JollyDoc
Explorer
The Sacrifice
2 Sarenith, 4715 - 9 Sarenith, 4715
"We're going to take a little detour," Ulf Gormundr said as the caravan company sat gathered around the fire that evening. Sly lay reclined on her bedroll, but she was no worse for wear after the ministrations of Koya and Spivey.
"If we followed the main route," Ulf explained, "we would pass through the trade-town of Unaimo. However, I would prefer that we head west, to a cliff-village I know of called Iqaliat. I am friends with the hearthmistress there, and I would like to get a better idea of the prevailing conditions along the trail from someone I trust before deciding on the best path for us to take."
The others deferred to his expertise, though Skygni grumbled under his breath about stupid two-leggers getting themselves eaten by going off the beaten path.
Ulf said that the trip to Iqaliat would take about a week. Their next three days of travel were largely uneventful, save for an unoccupied hunter's cabin that they came across, which held nothing of any real value. Four days after that, however, they made a grisly find: a large mound of bodies, all human, stacked near the trail like cordwood. They were all naked, and the cause of death appeared to be exposure. Their skin was white to the point of being blue, and ice-rimed. What at first looked to be like a shared wound on each corpse, was instead some sort of symbol carved into their flesh, like a three fingered claw.
"Snow-chickens," Boris observed. "Very dangerous."
"No, it's worse," Zula said. "I have seen that symbol before. It is the mark of Sithhud, a demon lord of blizzards and the frozen dead."
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The village of Iqaliat was built into the overhanging cliffs of Alasek Ridge, at the southern edge of the polar plateau known as the High Ice. With the summer melt in full swing, waterfalls by the hundreds poured down the icy cliff face. Most of the village's buildings were two-story affairs, crafted of stone and clay brick, with their outer faces clad in harder rock. Earthen ramps led up to a gatehouse from the tundra, and a tall watchtower stood over it.
Guards atop the watchtower hailed the caravan as it approached, demanding to know their business there.
"I am Ulf Gormundr," the guide called, stepping forward and displaying a talisman made of reptilian scales, "friend to Hearthmistress Sonavut. We request shelter and trade."
The guards conferred among themselves for several minutes, and then called down for the gates to be opened. The caravan wagons rumbled up the ramp, through the gates, and down another ramp on the far side. The villagers comprised over one-hundred individuals, including even a handful of dwarves. They went about their daily routines, but as the caravan came to a halt in the middle of the town, the Varisians were met by icy stares and scowling faces.
"I thought you said these people were your friends," Mazael muttered to Ulf.
"It was so when last I was here," the Ulfen replied. "Something is amiss. We should speak with the hearthmistress."
The companions made their way to the home of Hearthmistress Sonavut, where she stood outside and lifted her hand in greeting.
"Ulf Gormundr," she smiled, "it is good to see you again, though I am afraid you have come at a dark time."
"So I gathered," Ulf replied. "What has happened? I hoped to learn the conditions along the Path of Aganhei before we continued on our trek."
Sonavut looked around, then lowered her voice.
"It would be best if we spoke privately."
She led them into the house, and offered them cups of hot, fermented goat's milk. She joined them, sitting heavily and sighing deeply.
"The Path east, past Unaimo and through the Koumssa Gap, is blocked," she said.
"Blocked?" Ulf asked, puzzled. "By what?"
"The morozkos," she replied. "The hungry storms."
"What are those?" Piotr asked.
"Fierce winter blizzards," Ulf answered. "The Erutaki believe they are malevolent, and possible even...sentient."
He turned back to Sonavut.
"But this is not the time of year for them," he said. "Nor have they ever been seen this far south."
Sonavut nodded. "This is true, but now they have swept down from the High Ice and stopped all travel along the Path of Aganhei. We have also heard tales of strange black pillars, guarded by walking, frozen dead, appearing all across the Crown of the World."
"Did you say frozen dead?" Zula interrupted.
Sonavut nodded again.
"We encountered frozen corpses just this morning," Zula explained, "but they did not walk. They were very much dead, but they were all marked with the symbol of Sithhud."
Sonavut's face went pale, and she made the sign of the evil eye.
"These are dark tidings indeed," she said, "but this is not the cause of the unrest among my people. There is more: after decades of peace, the dragon Vegsundvaag has awakened, and has been terrorizing our village. We have sent hunters to slay her, but none have returned, and many more of our warriors have died defending the town during her attacks."
Boris elbowed Lucian in the ribs, and whispered, "You see? Dragon! Mer-Queen right again!"
"Do you know why these attacks are occurring?" Ulf asked.
Sonavut shook her head.
"No, and neither does our chief, but our shaman, Tunuak, blames it on our supposed lack of faith in the spirits of the wind that have always protected Iqaliat. He has even gone so far as to accuse me of leading the people astray," she said bitterly. "I'm sorry that I have no answers for you. The dragon blocks the way north, and the morozkos block the Path east."
Before anyone could say anything further, however, loud and angry voices could be heard from outside.
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When the companions exited the home of the hearthmistress, they saw that what looked like the entire village had gathered outside, surrounding the caravan wagons with the drivers and cooks, shouting angrily. In the midst of the crowd stood an aged man, still hearty, but leaning on a twisted staff, and wrapped in a heavy gray cloak decorated with Erutaki tribal designs. His brown eyes were yellowed with age, as were his few remaining teeth, and his balding head was a patchwork of short, wiry white hairs around his temples and the back of his scalp. Tribal tattoos decorated his liver-spotted pate and face, wrinkled and worn by wind and sun. He carried himself with an air of importance, expecting to be heard.
"Tunuak!" Sonavut hissed quietly.
