“The icewhales have a reserve energy store,” Sara said. “It’s roughly their equivalent of adrenaline hitting the human bloodstream. They use it to get themselves between craters, or fight for territory. Catch their food, too, for all I know. But they take a long time to fill that reserve, and they can burn it off real fast. Once it’s run out, they’re basically screwed. The Silfen don’t see any sport in hunting something that just sits there while they shoot it full of arrows, so they make sure it gets back to the crater.”
“They’re crazy,” Ozzie said. “The whole thing is just fucking stupid.”
“You’re the one who thinks they only live at this level to experience, remember.”
“Yeah.” He plonked himself down on the cot next to Orion. “I remember.”
Sara studied the pair of them for a moment. “I’ve got to get back out there. I’ll let you know when the hunt’s over. It won’t be long.”
“Thanks.”
Orion didn’t say a word, just sat there with the thermos held in his hands.
“It won’t happen again,” Ozzie said to the boy eventually. “Wherever we wind up, it won’t be the same as this shitforsaken dump.”
There was a long moment, then Orion suddenly exploded into motion. He clawed at the front of his fur coat, pulling it open, then he went for his sweater’s collar. “I hate them,” he yelled. “I hate them, Ozzie, they’re not what everyone said. They’re not my friends. How can I be friends with people who do that?” He pulled out the pendant, and tugged hard, breaking the chain. “They’re not my friends.” The shimmering pendant was flung across the tent. “What have they done with my parents?”
“Hey, man, they didn’t do nothing to your parents. I promise you that.”
“How? How can you promise? You don’t know.”
“They’re not evil. I know what’s happening out there doesn’t look nice, but they don’t deliberately hurt people. Your mom and dad will be walking the paths quite happily. Remember what Sara said: they never showed up here. You ask me, this planet is a dead end as far as the paths are concerned. The Silfen don’t bother with it much.”
Orion shook his head, and hunched up. “They’re so cruel.”
“These ones are, yeah. All living things seem to be at some stage in their evolution. We just picked a bad stage to see them at today, is all.”
“Oh.” The boy sniffed, and took a drink of the juice. “Do you think this stage is before they visit Silvergalde or after?”
“Hey, good question. I don’t know, I’d have to think about it.”
“I think it’s before. You have to know what’s awful in the world before you can appreciate what’s good.”
“Shit. How old are you?”
“Don’t know really, not out here where the paths mess with time like Sara said.”
“Well that was totally profound for a fourteen-year-old.”
“I’m fifteen! Probably sixteen now.”
“Okay, ninety percent profound.” Ozzie walked over to the pendant. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take this with me.”
Orion grunted with perfect teenage sullenness. “Don’t care.”
“Good. You never know, it might just guide us to some of the nicer Silfen.” The pendant was still alight and undamaged; he slipped it into his trouser pocket where it was less likely to fall out. “You okay now? We should wrap up again and get back out there.”
“I’m okay, I suppose.”
When they emerged from the tent, Tochee had pressed a small strip of parchment up against its sledge windscreen. It read: WHAT IS WRONG?
Ozzie wasn’t about to go through the whole writing procedure outside. He made a few simple arm gestures, ending with a thumbs-up. Orion was nudged to do the same. Tochee waved at them, and withdrew the parchment.
“They’ve killed them, look,” Orion said miserably.
Below the escarpment, three icewhales lay dead on the rocky ground, their fur tacky with dark blood from many wounds. Over thirty Silfen bodies shared their fate. The survivors were gathered around the massive beasts they’d brought down. Ozzie zoomed in on the nearest for a close-up. Two of the Silfen were hacking their way into the icewhale with long scimitar blades; they’d already peeled back a wide triangular section of the outer skin, and were now cutting deep into the body cavity. Gooey fluid and bulbous ribbons of offal spilled out around their feet. He saw them pull out an organ that was half the size of an adult human. The remaining Silfen gathered around. One by one they cut out a section and with great ceremony started to eat.
Ozzie blinked and pulled his focus back. “I thought they were vegetarians,” he said.
“You thought wrong,” Sara told him.
Ozzie turned to face her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“I came to tell you to get ready,” she said. A gesture took in the other five humans who intended to follow the Silfen, they were all busy strapping their skis on. “They’ll be moving on right away.”
