a city of ice. Glacial buildings were fused into the frozen rock. Wide streets covered in uneven layers of petrified snow ran between spires of glittering dark crystal. Gray fog curled off of the featureless buildings and filled the air between the stark white towers with vapors of rolling shadow. Needle-thin bridges connected the delicate structures like misplaced horizontal icicles.
The breadth of the city was impressive. When the wind turned in the ship's direction, Cross tasted cold so raw it burned his tongue. He sensed powerful and ancient spirits, their origins and numbers so vast and scattered they would not be pinpointed. They swam through the currents of the air, heavy, formless and pure, like uncut diamond matter.
The group met Claw Company atop the ridge that overlooked the city. Cross saw a ground transport and a tank. Both were made out of magically-treated steel, and they were lightweight vehicles that could be carried by the cargo transport airship grounded on a ridge that overlooked the city.
Only a few Southern Claw soldiers were visible out there in the snow, their brown and deep red armor hardly camouflaged but probably the best choice for keeping track of soldiers so that no one became lost in the arctic wastes.
Airships ran reconnaissance over the frozen city streets. Cross counted at least six Bloodhawk warships in the air. They were sleek and lightweight vessels shaped like aerial speedboats.
With the troop transport and the two land vehicles, that meant that the Southern Claw had sent a least two platoons. Cross was relieved: he didn’t want the entire Company. He had a bad feeling about what was coming.
A cluster of soldiers made their way towards the vampire airship. It pained Cross' eyes to even watch them in the stinging snow. He felt his sinuses freeze.
“
Lieutenant Crylos?” Ramsey called out, his voice drowned in the wind.
“
You must be Ramsey!” a man called out. “This way!”
The soldiers led them into a makeshift white tent that was nearly invisible in the eye-numbing wind. Inside were a number of tables with maps pinned to them, plenty of supplies, sandbags, and a hex field generator that provided power and acted as an early warning system against intruders. Cold iron rods and sacks of blessed earth rested near the center of the tent. The generator made the air inside surprisingly warm.
A witch waited in the tent. Her dark hair was pulled back to reveal intricate tattoos cast on her neck and angular cheeks. She held a dark crystal attached to a string over one of the maps.
The man who’d spoken with Ramsey pulled back his hood. He was young and unshaven, with dirty blonde hair and large blue eyes.