"There they are!" the old man shouted, pointing one bony finger at the Scions. "Their intrusion here will only inflame the dragon's anger! You have all turned away from the spirits of the wind and invited outsiders into our midst, and the spirits will repay such faithlessness by sending the dragon against us once again! Now, even the traditional sacrifices to appease the wind spirits will not suffice! The outsiders' taint can be removed only by sacrificing one of them, and then the rest must leave here at once!"
The crowd roared in angry agreement, and surged closer towards the companions.
"Do not listen to this nonsense!" Sonavut shouted back. "Ulf Gormundr has come to us as a friend many times, and these people that he journeys with have brought no ill with them!"
She looked around the mob for the village chieftain, Nalvanaq, and saw him standing off to one side, arms crossed over his chest in silent judgement.
"Do they not?" Tunuak raised his voice again. "Look, standing with them before your eyes is a goblin! A devourer of children, and our scouts reported seeing an ice warg traveling with them on the road! They associate with minions of evil! How can they not be harboring ill in their hearts?"
The crowd erupted again, nodding their heads vehemently, and this time, it was Piotr who stepped forward to speak.
"It is true that we count a goblin among our friends," the sorcerer said, "but he was taken as an infant, when he was orphaned by his tribe. He has been raised among good people all of his life, and his actions speak for his noble spirit."
Boris sniffed, and wiped a tear from his eye.
"As for the wolf," Piotr continued, "we rescued him from a vile ogre mage, and in exchange, he has offered to help guide us along our path."
The crowd murmured and grumbled, many of them shaking their heads in disbelief.
"Boris not think you very convincing," the goblin muttered, "but he like your words and make you special meal tonight if you not sacrificed to wind gods."
"More lies!" Tunuak shouted, turning back to the crowd. "While it may not be these particular individuals who have angered the spirits, our leniency in allowing foreigners to continuously travel across our lands and sacred places have brought on their vengeance! The dragon is the instrument of their displeasure! I implore you, my people, let us make this sacrifice, and return to us the good will of the gods!"
"No, let us prove ourselves to you!" Piotr called back. "Let us go our way, and we will seek out this dragon for you! We will either convince it to cease its attacks, or we will slay it and returns its head to you!"
The crowds' rumblings became uncertain, and many whispered among themselves, some nodding in agreement. Tunuak could sense the mood shifting.
"Of course they are willing to go to the dragon!" he shouted shrilly, "For they are in league with it! The will return here with it and destroy you all! You will perish in ice and frost, fodder for the wolves who will feast upon your bones!"
This time it was Zula who responded. The Shoanti woman stepped forward and projected her voice, not enough to cause harm, but with just the right amount of force to cause those listening to wince and cover their ears.
"Now listen to me!" she boomed. "We are here in peace, and we will leave the same way! We will deal with this dragon, for it stands in our way, but make no mistake: if any of you try to do us harm, it will be at your own peril! You will wish for the tender mercies of a dragon by the time we are finished with you!"
Silence fell over the crowd, with nervous glances passing among the villagers. Finally, the chieftain stepped forward.
"We have heard your words, and those of our shaman," he said, his voice carrying. "Here is my decision: you may stay here for one night, but tomorrow you must leave. Go to the dragon or don't, but do not return this way again."
He turned, and walked back into the crowd, which parted before him. Zula looked around, but Tunuak was nowhere to be seen. There was something not right about the old shaman, other than just religious zealotry. It seemed to her that there was something more to his actions than a simple desire to protect his village from a dragon.
"I would like to speak to the shaman," she said, turning to Sonavut. "My hear tells me that there is a falseness to him that I cannot explain."
The hearthmistress nodded. "I can take you to his tower," she said. "Follow me."
They crossed the center of the village to a squat, three-story stone tower. Sonavut knocked on the door, and it was opened a moment later, but not by Tunuak. Instead, a younger man stood there, his eyes wide and blinking at the strange group assembled outside.
"Hearthmistress?" he asked, perplexed. "What is going on?"
"We are looking for your master, Gluktok," Sonavut replied calmly. "We need to speak with him."
"He...he is not here," Gluktok stammered. "He did not return after the assembly."
"Is that what they call a lynch mob around here?" Mazael growled.
"Do you know where he may have gone?" Sonavut asked, ignoring the war-priest.
"He has been spending much time among the wind altars lately," the apprentice replied, "but the last time I went there looking for him, I could not find him, though I am certain I saw him enter the tunnel to the cliff top."
"Wind altars?" Zula asked.
"The shrines to the wind spirits," Sonavut explained, "atop the cliff above the village. There is a cleft in the cliff wall that leads up to it. I can show you where it is, but then I feel that I must speak to Chief Nalvanaq. I implore you to tread lightly when you find Tunuak. He is a good man...just misguided, I feel."
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The passage Sonavut led them to was little more than a crack in the cliff wall at the back of the village. The companions passed through it, single-file, and followed the narrow, twisting course steadily upwards. Zula found a set of booted footprints that were easy to follow, but midway up they abruptly vanished. She halted the others with a raised hand, and then bent low to the ground. She straightened a moment later.
"They lead to that wall," she pointed.
"Allow Boris, loud lady," Boris pushed forward and peered closely at the bare rock.
"I see a small crack there," Haroldo indicated.
Boris gave him a look of disdain.
"You not teach grandmother how to suck eggs," he scoffed. "You see crack, but Boris," he reached out a finger and traced a large rectangular outline, "find whole door. And," he bent over and fiddled with something on the floor, "trapdoor that you standing on. Boris fix, so now you not fall and die. No need to thank Boris. After you."
He pushed another spot on the wall, and the entire section pivoted inwards, revealing another passage beyond.