“No more hunting?” Ozzie asked.
“No.” She paused for a moment. “I know you hated being here, but I’m glad I had the chance to meet you. It’s not often people live up to their reputation. Some of it, anyway.”
“Thanks, I think.”
“Next time we meet, it’ll be different.”
There were a lot of ways he could have answered that, but just about everyone would hear. “Let’s hope so.”
“And you,” she said to Orion. “Make him behave.”
“I’ll try,” the boy said from behind his mask.
Ozzie put his own skis on, then checked Orion had fixed his properly. With the boy holding onto the tow rope at the back of Tochee’s sledge, Ozzie gave the alien their prearranged signal, and pushed off. The escarpment was steep enough to give him a good initial speed. All he had to do was watch for snags and stones that could throw the sledge. Tochee followed him easily, using the four poles with a light touch to steer the sledge along Ozzie’s ski tracks.
By the time they reached the bottom of the escarpment, the Silfen were already leaving. The riders had returned, and those on foot had picked up their lanterns. Their voices were raised in cheerful song again. They set off almost directly back the way they came. Ozzie turned to look back up the escarpment. A lone figure was silhouetted against the sky, watching them, but at this distance he couldn’t tell who it was.
He knew it would be easy at the start. They’d done nothing energetic the day before; they’d eaten well, and had nearly seven hours uninterrupted sleep. For the first couple of hours, he had to take care not to slide up into the midst of the Silfen. Instead he was content to stay maybe forty yards or so behind them as they jogged along. Their feet compacted the light sprinkling of snow that drifted above the hard ground, providing a relatively smooth surface for the skis. Tochee, also, had no trouble keeping pace, staying five yards or so behind him. Every time he turned, Orion would be there, a hand raised to wave, to reassure him that everything was okay. The other followers kept a constant speed, two of them staying level with Ozzie and the sledge, while the three most proficient skiers kept up with the Silfen, determined not to let go of their ticket out.
As the afternoon progressed, Ozzie was aware of their line starting to curve away from the route they’d taken out from the Ice Citadel. The sun gave him a rough guide to their direction, and the massif was slipping farther and farther over to the left. The landscape here began to change. Craters and crags remained the primary features, but they were spaced wider apart, allowing the crystal trees to spread thickly between them, the forests insinuating their way around slopes like the leading edge of some prickly dark tide. It was both encouraging and frustrating. Encouraging, because he believed that the forests would ultimately provide the path off this bitter world. Frustrating, for the difficulty they added to the journey. The Silfen barely slowed as they moved under the trees, skipping fluidly around the trunks and saplings without disturbing a branch. For Ozzie it was harder work, even following the widest set of tracks he was having to swerve constantly. Doing that at the pace they set took both concentration and a great deal of physical effort.
He forced himself to slow down every twenty minutes to take a drink of the hot juice; fully aware how dangerous dehydration could be in these circumstances. It was surprising how much distance they lost even halting for the fifteen seconds it took to open a thermos and take a couple of gulps. Distance that he would then try and regain by traveling faster.
After four hours he was sweating heavily into his clothes, which were chafing badly. His arms ached. He could hear his heart thudding away loudly. His legs were threatening to cramp. One of the skiers who’d kept level with them was now hundreds of yards behind, and still falling back farther, while of those three originally up with the Silfen, two had slipped back level with Ozzie. The path the Silfen were taking was leading them over a whole succession of hummocks, whose steepish slopes were tough-going. On either side, the trees were growing taller. They were shapes that Ozzie hadn’t seen on this world before. The really tall ones had branches that spiraled upward, as if they’d been neatly pruned and trained around the main bole, while the broader variety were simple poles with spheres that resembled glass cages clustered along their length, the ones at the base measuring up to a yard across, with those at the tip barely the size of acorns. Particles of ice had accumulated into irregular cloaks on every trunk, though there were no icicles. It was too cold for the frozen particles to shape themselves like that.
They’d just reached the crest of one small hill when Orion finally faltered, skidding erratically to a halt as he let go of the tow rope. Tochee immediately jammed his four poles into the ground, braking. The other skiers flashed past as Ozzie turned.
“You okay?” he shouted at Orion.
The boy was bent nearly double. Even through the thick layers of clothing, Ozzie could see him quaking.