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for the peasants, and they plodded slowly on toward the base of the
northernmost ridge.
Annies of the dead lined the plains. They had no ability to deter the
companions nor to affright them any more. No one needed to brush them aside.
The specters were mist, as ethereal as the fog, and as helpless. Bit by bit
they were forgotten, melting, even their soft noises swallowed in natural
sounds of booming ice and the rustle of garments and creak of the litter
frame. When the travelers reached the place where the horses were tied, they
were alone once more. The emptiness was daunting, but it was better than the
mournful hordes of condemned who were trapped in the Death God's region of
eternal night.
It was night, or fast becoming so, a subtle darkening of the perpetual
overcast from deep gray to fathomless black. Tyrus conjured light for them, a
warm, cheery magic taper to hang in mid-air while they readied to ascend the
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ridge.
Rof had taken three of the horses and, they found, not surprised, all the
coins and gems he and his fellow brigands had carried from Drita Meadows the
length of the trek. Now he was taking them with him back to Couredh, the
inheritor of all the plunder, because he had turned his coat one particular
time. This discovery brought the travelers some amusement.
They forgave his greed, for he had also been generous enough to leave them the
packs containing most of the provender.
"He took but enough to feed him and his mounts through the barren country,"
Miquit said, assessing the stores. "But no more. You lessoned him well, sorkra
Tyrus." There was much respect in his manner, a regard Utaigh echoed.
"Likelier he knew there would be little sale for any extra gram of this
quality, or for the motge meat. He can afford to be generous. He owns enough
treasure to insure his position among the brigands
even without Jathelle's reward," Tyrus said absently. He gathered his sorcery
again. This time Jathelle did not protest, too troubled over Dissa's shivering
and half-delirious mumbling. Erejzan was also feverish and Tyrus worked to
ease the climb for them.
With magic, he altered the litter into a sledge and made some of the captured
gloves and boots taken from the bandits'
corpses into harness. Jathelle and Ilissa rode the steadiest horse. Utaigh was
weak, but he would not consent to take the best mount, still sworn to serve
LaRenya and his princess. They could not move with any speed. Tyrus walked
behind the sledge. Miquit rode close by, now and then dismounting and helping
Tyrus lift the awkward conveyance around rough spots and sharp turns on the
path. Ilissa woke from frightened dreaming again and again, hearing the wind
in the jagged peaks. Jathelle would soothe her and urge the puffing horse on
up the ridge.
There were no awful howls from the
ice-covered rocks and snowy tors.
Occasionally, those who had crossed these haunted heights on the way to the
citadel listened and wondered, unsure if some sound were the wind or a muffled
yelp from one of the Death God's pets.
Dully, Tyrus decided this too was a favor granted them, as Nidil had hushed
the pleadings of the ghosts. No slavering brutes or abominations from time's
dawn leaped out of the swirling flakes or from hiding behind rocks. The
creatures stayed at a distance. Perhaps they were watching hungrily. Their
master, however, chained them firmly and kept his promise.
The travelers were forced to stop many tunes, despite the comparatively
gradual ascent. The strange, iridescent snow added to Tyrus' magic light and
showed them the turns in the trail they had left earlier. At the crest they
halted to rest, gazing back over the frozen plain, for the fog had parted. It
was as if Nidil wished to show them his domain, his glory, and his awful
citadel. Shaken with cold and dread, they saw an omnipotent glow
under the entire field of ice, unending, a gleaming expanse reaching outward
east and west. The citadel hulked above it, the
Death God's castle that Vraduir had made. So much blood had been shed to build
it and to rescue its lovely prisoner.
Uncaring, eternal, the property now of
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