They lined up again and followed the new, but still just as narrow, tunnel as it sloped up to the west and south. After perhaps a hundred feet or so, it rounded a corner and ended in a blank wall. Standing before the wall, gazing up at it, was an Erutaki hunter clad in leathers. He turned to look over his shoulder as the group approached.
"I saw you in the village," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"We could ask you the same," Zula replied. "Did you see Tunuak come this way?"
"I am Naquun," the man said. "I was following the shaman to make sure he was safe, but then I saw him go through a hidden door that I had never seen before. I ducked through after him, but when I got here, he was simply gone again."
Zula's eyes narrowed.
"You followed him through the hidden door," she said, "but how did you bypass the pit trap?"
Naquun's face turned stony, and one hand inched towards his belt where a pair of hand-axes hung.
"I am sensing a powerful evil presence," Helgavarl abruptly announced from Mazael's brow.
That was enough for Boris. The goblin dove between the hunter's legs and rolled to his feet behind the man before driving a blade through his back. The impact shook his arm so badly that he almost dropped his sword. It was if he had stabbed a stone wall. Worse, instead of bleeding profusely, the wound rapidly began to close. A twang sounded from further down the hall and one of Lucian's arrows appeared in Naquun's shoulder, where it quivered for a moment, and then fell to the ground.
"Looks like we got our work cut out for us," Mazael snarled, stepping forward as Suishen ignited. He struck with all his might, and to his relief, Naquun grunted and gave ground. A moment later, however, both hand-axes appeared in the hunter's hands and he leaped at Mazael, his weapons moving too fast for the war-priest to block. They carved deep gouges in his flesh, and it was his turn to fall back. Two more arrows sprouted from Naquun's chest, and Boris struck twice more from behind. The hunter staggered, but did not fall...at least not until Mazael gathered himself and struck again, burying Suishen in his chest. As he collapsed to the floor, the Erutaki warrior almost seemed to deflate. A black mist curled from his open mouth and snaked across the floor, where it coalesced into a tiny, dark-skinned creature with bat-like wings and curved horns protruding from its forehead. Mazael didn't hesitate. He swung Suishen again, and splattered the little demon across the wall.
"What in the Hells was that?" he gasped, struggling to catch his breath.
"A demon," Zula replied. "A quasit."
"It was...possessing him," Lucian said in disbelief. "We killed an innocent man!"
"Then we need to take care when we find Tunuak," Piotr said. "We couldn't know this man was possessed, and the same may be true of the shaman. If he resists us or attacks, we should try and take him alive if possible."
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Boris easily found the second hidden door in the tunnel wall, which was blessedly untrapped. It granted ingress into a wide, irregular pit in the upper cliffs, open to the sky above through a crack in the ice, with a ramp circling its way down to a slushy basin sixty-feet below. The path appeared to be quite narrow, and slick with ice, with numerous small niches in the wall adjacent along its course.
Mazael was the first to step through, his eyes scanning for any sign of the shaman. What he saw out of the corner of his gaze were several shadowy forms that quickly darted out of sight into the niches. They looked like humans at first glance, though gaunt and emaciated. When his eyes adjusted to the gloom, however, he saw from their sunken eyes, blue skin, and frost-covered flesh that they were no longer among the living.
"Company," he warned the others.
"Boris see them," the goblin replied, and then he was off.
Boris scrambled along the ledge, moving nimbly despite the slippery conditions. He reached the first of the frozen dead just as it emerged from its hidey hole, and stabbed one of his twin blades through its belly. It didn't make a sound, and the wound looked like a hole in a block of ice. Boris gulped and took a hasty step back. It pointed one boney finger at him, and a blast of frigid air erupted around him. Boris braced himself, but the blast just felt like a gentle breeze. He reminded himself to thank Mazael for asking Suishen to grant him protection from frigid conditions. A moment later, he owed the war-priest another debt of gratitude when Mazael charged past him, skating on air and impaling the undead with Suishen's fiery blade. The creature erupted in flames and screamed as it melted away into water and bones.
Just then, something very strange occurred: appearing out of thin air, a translucent, demonic-looking figure reached out towards Mazael and ripped across his face with claws that felt as sharp as steel. The war-priest cursed and slashed with Suishen. His jaw dropped when the sword passed completely and harmlessly through the demon. He cursed again and moved away from the creature, walking on air towards the middle of the pit. The demon raked its claws across his back as he fled.
"A little help here!" he cried.
Across the chasm, another of the frozen dead stepped out of a cleft and hurled a cone of frost towards the heroes still outside in the passage. Zula and Sly took the brunt of the blast, while Lucian and Piotr were unscathed due to Suishen's protection. The sword had consented to share this power with all of the Scions, but this did not extend to Sly and Zula, who were still relative newcomers. Lucian loosed an arrow towards the undead creature, and took it through the throat, and it toppled over the edge of the pit. Sly launched herself into the air, her supernatural hexes simultaneously giving her the power of flight and invisibility. Though her skin was blistered from the cold, the undead were the least of her worries. The shaman was around somewhere, and he was the greater threat. She dove towards the bottom of the pit, and that was when she heard the chanting coming from down below.
At that moment, a dark, cloying miasmic cloud exploded around the companions. Where it touched them, it froze like liquid fire, and with Zula, it even made her physically ill. Only Sly and Haroldo were beyond the edge of its spread, and it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"There you are!" Sly shouted, having pinpointed where the chanting had come from.
She began her own spell and loosed a crackling bolt of electricity towards the bottom of the pit. She was rewarded by a cry of pain from that area, and the smell of burning hair.
Piotr had deduced that the shaman must be hiding invisibly somewhere in the pit, just as Sly had. He passed a hand over his eyes, and murmured a spell. When he opened his eyes again, his vision sharpened, and he could clearly see Tunuak rising into the air from the bottom of the pit, smoke trailing from his fur cloak.
"He's flying!" the sorcerer called out. "He's on his way towards us!"
Mazael ignored this. He had his own problems. The demon had followed him, and opened up another gash across his chest. Suishen could not help him, and he wasn't going to be able to keep absorbing blow after blow. He searched his mind, desperate to find a solution, and he seized upon an idea. Maybe this wasn't a physical foe after all. Maybe the shaman had conjured up something. He grasped his holy symbol, and spoke the words to a dispelling prayer. A wide smile spread across his face when the creature simply popped out existence.
Zula, waves of nausea still roiling through her belly, heard Piotr's warning, and cocked he head, listening. Then she heard it: chanting coming from somewhere above. Fortunately, her thundercall was not a precision weapon. She opened her mouth and the air exploded with a booming report, completely drowning out whatever new spell Tunuak was planning to throw. A moment later, the air above the pit erupted with a burst of glittering dust, and then everyone could see the shaman hovering there.
"Very well!" Tunuak called. "Now you will all be able to see your doom coming!"
His hands wove together as he gathered another spell, and this time Zula could not stop it. A column of fire blasted down, enveloping the thundercaller, and catching Mazael as well.
Down on the ramp, Boris spotted another of the frozen dead maneuvering itself behind Haroldo. He leaped towards it, skidding between its legs and slashing at its thighs as he passed. Haroldo turned and saw the creature bearing down on him, then swung his great sword and took its head off its shoulders. He and the goblin then continued slip-sliding down the ramp to where yet another frozen corpse was emerging from the wall, and quickly put an end to it as well.
Piotr decided to fight fire with fire, and he detonated a ball of flame right on top of Tunuak. Unfortunately, the shaman had protected himself for just such an eventuality, and the flames left him unscathed, but Sly, who was still flying about invisibly, was caught in the blast and thrown into the wall of the pit, her skin blistering and her clothes smoldering. As she struggled to recover, Lucian loosed a pair of arrows at Tunuak, but he chose blunt-tipped shafts, remembering what Piotr had said about the possibility of possession. Tunuak grunted, and doubled over as the arrows struck his belly, but as he straightened, another spell was on his lips, this time conjuring a spinning vortex of violent wind about him, throwing all of his enemies away from him. Sly was beyond its effect, however, due to the force of the fireball. She summoned her magic and threw a slumbering hex towards the shaman. To her vast relief, Tunuak went limp as sleep overcame him, and then he dropped from the sky and plummeted towards the bottom of the pit. His winds cushioned the fall, but the force of it was still enough to jolt him back awake.
Before the shaman could recover, Lucian focused his divine power on the magical windstorm and, somewhat to his surprise, managed to dispel the vortex. Then both Piotr and Haroldo sent volleys of magic missiles towards Tunuak, throwing him further off balance. The shaman gathered himself and leaped into the air once more, struggling to gain altitude. Before he could reach the top, however, Sly sent a bolt of black fire at him, sapping his power as it drained his life force, and then Piotr rapidly followed up with a spell that sent an ear-piercing screech echoing through the pit, causing Tunuak to reel and seize his head in agony. Finally, Zula unleashed her thundercall once more. Tunuak went limp again, falling from the air yet again. This time when he hit the ground, however, he did not rise again.
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No demon rose from Tunuak's body after his death, assuaging Zula's guilt at having possibly killed another innocent. The slushy basin at the bottom of the pit where the shaman had fallen was filled with hundreds of bones, all marked with the three-fingered claw rune of Sitthud. On one side of the pit, dozens of skulls had been piled into a crude altar. A number of white shards, similar to ceramic, where stacked before it. Painted along the icy walls of the shaft were Erutaki pictograms, and scattered among many of these were more of the strange runes. One of the drawings showed strange black standing stones rising from icy hills, while another displayed a cluster of towers glowing with a strange blue light. A third one showed a single monolithic tower rising above what seemed to be a black lake with white mountain peaks behind it, and a fourth displayed a spiraling storm with long arms ending in ice-fanged jaws devouring Erutaki villages, but with longer jaw-arms reaching towards forests, crudely drawn castles and cities, and what might have been ships at sea. Warriors were shown trying to fight the storm with spears before being engulfed and sealed in tombs of ice. The final pictogram showed a blue-skinned woman with dark wings and hair, wearing a silver-crown or circlet. Her hand grasped one of the claw-sigils like a scepter, and spiraling streaks of silver and white curled from it in every direction.
"These shards," Zula said picking up one of them from in front of the altar, "unless I miss my guess they are...egg shells."
No!" Sonavut said. "It cannot be!"
The companions had brought the hearthmistress as well as the chieftain to Tunuak's bore after the battle.
"Those are from dragon eggs!" she cried.
"These," Chief Nalvanaq gazed at the pictogram of the black pillars, "our hunters have reported seeing these scattered around the High Ice. And these," he gestured at the blue-limned tower picture, "are the Nameless Spires. They are an ancient ruined city located at the North Pole. The mountains behind them are the Alabastrine Peaks. These are the morozkos," he indicated the long-armed storm. "Wait, what is this?" He leaned in more closely, peering at the drawing of the blue-skinned woman. "There is writing here. It speaks of love for someone named Katiyana 'who speaks to me on the winds from her tower in the Storms.'"
"The Nameless Spires," Sonavut said. "Our people believe the wind spirits reside there. It is a dangerous place, but also a source of great visions for those brave enough to seek it. Tunuak himself undertook a vision quest there within the past year."
"Where he apparently met this Katiyana," Zula said, "and then somehow decided that stealing dragon eggs and sacrificing them to a demon lord would be a good idea."
2 Sarenith, 4715 - 9 Sarenith, 4715
"We're going to take a little detour," Ulf Gormundr said as the caravan company sat gathered around the fire that evening. Sly lay reclined on her bedroll, but she was no worse for wear after the ministrations of Koya and Spivey.
"If we followed the main route," Ulf explained, "we would pass through the trade-town of Unaimo. However, I would prefer that we head west, to a cliff-village I know of called Iqaliat. I am friends with the hearthmistress there, and I would like to get a better idea of the prevailing conditions along the trail from someone I trust before deciding on the best path for us to take."
The others deferred to his expertise, though Skygni grumbled under his breath about stupid two-leggers getting themselves eaten by going off the beaten path.
Ulf said that the trip to Iqaliat would take about a week. Their next three days of travel were largely uneventful, save for an unoccupied hunter's cabin that they came across, which held nothing of any real value. Four days after that, however, they made a grisly find: a large mound of bodies, all human, stacked near the trail like cordwood. They were all naked, and the cause of death appeared to be exposure. Their skin was white to the point of being blue, and ice-rimed. What at first looked to be like a shared wound on each corpse, was instead some sort of symbol carved into their flesh, like a three fingered claw.
"Snow-chickens," Boris observed. "Very dangerous."
"No, it's worse," Zula said. "I have seen that symbol before. It is the mark of Sithhud, a demon lord of blizzards and the frozen dead."
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The village of Iqaliat was built into the overhanging cliffs of Alasek Ridge, at the southern edge of the polar plateau known as the High Ice. With the summer melt in full swing, waterfalls by the hundreds poured down the icy cliff face. Most of the village's buildings were two-story affairs, crafted of stone and clay brick, with their outer faces clad in harder rock. Earthen ramps led up to a gatehouse from the tundra, and a tall watchtower stood over it.
Guards atop the watchtower hailed the caravan as it approached, demanding to know their business there.
"I am Ulf Gormundr," the guide called, stepping forward and displaying a talisman made of reptilian scales, "friend to Hearthmistress Sonavut. We request shelter and trade."
The guards conferred among themselves for several minutes, and then called down for the gates to be opened. The caravan wagons rumbled up the ramp, through the gates, and down another ramp on the far side. The villagers comprised over one-hundred individuals, including even a handful of dwarves. They went about their daily routines, but as the caravan came to a halt in the middle of the town, the Varisians were met by icy stares and scowling faces.
"I thought you said these people were your friends," Mazael muttered to Ulf.
"It was so when last I was here," the Ulfen replied. "Something is amiss. We should speak with the hearthmistress."
The companions made their way to the home of Hearthmistress Sonavut, where she stood outside and lifted her hand in greeting.
"Ulf Gormundr," she smiled, "it is good to see you again, though I am afraid you have come at a dark time."
"So I gathered," Ulf replied. "What has happened? I hoped to learn the conditions along the Path of Aganhei before we continued on our trek."
Sonavut looked around, then lowered her voice.
"It would be best if we spoke privately."
She led them into the house, and offered them cups of hot, fermented goat's milk. She joined them, sitting heavily and sighing deeply.
"The Path east, past Unaimo and through the Koumssa Gap, is blocked," she said.
"Blocked?" Ulf asked, puzzled. "By what?"
"The morozkos," she replied. "The hungry storms."
"What are those?" Piotr asked.
"Fierce winter blizzards," Ulf answered. "The Erutaki believe they are malevolent, and possible even...sentient."
He turned back to Sonavut.
"But this is not the time of year for them," he said. "Nor have they ever been seen this far south."
Sonavut nodded. "This is true, but now they have swept down from the High Ice and stopped all travel along the Path of Aganhei. We have also heard tales of strange black pillars, guarded by walking, frozen dead, appearing all across the Crown of the World."
"Did you say frozen dead?" Zula interrupted.
Sonavut nodded again.
"We encountered frozen corpses just this morning," Zula explained, "but they did not walk. They were very much dead, but they were all marked with the symbol of Sithhud."
Sonavut's face went pale, and she made the sign of the evil eye.
"These are dark tidings indeed," she said, "but this is not the cause of the unrest among my people. There is more: after decades of peace, the dragon Vegsundvaag has awakened, and has been terrorizing our village. We have sent hunters to slay her, but none have returned, and many more of our warriors have died defending the town during her attacks."
Boris elbowed Lucian in the ribs, and whispered, "You see? Dragon! Mer-Queen right again!"
"Do you know why these attacks are occurring?" Ulf asked.
Sonavut shook her head.
"No, and neither does our chief, but our shaman, Tunuak, blames it on our supposed lack of faith in the spirits of the wind that have always protected Iqaliat. He has even gone so far as to accuse me of leading the people astray," she said bitterly. "I'm sorry that I have no answers for you. The dragon blocks the way north, and the morozkos block the Path east."
Before anyone could say anything further, however, loud and angry voices could be heard from outside.
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When the companions exited the home of the hearthmistress, they saw that what looked like the entire village had gathered outside, surrounding the caravan wagons with the drivers and cooks, shouting angrily. In the midst of the crowd stood an aged man, still hearty, but leaning on a twisted staff, and wrapped in a heavy gray cloak decorated with Erutaki tribal designs. His brown eyes were yellowed with age, as were his few remaining teeth, and his balding head was a patchwork of short, wiry white hairs around his temples and the back of his scalp. Tribal tattoos decorated his liver-spotted pate and face, wrinkled and worn by wind and sun. He carried himself with an air of importance, expecting to be heard.
"Tunuak!" Sonavut hissed quietly.
"There they are!" the old man shouted, pointing one bony finger at the Scions. "Their intrusion here will only inflame the dragon's anger! You have all turned away from the spirits of the wind and invited outsiders into our midst, and the spirits will repay such faithlessness by sending the dragon against us once again! Now, even the traditional sacrifices to appease the wind spirits will not suffice! The outsiders' taint can be removed only by sacrificing one of them, and then the rest must leave here at once!"
The crowd roared in angry agreement, and surged closer towards the companions.
"Do not listen to this nonsense!" Sonavut shouted back. "Ulf Gormundr has come to us as a friend many times, and these people that he journeys with have brought no ill with them!"
She looked around the mob for the village chieftain, Nalvanaq, and saw him standing off to one side, arms crossed over his chest in silent judgement.
"Do they not?" Tunuak raised his voice again. "Look, standing with them before your eyes is a goblin! A devourer of children, and our scouts reported seeing an ice warg traveling with them on the road! They associate with minions of evil! How can they not be harboring ill in their hearts?"
The crowd erupted again, nodding their heads vehemently, and this time, it was Piotr who stepped forward to speak.
"It is true that we count a goblin among our friends," the sorcerer said, "but he was taken as an infant, when he was orphaned by his tribe. He has been raised among good people all of his life, and his actions speak for his noble spirit."
Boris sniffed, and wiped a tear from his eye.
"As for the wolf," Piotr continued, "we rescued him from a vile ogre mage, and in exchange, he has offered to help guide us along our path."
The crowd murmured and grumbled, many of them shaking their heads in disbelief.
"Boris not think you very convincing," the goblin muttered, "but he like your words and make you special meal tonight if you not sacrificed to wind gods."
"More lies!" Tunuak shouted, turning back to the crowd. "While it may not be these particular individuals who have angered the spirits, our leniency in allowing foreigners to continuously travel across our lands and sacred places have brought on their vengeance! The dragon is the instrument of their displeasure! I implore you, my people, let us make this sacrifice, and return to us the good will of the gods!"
"No, let us prove ourselves to you!" Piotr called back. "Let us go our way, and we will seek out this dragon for you! We will either convince it to cease its attacks, or we will slay it and returns its head to you!"
The crowds' rumblings became uncertain, and many whispered among themselves, some nodding in agreement. Tunuak could sense the mood shifting.
"Of course they are willing to go to the dragon!" he shouted shrilly, "For they are in league with it! The will return here with it and destroy you all! You will perish in ice and frost, fodder for the wolves who will feast upon your bones!"
This time it was Zula who responded. The Shoanti woman stepped forward and projected her voice, not enough to cause harm, but with just the right amount of force to cause those listening to wince and cover their ears.
"Now listen to me!" she boomed. "We are here in peace, and we will leave the same way! We will deal with this dragon, for it stands in our way, but make no mistake: if any of you try to do us harm, it will be at your own peril! You will wish for the tender mercies of a dragon by the time we are finished with you!"
Silence fell over the crowd, with nervous glances passing among the villagers. Finally, the chieftain stepped forward.
"We have heard your words, and those of our shaman," he said, his voice carrying. "Here is my decision: you may stay here for one night, but tomorrow you must leave. Go to the dragon or don't, but do not return this way again."
He turned, and walked back into the crowd, which parted before him. Zula looked around, but Tunuak was nowhere to be seen. There was something not right about the old shaman, other than just religious zealotry. It seemed to her that there was something more to his actions than a simple desire to protect his village from a dragon.
"I would like to speak to the shaman," she said, turning to Sonavut. "My hear tells me that there is a falseness to him that I cannot explain."
The hearthmistress nodded. "I can take you to his tower," she said. "Follow me."
They crossed the center of the village to a squat, three-story stone tower. Sonavut knocked on the door, and it was opened a moment later, but not by Tunuak. Instead, a younger man stood there, his eyes wide and blinking at the strange group assembled outside.
"Hearthmistress?" he asked, perplexed. "What is going on?"
"We are looking for your master, Gluktok," Sonavut replied calmly. "We need to speak with him."
"He...he is not here," Gluktok stammered. "He did not return after the assembly."
"Is that what they call a lynch mob around here?" Mazael growled.
"Do you know where he may have gone?" Sonavut asked, ignoring the war-priest.
"He has been spending much time among the wind altars lately," the apprentice replied, "but the last time I went there looking for him, I could not find him, though I am certain I saw him enter the tunnel to the cliff top."
"Wind altars?" Zula asked.
"The shrines to the wind spirits," Sonavut explained, "atop the cliff above the village. There is a cleft in the cliff wall that leads up to it. I can show you where it is, but then I feel that I must speak to Chief Nalvanaq. I implore you to tread lightly when you find Tunuak. He is a good man...just misguided, I feel."
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The passage Sonavut led them to was little more than a crack in the cliff wall at the back of the village. The companions passed through it, single-file, and followed the narrow, twisting course steadily upwards. Zula found a set of booted footprints that were easy to follow, but midway up they abruptly vanished. She halted the others with a raised hand, and then bent low to the ground. She straightened a moment later.
"They lead to that wall," she pointed.
"Allow Boris, loud lady," Boris pushed forward and peered closely at the bare rock.
"I see a small crack there," Haroldo indicated.
Boris gave him a look of disdain.
"You not teach grandmother how to suck eggs," he scoffed. "You see crack, but Boris," he reached out a finger and traced a large rectangular outline, "find whole door. And," he bent over and fiddled with something on the floor, "trapdoor that you standing on. Boris fix, so now you not fall and die. No need to thank Boris. After you."
He pushed another spot on the wall, and the entire section pivoted inwards, revealing another passage beyond.
They lined up again and followed the new, but still just as narrow, tunnel as it sloped up to the west and south. After perhaps a hundred feet or so, it rounded a corner and ended in a blank wall. Standing before the wall, gazing up at it, was an Erutaki hunter clad in leathers. He turned to look over his shoulder as the group approached.
"I saw you in the village," he said. "What are you doing here?"
"We could ask you the same," Zula replied. "Did you see Tunuak come this way?"
"I am Naquun," the man said. "I was following the shaman to make sure he was safe, but then I saw him go through a hidden door that I had never seen before. I ducked through after him, but when I got here, he was simply gone again."
Zula's eyes narrowed.
"You followed him through the hidden door," she said, "but how did you bypass the pit trap?"
Naquun's face turned stony, and one hand inched towards his belt where a pair of hand-axes hung.
"I am sensing a powerful evil presence," Helgavarl abruptly announced from Mazael's brow.
That was enough for Boris. The goblin dove between the hunter's legs and rolled to his feet behind the man before driving a blade through his back. The impact shook his arm so badly that he almost dropped his sword. It was if he had stabbed a stone wall. Worse, instead of bleeding profusely, the wound rapidly began to close. A twang sounded from further down the hall and one of Lucian's arrows appeared in Naquun's shoulder, where it quivered for a moment, and then fell to the ground.
"Looks like we got our work cut out for us," Mazael snarled, stepping forward as Suishen ignited. He struck with all his might, and to his relief, Naquun grunted and gave ground. A moment later, however, both hand-axes appeared in the hunter's hands and he leaped at Mazael, his weapons moving too fast for the war-priest to block. They carved deep gouges in his flesh, and it was his turn to fall back. Two more arrows sprouted from Naquun's chest, and Boris struck twice more from behind. The hunter staggered, but did not fall...at least not until Mazael gathered himself and struck again, burying Suishen in his chest. As he collapsed to the floor, the Erutaki warrior almost seemed to deflate. A black mist curled from his open mouth and snaked across the floor, where it coalesced into a tiny, dark-skinned creature with bat-like wings and curved horns protruding from its forehead. Mazael didn't hesitate. He swung Suishen again, and splattered the little demon across the wall.
"What in the Hells was that?" he gasped, struggling to catch his breath.
"A demon," Zula replied. "A quasit."
"It was...possessing him," Lucian said in disbelief. "We killed an innocent man!"
"Then we need to take care when we find Tunuak," Piotr said. "We couldn't know this man was possessed, and the same may be true of the shaman. If he resists us or attacks, we should try and take him alive if possible."
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Boris easily found the second hidden door in the tunnel wall, which was blessedly untrapped. It granted ingress into a wide, irregular pit in the upper cliffs, open to the sky above through a crack in the ice, with a ramp circling its way down to a slushy basin sixty-feet below. The path appeared to be quite narrow, and slick with ice, with numerous small niches in the wall adjacent along its course.
Mazael was the first to step through, his eyes scanning for any sign of the shaman. What he saw out of the corner of his gaze were several shadowy forms that quickly darted out of sight into the niches. They looked like humans at first glance, though gaunt and emaciated. When his eyes adjusted to the gloom, however, he saw from their sunken eyes, blue skin, and frost-covered flesh that they were no longer among the living.
"Company," he warned the others.
"Boris see them," the goblin replied, and then he was off.
Boris scrambled along the ledge, moving nimbly despite the slippery conditions. He reached the first of the frozen dead just as it emerged from its hidey hole, and stabbed one of his twin blades through its belly. It didn't make a sound, and the wound looked like a hole in a block of ice. Boris gulped and took a hasty step back. It pointed one boney finger at him, and a blast of frigid air erupted around him. Boris braced himself, but the blast just felt like a gentle breeze. He reminded himself to thank Mazael for asking Suishen to grant him protection from frigid conditions. A moment later, he owed the war-priest another debt of gratitude when Mazael charged past him, skating on air and impaling the undead with Suishen's fiery blade. The creature erupted in flames and screamed as it melted away into water and bones.
Just then, something very strange occurred: appearing out of thin air, a translucent, demonic-looking figure reached out towards Mazael and ripped across his face with claws that felt as sharp as steel. The war-priest cursed and slashed with Suishen. His jaw dropped when the sword passed completely and harmlessly through the demon. He cursed again and moved away from the creature, walking on air towards the middle of the pit. The demon raked its claws across his back as he fled.
"A little help here!" he cried.
Across the chasm, another of the frozen dead stepped out of a cleft and hurled a cone of frost towards the heroes still outside in the passage. Zula and Sly took the brunt of the blast, while Lucian and Piotr were unscathed due to Suishen's protection. The sword had consented to share this power with all of the Scions, but this did not extend to Sly and Zula, who were still relative newcomers. Lucian loosed an arrow towards the undead creature, and took it through the throat, and it toppled over the edge of the pit. Sly launched herself into the air, her supernatural hexes simultaneously giving her the power of flight and invisibility. Though her skin was blistered from the cold, the undead were the least of her worries. The shaman was around somewhere, and he was the greater threat. She dove towards the bottom of the pit, and that was when she heard the chanting coming from down below.
At that moment, a dark, cloying miasmic cloud exploded around the companions. Where it touched them, it froze like liquid fire, and with Zula, it even made her physically ill. Only Sly and Haroldo were beyond the edge of its spread, and it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"There you are!" Sly shouted, having pinpointed where the chanting had come from.
She began her own spell and loosed a crackling bolt of electricity towards the bottom of the pit. She was rewarded by a cry of pain from that area, and the smell of burning hair.
Piotr had deduced that the shaman must be hiding invisibly somewhere in the pit, just as Sly had. He passed a hand over his eyes, and murmured a spell. When he opened his eyes again, his vision sharpened, and he could clearly see Tunuak rising into the air from the bottom of the pit, smoke trailing from his fur cloak.
"He's flying!" the sorcerer called out. "He's on his way towards us!"
Mazael ignored this. He had his own problems. The demon had followed him, and opened up another gash across his chest. Suishen could not help him, and he wasn't going to be able to keep absorbing blow after blow. He searched his mind, desperate to find a solution, and he seized upon an idea. Maybe this wasn't a physical foe after all. Maybe the shaman had conjured up something. He grasped his holy symbol, and spoke the words to a dispelling prayer. A wide smile spread across his face when the creature simply popped out existence.
Zula, waves of nausea still roiling through her belly, heard Piotr's warning, and cocked he head, listening. Then she heard it: chanting coming from somewhere above. Fortunately, her thundercall was not a precision weapon. She opened her mouth and the air exploded with a booming report, completely drowning out whatever new spell Tunuak was planning to throw. A moment later, the air above the pit erupted with a burst of glittering dust, and then everyone could see the shaman hovering there.
"Very well!" Tunuak called. "Now you will all be able to see your doom coming!"
His hands wove together as he gathered another spell, and this time Zula could not stop it. A column of fire blasted down, enveloping the thundercaller, and catching Mazael as well.
Down on the ramp, Boris spotted another of the frozen dead maneuvering itself behind Haroldo. He leaped towards it, skidding between its legs and slashing at its thighs as he passed. Haroldo turned and saw the creature bearing down on him, then swung his great sword and took its head off its shoulders. He and the goblin then continued slip-sliding down the ramp to where yet another frozen corpse was emerging from the wall, and quickly put an end to it as well.
Piotr decided to fight fire with fire, and he detonated a ball of flame right on top of Tunuak. Unfortunately, the shaman had protected himself for just such an eventuality, and the flames left him unscathed, but Sly, who was still flying about invisibly, was caught in the blast and thrown into the wall of the pit, her skin blistering and her clothes smoldering. As she struggled to recover, Lucian loosed a pair of arrows at Tunuak, but he chose blunt-tipped shafts, remembering what Piotr had said about the possibility of possession. Tunuak grunted, and doubled over as the arrows struck his belly, but as he straightened, another spell was on his lips, this time conjuring a spinning vortex of violent wind about him, throwing all of his enemies away from him. Sly was beyond its effect, however, due to the force of the fireball. She summoned her magic and threw a slumbering hex towards the shaman. To her vast relief, Tunuak went limp as sleep overcame him, and then he dropped from the sky and plummeted towards the bottom of the pit. His winds cushioned the fall, but the force of it was still enough to jolt him back awake.
Before the shaman could recover, Lucian focused his divine power on the magical windstorm and, somewhat to his surprise, managed to dispel the vortex. Then both Piotr and Haroldo sent volleys of magic missiles towards Tunuak, throwing him further off balance. The shaman gathered himself and leaped into the air once more, struggling to gain altitude. Before he could reach the top, however, Sly sent a bolt of black fire at him, sapping his power as it drained his life force, and then Piotr rapidly followed up with a spell that sent an ear-piercing screech echoing through the pit, causing Tunuak to reel and seize his head in agony. Finally, Zula unleashed her thundercall once more. Tunuak went limp again, falling from the air yet again. This time when he hit the ground, however, he did not rise again.
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No demon rose from Tunuak's body after his death, assuaging Zula's guilt at having possibly killed another innocent. The slushy basin at the bottom of the pit where the shaman had fallen was filled with hundreds of bones, all marked with the three-fingered claw rune of Sitthud. On one side of the pit, dozens of skulls had been piled into a crude altar. A number of white shards, similar to ceramic, where stacked before it. Painted along the icy walls of the shaft were Erutaki pictograms, and scattered among many of these were more of the strange runes. One of the drawings showed strange black standing stones rising from icy hills, while another displayed a cluster of towers glowing with a strange blue light. A third one showed a single monolithic tower rising above what seemed to be a black lake with white mountain peaks behind it, and a fourth displayed a spiraling storm with long arms ending in ice-fanged jaws devouring Erutaki villages, but with longer jaw-arms reaching towards forests, crudely drawn castles and cities, and what might have been ships at sea. Warriors were shown trying to fight the storm with spears before being engulfed and sealed in tombs of ice. The final pictogram showed a blue-skinned woman with dark wings and hair, wearing a silver-crown or circlet. Her hand grasped one of the claw-sigils like a scepter, and spiraling streaks of silver and white curled from it in every direction.
"These shards," Zula said picking up one of them from in front of the altar, "unless I miss my guess they are...egg shells."
No!" Sonavut said. "It cannot be!"
The companions had brought the hearthmistress as well as the chieftain to Tunuak's bore after the battle.
"Those are from dragon eggs!" she cried.
"These," Chief Nalvanaq gazed at the pictogram of the black pillars, "our hunters have reported seeing these scattered around the High Ice. And these," he gestured at the blue-limned tower picture, "are the Nameless Spires. They are an ancient ruined city located at the North Pole. The mountains behind them are the Alabastrine Peaks. These are the morozkos," he indicated the long-armed storm. "Wait, what is this?" He leaned in more closely, peering at the drawing of the blue-skinned woman. "There is writing here. It speaks of love for someone named Katiyana 'who speaks to me on the winds from her tower in the Storms.'"
"The Nameless Spires," Sonavut said. "Our people believe the wind spirits reside there. It is a dangerous place, but also a source of great visions for those brave enough to seek it. Tunuak himself undertook a vision quest there within the past year."
"Where he apparently met this Katiyana," Zula said, "and then somehow decided that stealing dragon eggs and sacrificing them to a demon lord would be a good idea."
